Saturday morning in Vermont means only one thing: farmer's market. The stalls are packed with the freshest of vegetables, and roaming the market in search of dinner's green is a tough job, but someone has to do it. Beets, garlic scapes, carrots, oh my! Produce that is vibrant with color and plump, exploding with flavor is what draws me in.
A lone bag of spring green sugar snaps catches my attention over the golden beets and heirloom carrots, a perfect accompaniment to the planned grilled beef tips.
On the car ride home, somehow, a few snap peas mysteriously disappeared. I couldn't resist the delicate pods, and popped a few in my mouth to uncover their sweet burst of flavor.
Not only were they cute, but they were delicious!
Produce has a peak of freshness. Capturing greens, at their height is worth celebrating.
With these sugar snaps in their prime, a photo shoot of the delectable pods, to revel in their peakness, was in order.
I could hear my lone pod, when placed on a stark white plate say....."Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close-up".
Live in color,
Now more than ever I am drawn to the sea. There is a solace that only the water's edge can provide. After a weekend on the pristine beaches of Provincetown, I asked myself, what is it about the sea that makes my heart soften?
Standing in the warm sand of a dune, as the wind engulfs me with a flag flapping force, I can witness first hand the precarious balance of nature. The fierceness of the water is tamed only by the gentle rising slope of the glistening shoreline, depositing fragments of shells along with other discarded ocean treasures.
At the edge of the sea I find myself at an intersection between the vast and ever changing sky, the tumultuous tides, and me, a mere moral fortunate enough to witness this untamed commotion. It is that untamed character of the sea I am drawn to, reminding me I am not much more than a grain of sand holding ground until I too am washed away.
At the edge of the sea…
Live in color,
Is a lifetime of asking questions a waste of time?
There is a good chance a toddler's first foray into verbal communication just might come in the form of questions. These questions keep coming and coming and coming, becoming more complex and enigmatic as we mature. Now don't get me wrong, questions are great. Questions are a sign of curiosity and intellect. However, at some point as we mellow, I ask the game changing question, "Do we really need to know all the answers?"
Asking questions with no solid answers is frustrating. Just ask a person of science. A scientist will give you a hypothesis, or theory where answers are unknown, which for me, leads straight to a headache and two Advil. There is something to be said for being okay in the not knowing.
So now in my sixth decade, I'm taking a new approach; I am embracing ambiguity. I don't believe it is giving up a good fight, but more opening myself up to creative thinking. Ambiguity creates a space where ingenious options reside.
How about using that newfound space as our personal sandbox to muck around in? What if we throw out the need to know, and experience the freedom of digging deep into our limitless imagination and see what we can unearth.
Shovels not included.
Live in color,
An image alone sometimes feels insufficient, that’s where Musings come in. A space where words and images come together to tell the story.
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