The house is scented with ginger, oats and butter right now. Shortbread is cooling in the kitchen in preparation for the Waldorf High School bakesale tomorrow.

Daniel called while I was getting the kitchen set up. He always calls when I am in the kitchen. This timing of his has reigned for many of the 29 years of our friendship. He is a really really good cook. You are lucky to eat at his house. Or at a party he is associated with. He and JNB can get going on a cooking project that takes us to inner Queens for just the right supplies found only at a Chinese grocery there.

He asked how I am.

I am totally excited for this new cookbook that arrived today.
You know I am a canner. I preserve the harvest. There are not many of us in the world, but in the Berkshires, I have some solidarity. And we are all smitten with Pam Corbin’s book, first published in Great Britain, where preserving is a high and valued art, River Cottage Preserves Handbook. For her American readers, Pam published a version that fits in to your hand like a really fine apple. Perfect fit and you can’t wait to take a bite.

So that book is up there in that photo with the sunflower petal. On the cover is a photo of black currants. Janet’s Mom think they taste like dirt. They do sort of, but I adore them. They are a key ingredient in my ‘Double Black Diamond’ jam. The birds ate most of my crop this season, but Loveapple Farm in Hudson has a huge stand for picking.

Black currants, tomatoes (I know, I am obsessed with tomatoes, they are all I talk about lately) and figs- there are so many recipes in this book I cannot wait to try.

But, first, savoring September light.
What glorious days we have had this week and the weather promises to be fine in to next week. Quince harvest is near.

The petunias are partying with the cooler temperatures.

Ben is in Munich, our 16 year old son. Are you going to Octoberfest? Look for him.

This week has been particularly sweet for many reasons. Life is tender and rich, bitter and difficult all at the same time. A complex flavor is living. Much like black currants.

All I can think about is writing, art, kids, cooking and time. And lots of other things, but looking at how I move around the hours and what becomes my priority. How over the past 16 years JNB and I have organized our pleasure and professions around parenting. I am struck, with one child ensconced in a warm household in Munich, with how easily he occupies my being while so far away. Or our girl climbing mountains with her class this week. She is in me like air.

I live my parenting while doing many other things, including making my way as an artist. That is what my book Laundry Line Divine is all about. But, as I take steps towards letting the work on my book take up more space in my days, I wonder what will shift.

All will be revealed.
Until then, off to cut the shortbread.

Love, S

PS This is where I write in the warm months.

PPS Yes that is a hula hoop. xo

Thank you for your blessings on our journey.
We arrived home safe, sound and sated with beauty.
We left Ben in Munchen with our dear family Kern.
He is thrilled.
We are a teensy bit sad and mostly thrilled too.

Where is my hat? It is sunny and gorgeous here.
Maybe I can find me a Gunnera Insignus for shade?

How are you?
Love, S

Blackberry picking is dangerous.
I scratched my legs today diving in to a haven for the fattest, finest dangling black treasures. I agree with my friend Pearl that dropping one from your already too full fist is like loosing a jewel. That is why we eat so many while picking. Those jewels are never lost. Those interior spots are like sacred holy places to me, cloistered from the hubbub of life on the edge of the berry patch, those inside places call me further in to the bracken.

It is a hot night, not feeling like stirring the jam pot til morning.
Maybe I will freeze this latest batch of berries.

Do you have altars around your house? Nature tables? Shrines?
This stands for a call for entries of photographs or scanned images sent to me of the altars you have around your home or your outdoor space…I am thinking of the little bowl I have for the fairies by my tomato patch, set under a steel Kokopelli sculpture, all in view of the kitchen sink.

Kitchen counter altars. Desk altars. Where you go to pray. Where you stop for sustenance. Some locale in your home that holds a sense of reverence and desire through the objects you place there. These places call us to pause, to hold our desires or prayers or loved ones in our most loving awareness. All this time my Mom has been in the nursing home, I keep pulling out her letters or photos or things she gave me to set on one of my altars, just to keep me in mind of her wholeness. She may be diminishing to Alzheimer’s but my memory of her is alive with detail and joy. My friends who ascribe to the art of Feng Shui have altars all over their homes. My Catholic friends have shrines in their yards with the Blessed Virgin in pretty gardens, sometimes in the bath tub.

I consider the bath tub a sacred spot in my home.

I invite you to share with us here on the Laundry Line a view of your altar or sacred space. Describe it in words or images. I will create a post here on the Line by next Thursday August 5.
Submissions may be sent to laundrylinedivine@gmail.com by Wednesday August 4.

“As I go down to the river to pray…”

All my love, Suzi