dusk on the water, 7.2.11

spoonshine, bellingham, 7.2.11

The good folks of Bellingham, WA are just so darned adorable.

garden on 13th street

the alley behind my mother's house

bridge, 7.28.11 (also woolish things & facebook)

Newly finished shawl, now available on Etsy.

Also, dear friend Lauren agreed to let me drape things over her shoulders and take pictures the other day, and even very graciously donned a dress, and looked absolutely fabulous in the process. And then we had Indian and drank prosecco in the cool of my now air-conditioned living room. What a friend.

Also, for those of you on Facebook, I have a fan page! (Yes I am that big a dork.)  Check it out and "like" it -- I promise I won't bombard you to death with handcrafty goodness. And even for those of you not on Facebook (yes, Mom, I'm talking to you!), you can still view & bookmark it.

http://www.facebook.com/EmmaNYCs.Handmade.Goods

going home, 7.1.11

twenty-four hours on the islands

heading out, 6.30.11

pretty in pink

My mother and I have recently, and seemingly simultaneously, developed a rather perplexing affinity for wearing... pink. There's no explaining it, really. (But doesn't she look great?)

bridge, 7.21.11

A day so hot and humid and heavy that the air felt hard to breathe and and the sun sank in a flaming red ball smeared in evening haze across the river and behind the cliffs of New Jersey. Zak and I went running down to the street so I could take a picture of it but by the time we got to the wall overlooking the river, it was gone. Instead there was my bridge, smudged and indistinct as an impressionist painting, and coming out from beneath its shadow what could only be a ghost ship.

notes from the Coast Starlight (day two)

(The forest primeval. Actually, mostly second and third
growth forest. But still beautiful.)


(Treetops. Also, breakfast menu.)

6.29.11, 3:04pm
Day two on the Coast Starlight. Discovered dining in the Parlour Car. Befriended by the most amazing older couple -- Shirley and Knight -- with whom we have now shared two lunches and a wine & cheese tasting.  Strangely, will miss them with all my heart after they detrain in Portland. Almost within shouting distance of Seattle.  Well, three hundred miles until we sleep in Anacortes tonight.






(Approaching Seattle at last.)

'it's been a long night searching for grace...'

(Hem, Leave Me Here)

and on the fourth day

(approaching Seattle at last)

top o' the world

notes from the Coast Starlight (day one)

6.28.11, 3:22pm
Dolphins cavorting in the surf. Eucalyptus groves. Sand dunes. Black cows grazing in the scrub. Fields and fields of spinach and strawberries and cabbages and potatoes. Kelp undulating along the shore. Cloud bank stretched like a hand reaching with open fingers to drag you down into the sea. Just some of the things one sees from the Coast Starlight.

elementals (air)

Now available on Etsy, the third in a series of elements-inspired pieces. Knit from an alpaca/silk blend with white beads on one
end and cobalt beads on the other.

bordering on wine country

parallels (also alien spacecraft)

the western rim

north of la

sunset on the southwest chief

zucchini 'bisque'*

2 tablespoons butter
1 yellow onion, chopped coarsely
2 largish zucchinis, diced coarsely
1 box chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg (or fresh grated to taste -- I happen to love nutmeg)
salt & black pepper to taste

Saute the onion in butter until softened. Add some nutmeg, a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper. Add zucchini, let cook for several minutes, then add broth and enough water to cover the zucchini in the soup pot.  Let simmer for 15 or so minutes until the zucchini is tender, then let cool, then blend in the pot with a stick blender. Taste, and add salt and pepper and more nutmeg to taste.

I've been eating this slightly warm today, but will probably eat it chilled tomorrow.  Would also be good hot.  Probably also delicious with a dollop of yogurt or sour cream and a piece of crusty bread. If only Evan were here to work his magic, it would be even more delicious if the bread had home-made butter on it, but I'm too lazy for those shenanigans. Besides, there's knitting to do. And three more zucchinis to figure out something to do with.

*I admit it: I kind of hate zucchini. But I love this soup. Oh CSA, bring it on!

'the rigidity of your noodles'

decadence (also product placement)

One of the best things in the world? Ben & Jerry's Bonnaroo Buzz: coffee & malt ice cream with whiskey caramel swirls & English toffee pieces.  Even better? Dipping UTZ sourdough extra dark pretzels in it.

(And no, just for the record, I am neither pregnant nor PMSing nor stoned.)

albuquerque train station

arizona & new mexico

There's just so much land out there. And fences to divide and parcel it (I wonder what is being kept in and what is being kept out?).  And those red, red jagged rocks breaking into scrub and shrubs and  trees.  And then the land begins to soften, to roll toward mountains, and the horizon becomes more manageable again, losing that vertiginous sense of the earth falling away into the sky.

It's easy to forget sometimes how big this country really is.

colorado

I imagined it was all mountains but apparently it's not (says the ignorant New Yorker).

bon iver by the new classic

Have gotten not surprisingly somewhat obsessed with
this gorgeous cover. Give it a listen -- it becomes a little
bit like magic.

'and once i knew i was not magnificent, i could see for miles and miles and miles...'*

Do you ever find yourself listening to or looking at something so beautiful, so strangely right, that you almost cry from the crystalline perfect sadness of it? I know you know what I mean.



I had one of those moments just after six o'clock in the morning two weeks ago, in the midst of our cross-country train trip. The rattling of the rails, or that plaintively wailing whistle curling back along the length of the train to our sleeper car, or something else entirely dragged me abruptly out of sleep into the seeping gray of those minutes just before dawn.  Evan was still sound asleep in the bunk above me, and so I curled up with my ipod and my camera and I listened to this Bon Iver song* and watched the sun stretch its way over the train and across the golden flat miles of Kansas, rendered almost mythically, heartbreakingly beautiful by the creeping dawn light.

*Sadly, my magical moment was based in part on a misinterpretation of the lyrics.

'everything to build anything'

'i've seen the kansas of your sweet little myth...'

'i've seen the rains of the real world come forward on the plain
i've seen the kansas of your sweet little myth
you've never seen it, no
i'm half drunk on babble you transmit
with your true dreams of wichita...'
-M. Doughty

kansas, early morning

crossing the mississippi

going home, 7.12.11

No matter whether it's Newark or LaGuardia or JFK, there's
always that moment where I go digging through my bag to
pull out my Metrocard and put it back in my pants pocket
where it belongs, and I know I'm home.

date night

Coming back from walking the bluffs
at Fort Ebey State Park. It was getting
on finally toward dusk (these long
northwestern days still take me
by surprise) and the shadows were
growing long, and the wind and
the sun and the salty sweet air made
us hungry. So we went in search
of steamed mussels at Tobey's,
and they were good.

the poetry garage

new knits for etsy

fuchsia lace shawl
seawater wrap, beaded
burgundy wrap
antique triangle shawl
golden honey shawl
emerald green leaves wrap