Oh...how I long to go home where the crickets sing me and the sweetgrass in Praries smells freshly cut barns weather on and I feel the sun upon my skin and autumn crisp apple air... leaves me drunken crystalline formations dance on the windows in a deeply frozen nest and long burning logs rage as patterned snowflakes dance outside a fire of comfortable blanketed walls burns as spring birds call me back
where faded country music plays a sad and aesthetically pleasing tune the smells of generations cooking I am invited in ... to dream dancing on Daddy's boots in the living room
I dream of a love-strong home where you can be high and deep tough and sinewy like the thread holding us together weaved by my Native American Grandmother
So sweet and energizing a place of refuge from waning storms Where I can be the person that I promised myself I could be
as I cook a gourmet meal from fresh and simple ingredients I use my senses to taste in my mind then with my mouth creating masterpieces with a magical gift , handed down of composition sipping a glass of perfectly chosen wine and palate cleansing fresh sorbet a calm, appreciative natural high
Oh, how I adore the tender domestic bliss feeding roots cherishing moments lavishly on tight purse strings making MAGIC in hearts and in my kitchen poetic recipes for life... bread from necessity inked in a passed down book called ....HOME.
Okay really going in a different direction here would appreciate any comments this felt like it was good but I don't really know! And there is something to be said about stretching a dollar and living on a budget being creative.