Nourished by a Spicy Pumpkin Soup and So Much More

Although out-of-breath and with quivering legs, I managed to brace myself against the wind. I had made it to the top of the dune, aptly named, "8-minutes of Hell." I have to admit that with the sand packed down by the winter rains, it wasn't nearly as trying of a climb as in the summer when the sand gives way at every point of pressure. So, perhaps for just that day, it should have been called, "6-minutes of Hell." I yanked my hood up and drew tight the draw-strings. The wind was blowing so hard up there it was howling. Whistling through my ears even.

I steadied myself and breathed deeply. My eyes cautiously peered over the edge of the sharp cliffs of red rock that plunged straight down to the ocean only a hop away from where I stood. Those cliffs that make-up Cape Kiwanda. My eyes then followed the beach northward toward Tierra del Mar. I took in the great expanse of sand. I took in the waves. So forceful. Unrelenting. Letting me know my place in the world.

Carefully, I turned around to face the wind. To face where I had just been. The beach I had walked on. The climb I had made. No sun today. Just low gray clouds and bits of rain. But, there, off in the distance, growing smaller and smaller as they walked away from where I stood, I could see them. These women. These women that I have grown so fond of. I watched as they walked in groups of 2...3. I watched as one would splinter off and they would regroup into 4. Walking. Talking. Sharing. Pondering. I thought about how each of us, so different from one another, were brought together years ago due to our shared love of books.

Each year we gather for a weekend to plan our year of reading. We come loaded down with books, reviews, notes. And while the books are the catalyst for our gathering...we really come for much more than that. We come bearing food. Lots and lots of food. Homemade soups - a white bean and ham, a vegetable, chicken, a spicy pumpkin - served with warmed ciabatta bread sprinkled with kosher salt. Salads of baby greens topped with nuts and dried berries, smoked salmon and goat cheese - all tossed with homemade vinaigrettes. A decadent crab and artichoke dip. Breakfast brings freshly baked chocolate chip scones, blueberry muffins, a sinful coffee cake, scrambled-up eggs and even, an apple pie. And, of course, for dessert, these chocolate chip cookies, which we moaned over and debated whether or not they are the perfect chocolate chip cookies. Do they have the correct "crunch to goo" ratio? We share our wine, our clementines, our tins of nuts. And, while we eat, drink, read, and walk, we also share stories...about ourselves, our families, our lives. And somehow, this sharing of stories...of taking the time to listen and of being given the chance to be heard...nourishes us. Nourishes us differently from the food. This sharing allows us to go home feeling...peaceful and yet reinvigorated about our role as a mother, friend, daughter, wife.

I recently came across a quote by author Sue Monk Kidd that struck a chord with me about women and the way we group together, whether over books, food, wine, or tupperware, to share our stories. She wrote, "The truth is, in order to heal we need to tell our stories and have them witnessed...the story itself becomes a vessel that holds us up, that sustains, that allows us to order our jumbled experiences into meaning. As I told my stories of fear, awakening, struggle and transformation and had them received, heard, and validated by other women, I found healing. I also needed to hear other women's stories in order to see and embrace my own. Sometimes another woman's story becomes a mirror that shows me a self I haven't seen before. When I listen to her tell it, her experience quickens and clarifies my own. Her questions rouse mine. Her conflicts illumine my conflicts. Her resolutions call forth my hope. Her strengths summon my strengths. All of this can happen even when our stories and our lives are very different."

When I return from one of these weekends and am at home, carrying on with life as before, I find myself thinking warmly about what was said. What we laughed over. What we spoke earnestly about. What brought tears. And, I go on and carry around the bits of wisdom given freely to me by these women. And, for that, I am a better person.

Spicy Pumpkin Soup

About a month ago, my dear friend, Christine, served me this spicy pumpkin soup she had made. I have not been able to stop thinking about it and told her I just had to have the recipe...she kindly fulfilled my request. This soup is definitely savory. Not as sweet as the butternut squash soup I posted here. And, definitely spicy. I would put the S & P on the table when you serve it, though, as some people might like to spice it up even more. The beautiful thing about this soup is you probably have all of the ingredients hanging around in the pantry right now. It's so easy to put together and yet, it's so...elegant.

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp butter

2 medium onions (yellow or white), chopped

2 tsp, minced garlic

1/8 to 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper

2 tsp curry powder

1/2 tsp ground coriander

pinch of ground cayenne pepper (or up to 3 pinches if you love spicy food.)

3 15-oz cans 100% pumpkin

3 14 1/2 oz cans chicken broth (or vegetable broth for a vegetarian version)

2 cups milk

salt & pepper to taste

Optional toppings:

pepitas

a dollop of creme fraiche or sour cream

some diced, cooked, thick-sliced bacon or pancetta

Melt/heat butter and olive oil over med-high heat. Turn the heat down to medium low or even low and add onions and garlic and saute them stirring from time to time. Cook until softened, approximately 4 minutes or up to 10, if you like your onions to take on some caramelization like I do.

Add dry spices and stir, about 1 minute.

Add canned pumpkin and 5 cups of broth. Bring soup to a boil and immediately reduce heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes. Add milk and stir until heated through. Taste and adjust seasonings. Let cool a bit and then, if desired, transfer in batches to a food processor or blender and blend until smooth. Or, like me, pull out your 18-year old hand-held blender and run that around the pot a couple of times.

Ladle into bowls and top with a small dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkle of pepitas you may have left-over from this recipe. Crack the pepper-mill a couple of times and then...enjoy.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

A Little Insurance Policy in the Form of Chocolate Chip Cookies

For months now, at the request of family members, friends, strangers even, we have dutifully removed our shoes and assumed the "back-to-back" position, while these...people, bent their knees, leveled off their point-of-view and eyeballed our heads. And then, rising back up, these same people would sigh and declare, "Nope. Not yet."

And so it was, the second week of January 2010, in the midst of making dinner on an already rushed school night, my sweetie says, "Hey, wait a minute, you two. Stand back to back." To which I replied, "I'm in the middle of making dinner." "Oh, it'll just take a second. Come on." I dutifully removed my shoes sensing there was no way out of it, turned my back and stood there staring straight ahead as my husband eyeballed our heads. Then, with a big grin on his face, he straightened back up and said, "Well, it's official. She's taller than you."

I always knew this day would be here. At least, I knew, hypothetically. All those years of playfully saying, "One day, you'll be bigger than Mommy." I could surmise. Make an educated guess...but I don't think I really knew what it would be like when it was truth. When my 12-year old daughter would literally have one up on me. No, not really. And so, here I am, on the other side of the yardstick and it's definitely a peculiar feeling. To no longer have that "physical stature" over another person especially one much, much younger than you. To have to reach up to hug your child. A bit surreal, I'd say.

While I do consider myself quite the foodie and try to keep my finger on the pulse of the "food world", I missed the heated fervor surrounding the infamous "New York Times Chocolate Chip Cookie" recipe last summer. Never heard a word about it. Not a peep. Could be that I don't bake. Not really. I don't have the patience for it. It's so exacting. I just want to toss in a little of this, a little of that. But, when my sweet, mother-in-law, whom I've talked about before here, emailed me the link to the recipe concurrently as the measuring of the heights was happening, one glance at the recipe and I knew...this was the answer.

Perhaps I was feeling a bit insecure about my new place in the line-up. Perhaps it wasn't insecurity so much as a little bit of wistfulness...she's growing up and there's no stopping it. We even have physical evidence, now, of this occurrence. While my kind and thoughtful mother kept a steady stream of snickerdoodle, oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies going my entire childhood, my children have never known this cookie parade. So, the cookies, these NYT cookies, would be rather novel to them...or more specifically, her. It's not bribery. I'm not buying her love, her respect, her admiration. No, no, no. Nothing like that. I am still her mother, after all. I still have the power to take away her beloved cell phone, iPod, favorite pair of jeans, should the occasion present itself. She's too young to even get a job to support herself, for crying out loud...but, then again, no one can get a job right now...but that's beside the point. It's just insurance. A little tiny insurance policy I've written up on my own to the tune of...the way to a child's heart...

And, with that, I got down to business which was challenging to say the least. Baking requires intense concentration. Focused thinking. I am anything but focused. My time is always fractured...between constantly being interrupted by my lovely offspring and my brain that jumps around from thought to thought as if it were a flea, it's amazing I get anything done. And, then, the whole...dip and sweep method of measuring flour makes me crazy, but dip, I did. And I definitely don't sift but considering the circumstances, I dug my little sifter out from the hinterlands of my pantry while simultaneously searching for the "paddle" attachment for my mixer (not realizing that the "paddle" attachment is just the regular ole mixing attachment I've always used which looks nothing like a paddle.) And, then, I tried to stay focused on the directions..."two kinds of flour". Two kinds of flour! And, then, back and forth between my work station and the computer trying to read the recipe typed in what appeared to be an 8 point font and trying not to forget the quantity listed for my next ingredient during the 3 foot walk from the recipe back to the work station. Since my sifter is so small, I had to sift in batches which may defeat the whole purpose of sifting but I rather liked the little volcano-like pile forming on my cutting board which reminded me of Hawaii, which made me think of sun, which caused me to look hopefully outside the window...nope, still gray.

One thing you should know about me, dear friend, is that even though I don't bake much, when I bake chocolate chip cookies, I require a specific "dough-to-chocolate" ratio. The first time I made these cookies (yes, I've made them more than once), I followed this bloggers advice and just dumped two bags of the Ghirardelli 60% cacao chips in. Waaaaay too much chocolate in my opinion. If I wanted that much chocolate, I'd just break off part of a bar, which is healthier for you anyways. No. If I'm going to go to the trouble of making myself a sugary, buttery, white flour concoction then, I sure as heck better taste the sugar, butter and flour.

On my second round of making this little recipe and adjusting the chocolate quantity, my daughter arrived home from school, twirls into the kitchen and says, "Mom, whatcha makin'?" No response from me but upon seeing me at work says, "Oh, wow. Cookies again?"Okay, so maybe I've roused a bit of suspicion with my seemingly, sudden interest in baking, but she'll never know. Not really. Unless, of course, you tell her. So, don't. Mum's the word.

The next morning, bright and early, there I am again baking cookies. (The dough lasts forever.) My daughter thumps down the stairs and again says, "Wow, Mom. More cookies...um, thanks." To which I say, poker-faced, "Why don't you take some of these cookies to school and give them out to your friends? We'll never eat all of these." Do you see how sly and subtle that was? Now, I have just added extra insurance to my policy by hooking the friends.

On the way up to bed last night, my daughter snatches the last of the cookies. A half a cookie to be exact. She hollers out to me as she climbs the stairs, "Mom, I can't stop eating these cookies. They are so good. Oh, and Mom, my friends devoured the cookies. They just loved them." I tried to suppress the little knowing smile upon hearing this. "Ahh...my work here is done." Well, not done exactly...but, put in motion. No matter how "big" she gets, she'll keep coming home for more of these cookies...at least, that's the plan...my little, tiny...insurance plan.

The New York Times Chocolate Chip Cookies

If I may...I suggest reading this recipe in its entirety before you take on making it...no matter how desperate you may be for your own "insurance policy." They are unbelievably scrumptious. That perfect combination of just a slight crunch of the crust to a gooey, chocolaty, buttery inside. Heaven. But, to arrive at this state of near perfection, requires a "resting period of 24 to 72 hours" for the dough. For more details into the hows and whys of the "resting period", click here. Otherwise, carry on.....

2 cups minus 2 tbsp cake flour

1 2/3 cups bread flour

1 1/4 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 1/2 tsp coarse salt

2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter, softened, room temp

1 1/4 cups light brown sugar

1 cup plus 2 tbsp granulated sugar

2 large eggs

2 tsp natural vanilla extract

1 1/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate disks, feves or chips, at least 60 percent cacao

(Ghiardhelli makes a 60% chip you can find in most grocery stores. I used one 12 oz bag of Whole Foods 365 brand of dark chocolate chips, originally, but my new favorite for these is a 12 oz bag of Guittard, extra-dark chocolate chips, 63% cacao.)

Sea salt

Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside. (Or, you may choose to bag this step and just dump these ingredients all in at the end. It depends on your situation.)

Using a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Drop chocolate pieces in and incorporate them without breaking them. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough my be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside.

Scoop mounds of dough, approximately the size of golf balls, onto baking sheet. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt and bake until golden brown but still soft, 18 to 20 minutes. I find that 14 minutes is the perfect amount of time for these cookies but I may not make them as large as the original recipe writers. I then let them cool on the sheet for about a minute or so and then, transfer them to a wire rack to cool a bit more, if someone doesn't come by and swipe one or two...or three, before the requisite cooling period is over. As the original recipe says, "Eat warm, with a big napkin." And, I'd add....."and, a tall, glass of milk." Enjoy....

NOTE: Since I posted this I have a few tips.....Make sure that ALL of your ingredients are at room temperature before mixing the dough up. Also, I did happen to make a "quick" batch in which I let the dough rest for only 12 hours and while they were delicious and devoured, they weren't near as heavenly as the ones I let "rest" for 48 hours.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Pasta from the Freezer, the Pantry, the Fridge

Gone are the days of frenetic food buying. You know the kind. The kind where you walk, briskly, into your favorite grocery store, dutifully carrying your list. The list you made after actually taking the time to plan meals for the week. Just the week. Not something crazy like a month of meals but still, a week of planned meals. And, seeing as though you're quite proud of yourself for your organization, you smile a bit smugly as you tighten your grip on that list and dash in the entrance to the store...although not before grabbing a cart and sanitizing yourself and the cart from head to toe. No time for the flu.

You enter the store and begin traversing it in your usual manner. A loaf of blueberry bread here, a 1/2 pound of sliced turkey there. Check. Check. And then, you make a gentle turn and find yourself veering off the appointed path and heading straight to the latte counter. You tell yourself it's okay since with all the list making you forgot to eat a proper breakfast and you can feel the dull ache of a headache in the works. The caffeine will surely be the cure.

Back on the path, you find that even though you've been in this store hundreds of times and it's practically your home away from home, you're starting to feel overwhelmed by the list and trying to find the corresponding aisles for the products you need. So, you just start going up and down each one. Hunger is gaining on you. The time is ticking away. The caffeine just doesn't seem to be helping and now, you just start throwing things in your cart. "Ah, the baby's favorite crackers." (I know, I know. He's not a baby anymore but humor me, and just let me call him that.) "Voila...my dear daughter's beloved tapioca." "Some more dried blueberries for my sweetie." "Doesn't the 10-year old love Honeycrisp apples?" And, so on and so forth and before you know it, your cart is brimming, half with items off your list and half from items you just tossed in.

Arriving home, you find that there are already two unopened boxes of the baby's favorite crackers waiting in the wings, two uneaten containers of tapioca in the fridge and your sweetie and the 10-year old are a bit burnt out on the dried blueberries and Honeycrisp apples. So, you give yourself a gentle scolding and tell yourself you'll try to do better next time. Stick to the list.

Fast forward a bit and you've arrived at the "Great Recession" and with a nod to the economy, you force yourself to exercise restraint. To stick to the list. To use up what you have. And you remember trips to your Grandmother's house. Trips in which you would explore her fridge, her freezer and....down, in the deep, dark basement her "deep freeze". That fascinating, "space-agey" contraption. At her house, you would always find an assortment of jars covered in foil and filled with last night's meal. Little bits of food rolled up in tin foil. And, frozen ice cream pops in the shape of Santa. Nothing put down the drain. Nothing thrown in the trash. And, you recall, how once a week, your own mother would pull out all of the leftovers from that week's meals and lay them on the table...from reheated stew to a scoop of stuffing to 5 green beans. And, you remember how much you liked leftover night. Your own personal buffet. And, you always looked forward to those 5 green beans...but then, again, you have a thing for green beans especially these green beans.

And so, even though you sometimes miss the "Roaring 90's", you realize that restraint is good. It forces us to prioritize. To make decisions. And, you insist to yourself that you'll stick to the list. And, what's more....before making the list, you'll force yourself to get up out of your chair and actually take a look in the pantry, the fridge, the freezer. What is lurking in there? What needs to be used up? And, there, in the back of the freezer a little bit of sunshiney orange will catch your eye. "Ah-hah!" The leftover butternut squash you threw in the freezer after making this soup. Which is perfect since you just came across a recipe you're dying to try and it calls for...what else...but butternut squash. And you'll smile a bit smugly to yourself. Feeling quite proud of not just your organization...but your resourcefulness to use up what you have.

Pasta from the Freezer, the Pantry, the Fridge

(aka Orecchiette with Pancetta, Butternut Squash and Broccolini)

From Louisa Neumann of The Portland Pickle

Truth be told, I would have never thought to put pancetta, butternut squash and broccolini together in a dish and top them off with pepitas. Not only would I have not put them together but I could never have imagined how absolutely delicious they are together. The way the salty pancetta plays off the sweetness of the squash....yum!! Last summer, I stumbled upon Louisa Neumann's delightful blog, The Portland Pickle. I love being surprised by the little gems of food knowledge that she passes along to all of us with her posts. Besides writing and managing her blog, she is also a personal culinary instructor, a caterer and can be found regularly teaching classes at In Good Taste in the Pearl District. Many of you know how I feel about my children learning to cook (if you don't, click here) so I look forward to signing them up for one of Louisa's children's cooking classes.

In the meantime, I thoroughly enjoyed this recipe of Louisa's that I filed away last fall, just waiting for some leftover butternut squash. And, in case you were wondering, my kids loved it just as much as I did.

Ingredients:

2 cups butternut squash, cut into 1/2-inch dice

Extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher salt

1/2 bunch broccoli rabe, tough lower stems removed, cut into thirds

(I was unable to locate broccoli rabe at my grocery store so I substituted in broccoli which I realize is not the same thing at all as broccoli rabe but it turned out delicious.....)

3/4 c pancetta, diced (I used "thick sliced" Boar's Head pancetta from the deli counter)

Pinch of crushed red pepper

2 cups orecchiette pasta

1/2 cup grated parmesan

1/4 cup green pumpkin seeds (pepitas) (I found mine at Trader Joe's)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Toss the squash with olive oil and salt and place in a single layer on a sheet tray and bake in the over until soft, about 20 minutes. Remove from oven and reserve.

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Set up a bowl of well-salted ice water.

Drop the broccoli rabe (or broccoli, if you're like me) into the pot of boiling water, swirl it around, remove from the water and immediately plunge into the salty ice water. (If you're using broccoli, let it cook for about 4 minutes). Reserve the boiling water to cook the pasta in. Remove the broccoli rabe (broccoli) from the ice water, squeeze or drain out excess water and reserve.

Coat a large saute pan with olive oil and add the pancetta and crushed red pepper. Bring the pan to a medium heat and cook the pancetta until brown and crispy. When the pancetta is brown and crispy, add about 3/4 cup of the broccolini cooking water. Simmer until the water reduces by half. (The original recipe has you adding the squash in here as well but I was worried about the squash getting...well, squishy and squashy so I waited and added it later.)

Add the orecchiette to the reserved boiling broccoli rabe water and cook until the pasta is al dente, about 1 minute less than the cooking time says on the box.

Remove the pasta from the water and add to the pan with the pancetta. Add the broccolini and about a 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking water but be very, very careful here, since you are adding water to oil and it gets rather combustible. Gently add your butternut squash here. Cook until the water has evaporated and the sauce clings to the pasta. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with the grated parmesan. Gently combine all the ingredients.

Spoon into a dish. Top with a little more grated parmesan and the pepitas. Enjoy.

Yield: Serves 2 - This is what the original recipe says but I was able to feed myself and 3 children from this. Definitely no leftovers though which is a shame since I can't stop thinking about this dish so I would recommend that you at least double the recipe. You won't be sorry.

NOTE: Whatever you do, don't skimp on the pancetta. It's needed to balance out the sweetness of the butternut squash. If anything, you can cut back on the squash a little. Enjoy....

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

A Simple Salad & The Sound of Silence

The boxes have been put away. The vacuum has been run. The cheery red of the holidays has been replaced with winter whites. Linen. The poinsettias with bare branches. (Well, actually I didn't have any poinsettias but I like the way that sounds. Don't you?) The children are back at school and the only sounds I hear are those of my own footsteps and the soft, furry ones padding quietly behind me.

After the richness of the holidays, I want anything but.....so, here I sit with a simple salad laid out before me. A salad of spinach leaves, chevre sec (a dry goat cheese...you simply must), toasted walnuts and a homemade vinaigrette. Now don't be fooled by this salad's unassuming presence. One bite and you'll see that together the flavors are a carnival for your tongue. My fork hits the plate with a clank as I leave it to pick-up a piece of bread. A sip of water. And here I sit. Just me....and the cat. And listen. To the sound of silence.

Now, nevermind about the fact that my home happens to be located under the landing pattern for our local airport or the fact that a fleet of leaf blowers shows up every afternoon without fail (or so it seems) and fires up those dastardly things for what seems like hours when clearly the leaves are long since gone. What exactly are they "blowing around" out there? And is someone paying them to do this? And, yes, there's the train that seems to rumble right past my house blowing his horn even though in reality he's at least 5 miles away and we can't forget the most recent development....that of the apparent, afternoon, chainsaw session that takes place in the woods behind my house. Although, I have yet to see a felled tree or the chainsaw operator. What are they doing back there?

So, really...nevermind about all that. Silence is relative. I'm alone in my house. Just me...and the cat. Eating my salad. And it's silent.

A Simple Salad with Homemade Vinaigrette

I absolutely LOVE this salad. I cannot stop eating it. So simple to make. In the winter, I make it with baby spinach leaves but once arugula season hits, I switch the spinach out for that. No matter which "leaves" you use, it's the homemade vinaigrette that ties together all of the flavors. And, if you have a daughter like mine who wanders into the kitchen, asking, "Watcha makin' Mom?" and then wanders out after having polished off the last bit of the vinaigrette on her own salad, you may want to make a double batch. As for the cheese, I was turned on to "chevre sec" (literally - dry goat cheese) a few years ago. It has a creamy texture with a consistency more like feta as opposed to the regular soft goat cheese. There is a fromagerie right here in Mollala, Oregon making this type of artisan cheese - Goldin Artisan Goat Cheese. I happened to find a tiny, little wedge of her Tomme Cuivree at New Seasons the other day. Needless to say, it is now gone.

The Salad

A handful of greens - spinach, arugula or baby

Crumbled goat cheese - I prefer the "chevre sec" but regular goat cheese will work just as well

Toasted walnuts - 350 degrees for 10 minutes or in a pinch, one minute in the microwave

Freshly ground pepper on the top

Sometimes I put a few sliced mushrooms in it, a few cucumber slices but not much else. I try to keep it simple

The Homemade Vinaigrette

(Inspired by David Lebovitz) While I have made many different types of vinaigrettes over the years, I recently stumbled upon this one and it is my new favorite.

1/8 tsp sea salt (or kosher salt or whatever salt you use)

1 tbsp sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar

1/2 small shallot, peeled, minced (about 1 tbsp)

1/2 tsp Dijon mustard (I tend to use Maille or Edmond Fallot)

3 -4 tbsp olive oil (I usually use 4)

1. In a small bowl, mix together the salt, vinegar and shallot. Let stand for about ten minutes while you prepare your salad and/or roast your walnuts.

2. Mix in the Dijon mustard, then whisk in 3 tbsp of olive oil. Mix well, then taste. If it's too strong add the final tablespoon of olive oil and a bit more salt, if necessary.

Drizzle on your salad. Toss to lightly coat every little bit of salad on your plate with this golden vinaigrette. Eat. Sigh. Enjoy.

Yield: About 1/4 cup, enough for one large green salad.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Day 1 & Day 2

Here we sit at the beginning of a new decade, a new year, a new start and while I'm not one for resolutions (just one more thing to manage in a long list of To Do's)...I was intrigued to take on Project 365 by Miss Hannah of honey & jam. And, may I say that you MUST, absolutely, hurry on over to her incredible website. Her photographs are beautiful....and she's only 19...or something like that.

I plan to post one photo representing every day in 2010 on my flickr page. I may post them one at a time or they may come in a flurry...but by the end of 2010, I hope to be able to look back at a year that took me, you, our fragile country in a new direction and I thought you might enjoy knowing about this little project. If you would like to check in and see how I'm doing, just click on the "flickr badge" on the lower right-hand side of this page. From there, click on the set of photos, entitled, "2010 at a Glance" and you can see my ever growing bunch of pictures.

And, let me not allow another minute to pass before I say that I would never have felt inspired to post even one picture, let alone an entire year of photos, if it weren't for your kind words and gentle encouragement, dear friends. Thank you. I hope to follow in your footsteps and be more forthcoming in my sincere and genuine compliments to others because you never know how it may change their lives.

Day 1

The day is misty. A lentil soup is on the stove. The Rose Bowl is on the TV and my sweetie is in front of it. The children, still in their jammies, ramble about the house amongst the strewn gifts. I sip my wine and contentedly stir my soup.

Day 2

A rare day indeed. Just me and the middle child. We lapse in and out of silence en route to the library. I enjoy my latte. The topic of his chatter is lost on me. I'm simply soaking up his presence.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010