The Yellow House

“Oh, this is worse than I thought,” Allen says. “You’re lucky. See these bare wires? A giant fireball could have come barreling out at you! If that had happened, it would have singed off all your hair. Or blinded you.” I examine the little greasy metal box Allen is showing me. The wires do look a bit dubious. “I’m going to have to come back tomorrow.” I’m glad Allen is here. He’s the oven repair man, and it’s his second time at the house. He and I are becoming close. He wants to go fishing down at the creek, he says, and he’s going to teach Ben how to hunt deer. “And make sure NOBODY turns on that oven.” Somehow, the fact that we narrowly escaped a lit-gas fireball incident is unsurprising to me. It might even be an apt metaphor for the past few weeks, a whirlwind of growings-up and new beginnings and startings-over. My little sister, so much more than a sister and best friend, graduated college, leaving me bursting with pride and also feeling a bit wrecked. A friend got her dream job and is off to Texas, far away. All of nature, cultivated and uncultivated, seems to be echoing the forward motion, transitioning into a new stage. The trees shook off pretty blossoms and replaced them with lush green. Peas are ready to set fruit. The ducklings are growing up far too fast—I swear, they shoot up at least an inch a day—, seedlings have no need of being sheltered inside anymore, and oh, our favorite tiny hen (or what we thought was a hen) crowed the other day. » Read more «

This week, thoughts banged against the walls of my head. Certain moments hit me in the gut. I wanted to tell you about a dream I had: I stood in the kitchen with my mom, frying up strips of bacon in a cracked ceramic dish. They crinkled into little abalone, seashell-like cracklings. We ate them, our fingers greasy. They were salty and good. I woke up crying and craving bacon. » Read more «

A few of you asked me about the little green seedlings growing, packed together, in a photo a few posts ago—they’re pea shoots. I’ve been growing them on my windowsill through the later part of this winter. I thought I’d share the process with you a bit. They are silly-easy to grow, whether you’re a city slicker or country kid, and quite pretty. It’s satisfying to have some sweet, tender greens right at your kitchen window to clip and toss into a salad or sandwich for some texture. » Read more «

The room I’m sitting in has a bizarre, spartan atmosphere. There is a mountain of boxes still waiting to be unpacked, but I have managed to shove them out of sight and out of mind for the time being. I love being in a new space, but hate the actual moving part. This means I tend to put the proverbial cart before the horse, scribbling garden plans and designing the label for our house ale before I can even find a hairbrush (I am, sadly, serious…but who am I kidding, it’s not like I brush my hair very often anyway). The kitchen, however, is one place that is unpacked and has been in use since our first morning here. » Read more «

During the harvest and crush this year, Ben used a phrase that I latched onto. When racking wine in its initial stages of fermentation, the winemaker Ben works for calls for “big air”—pouring the wine from one container to another from a great height, to ensure that oxygen comes in contact with the juice. In winemaking, a certain amount of oxygenation of the juice is a good thing: it helps to stabilize the wine, protect it, and develop in the bottle. Too much oxygen during barrel- and bottle-age though, produces oxidation, a flaw. I love that idea. Taking a risk, to be sure. But that risk, in prudent amounts, protects and encourages growth. The next months will be a whirlwind—really, they already should be, but I’m a bit in denial. In two days, Ben and I are moving to a new home. It is old (the original part of the house was built in 1760). It is rural (it sits on 5+ acres and is surrounded by more vacant land). Ben is also going to Uruguay for three months to apprentice during the southern hemisphere harvest. Conveniently, though, he’ll have two whole weeks to settle into this house that I impulsively decided we needed to live in, before he leaves. Before he goes to Uruguay, we are taking a trip to Buenos Aires. After I get back from Buenos Aires, I have just a few days before I fly to Indonesia for work.Somewhere in there, Christmas and New Year’s have to happen. But I haven’t quite worked that out yet. » Read more «