sunday sort of light - spring rhubarb!

hello hello, happy friday!


i'm feeling all lively like spring today
like the bouncy of a bird just free from the nest.

things are brilliant here,

the cold of the week is seeing its end

and the sunshine of saturday is preparing to show.
i've seen the fat bellies of starlings a flutter on the grass
and the weighty and wet, of robins with worms.






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i've been thinking of sundays, because of how they pass by so quick.
and because too, of how the light sits
and the breeze always blows.



so since it's been a while, a sunday sort of light post.
find the entire series from 2008 until now, here
and a few of my faves: ice cream, white, saturday flourish!

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oh and i've got words for you too!
stories of rhubarb from little to big.
and lessons from people most interested in pink.

i walked to the market a few months ago now,
i picked up the things i most often get.
lettuce and eggs and butter and cheese.
and i talked with a woman i can't so easily forget.
her outfit was pretty, fitted for fun.
a cashmere sweater, beige coat, and a scarf from hermes.










she was kind 
i could tell, with wrinkles to match.
a near century in years, but young all the same.
her neck heavy with jewels,
her ears laden with stones.






we stood side-by-side in the section with fruit,
she was stopped there like me, just staring at pink.
her hands faster than mine,
her trolley near full.
fuchsia and paper and pretty layers of green.












she spoke with me
though it was a moment or two 
before she really got going.

perhaps she could see i was struck by the sight,
most utterly amazed at rhubarb so early and so pink.

 you see, for us in toronto
march often remains heavy with snow

and spring while soon to be, is still quite out of reach.






















she said farmers force rhubarb in greenhouses
tucked clear away from the tough winter air.
tough winter air, i loved that.


she said it's much prettier this way.
skinny and tender and pink to the centre.
she said she makes 
jams and crumbles and things that are sweet.
and that to her, 
rhubarb in march was about, the very best thing.

she said that it is local and most always tended with care
and that if i watched i would see that it appears at the start to each year.








it was charming.
a woman in her late eighties telling me of stories of pink.
of how spring rhubarb grows
of what i should bake, and of what i should make.

that said i've bought rhubarb almost each week since.

i've made jellies and tarts and puddings of rice.

there's been almonds and pistachios

and butter made from whey.
and i'll tell you what,
i'm wholly and entirely in love.

happy weekend, friends.

it's meant to be grand.




xox, n.

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bright light.

black door.

white balloons.

maroon coloured lips.
green leaves.
tiny bathtub.
and sarah jane, i love your rhubarb photo! 

[hg news]

 an update monday may 17, 5pm est!
AN UPDATE TUESDAY MAY 18, 5pm est!

not on the list, join here. 

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