The Taste of Soil

Root vegetables can grow most of the winter if the preparations are done right. It is the rituals of generational knowledge, the practices of things that build our folkloric memories of home and family. The way traditions are passed down.

On my mother’s side they used their hands. They worked the soil. They built things from wood and stone. This wisdom is in me as the story I belong to. The history in my bones.

After the Harvest – 2019

I have memories of my Grandfather in the fall of the year digging trenches in his garden and lining the sides with ply wood. He would transplant the escarole and other greens into this trench and cover it with a canvas tarp before the frost. This gave us fresh greens for most of the winter.

Lentils – 2019

Escarole was a main ingredient in almost every soup while growing up. It was delivered in a recycled paper grocery bag by my Grandfather. Picked fresh. It needed to be washed or it would be gritty. I remember standing at the sink washing it and draining the leaves in the old dented colander.


My favorite soup to put escarole in is chicken. It was the last thing added to the soup. It mixed with the onions, celery, carrots and broth to add just the right amount of bitter. That tang that marked the green’s unique flavor. Chicken soup is not quite right without it. Escarole brought the essence of the earth. The taste of soil. A much needed reminder during the winter months

These kinds memories are the stories that defined what we internalize as home. That sense of belonging to a place and a time. We know the taste of the soil that grows our roots, strengthens the fibers of our being and gives us the nutrients to be whole.

Take time to taste the soil that feeds your soul that gives you the resources you need to make the world what it needs to be.

A New Year and Road Ahead…

Prayers for the year.
Prayers for those I met for those I met for the first time
Prayers for those I held in sacred space
Prayer for the ones transitioning
Prayers for the new ones just born
Prayers for those resisting
Prayer for those who have walk along the road with me all these years
Prayers for the kind
Prayers to those who fight for the waters
Prayers for those who have lost their way
Prayers for the addicted
Prayers for those who seek answers
Prayers for those who hear the song of the universe
Prayers for the artists and those who make things
Prayers for the ones who fight for what’s right
Prayers to the ones that know every thing is connected…. prayers to all of those I forgot …

These prayers were offered into the Shamhain fire this year. The beginning of a new direction and perhaps a deeper root into the next evolution of my life. To serve is often a foggy road with very little to guide you. What is certain is the ground beneath the feet and the movement forward. Meeting each moment as it presents itself. Trust is the hardest lesson to navigate. The signs and signals present and disapear. The power of choice and knowing when and where to push beyond the hesitation and risk.

The best laid plans are not part of the Cosmic GPS for mortals. We are tested. Each day we get to start again. We get to show up and the explore the mystery and if we are lucky, the curiousity, the choices we make and everything else aligns, then life will take us on adventures.

I am Blessed by all of you in my life.