Scene from a Hermitage

There was a time when all my blog posts were about quietly shuffling in my kitchen, stirring something on the stove while permakitten Grace wove in between my legs and the city blinked right outside my window. Then my life exploded along with the country, and an urgency replaced any peace I harbored. Truro has restored my calm. I had a mediocre writing day and was late to both sunrise and sunset. But I caught the last vestiges of both, and the glory of autumnal Cape Cod held me like a beloved child. Tonight I am cooking with ingredients gathered from farmstands and my finely feathered city: lamb and lentil stew with kale, cilantro, cumin, and hot-hot sauce swiped from Modern Pilgrim’s prodigious collection. I’m sipping red wine while Stevie croons so sweet and the stars are blinking brighter than NYC. I know where I am if not where I’m going, and will sleep and eat and drink so well. For now, this is enough.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy