“Everyone in the world should have the chance to fall in love in a New York City spring, at least once. Spring, in New York, is like a new epoch in history. The sludge recedes; the trees return as green civilizers of the streets. Your beloved finally takes off all those obfuscating layers, and you can see skin. The Josh Ritter song goes something like, ‘This trip has been done a hundred thousand times before, but this one is mine.’”

— Heather Harpham

Happiness (The Little Road to Semi-Ever After)

A memoir.

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Food"note"

"As our ears adjust to the wordless silence, we slowly become aware that other voices are speaking, not in words but in quiet sighs and softly swelling rhythms, in distant howls and nearby trills and cascading arpeggios of sound. We come into the presence of an earth much wider and deeper than our human designs."


        - David Abram
Foreword in Andreas Weber's Biology of Wonder

Carlton, Ore.

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"Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you." (David Whyte)

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Reminiscing Recipes

New York, NY.

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Indigenous Rice Terraces (Wine) Cultivation, Ifugao, Philippines. Last day photo during my summer long fieldwork and stay there, conducting my grad school research paper on traditional knowledge and ancestral forest and water systems conservation, 2011.

"I loved this country and I felt at home and where a man feels at home, outside of where he's born, is where he's meant to go. It is easier to keep well in a good country by taking simple [measures] than to pretend that a country which is finished is still good. A continent ages quickly once we come. The natives live in harmony with it. But we destroy, cut down the trees, drain the water, so that the water supply is altered and in a short time the soil, once the sod is turned under, is cropped out and, next, it starts to blow away as it has blown away in every old country. The earth gets tired of being exploited. A country wears out quickly unless man puts back in it all his residue and that of all his beasts. When he quits using his beasts and uses machines, earth defeats him quickly. The machine can't reproduce, nor does it fertilize the soil, and it eats what he cannot raise. A country was made to be as we found it. We are the intruders and after we are dead we may have ruined it but it will still be there and we don't know what the next changes are. I would come back here but not to make a living from it. I could do that with two pencils and a few hundred sheets of the cheapest paper. But I would come back to where it pleased me to live; to really live. Not just let my life pass. I would go, now, somewhere else and as we had always gone. You could always come back. I knew a good country when I saw one. Here there was game, plenty of birds, and I liked the natives. Here I could fish [and cook]. That, and writing, and reading, and seeing pictures was all I cared about doing. And I could remember all the pictures. Other things I liked to watch, but they were what I liked to do."

~Ernest Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa

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