Black beans and Vermeer

I was cooking black beans yesterday. Piles of black diamonds in an inky broth, studded with a carrot, a bay leaf and silky strips of leek. 

Suddenly, I thought of Vermeer's domestic scenes; dull, "dead coloring", over-layered with glazes of red and yellow, locked into place with a touch of pearl.

Served with greek yogurt, Jamaican hot sauce, cheddar cheese and a sprinkle of spring onions they tasted delicious too!

granite flesh

December is here. The year is almost turning and the word flesh has just come whispering in my ear. An Old English poetry-word for "body" was flæsc-hama, literally "flesh-home." The French say we can be bien dans sa peau, to feel right inside your skin, to be comfortable in the body we call our domicile. These days I am encircled by bodies travelling through illness and growth, spinning pirouettes on the tightrope of  life.  I recently visited a rock collection in a Musée d'Histoire Naturelle. Hunks of granite, ancient earth flesh carried the memories of a million other days. Softly, spoken words. Sshhh..they murmured, we are still here.