monday morning they woke early before the sun had risen, they caught a train back to their home in the city, sipping hot earl grey tea. as they rode through the countryside, she began work and sorted through photographs of love; she looked forward to a week of processing and sharing the beauty. at home, she unpacked their bags and slipped into a hot bath filled with lavender bubbles to let the tiredness slip off of her and to let orchid conditioner to soak into her hair. her order of groceries arrived at the door; she baked a loaf of sourdough bread and spread a hot slice with creamy ricotta and raw wildflower honey. she indulged in a compelling new book and a soft, afternoon nap. in the evening, a rich pot of ratatouille was simmering on the stove... a week of life came and went, filled with rainy days. grey skies welcomed the month of may, and many afternoons were spent at home. many days spent processing images, soothed by the sound of swishing from the dishwasher, soothed by the sound of a happy, mellow playlist on the speakers.
falling slowly, eyes that know me, and i can't go back; falling slowly sing your melody, i'll sing it loud... ...i'm your firefly, i'm your shade, i want to live in a house that we made; i want to love you, everyday... haute design's eloquent and widely-read coverage of the obakki fall/winter fashion show featured
her images. she was featured on a local site as
the featured vancouverite.
an artist that she admires and a
brilliant yogini-entrepreneur-writer-activist commented on her work;
a photographer that she loves traveled in europe, making her nostalgic for her once-home. her
work was published by a site for baby inspiration in the u.k. she sipped cups of vanilla oolong tea as she worked, she took a break in the afternoon to walk along the ocean. this is why we live here, she thought, in this building on the edge of the sea, so that i can take a moment in the afternoon to fill my lungs with cold, salty air. for the very last time, her book club met around her table. they poured local wine from the decanter, they shared a board of aged cheeses and a platter of sliced pears and a dish of baked camembert in which to dip crusted bread. soon, they would soon all be on new paths: in rwanda, in australia, in paris... they cherished the year that had past since the first time they met -- they cherished the novels they had read together, the meals that they had shared in one another's homes and mostly they cherished the many late night evenings of conversation that had happened, deepening an inexplicable trust between near-strangers, and turning their monthly gathering about books into something more profound, more spiritual. again, they stayed up late, drinking in every last minute of time together, sharing their hearts over pieces of chocolate. the next morning she woke early to attend her first pottery class. she walked the short distance from her home to the studio along the seawall and looked forward to getting her hands thick with grey clay. she had always wanted to create with her hands; to her, it feels feminine, artistic. she learned to prepare her clay, to centre it on the wheel, to lift it with her hands as it spins. she left hours layer with clay all over her yoga pants, dried on her hands and perhaps a small smear on her cheek. at home, she tossed all of her clothes into the washer and turned on a hot shower. she refreshed, and dressed simply in her sevens with a white tee. she made lunch: a panini made with fresh sourdough bread, with ricotta, with basil, with thick slices of zucchini, with sea salt. hurrying, she caught the train out of the city; she flipped through
intelligent life on the ipad, captivated by the cover story about the elegant and artisitic grace coddington, creative director of american
vogue. she prayed that she would be
as lively as grace at seventy. once she arrived at her destination, she was welcomed with a hot cup of peppermint tea and a cuddle with
her sweet baby niece. she photographed her little giggles and fell more in love with her dark-chocolate-hued eyes, catching the light in them in each frame. she went home with a bundle of fresh rosemary in her bag, with tiny purple flowers still attached, grown with love by her sister in law in the garden. that evening, she met her love after work in gastown, where they were shown to a table at
nicli antica. they shared authentic italian pizzas topped with fresh basil and fior di latte and finished with extra virgin olive oil. they shared their day over the candles flickering on the table, amidst the myriad diners filling the trendy spot. they finished the meal with a tiramisu - light texture, yet rich flavors of espresso, chocolate and mascarpone. another work day passed, and she spent it in a cafe with fresh spring flowers on the tables and with grilled multigrain bread topped with roasted turkey and cranberry chutney. every table was filled with those working on laptops, those meeting for lunch; the energy around her motivated her to work.
two hipster mamas in skinny pants, vintage clogs, big glasses and knits sat at a table with their baby girls in prams. they gave their babes steamed soy milk as they enjoyed lattes and discussed interior design and record players. she smiled at the way their motherhood felt young, relevant, beautiful. that evening she simmered a mushroom and red wine soup on the stove; the sipped the rich broth and dipped crusty bread into it, savoring. earthy, bitter, sweet. she enjoyed a quiet, cosy evening and was inspired by
sophie dahl. gorgeous and eloquent and delicious,
she is.
this kitchen is a gently relaxed one... in this kitchen we appreciate the restorative powers of chocolate. the kitchen would have a fireplace... there might be a small upright piano by the window, with an orchid that doesn't wither... on long summer days, the doors to this kitchen are thrown open, while a few lacy, non-stinging bees mosey by. children stir. when it rains there is room in this kitchen for reading and a spoon finding its way into the cake mix. serious cups of tea are drunk here; idle gossip occurs, balance and humor prevail. it is lingering breakfasts, it is friends with babes on their knees, it is good-bye on a sunday with the promise of more. this kitchen is where life occurs, jumbled, messy and delicious. it is lovely. and, on the final weekday, she wrapped herself in a white trench, a nude silk scarf and heeled boots to do errands. she stopped for a yam roll and a green tea at a japanese restaurant before finishing her tasks and then meeting her love outside his office in the rain. it was time for the weekend to begin.
