I thought I’d do something a little different today and post a little Food Memory Prompt for your perusal and writing practice :}
–>What food memory from a trip you’ve taken comes directly to mind? How do you remember this, through your senses?
For me, I’ll share about “Cornish Cream Tea”– a scone basted with clotted cream and jam, accompanied by a cup of the strongest of milky black tea.
Way back yonder, a friend and I ventured on a trip to Wales and England to research ancestry and geek out on Beatles and King Arthur hotspots. After traipsing around the green and rocky crevices of Tintagel Castle looking for gnomes, we found ourselves in a small cafe in the village eating this delectable meal. I think there were doilies everywhere. I still can remember the feeling of my teeth biting through the cloud of clotted cream, into the layers of jam and finally sinking into the doughy denseness of the scone…heavenly.
I’d love to hear about a strong food memory related to your travels if you’d like to share :}
PS. Just a short ways away from Cornwall is Devonshire, where they have “Devon Cream Tea.” Basically the same dish, but they insist on the jam topping the cream vs. the other way around. Both factions are pretty serious about the “right” way to do this topping!
“Great Spirit of Love, come to us with the power of the North. Make us courageous when the cold wind falls upon us. Give us strength and endurance for everything that is harsh, everything that hurts, everything that makes us squint. Let us move through life ready to take what comes from the North.”
~quote credit: a (probably altered) blessing from a four-direction prayer of Chief Seattle
Thanks for tuning in to this series of poems honoring the NOAA building in Pacific Grove, CA. If you’d like to hear this poem recited, you can find an audio version here:
Greetings! Just wanting to share that I have begun to pay attention to the part of me that really wants to share my poetry verbally and with music accompanying it. There are only a few poems recorded on the Anchor podcast site, but I aim to add more each week. I also aim to use my own music versus the canned, but for now its pretty groovy to have such an easy option. If you are interested in tuning in, the site is below and I will also be linking at the end of my written posts if there is an associated recording. Enjoy if it aligns!
Thirty years ago A gun flew through the Night air Wiped clean The grip Still warm From frenzied Discharge
Its body Landing amongst Innocent carousel brambles Hidden, hidden
Like a ghost He’s gone Although surely Something pierced through Surely something Ripped open his aorta And led to a mother Kneeling Keening Roaring In a cold hospital atrium As the koi flipped and swished In its chlorinated pool
Like a ghost He’s gone Both perpetrator And perpetrated Poof
Is It Just A Dream?
Thirty years later Still, no one’s found him And I wonder if he’s living A stunted, child possessed I wonder if he holds this Hidden, hidden Or if he’s died By his own hand Never being Truly found
Hidden, hidden Like my deepest rage Like my Orphaned Hollow Resistant Aorta
Like this Heavy Heaving Grief
Thirty years later It remains cold Still no one’s found him And the Wolfman’s Ashes Have gone To the wind
~Written for “Justice: Sisters of The Holy Pen” edited by Pamela Eakins
the store across the street from The Kingfisher Bookstorethe temporary exhibit at The Island County Museum a few doors down…the Practical Magic Apothecary-turned bakery just a few steps away…and these beauties, just outside the bookstore waterfront window as I began my reading! Photo by Bonnie Gretz❤
Letting Go 