Creative Sanctuary

Inspiration

Hygge for One

By Allison

Although there is much to be done in the coming days, I am taking a hygge day—choral Christmas music, ginger spice candle, fuzzy clothes, baking,and tea…

I realize that community is central to the Danish practice of hygge—coziness, togetherness, sharing, and reciprocity…  board games, comfort food, and mulled wine…

Seeing that my near future holds an abundance of family time, I am content to build a solo hygge experience right now.  Let’s hope that this cozy “me time” helps me to refrain from snapping at my family next week.  (Who are we kidding?  I will be short with them!)

Later today, I will prepare a savory pork roast.  I will roast vegetables.  I will sip lush red wine.  I will listen to podcasts, and I will write in my journal.  Maybe I will Netflix and chill.

But for now, I am indulging in freshly baked cookies:  David Lebovitz’s Buckwheat Chocolate Chip Cookies.  They’re earthy, sweet and robust.  I pair them with an appropriately cold-weather tea—Nilgiri Frost Oolong.  This rare tea—from India—develops its intense fruitiness during chilly winter months.  Its assertiveness stands up to the chocolate, buckwheat and walnut.  This cookie-tea pair is quintessential winter fare.

My solitary hygge day is not lonely—I deliver Buckwheat Chocolate Chip Cookies to a baker friend, I chat with my stylist about her holiday plans, and I text a sleepy friend in Europe.  My hygge mindset weaves a web of meaningful togetherness that will gently carry me into the chaos of the coming weeks.

 

Inspirations

The New York Times on Hygge

The New Yorker on Hygge

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Holiday Minimalism

By Allison

I have some minor hoarding tendencies, mostly involving excessive amounts of books and clothes.  But when it comes to decorating for the holidays, I prefer a clean, streamlined, and muted look.  A few strands of twinkling white lights, some live greenery, and a dozen or so ornaments compose my Christmas décor most years.

This hand-painted ornament is always a sentimental and aesthetic favorite.  Quimper faïence (hand-painted pottery) comes from Brittany in Western France.  The art dates to the early 18th century, and it is emblematic of Brittany.  Each piece is signed.  Motifs include traditional dress and florals, like the one I feature in this post.

My thoughtful aunt Susie gifted this treasure to me years ago, and each time I slip it from its velvety pouch, my mind returns to our visits in France, Italy, and the Midwest.  Cool and heavy in my hand, this art piece also connects me to the artist who carries on this Breton tradition, as well as to friends from Brittany who have passed through my life over the years.

I admire minimalists for their empty closets and the clean looks they create in their homes.  I am not ready to significantly shorten my book stacks, nor am I prepared to thin out my extensive scarf collection.  Yet I emulate their restraint through my commitment to holiday minimalism.  My light touch keeps me from feeling bogged down by Christmas “stuff.” Each of my ornaments holds a story, which allows me to enjoy the season all the more.

Rooibos Season

By Allison

My former student and friend Maggie Heine of Louisville, Kentucky kindly agreed to contribute to Creative Sanctuary this month.   Her thoughtful piece celebrates autumn, rooibos, and wanderlust.  Thank you, sweet Maggie!

If you ever find yourself in southernmost South Africa, pay attention to its strange, shrubby fields. You may happen to see an odd little plant with needle-like leaves, covered with tiny golden flowers. Aspalathus linearis. You won’t find this bush, somewhat unremarkable at first glance, growing anywhere else in the world—farmers ranging from China to the U.S. have tried to harvest it in their home countries and failed. That’s because of the wonderfully strange ecology of South Africa’s Cape region: our planet is composed of six floristic kingdoms, or geographic areas with relatively similar plant species. If you’re reading this, chances are that you’re in the gigantic Holarctic kingdom, which comprises the vast majority of North America, Europe, and Asia. The Cape kingdom, on the other hand, is miniscule, containing only the very southernmost tip of the African continent. Despite its small size, it’s extraordinarily rich, and the majority of plants that call this kingdom home can only be found in that dot on the tip of South Africa.

The entire area is beautiful beyond comprehension, nearly extraterrestrial with its mountains that jut up against the sea, its preponderance of baboons and ostriches, its wide blue skies that become enveloped in clouds in an instant. Now that fall has finally arrived, I find myself thinking about that remote speck and all of its ecological strangeness regularly. I’ve been to South Africa twice, once in the southern hemisphere’s winter, and once in its early spring. During these trips, about six weeks in total, I was rarely without a cup of tea clasped between my hands. This brings us back to Aspalathus linearis, or as it’s commonly known, rooibos. When its leaves are plucked, dried, and steeped, they create an infusion that’s smooth, nutty, and the slightest bit sweet. It’s sold en masse in South Africa like we sell our Lipton green tea—clearly, it’s nothing fancy,  but it’s my constant companion when the weather turns chilly. I love the drink for its flavor, but it’s also more than that. For me, rooibos is the feeling of bundling up at daybreak to search for zebras and lions from an open-sided Jeep; it’s looking out over the expanse of the ocean from 4,000 feet up a mountainside; it’s falling asleep to the sound of rain on an old tin roof. It’s South Africa, in all its botanically bizarre wonder.

Shape

By Allison

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth.
As with light, nothing flowers.
-May Sarton

Early morning stillness…  the Earth rests.  I flutter in and out of a last dream.  What time is it? Still dark.
I roll on my side.  Push myself up.  Feet dangle over the carpet.  Gentle movements.  Deep breath.  My feet touch the floor.  Warm socks, cozy wrap.

Time to shuffle downstairs.  What shall I drink?

Cool water in the kettle.  Tea tins in the cupboard.

Black tea?  Yes.

How about a Ceylon?  Smooth, elegant.  Just right.

The water trembles.  Shy light filters through the blinds.  A couple of teaspoons of dry leaves slipped into the teapot. The water begins to bubble…  Just a little longer.

Ritual gives shape to our days.  I await the first sip, and the events of today take root in my mind’s eye.  As the day unfolds, they will push through the surface.  Now, though, I focus on the breath running through me.

Beauty in Grief

By Allison

 

“Beauty, in a way, justifies our existence.”
–François Cheng, Oeil ouvert et coeur battant

My cousin Robb and I grew up amongst lawyers.  Drawn to the arts, we both forged paths that were atypical in our family.  Robb became a painter, and I studied literature.  We were both teachers.

Last week, Robb died unexpectedly.  I feel the pain of this loss in my bones.  And memories arise.  When we were little, large family gatherings at Grandma and Grandpa’s farm were a wall of noise—wild children waiting for the Easter egg hunt to begin, or, in December, demanding to know when Santa Claus would arrive.  We existed in a joyful, buzzing mass of cousins.

Happily, Robb and I got to know one another as adults.  Once we met at Caribou Coffee and spent a few hours talking about our favorite museums and gossiping about our siblings.  A few years back, I attended one of his shows—in a parking ramp!  It was brilliant!  The curvy, cavernous, concrete space allowed me to see the genius of his bright and bold paintings.  To no one’s surprise, our cool cousin Robb put on a cool show.  It is the most cosmopolitan Des Moines, Iowa has ever felt to me.

That evening, my brother and his wife purchased their first Robert Spellman piece, detail of which I share in this post.  It hangs in their front hallway, and my eyes fall on it each time I enter their home.  Robb left the painting untitled, explaining to my sister-in-law, “this started as a woman and morphed into so much more.”  I see echoes of the organized chaos that defined the Spellman get-togethers of our childhood.  In Robb’s energetic swirls, I see us charging through Grandma’s house, fueled by sugar and time with cousins.  I sense the members of a family gathering around tables.  In the center, I see Oneness.

My cousin experienced beauty and created beauty.  There is also beauty in our grief.  We loved Robb.  He graced us with his attention, his presence, and his art.  His life was beautiful, and he leaves beauty in his wake.

 

Inspiration

Robert Spellman Studio

 

 

Embroidery II

By Allison

Two threads of opaque light

At One with

Invisible needles,

Moving in and out of silent space

Embroidering,

Creating colors unseen

A work of art,

Felt in the Heart

 

This post was created in collaboration with the lovely Shelley Richardson.

 

Inspiration

Embroidery

Lunch Strategy

By Allison

I am more productive and less grumpy when I take the time to orchestrate not sad desk lunches.  Last week I slipped and found myself scrambling in the early afternoons.  I ended up eating unmemorable and somewhat unhealthy food.

This week, I promised myself to do a little better, hence this Indian-inspired meal.  I make no claims to authenticity, but this combo and a few other add-ins will make this week’s lunches livelier and more nourishing.

 

 

Lunch components

Store bought naan bread

Red grapes

Red lentil stew topped with cilantro leaves—I used Mark Bittman’s recipe for Masoor Dal

Brown rice—cooked in the pressure cooker and sprinkled with green onions for color and health

Squares of dark chocolate

Not pictured:  a saag paneer (spinach and cheese dish) microwave meal that will be worked in later in the week

I messed up my kitchen a little bit cooking the rice and the stew.  But clean-up was quick and there will be no morning panic this week!  Also, as much as I enjoy doing everything from scratch, it’s jut not possible when I am busy at work.  I am bring realistic about time and priorities.  This week’s desk lunches will be more balanced and so will I.

 

Inspirations

Not Sad Desk Lunches from Food52

Shisho Delicious’ envy-worthy bento box meals

 

 

 

Our Imperative

By Allison

During my last visit to Paris, I spied a few of these messages of love, all sprayed by the same hand.  They delighted me.  Moving about Paris can be stressful, especially given the security measures of recent years—more soldiers, more police vehicles, more security checks.  In short, more fear.

The unexpected love signs were an antidote to the tensions.  They brought a pause, a smile, and a reminder of loving kindness.  This week, in the wake of mind-numbing violence in my own country, people are grasping for words.  I have not pieced together my own thoughts, and I don’t know that I will.  Yet the Paris love graffiti wells up in me.  Its clear, direct message resonates.  Love is an imperative.  Love is our duty, our privilege, and our pleasure.  And this week, it is our balm.

Skimping on Dessert

By Allison

When I entertain, I almost always favor savory over sweet. I’d rather linger over a few small bites before dinner than serve a rich dessert after dinner.

This week, my selection of amuse-bouches required some foresight, but the elements came together easily. I served small portions of quinoa and farro salad with pickled fennel, a white tuna mousse with basil on small crackers, and roasted almonds.

Here’s my strategy for pulling together a harmonious appetizer tray:

The day before your dinner party
*Take stock of your materials. Do you have a sizeable serving tray or platter? Do you have verrines (small glasses), little jars, or shot glasses to serve soup or salad? No worries if you need to mix and match—it adds character and charm. Pull out bread plates, if you have them, and try to get your hands on some square cocktail napkins.

*Make a grain salad or soup. They will both taste even better the day of your gathering. I served this delightful and easily adaptable salad.

*Make a recipe of roasted almonds. I share my recipe at the end of this post. If you don’t have time to roast your own nuts, grab some at the grocery store.

The day of your dinner party
*Lay out your tray and accoutrements.

The hour before your dinner party
*Taste and freshen your soup or salad. Does it need a splash of oil or vinegar? Maybe some salt and pepper? Spoon into serving dishes and garnish with fresh herbs.

*Spread any dips on crackers or thinly sliced baguette. I served this mousse.

*Take a moment to prepare your tray. Resist the temptation of overcharging it with food and decoration. The goal is to whet your guests’ appetites, not stuff them before dinner.

When your guests arrive
*Begin your evening with the aperitif of your choice—sparkling wine, sparkling water, fruit juice, and bourbon are good choices.

*Enjoy conversation and pretty snacks with your guests before the main course.  Slip away when you need to put the finishing touches on dinner.

For dessert
*If you served a generous tray of appetizers, don’t feel obligated to prepare a substantial dessert. This week, I finished my dinner party with small madeleine cakes that I had in the freezer.

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Embroidery

By Allison

Flea markets are therapeutic.  My eyes do the initial sifting as I make my way down the aisles and through the booths.  When I am drawn to an object—a hand-painted tray, a copper planter, a Limoges teacup—I approach for a closer look.  Where was it made?  What is its story?  Can I make space for this object in my little house?

The visual and tactile experience of an overflowing flea market allows me to move beyond my internal, distracting chatter.  Yesterday, in the company of a friend, this dainty needlepoint purse found me.  The handwork is intricate—much care and concentration went into this old-fashioned piece.  I wonder who made it and who carried it…

Embroidery has long been a form of feminine expression.  My self-taught needlework is precise but sporadic.  Usually, I choose to embroider through language.  Both written and spoken, words form my stitches.  Clean, fumbling, or elegant they lend texture to my creative work.  Pauses are perhaps more important than words.  Spaces of silence, they allow my chains of words to function as thoughts.  At the flea market, I sometimes find myself existing in the spaces between the stitches of everyday life.  The precious pause leads me to small treasures, sharpens my curiosity about their pasts, and inspires me to imagine new places and purposes for them.