|San Marzano tomatoes (or elvish shoes!)|
|autumn leaves 2014|
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.
Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)
|roast chicken, watercress and nut sandwich|
|basic Thai red curry paste|
|lemon, herb and garlic butter|
|fish in sorrel sauce with sautéed potatoes|
|a piece of pickled beetroot surrounded by pickling spices|
|gin-infused creamy lemon and basil sauce with spaghetti|
|vegetables at Borough Market|
Ambiguous bugles that blow and that falter to silence again.
With banners of mist that still waver above them, advance and retreat,
The hosts of the Autumn still hide in the hills, for a doubt stays their feet;