The most absolutely staggeringly beautiful and in principle deserted beach, except for a few boats and trailers, in one of which we are living for the moment, leaves me wordless and speechless except to say just that. I am looking at a grey water, have walked along the sea grass to put my spirits together before taking up my teaching post again next week after a year sabbatical (mostly devoted to writing about my grandmother the painter, who did everything imaginable in the world of southern living, mountain living, Parisian studying at the Academie Julian and knew the Worpswede painters and writers, like Rilke) , and to getting permissions (hate that part) for my forthcoming Modern Art Cookbook (Reaktion, 2013). I would rather give ten talks and write ten more books than get one more permission to publish anything: mea culpa, I guess, but i really do hate it.
Anyway, I am here, and we, with my husband and 2 of his sons, Hal and Alec, and a wonderful chef named Maxime who is Alec's partner, all took a boat to Nick's Cove to have lunch, and now we are ensconced in blankets outside by a fire. Life does not get better than this, I do believe.
Anyway, I am here, and we, with my husband and 2 of his sons, Hal and Alec, and a wonderful chef named Maxime who is Alec's partner, all took a boat to Nick's Cove to have lunch, and now we are ensconced in blankets outside by a fire. Life does not get better than this, I do believe.
No comments:
Post a Comment