Kitchen Poetry: Looking In and Looking Out

When we first bought our home, some asked why we bought a home with such a small kitchen, considering how much I enjoy cooking.
Here's why. The large deck right outside the kitchen that's just begging to be become an expansion. Someday.
Our home had so much of what we were looking for. And what it doesn't currently have, it has the potential to become.
But for now, we make do with what we have, give thanks and remember there are so many who have so much less.
We love our little home and everything inside. We feel so safe and comfortable inside our home and are so grateful it's ours.

*Thanks for joining me on my week of Kitchen Poetry.


Kitchen Poetry: Copper, Knives and a little Salt

More gifts. From my love, my parents and my in-laws.
The copper canisters are from Tao of Tea in Portland, OR. We picked those up on a drive down to my home in Mendocino several years ago.
The stock pots are Ruffoni, but with the older lids. Those can be found here.
The salt cellar was a gift from my mom. I like how it says "Sal"- latin for salt-, but also what my dad calls my mom, her name is Sally. That makes me happy.
And my knives are an assortment of Wusthof and Henckels. I love them so much. So much.


Kichen Poetry: Water Bowl

It may not seem like much, but so very much happens right here in this little corner of my kitchen and it just had to be part of this series. From preparing the dogs' meals, to filling water dishes, to redirecting the unconttrolabel temptation it is for Burl to play in these water dishes. Yes, I do indeed spend a lot of time bending down right here in this little corner of my kitchen.

(any ideas how to keep a baby out of water dishes and still allow access for the dogs? I was thinking the bathtub.)


Kitchen Poetry: Crocks

They hold my most used utensils. One was found in the shed when we bought our home, one found in my parent's "stuff", the third was a thrift find.


Kitchen Poetry: Preserving Fall

A little bit of Autumn preserved: organic pears and apples.


Kitchen Poetry: Above my sink

I miss and long to be back on the California coast someday. It may never happen, but I dream about it and hold on to the many pieces of memories from my youth growing up on the Northern California coast.
These are pictures I look at numerous times throughout the day, vineyards from home. I look at these and they take me back. To the thick California fog, the salty waves, the fog horns. So many happy memories.

Kitchen Poetry

I'm only two weeks late, but I've decided to join SimpleSparrow on her journey of Kitchen Poetry. I've procrastinated because my kitchen is so so small that I'm not quite sure how I'll find a weeks worth of posts to discuss it. This will be an artistic challenge for me, so if your up for it, follow me on this experiment.
Everyday for the next week, I'll take you on a tour of my kitchen. As I've thought about this project, I've had to focus less on the things I dislike about my kitchen (the size, the faux-wood countertops, the linoleum floors), and have tried taking my focus to the things I truly enjoy about this little space of mine. And with a little one at my ankles, so much of my time is spent in our kitchen these days, so a series of posts about the heart of our home seems fitting.
For those of you who know me well, you know that cooking is my first passion. And for those of you who know me even better, know that I've inherited (yes, I am a lot like her) my mother's love for kitchen ware.
I suppose that's what this journey may turn out to be, a gallery of my most favorite pieces that make up my kitchen; new, gifted, heirlooms, and of course thrifted items.
So please ignore my kitchen's weaknesses and forgive my greenness with photography, and walk with me a little ways through my kitchen. If you'd like, join me and share a little about your kitchen as well.
Here goes...



I'm the Chris Rock in Burl's life. Nobody has ever thought I'm as funny as my son thinks I am. And while I'm certainly not the funniest person in the world, I most definitely am the funniest person in his world. And if I'm the Chris Rock, then that makes Alex the Eddie Murphy in his life as well.

This child of ours reminds Alex and I that there is no feeling quite like a good, long belly-laugh. He also reminds us that it's the simple things our loved ones do that can bring such laughter and happiness. I never imagined I could thoroughly enjoy myself as much by merely siting on my kitchen floor with a maraca and my babe and laughing till we get the hiccups.

What about you? What memories, current or past, do you have of a good long belly-laugh with your loved ones?