The Home


I spend my days thinking about some pretty abstract, conceptual stuff. I’ve come to realize that’s why I love gardening, knitting, cooking, wine-making. Being up to my elbows in dirt, detangling ivy from an azalea bush, face-to-face with worms and bugs – I’m covered in earth, tasting it, smelling it. Winding fibers from skeins to balls, working with tension and texture – yes, it is possible to get bored with cashmere. All good days end with the chopping and sauteeing of onions – the sounds and smells alone are so comforting. Bottling wine – tasting it, examining the sediment – just learning with eyes and ears and nose and mouth and fingers takes me out of my head.

To add to all this earthiness and sensuality, we’ve recently acquired a dog. Molly is a black labrador retriever, a retired bomb-sniffer. She’s nine years old, extremely well-trained. She heels beautifully, and is so incredibly loving. She also sheds like a dandelion and weeps whenever Bernardo leaves the room.

This is Molly:

This is also Molly:

And this is Molly:

I’ve never had a dog before, although I’ve dog-sat and dog-walked plenty. She is good company, a new little wonder in our house.



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