Food Poem – The First Green of Spring by David Budbill

This is the perfect poem for today, Amani’s birthday. Happy 22nd Birthday my baby.  May we all celebrate “this green, this life.” Out walking in the swamp picking cowslip, marsh marigold, this sweet first green of spring. Now sautéed in a pan melting to a deeper green than ever they were alive, this green, this…

Wobblyogi Wednesday – Learning to Breathe

I am fighting a battle; I fear I am losing. It started as a cute blossom filled spring-time allergy that morphed into an angry full-blown, noisy nose blowing, scratchy throat coughing, body aching, ugly cold. I continue to fight with a steady stream of tea, oregano drops, and uplifting mantras like “I am healthy and…

Yoga Poem – Be Kind by Michael Blumenthal

Not merely because Henry James said there were but four rules of life— be kind be kind be kind be kind—but because it’s good for the soul, and, what’s more, for others; it may be that kindness is our best audition for a worthier world, and, despite the vagueness and uncertainty of its recompense, a…

Wobblyogi Wednesday – Dance Mom Meditation

Here is the meditation that helped me emotionally survive a weekend of dance competition. Almost. Our late start Saturday morning thankfully gave me time to sit for 20 minutes. The solidity of the floor is always best for a long straight spine but hotel room carpets always feel threatening to me. So, I sat comfortably…

Me, a hungry philosopher?

I am a self-proclaimed food philosopher. Maybe I’ll be able to convince a few others of my suspicion after “How to Eat Bittermelons and Brownies: Recipes from a Philosopher Mom” is complete. Until then, I am an unverified food philosopher and an imperfect but verified mom. I used to be a design historian and secretly…

Food Poem- Hamburger Heaven by Ronald Wallace

In this poem, we see food as a marker of time and place to be loved and envied, Hamburger Heaven. What might be your “Hamburger Heaven”? Tonight we find them again, parked under the stars (no one ever eats inside in Heaven), beeping the tired carhop with her pageboy and mascara for a paper boat…

Food Poem- Room Service English Muffins by Kim Dower

When we travel we tend to notice the details, the fine print, the hidden salt and pepper shakers, better. We allow ourselves to break our own patterns and habits, we allow ourselves to try new things and accept deviations like butter on our English muffin, we allow a different world. This poem captures the sense…