Wild Hearts

Photo from here.

I wish I could say that was me on the horse up there, but it's Giselle. The model. But I can see how some people might get us confused ;)

There's so much more to horseback riding than simply Yee-haw. For a novice rider like myself, you need to know logistics: what makes the horse go, stop, turn right, turn left. Be assertive, but gentle and kind to your horse. Then, of course, you slowly move into the territory where how you ride your horse is similar to how you live your life. (Note: for a refresher on this topic, view the recently released film documentary Buck).

The challenge is tending to that fine balance between give and take. Just as you don't want your life to live you, you can't let the horse control you. You've got to be strong-willed, deliberate and confident in your relationship - as with all relationships, there should be mutuality. Once you've established these ground rules however, you have to let go. You've got to give your horse some reign.

My friend Caitlyn is getting married in the fall and as part of her Bachelorette weekend, we went out to Chanslor Ranch in Bodega Bay for a trail ride. I hadn't been on horse since a lovely coastal ride I went on a few years ago in Big Sur. It's kind of like riding a bike: if it's been a while, your first inclination is fear. However, once you're on, it's like you never were off. And once the horse starts trotting along, bouncing you up and down, you've never felt more free.



That's me. Bottom right corner. I didn't get the gallop like Giselle, but I did get the hair flow.



Caitlyn all saddled up. The bride-to-be rode Tinkerbell, the snow white horse, of course. Her cowboy boots were her Mom's, from the seventies.



Something borrowed...



T.B. (short for Taco Bell) was the tallest horse. I obviously wouldn't be riding T.B.



Caitlyn snuggling up with Goofy (one of the smallest), who I rode. More my speed.



Even horses, with their regal boldness, can be dainty.



Saddles are so complex, intricate and, up-close, quite beautiful.



Speaking of up-close and beautiful, our guide David (who wore a feather in his hat) took this picture of a small cluster of orchids on the trail. Their pink popped amidst the greenery. He was very adamant about our taking notice of the orchids.



The Bachelorette group posing (post-ride, mid-inner thigh strain) with the horses. Not sure if it's obvious, but Goofy was snuggling into my neck pretty cozily. We were best buds.

All of this horseback riding reminded me of some of my favorite horse movie moments:



Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet. A true love story.



Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain. Another true love story (possibly the best, and most heartbreaking, ever).



Gabrielle Anwar in Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. I loved this movie when I was younger! Just thinking about it now makes me want to get back on that horse. It's a special thing, riding a horse. Feeling free, wild and connected - all at the same time.

Does anyone have any magical horse stories to share?

Sweets

Shouldn't all Sunday nights end this way?

"It's Gratitude, Y'all"

My yoga teacher said this in class tonight and I thought it was amazing. Amazing was a word that came up a lot, too. His class isn't one that I go to regularly - maybe once every two months, but when I do, I'm always happy that I did.

Often in yoga we're given permission to be grateful. I say permission because, outside of a spiritual place, we tend to move so fast that we lack the time, space and energy to think about such things. In yoga, our teachers will ask us to consider our gratitude during particularly challenging poses. It's usually the thought of this that gives me that extra push. What am I grateful for? To be alive, here today, in this pose -- that crosses my mind.

More specifically, I'm grateful for what I did when I came home from work. Not entirely sure what my night would become, I was almost paralyzed by options: a walk in the neighborhood, a trip to the market, an outing with friends. In times like these, I often get worked up and overwhelmed by decision making -- but today I decided to sit down in my chair and just be still. From this stillness, I had the most intense, bodily desire to go upside-down. So I did.

Typically, my headstand practice involves using the wall as a prop because I'm too afraid to do it in the middle of the room. During inversions, I'm afraid that I will topple over onto my back and hurt myself. So it goes, I went over to the wall and lifted up into headstand.

After hanging out with my heart above my head for a bit, I came down and settled into child's pose. Then, I realized that being in the privacy of my own home would probably be the best and safest place for me to try a freestanding headstand. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was up! No wall, no safety net - just legs floating in the air. I honestly couldn't believe it! How did I get up there?

When I came down and settled back into child's pose, I actually said out loud to myself: "I did it!" It was at that moment that I figured out what I would do with my night. Off to yoga! (I felt so blissed out from my freestanding headstand that it only made sense to extend this feeling into an hour and half long yoga class).

When my teacher asked what we were grateful for, I thought of my headstand: I'm grateful for the headstand that brought me to class tonight. A few hours of reflection later and no longer puzzled by how I floated up so easily and weightlessly, I realize now it was because I was ready. That's what that was. I conquered my fear with fearlessness.

Of course, I'm not a pro and I'm certainly still afraid of headstand in the middle of the room and will surely be using the wall next time I go up. However, it's nice to know that fear isn't the end point. Fear is a question. There are many answers. It's your choice which one you pick. It's what they call yogi's choice. It's as simple as that and, really, it's gratitude, y'all.

Fresh Peach Cake

Whatever has kept me busy this summer, it sure hasn't been baking. I suppose it's not the ideal summer activity: working up a sticky sweat in a hot kitchen, feeling as though you yourself are baking, along with whatever is in the oven, which, once consumed, will most likely not motivate you to put on a bikini. You know what I have to say to that? Excuses, excuses - get back in that kitchen, girl!

There's plenty of time in the summer to frolic on the beach, swim in the waves and tan on the sand (all while scantily clad). During those down moments when you'd prefer to relax at home (and, let me tell you, San Francisco summers have their share of gray days), baking doesn't sound half bad. I woke up Saturday morning and figured I'd do just that. I needed to go to the farmer's market first, for inspiration.



The selection of summer squash looked refreshing, so I picked up one of each - but I was thinking lunches and dinners for those. I needed something sweet for my baking desires.



Stone fruit - now you're talking! Peaches, nectarines, pluots, and plums - probably my all-time favorite fruit of the entire year. They're only around for a short while longer, so I felt a sudden sense of urgency to get these babies into the kitchen.



I picked out one of each type of fruit, hoping that I had enough stoniness to bake at least something from one of my cookbooks. While flipping through the Barefoot Contessa's How Easy Is That?, it wasn't long before I found a recipe for Fresh Peach Cake. Sorry, let me say that again. Fresh. Peach. Cake. What stopped me from moving forward? Nothing.



I liked Ina Garten's description of the cake, as "delicious served with a scoop of ice cream, but...also good as coffee cake for a special breakfast." I love a dessert that can multi-task! Another enticing Ina plug was that, while baking, it makes the house smell like cinnamon and sugar. Who needs a Tuberose candle when there's a Fresh Peach Cake in the oven?

Down to Basics, or shall I say, Back to Basics: The recipe calls for 3 extra-large peaches, so I did have to stop by the store to pick those up (given I did not buy nearly enough peaches at the farmer's market). Once I had all of my ingredients, I was good to go. Everything was running smoothly, until...

To my utter dismay, as I began slicing my peaches in preparation to lay them on top of the batter, I discovered that two of them were rotten! So deeply rotten! They looked so beautiful and perfect on the outside, but then I remembered that saying: beauty is only skin deep. It applies to fruit, you know. With a perplexed heart, I glanced over at my one triumphant peach, feeling as though I'd never loved a SINGLE un-rotten pit so much:



I could have cried, quit, maybe slammed some pots and pans around - but, NO, I prevailed! I will make this cake if it's the LAST thing I do (well, besides eat it). Luckily, I had my extra goodies from the farmer's market (a nectarine and a pluot) which conveniently sneaked their way into my cake (shh, don't tell Ina).





Once the rotten pit incident was behind me, I was able to assemble the peaches (er, a various assortment of stone fruit) and sprinkle the bottom layer with the cinnamon and sugar mixture. Then, I assembled the top layer and topped the beautiful creation off with chopped pecans. I must say, it looked very rustic and quite charming.





So, for those of you out there who might want to tackle this cake recipe, let me tell you this: the cook time says 45-55 minutes. This cake took 1 hour and 20 minutes to bake. I KNOW! and I'm fully open to the idea that I did something wrong, however I was quite methodical and precise in the kitchen, so I can't imagine what that error was - but, yes, I'm sure it was me, NOT YOU. But, yes, bakers, keep the time in mind.



Oddly enough, the using-multiple-kinds-of-fruit-because-some-things-turned-out-rotten mishap was actually a happy accident. Look how the different varieties of stone fruit gave the cake this pretty color scheme - almost like a rainbow!



Voila! After what was just about the length of a Woody Allen movie, my cake was perfectly set and ready to cool. Topped off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, this dessert is the perfect summer treat. And I barely broke a sweat! (j/k)

Morning Moon

To all you writers and dreamers out there,

Do you ever forget your dreams until you put your brain to work? I was going about my morning routine as usual (coffee, radio, etc) and then, as I sat down to write, my dream came to me suddenly - the first time it was with me since I was sleeping.

In my dream: I saw the sun, the moon and the earth in the sky - all at the same time! Light from each sphere reflected, almost eclipsed, the other - but really, they were each their own entity. Right now (while I'm awake), it's so perplexing, but at the time (in the dream-life), it made so much sense.

Weavers, catchers, interpreters out there,

What could it mean?

Be Summer

Lately I've been drawn to the particularly fresh and carefree. Ideas, looks, and energies that evoke openness, freedom and possibility. I think, I want to be that - I literally want to feel what I see. So, why not?

I've been doing okay in that I'm finding it easier and easier to capture these moments, ingraining them into my heart - as sure as the beat.

It doesn't hurt that my weekend was full of beautiful people, places, and food. I watched as everyone around me created and transformed our living into still-life inspiration - a postcard to forever keep.



Be still.



Be all shades of rose. Be able to arrange.



Be in the earth. Be finding dirt under your nails. Be remembering where you were when you got dirt under your nails.



Be stepping into space. Be stepping on the ground. Be stepping into the space that you create. Be stepping into the ground that is limitless.



Be playful. Be relaxed. Be whimsical. Be lounging. Be summer. Be all of the above.



Having been there you might allow yourself to stay. Stay among the way you felt good. You think you might be needed elsewhere. But you're not.



Stay for the nourishment and the warmth. Stay for the plenty. You are meant to be here.



Staying being. Stay free.



Say to yourself: stay being with me.

Under the Napa Sun

Who could ever forget that classic Sex and the City moment between Carrie and Big: surrounded by boxes in his apartment, they've ordered a pizza and he's about to serenade her with "Moonriver," when we tells her that he's moving to Napa because he's tired of New York. She exclaims: "If you're tired you take a Napa, you don't move to Napa!" On my trip to wine country last weekend, I couldn't get that line out of my head.



Although I had trouble leaving my post by the hotel pool, it didn't make much sense to visit Napa without at least one or two wine tastings. For our one day-adventure, we went to Castello di Amorosa, a 13th century castle-turned-winery, complete with a drawbridge, caves and a torture chamber! It looked like something out of Tuscany:







When I wasn't quoting Sex and the City in my head, I was humming the melody to "Sheep May Safely Graze." Clearly, the wine at the Castello has special powers - to move one back and forth between an 18th century cantata composed by Bach to a hit HBO series centered on the lives of four women in New York. Who knew?



We strolled the grounds, peaking our heads around eerie corners and into rooms with names like "The Great Hall." Finally, we made our way down to the cellar for some tasting. We skipped the torture chamber.



We tasted some reds. My personal favorite was the Sangiovese, whose aromas evoke dried flowers, red plum, sweet exotic spices and wild berry flavors. I picked all of that up on my first taste ;) Just kidding, I know NOTHING about wine, besides that I like to drink it.



Here's something I do know: I love rosé! A chilled glass of rosé can really add that special spark to a summer day. This particular rosé was called Gioia. Oh, Joy!



This little opening/window fascinated me. Does anyone know what it's called? I'm curious. Anyway, peering through it reminded me of one of my favorite movies of all time: Under the Tuscan Sun. Diane Lane buys a villa in Tuscany. The concept just never gets old for me.



It's sort of lovely that just one hour north of San Francisco is a little taste of Tuscany (I should start taking better advantage of its closeness - aside from wine, I hear there are lots of good hiking spots up there). Are there any nearby, easy-to-get-to getaways that remind you of a faraway place??

Would love to know. In the meantime, I hope your weekend is filled with Gioia!