MlleVennes

“De toutes les passions, la seule vraiment respectable me paraît être la gourmandise.”  ―  Guy de Maupassant When I was last in Montreal, I heard a story that I wouldn't have believed had it not come directly from the luscious lips of Miss Laliberté herself - erotic chef extraordinaire and remarkable courtesan. (https://www.chezlaliberte.com/) As we sat in a sun filled living room over at Amelie's, everyone complimented the homemade apple compote that Gabrielle brought. Always a chef hungry for discovery, she told us she ventured over to the orchard herself in order to pick the apples.  "I couldn't resist making a few jokes about temptation with the clergy men there" she chuckled softly. "Wait, you went apple picking in an abbey?!" "Well, yes, and it turned out to be really well run too! A charming place, truly. Funny thing is, apparently this was the last of those apples - turns out the orchard burnt down shortly aft

Three AM woke me as it crept into my room. Silence deafening like a low growling thunder. This was home a few months ago. Today my feet were clumsy slipping on ice a bit off beat, rubber soles freezing in temperature they weren't made for. Temperatures I wasn't ever quite made for - the cold harshness kept me inside more than I enjoyed. Beside my old bed, the heather purred. I laid in the sheets, surprised and warm. I usually sleep through the night. I stayed awake, and started to simply breathe. Lucky to be here, in the middle of packed boxes and plans with friends, glowing with gratefulness.  Happy to be here Happy to be going home soon Before long, raindrops were falling on my window. I drifted back to sleep

Peeling a pomegranate, head tilted to the side. As each heavy ruby seed drops in the bowl, gratitude. Knowing which fruit is in season is a life-long learning, it seems. Feeling grateful is a life-long process, if I'm lucky and diligent with my practice. Holidays far from where home was for a long while. I'm blessed to have the strength, the resilience, the bravery and the friends that make it possible. Solstice has passed. Light is on its way back. My belly still feels full of turkey, gravy and laughs. As the bowl fills, I continue counting, breath after breath of thanks. Winter wasn't always easy. I'd say in some ways, it still isn't. I'd also say that in more ways, it now is easier. Yesterday I ran outside, my strides cutting the fog, my footsteps echoing and my lungs like exploding giants. Deft toes dancing through the designs of roots, rugged terrain under my soles. For a moment, in place of it, a remembrance of Montreal's snow covered roads and the