We're Breathing for You

I have a friend in Winnipeg who is very ill and has been in the hospital for several weeks. She caught a respiratory viral infection and ended up with a collapsed lung. It's been very upsetting as I have slowly realized through bits and pieces of revealed narrative how serious things have been for her. Her friends have set up a website and an e-mail list for her so now she has 72 friends in a shared vigil that spans several provinces. The language of the e-mails is upsetting, but also comforting. G visits Pranna D. at 10 am, N and B visit at 2pm. J and S pick up her partner to feed him dinner. "She is eating well," someone reports, "She had an egg, some yogurt and a piece of toast." My friend is a yoga teacher, so a couple of people visit her and perform the gestures of pranic healing. One friend e-mails and tells us to meditate on breathing. Take three deep breaths and tell yourself you are breathing for her.

I have met one of her Winnipeg friends who is a writer. The three of us sheltered in the rain at the Regina Folk fest four years ago in a tiny tent I used in my first appearance as Madame Beespeaker. We laughed and shared snacks. Now A. will take my e-mail letters and read them to our friend, Pranna D. She is getting overwhelmed by visits and is now asking for cards and letters. We have a long history of writing by hand to each other, but I like the idea of A. reading my e-mails to Pranna D. I can be chatty and au courant. My goal in sending these letters is to take her mind off her situation, if only for a few moments. I want to create a virtual window on the world outside that hospital room.

My friend is a fighter. I know she will build on the stability that she's already won in the fight to breathe and to keep her CO2 levels down. She will draw in the energy her friends are giving her and she will put it to good use. And it's good for us all to take at least three breaths a day and send them to someone in the world.

En Plein Anniversaire

Making art, visiting, eating: these are a few of my favorite things and today I attended a birthday party where that's exactly what we did. J chose to draw one of her exquisite savoy cabbages and I continued to work on my moth series in pencil crayon and ink.

The sun came and went, but it stayed warm enough for us to work and eat outside in J's garden where we watched her chickens roam the yard. Apparently one of the chickens is starting to look and act more like a rooster, and if she turns out to be a he, he's in big trouble because of the noise bylaws. J. is hoping she's transgendered. We're waiting to see if Rusty crows or she lays an egg. What if he/she does both? J's friend the nurse keeps turning to me and saying sotto vocce, "I don't know chickens, but that is a rooster." And whatever the gender, it is a prime example of a glittering Rhode Island Red. The poultry pair are inseparable, taking dust baths together, and otherwise remaining within eyesight of one another.


Princess is ambivalent towards the poultry, because they are the peasants of the animal world.


J's green house is absolutely teeming with tomatoes.

When I saw the cobalt blue color of this dish I had to pick some borage flowers to set it off.

I made these fried chick peas, inspired by the appetizer at Campagnolo. I fried them up in a tbsp. of olive oil, 1/4 tsp. coriander, 1/2 tsp. turmeric, 1/2 tsp. harissa, salt and pepper and some orange thyme from my garden. When they start to smell like popcorn, they're done (about 7 minutes). (The recipe is modified from Ceci Fritos by Kevin D. Weeks at About.com.)

J made Jamie Oliver's zucchini salad with basil and a lemon juice and olive oil vinaigrette.

Plus she made this Greek salad with her own tomatoes. It was bursting with flavor.

C made an intensely flavorful raspberry blackberry crumble sweetened with jam. I want the recipe!

We drank Earl Grey rooibus and sang for the birthday girl.

Sweet summer.