Who's afraid of the big bad chicken?

I recently made a startling discovery: I am afraid of chickens.

A problem. Because for months, I've been attempting to get my husband on board with adding a couple chickens to our family, an idea to which he adamantly opposes. "Who will clean up their shit? Our dog will torture them. What will we do with them when it rains?" (A snapshot of his many objections.)

Not to worry. Because as it turns out, as I said, I am truly afraid of them. This minor obstacle to my chicken ownership campaign revealed itself at the Prescott Zoo, where chickens roam free and follow you around.

It began cordially enough, the chickens greeting us nonchalantly upon entering the zoo. At lunch, everything changed. My husband took the kids to the play area so I could set-up our picnic. Not two seconds into it, the chickens were everywhere, all over me.

Fearing an attack on my ankles, I jumped onto the picnic table (not the bench part, but the actual table, smack in the middle of our lunch). Simultaneously, a zoo caretaker came over and began to shoo those crazy chickens away. "City girl up from Phoenix, I guess?" she said, barely containing her laughter.

City girl? I grew up in Midwest farm country. "Well," I thought standing on the table looking down at my high-heeled sandals, "I guess 10+ years of city living have, well, citified me."

On the drive back to Phoenix, I debated whether or not to tell my husband what had happened. I decided to tell him and put to rest any concerns he might have about our future as chicken owners.

At first he said nothing, just laughed. Then, "You know, when you own chickens, you actually have to pick them up once in awhile."

Pick them up? I think not!

It was a lovely idea, though. I guess it's good to know what scares me. I just never expected it to be chickens.

p.s. This post is about yoga, very much so, actually.

A blessing

My husband attracts hawks everywhere he goes—from our urban home to the hidden-away slot canyons in Arizona—they seek him out.

He seems to enjoy them as much as they do him, co-existing in silence.

Last week, my husband found this hawk feather in our yard.

Evidently, hawks had been hanging around the house for a few days. He was paying attention, noticing... I was not.

We love this feather. It fell upon our home following a hectic few weeks, offering its blessing.

Letting light lead

Sometimes I like to do the exact opposite of what is considered good photography technique—which is to not use a tripod for precise focus, open the aperture as wide as it will go and let the light flood in via a long exposure.

This process then becomes a dance with light that allows an image to unfold very organically. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, well, it's just interesting—a playful experiment.

My home yoga practice is very much like this. In teaching yoga, I stick pretty close to the principles of sequencing a class (depending on who I am teaching to...). But, my personal practice is a process much like the one above. It's a time to set aside the "right" or "wrong" or even just a recommended way of doing something and just see how it all plays out.

What a nice shift I find this to be in a world full of regulations, rules and too much right or wrong.

Like a good novel...

My favorite yoga classes I take as a student have much in common with a good novel.

For starters, they have a clear beginning, middle and end.

There is also an evident arc in the story in the form of an apex pose, coupled with lots of good foreshadowing leading up to that pose. The best is when I have a sense of what type of pose the apex might be, but can't peg it exactly. So, there is an element of delight and surprise.

Also, like a novel, the tone of the class is set right from the get-go—whether it be through a reading, music, lighting, the first few opening poses or a combination of these components.

Finally, like any good read, upon completion, the class leaves me with that odd combination of satisfaction and desire for it to never end!

Herb inspired smoothies, a perfect pre-yoga treat!

Fresh herbs have the ability to make just about anything taste more flavorful. Smoothies are no exception. Smoothies are also one of my favorite treats an hour or so before yoga practice, providing something somewhat substantial, but also light and refreshing.

Here are three simple smoothie recipes that feature some easy to come by summer herbs. All are dairy-free.

Tropical Mint
1 cup frozen mango
½ cup frozen pineapple
1 cup vanilla rice or soy milk
2 tablespoons coconut
2 tablespoons loosely packed fresh mint

Peachy Cilantro
1 fresh peach (peeled and sliced)
½ banana
¼ cup vanilla rice or soy milk
1 cup crushed ice
1 teaspoon honey
1 tablespoon cilantro

Pear Berry Basil
1 fresh pear (peeled, cored and chopped)
½ cup lemon sorbet
½ cup crushed ice
6 large fresh strawberries
4 large basil leaves

Directions for all recipes: Combine all of the ingredients, except for the herbs, into a blender. Blend until the consistency of slush. Once blended, add the called upon herb and pulse the blender 5-6 times, just until the herbs are slightly broken up. You want bits of the herb to be visible. Makes one large smoothie or two smaller smoothies.

In honor of the nation's new poet laureate

Let me imagine that we will come again
when we want to and it will be spring
we will be no older than we ever were...
the light will be as it is now in the garden...

W.S. Merwin, The Shadow of Sirius

Sunny, summery gifts

In many places, now is the time when gardens begin to burst with bounty of all shapes, sizes and colors. In Phoenix, however,  mid- to late summer is the time when only a few hardy, heat-lovers can withstand the blistering Arizona sun and soaring temps. While few crops thrive in this intensity, so far our zucchinis and pumpkins are hanging on and continue to supply us with exquisite, yellowey/orange blossoms each morning.

My daughter has developed a very endearing routine of gathering the blossoms in the early hours when they have just opened. It's so sweet to watch her cross the lawn to the gardens along the back wall, barefoot in her summery nightgown, in search of blossoms hidden like easter eggs. 

July and August are not my favorite months in Arizona. However, our personal, fresh supply of squash blossoms that have made their way into salads and omelettes and fried stuffed with locally-made chevre and basil have made the heat just a bit more bearable. And, for this small, yet magnificent gift, I am grateful.

Thyme for peaches

Today I went to the farmer's market and purchased just ripe peaches. Oh, how I love all manner of juicy stone fruits! Having been in the mood to make a galette, I decided that's what those lovely, little peaches would become—the summer's first rustic, fruity dessert.

My husband and daughter were on an outing, so it was just the baby and me. I chose the squishiest peach and diced it up for the little one to keep him happy while I went to work on the crust, working and forming it by hand. What a happy duo we were—my hands full of flour and butter, the baby's dripping with peach juice.

When it comes to peaches, in my opinion, thyme is its soulmate. Lemon thyme to be precise. So, I tossed the finely sliced peaches with the leaves from several sprigs of just-picked thyme, wrapped it up in the salty, flaky dough, and, with a wish and a prayer, placed it in the oven.

Peach Galette with Thyme (gluten-free)
1 1/2 c. white rice flour
.5 c. oat flour
1/2 tsp. salt (I like to use white sea salt and grind it by hand in a mortar and pestle)
1/2 tsp. xanthum gum (binder for gluten-free baking)
12 TB firm, unsalted butter (you could use vegan butter sticks)
1/2 c. iced-cold water
4-6 ripe peaches (peeled and sliced)
1 TB turbinado sugar (and a bit more for dusting)
white of one egg
5-8 sprigs of thyme

Combine the flours and sift once. Cut butter into 1/4" cubes. Add half the butter to the flour and work with hands until it is the consistency of cornmeal. Add remaining butter and work into flour mixture until remaining butter is broken up as well. Add the cold water slowly (you may need the whole 1/2 c. or it may be a bit less or a bit more). Pause a few times while adding water to check the dough—it should form a ball when squeezed. Once ready, divide the dough in half, form into two balls, wrap in plastic wrap, press into disks and place in the refrigerator.

Meanwhile, toss peaches with sugar and thyme leaves.

Remove one disk of dough (you can freeze the other, or just dust with sugar and cinnamon and bake alongside the galette) and roll it out into a larger disk. Arrange the fruit from the center out, leaving about 1 1/2" border all around. Fold the edges of the dough over the fruit. Brush the egg white onto the edges. Sprinkle with a bit more sugar. Bake at 400 for 30-45 min.

Bowl of grace

I am drawn to bowls. I pick them up wherever I go—typically at flea markets or quirky, inexpensive resale shops. Used bowls are best, I think. They allow me to freely wonder about the bowl’s former life. Did it provide an element of color and cheer on a coffee table? Was it used to serve a homemade meal created with love? Or, was it placed in an entryway to catch the loose ends of a life at the day’s conclusion?

An empty bowl reminds me to soften and let go of useless thoughts and frustrations crowding my mind. A bowl full of beloved items—floating flowers, apples, my children’s nature treasures, elements from my alter—reminds me to appreciate the bounty in my life.

Often, when I practice yoga, I think of the concept of a bowl. Some days are days to empty out, with lots of forward bends that surrender mind to earth, seated twists to wring clean and long holds that let the dust settle. Other days are days to allow the fullness of life to wash over me, where handstands and backbends help me connect to the ever-present fountain of grace.