{By Heather Baird from Sprinkle Bakes}

Oh, January. You are a chilly month.

Yesterday we had the kind of snow that makes mighty tree limbs bow in submission. On days like this I’m perfectly content to spend long hours in an oven-warmed kitchen, and that’s just what I did. Many treats were made; some for the book and some for the blog. I’m still determining where some should reside. After much hemming and hawing about what to make for this entry, I decided to revisit an old recipe.

{by Mary Murdoch of Wild Tigers Have I Known}

(photo credit)

In order to accumulate a soul, you have to suffer.

As if, once enough suffering has tumbled down upon you,
building up like a mountainside,
your second life will begin.

Like Athena you will sprout from Zeus’ head and appear in a ball of light, naked and red.

Love is what brings all the suffering.
Love is watching everyone you love leave, die, perish- each person wilting slowly.
Like day old geraniums in a Mason jar that sat on the kitchen counter when I was eight years old.
They dried and mummified like King Tut wrapped in cheesecloth.
Carelessly, I knocked over the glass jar and at once, everything fell to the ground.

Two weeks later my dog died, and I was convinced the falling jar was an omen.
A sign from the other side that death was creeping over into the living’s territory in a dense fog
(like there are chalk outlines dividing space between life and death, war zones, agreed upon plots of land.)

{by Rhonda Stansberry}

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Rhonda Stansberry is a photographer with a passion for history and architecture.
See more of her photography on her website, Stansberry Photography, and on Flickr.

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Featured by Editorial Director, Jennifer Doyle | @playgroupie

{by Sarah Bloom}

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{by Thomas Hawk}

“The Best Years of Our Life” by Thomas Hawk / thomashawk.com / @thomashawk
Shared via Google+

Featured by Story Editor Shannon | @mrlady

{By Jordana from Flour Child}

Last night, it rained.

It sounded like magic and love and dreaming and soup and kittens. I put on my fluffiest sweatshirt and cuddled up in bed and watched super classy shows like Jersey Shore and Teen Mom 2. Keepin’ things elegant, you know. I was joyous; absolutely blissful. Until, without any warning, some scary evil malicious malevolent forceful force came over me and I was craving chocolate frosting something fierce.

No amount of Gossip Girl was going to help me and I knew it, so I gave in. But chocolate frosting? Really? I couldn’t just eat chocolate frosting off of a spoon, that’s so unsophisticated. Thankfully, the Heavens have blessed us with chocolate mousse. Espresso chocolate mousse. It’s acceptable the eat that off of a spoon, let me tell you. Basically, when the Queen of England and every Manhattan socialite ever get together for dessert, they eat this. So classy I can’t even handle it!

{By Jesse Wright of Jesse Wright Photo}

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“Psycho” by Jesse Wright from Jesse Wright Photo | @jessewright | Facebook
shared via Posterous

{by Jenica McKenzie}

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{by Eddie Carroll from One Pixel at a Time}

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@MiddletonRare | Gnilleps on Flickr
shared via Posterous

{by Valeria from The Red Balloon Photography}

A SOMETHING in a summer’s day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon,
An azure depth, a wordless tune,
Transcending ecstacy.
~Emily Dickinson

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