The Year In Food » Fine Seasonal Eating

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100 Things

100 Things That made my Year. 100% inspired by Austin Kleon’s practice. I think it’s okay – and productive, even – to continue looking back as we move deeper into 2018. For most people I know, 2017 was tough. This helped me to reframe that and reminded me of all the little, good moments, the people, places, and details in between. So important. Try it. (And do it over time, leave it, come back to it.) It turned my perception of the year around.

  1. Walking as a habit. Every damn day. It is my daily internal rinse cycle and it renews me every time.
  2. Moving to a place with a bathtub. And taking baths almost every damn night. (Whoa, never sacrificing a tub ever again!)
  3. Montana photo shoot
  4. Less news, more music! (Still reveling in this one. My brain is happier for it.)
  5. Challenging myself to The 100 Day Project with #100daysofplantportraits (I’m stimulated by new ideas and easily bored, so this one was hard but rewarding!)
  6. The space for deep thinking on long drives.
  7. Rewarding collaborations. Learning that this is my sweet spot, even as an introvert, and outside of feeling challenged and inspired, the best part of creative work.
  8. Snow at my house.
  9. New Year’s day drive to Sisters + the fine folks I stayed with.
  10. Nadia Reid’s devastatingly beautiful album, Preservation
  11. The first ice storm, for its novelty. (I made soup, and a Cranberry Carrot Loaf. Walked around marveling at the crystalline wonderland and sheath of ice over my car. All so new. So fun the first time.)
  12. Cooking so many soups.
  13. Teaching (still hard, still intense, but deeply rewarding. More workshops to come this year!)
  14. Seeing coyotes around my cabin.
  15. Stranger Things. Watched it when I had just moved to the woods; dared myself to not get scared.
  16. Spring’s impossibly electric wall of green.
  17. Drinking matcha in the afternoon so I don’t have an existential meltdown with too much coffee!
  18. Living in a cabin in the woods for a year. Learning that it wasn’t the right fit for me, at that time.
  19. The platonic infatuation of new friendships.
  20. Moving back into town, and delighting in the little things: the park across the street, the neighborhood cats and dogs, that ambient sense of community, and hugely, being able to walk everywhere again, especially the grocery store.
  21. Leaning on Rebecca Solnit’s sage and sassy wisdom for a dose of optimism and perspective in these weird times.
  22. Having a dog, difficult as he was. Getting a little time with that deep animal love. Also, he smelled good.
  23. Having a huge, forested park as my backyard.
  24. Setting the ambitious goal of walking every trail in Forest Park, and making it through about half.
  25. Digging deep into the nuances and dynamics of dating.
  26. Soaking wet in the pouring rain, on a photo shoot with Alit. (So fun!)
  27. Wearing summer dresses.
  28. And summer sandals.
  29. Chani Nicolas‘ horoscopes (I’m ambivalent about the literal truth of horoscopes, but man, her wisdom is deep. I’m hooked!)
  30. Deep + juicy therapy.
  31. Rediscovering my edge.
  32. Riot of spring bulbs and flowering fruit trees and flowers, everywhere.
  33. More yoga, my way. (Slow, mellow, deep.)
  34. Blasting music and dancing around in my cabin.
  35. Coffee. I understand why people drink so much coffee in the PNW, and I’ve never loved it more.
  36. Summer mornings on my deck,
  37. Summer evenings on my deck.
  38. Wall of birdsong and insect chorus those summer mornings and evenings.
  39. Drinking less. Enjoying that.
  40. Coupled with judiciously enjoying and digging into natural wines:
  41. At places like Dame,
  42. Brunch at Tournant,
  43. One wild and wildly creative dinner at Jolie Laide.
  44. Smelling the Pacific Ocean in San Francisco (and being hit with such nostalgia for it.)
  45. Berkeley Bowl (which is the best grocery store in the world, hands down.)
  46. Reaching out to old friends.
  47. Nocturne podcast, a rich exploration of night time.
  48. The coalescing of activism.
  49. Falling hard for someone, as crazy as it made me feel.
  50. Getting lost in the woods – not literally – on a long, weird, amazing hike in Idaho with strangers. And ending up at the prettiest alpine lake.
  51. The catharsis of crying.
  52. Making sun tea.
  53. Wacky, improvised road trip meals.
  54. S-Town. Such an intriguing and strange podcast!
  55. Summer fling.
  56. Finally understanding what is so important in community.
  57. Oregon berries!
  58. Long summer nights.
  59. Watching chipmunks and squirrels.
  60. Future Islands’s lusciously rich, nostalgic album, The Far Field
  61. Brené Brown, forever and always. (WWBD?)
  62. Terry Tempest Williams’ gentle, thoughtful activism.
  63. Women’s March
  64. POPCORN! It’s the best snack in the world and it makes me happy.
  65. Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. Samin’s novel take on a cooking compendium delights and entertains with her warm and humorous voice and Wendy MacNaughton’s illustrations. I just love digging into it.
  66. The bittersweet feeling of spending so much time in SF last year, mostly for work.
  67. My annual Montana retreat: big mountains, daily hikes, no reception.
  68. Making gluten-free sourdough
  69. Falling back in love with cooking
  70. Cherry Bombe Jubilee
  71. The Crown (Obsessed!)
  72. Thinking about and working on my communication skills
  73. Learning about Oregon plants
  74. The hard lessons that have arisen with change
  75. Rivers in the summertime.
  76. Watching the eclipse with my dad.
  77. Stopping at Lake Shastina and going on a walk to clear my head on my many drives north/south between PDX and SF.
  78. Making resolutions, even if I don’t keep them.
  79. Sharon Van Etten, every day during the summer.
  80. Celebrating the resolutions I’ve kept: flossing daily, washing face at night, more yoga, more walking, more friend time
  81. Reaching the lowest place of my adult life, and the hard-won gifts that come with the uncomfortable growing pains that necessarily emerge from that. (Still emerging, whoa.)
  82. Invisibilia
  83. Tazo’s Sweet Cinnamon Spice Tea (a nightly ritual in the winter.)
  84. La Croix Pamplemousse. Whatever. I love that shit and it enriches my life. And it’s the perfect evening beverage if you like to drink something special that is not booze.
  85. Dunsmuir.
  86. San Diego, where my family has all moved, one by one. Finally appreciating its sunshine, diversity, tacos, and ocean.
  87. Being stranded in Madras, OR, with my sweet antisocial dog during a raging blizzard that left 4WD vehicles stuck in snowdrifts. It was weird and fun.
  88. The jubilance and uninhibited glee of dogs in the snow.
  89. I Love Dick.
  90. Transparent. (Damn it, Jeffrey Tambor.)
  91. Oregon’s real summer.
  92. When Harry Met Sally, every year.
  93. Digging into hygge: as a means of coping with, and not being buried by, seasonal depression. (So hard, so unexpected.)
  94. Modern Love podcast.
  95. Going down the Spotify rabbit hole.
  96. The richness of a lean collaboration: just the author, the lovely woman who helped her cook, and the amazing work that emerged from that. Some of my favorite images came out of that project.
  97. Swimming in the Columbia river on summer evenings with families all around, blasting music, kids shrieking, having fun.
  98. Queen Anne lace at the side of the road
  99. Tulips.
  100. Bruce Springsteen’s repertoire of introspective, sad songs.

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  • Erica - Loved this, thank you for sharing! :)ReplyCancel

  • Loli - This list is amazinggg… I totally agree about the nostalgia around the smell of the Pacific Ocean, being from the Bay area initially and now migrating myself down to San Diego. I Love Dick is a GREAT show.. checkout Mozart In The Jungle as well while on the Amazon streaming kick ;)ReplyCancel

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