after the storm —
the wind thrashing and writhing in the trees, a seizure of electric power —
after all this, the raindrops shiver on the window screens…
I’ll tell you a secret: for a little while I’ve been standing at a crossroads. Stuck fast.
Big, hard-edged life choices have always been difficult for me, with my watery, soft-smudged way of seeing the world, and this season is no exception. The roads are diverging for me, and whichever way I choose has the potential to drastically change my future.
I don’t know, I find myself saying often.
I don’t know.
The other day I was scrolling through the photo library of my old IPhone 4S — the one that I used to start this little blog, once upon a time — and I stumbled on this photo:
Down on the greenway near Carilion, at a bend where the trail meets the river, there’s a spot where you can stand under the intersection of three bridges: the railroad trestle, the roadway, and the pedestrian bridge. I was always caught by the clean architectural beauty of those crisscrossing lines, and I’ve photographed them many times.
On the day when I took that picture, though, something was different: a solid beam of the most beautiful gold sun shot between the bridges, making a pathway of light on the water. I snapped picture after picture, transfixed.
And then I went home and promptly forgot about it.
But today, staring at that beam of light, I’m struck by the message I was sending to myself so many moons ago:
There is another road.
One not made by human hands:
A year ago, I shared this little post with you, and as the temperatures rise again, it only seemed right to share it once more.
Do yourself a favor: make this coffee.
That’s all. ❤
I don’t usually write many posts that could be classified under the “lifestyle” or “food and drink” headings, but every once in awhile, I stumble over some little comestible or beverage that’s just too good *not* to share. So I hope my more serious readers will forgive me if I spend the next 400 words talking about my morning brew.
I’ve written before about our little love affair with coffee in the Fellers family. Around here, coffee-making is a ceremony, conducted with care in our Chemex, and nothing brings me out of my insomniac morning stupor like a steaming cup of fresh joe.
Except when it’s June and and pushing ninety before 9 a.m.
On our recent trip to Savannah, T and I spent a little time in one of our all-time favorite coffee joints, Coffee Fox, and after drinking some of their exceptional cold-brewed coffee over ice, we decided to switch things up and start cold-brewing at home. We found the simplest possible instructions — here — and started experimenting.
I don’t know why we didn’t start this months ago.
Now, we fill a tall glass pitcher every evening with almost two cups of fresh-ground beans and about 40 ounces of clear, cold water, and then we leave the pitcher to work its magic overnight. The next morning, we strain the mixture straight through the Chemex and enjoy over ice… That’s it.
Without the heat of the boiling water, the slow-steeped beans demonstrate an entirely different and much more nuanced flavor profile. Floral notes and fruity notes become more pronounced. Everything tastes fresher, crisper and more complex. All that to say: it’s just plain ridiculously good.
I like to serve the stuff black and sparkling in my favorite double-walled glasses, and the slow clink and crackle of ice against glass makes me feel all cocktail-party fancy, even at dawn when I’m still in my pajamas.
If you haven’t tried cold-brewing at home before, I hope you do. Raise a glass for me and enjoy! ❤