fear not

I love the depth in this image. So gorgeous, and so tangible. I feel like I can touch and feel the print even just from this scan. Ah!

These things today: A Christmas Eve cake recipe. This article. Iceland. And these words, which have been the words of these last months, again and again, spoken into the night air:

Fear not.
You have been redeemed.
He has called you by name,
and you are his.

Sweet Lemon Cake with Olive Oil and Greek Yogurt

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 
2 teaspoons baking powder 
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 
1 cup plain Greek yogurt 
1 1/3 cups sugar, divided 
3 extra-large eggs 
3 teaspoons grated lemon zest (2 lemons) 
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 
1/2 cup olive oil 
1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

For the glaze: 
1 cup confectioners' sugar 
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice 


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9" cake pan. Line the bottom with parchment paper. Grease and flour the pan. 

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, lemon zest, and vanilla. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. With a rubber spatula, fold the oil into the batter, making sure it's all incorporated. 
Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 27-30 minutes, or until a toothpick placed in the center of the cake comes out clean. Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup lemon juice and remaining 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Set aside. 
When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the lemon-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in. Cool. For the glaze, combine the confectioners' sugar and lemon juice and drizzle over the cake.
[pc: here]


it was a tilting


by Marie Howe
Even if I don’t see it again—nor ever feel it
I know it is—and that if once it hailed me
it ever does—
And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as towards a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,
as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn’t—I was blinded like that—and swam
in what shone at me
only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself I thought I’d die
from being loved like that.

[light in the attic, holga 120 with 135mm film, double exposure]


heading home again

 photo untitled20of34.jpg
 photo untitled29of34.jpg
 photo untitled28of34.jpg
 photo untitled14of34.jpg
These are the Ellie-days, when we talk about being scared, and being brave, and sit at a picnic table and use gel pens to draw pictures of leaves, and run as fast as we can (which is still not fast enough to beat the other kids, for both of us, and that's okay), and share tootsie rolls stashed in our pockets. They are the better days.

[all pictures from my holga]