Out my window here in northern Vermont is a winter world of Black & White with nothing much in between unless you count gray… But as February has two Red inspired events (Valentine’s Day and the Red Carpet driven Oscars) I found myself venturing into a foray of party-ready RED, especially on the eve of March… so here we go straight into color!

Despite what most journalists and bloggers are writing about on this busy week, I’m focusing on food, yes delicious food. I guess getting ready for the Women’s March just makes me hungry. And not only hungry, but longing for smells and tastes that bring comfort and nostalgia along with warm and satisfying feelings that are so so so very needed during this time of upheaval and uncertainty. How about you? Spending more time in your kitchen than usual? Is there anything that brings your household together more than tomato sauce simmering for the afternoon?

Autumn is upon us, with flooding sunshine and falling leaves and dropping temperatures. This is a favorite time of year because of the blast of color and treats of harvest, after all, who doesn’t love all shades orange or every apple recipe? As I moved summer lightweights to the back of my closet and woolen garments to the front, I made another adjustment, the shift from sandals to boots! Perhaps more than ever boots are everywhere, from the runway to the street, lace-up to zip-up, ankle height to over-the-knee, suede to shiny and in every hue. For this shoot, I dug up a favorite pair from last year and donned new favorites, but each one is a walkable boot–my main criteria. After all, we need to keep moving with all this brilliance around us! Joined by my kitty we danced about in the foliage for a brilliant afternoon.

A goal. A destination. A purpose. Life is filled with markers for all of us, from birth to death we move along a continuum of time, looking for meaning. In the beginning, unconscious or conscious, we encounter a string of firsts. First word. First step. First big tumble. First day away from mommy and daddy. The list goes on and on, seeming to stretch far into the milky way with possibility. At least that is the idyllic version we all hope for in life, that doors keep opening while our drive pushes us higher and higher along our projected paths.

In today’s ever expanding world being a fifth generation anything feels remarkable. Knowing that your name, and your ancestors’ name, and theirs before them, all belong to a well-respected family institution, causes one to swell with pride. In my case this pride is compounded with the recent Christening of my namesake tug boat, and thus having an even more direct connection to this mighty fleet that has endured all the trials of the last 150 years. Being a 5th generation McAllister never felt so wonderful as when I broke a bottle across the stern of the Moira McAllister!