Mother's Mother.

My family is in town from LA this week, staying in an apartment ten minutes from mine. Last night, finding ourselves in the middle of a thunderstorm, we canceled our plans to find dinner in the neighborhood and my mom cooked for us instead, as if we were back in California and this was any ordinary night of the week. We ate off unfamiliar dishes in a strange kitchen, gathered around someone else's slightly-too-small table; somehow, still, it felt like home.

A day later, it seems fitting to write about Mother's Mother, a Berlin-based supper club honoring the cooking of mothers all over the world. At each dinner, a different chef celebrates a mother or grandmother of his or her choice by sharing dishes based on her family recipes with a small group of guests. The club is the brainchild of Kavita Meelu and has honored thirteen women thus far, hailing from a host of countries including Thailand, Japan, Mexico, Peru, Israel, Ghana, and Italy. (Peruse photos of the suppers, here.)

Happy news: Mother's Mother will be coming to New York City this winter. If you know of anyone who'd like to be a part of a dinner, you can let Kavita know, here. Have a wonderful Wednesday in the meantime.

Further reading: peeks into pantries; Delicatessen with love.

Landscape Lullabies.

Japanese artist Koshi Kawachi finds music in the rise and fall of mountains and city skylines, mapping musical notes along photographs of various terrain and listening for melodies (the bars framed below are the Bavarian Alps). It's true country music - have a listen here.

Visit Koshi Kawachi's website, here. Thanks, Spoon & Tamago.

See also: edible forests; mapping Manhattan in Post-Its and paper plates. 

Left Behind.

In a series she calls Left Behind, photographer Jennifer Loeber pays tribute to a lost parent by pairing portraits of her late mother with images of her everyday belongings: a spray bottle, a Brownie camera, a hairbrush with purple-tipped teeth. Following her mother's death, Loeber found that it was the most ordinary objects that were especially difficult to hold on to; cataloguing them as part of a series helped process the pain. Says the artist, "It makes me happy because I now think of happy memories."

Visit Jennifer Loeber's website, here. Found via CNN Photos. 

Step by Step.

My year-old nephew Dash took his first steps in June - shuffling cautiously at first across a stretch of lawn at my brother's home in Los Angeles, then, days later, frolicking with confidence down beaches and sand-strewn sidewalks in Hawaii, tiny fists raised in the air. So far, I've only seen this in photos and on FaceTime, so I couldn't be happier that he'll be hitting the streets of New York next, in just a few days.

Watching Dash on video this past weekend, I remembered these letters, written by astronaut Jerry Linenger to his fourteen-month-old son while living in space for a period of several weeks. In one, drafted just before Linenger returned to Earth, he writes, "I have an image in my mind of the time you took your first steps. I would move two steps away from you, leaving you standing and holding on, precariously, to the edge of the sofa. You would look at me with questioning eyes. Your eyes reflected what I am sure that you were asking yourself: 'Can I do this, or will I fall?' After I would encourage you with a reassuring word or gesture, you would muster up your courage, let go, and walk to me. 

Reporters keep asking me whether, after landing, I plan to get out of Atlantis on my own power or be carried off. I will be trying my best to follow in your footsteps, John. I will be giving it everything that I have to walk, or crawl, or do whatever it takes, but to do it on my own, just like you did."

I love that so much. Wishing you a brave, bold, adventuresome weekend.

Photo via Max's Instagram. Words via Letters of Note.

Canyon Cabin.

This wooden cabin, built by Mason St. Peter in LA's Topanga Canyon, is the stuff summer dreams are made of. With its deck and its lofted bed and its assortment of ridiculously beautiful woven rugs, I could easily imagine spending a weekend here (or a week, or, in a perfect world, an entire sun-soaked season). 

See more, here. Photos by Mariko Reed.

See also: a Spanish DJ's attic abode; living in buses, boats, and on seaside cliffs.