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Karma Brown Biography

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“She made her way up the front walk, slowly so her free hand could stroke the peonies' bountiful pink blooms framing the Murdochs' front garden. Nellie murmured sweet lullabies to them as she did, nurturing the flowers the way she would a child of she were ever lucky enough to have one. Turning onto the sidewalk, she eyed her roses- yellow, stunning- which were her pride and joy, and on full display for the neighborhood. Soon she'd have to deadhead them to allow for a second bloom cycle. Roses were a lot of work, but they gave much in return.”

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“Can you grab the butter out of the fridge?" It was as hard as a rock. She tried pressing her fingertips into its surface, leaving shallow indentations in the foil wrapper as the butter yielded little. "I'll need to wait for this to soften." "You can grate it." "Like, with a cheese grater? Really?" Nate nodded. "A trick I learned from my mom. Works like a charm." "Huh, who knew?”

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“Tonight, Nellie had put on quite a spread: a vegetable platter to start things off, with radish roses and olives pierced with embellished toothpicks and fresh tomatoes from her garden; canapés and shrimp cocktail and Vienna sausages and deviled eggs; then her Chicken à la King, and when they were all nearly too full to eat another thing, Baked Alaska for dessert. The conversation had been pleasant, the men discussing the upcoming election and General Electric-Telechron's new "revolutionary" snooze alarm clock, the women swooning about Elvis Presley and gossiping about Marilyn Monroe's recent wedding to Arthur Miller, which everyone agreed was an odd pairing.”

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“Nellie didn't make these lavender muffins often, as they brought forth memories of her mother in better days, which was difficult. Yet, it remained one of her favorite recipes. Lemon the flavor of sunshine, and lavender, a most powerful herb. It symbolized feminine beauty and grace, and Nellie could think of nothing better with which to celebrate Martha's recent delivery.”

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“The best time to harvest herbs was after the early-morning dew dried, and Nellie had a long list of things to do, starting with her herb garden. While the sun rose higher and Richard kept sleeping, Nellie used her kitchen shears to trim leaves and stalks from her herb plants to later dry for her seasoning mix. Rosemary. Sage. Parsley. Dill. Lemon balm. Mint. Marjoram.”

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“It's called 'Hollywood Dunk.' An appetizer from the fifties." Bronwyn dipped the chip into the white creamy spread speckled with green dots and popped it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, her face moving through a variety of expressions- none of them good. "Yeah, I know." Alice laughed as she watched her best friend try to get the chip and dip down. A giant swig of wine later, Bronwyn sputtered, "What's in that?" "Deviled ham. Chives. Onion. Horseradish." Bronwyn stared at her, mouthed, Deviled ham? "It's chopped up deli ham mixed with mayonnaise, mustard, hot pepper sauce, and salt and pepper, and then you blend it a bit. Then you add the chives, onion, and horseradish. Oh, and the last thing is whipped cream. Can't forget that," Alice added. "Why would you make this? To eat?" Bronwyn pressed a napkin to her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. "Whipped cream and ham should never mingle. Never ever, never." Alice placed the still-full dip dish in the sink. "Agreed. That's why it wasn't out. I was curious, but it's disgusting." "Thanks for the warning," Bronwyn murmured, now drinking wine directly from the bottle. "You didn't give me a chance!" Alice replied. "I was hungry. I've been on a stupid juice cleanse," Bronwyn retorted, and they both laughed. "You're lucky I didn't serve the bananas wrapped in ham, baked with hollandaise sauce on top.”

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“Richard had questioned their luncheon contribution, suggesting cookies were not hearty (or impressive) enough for the occasion. "You're such a good cook, Nellie," he'd said, but she knew what he really meant. He didn't think cookies made the right kind of statement for the Murdochs. But Richard knew nothing of feeding sadness- that was women's work- or how far a simple chocolate chip cookie could go to lift one's mood.”

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“She set the bouquet of dahlias- a most harmonious flower, the vivid petals springing from its center like a work of art- at the base of the headstone, the pink and white blooms cheery against the day's overcast dreariness. Dahlias were long bloomers (Nellie had even seen them survive an early frost) and signified an unbreakable commitment between two people. While Nellie found the flower too gay for such a profound meaning, Elsie had insisted that was why dahlias were so enchanting. "Just as powerful as they are pretty. Like you, my sweet girl.”

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“My mom's Busy Day Cake," Nellie said, lifting the carrier slightly. "With lemon frosting and some violets from the garden I sugared." Her mother had often made the cake for social gatherings, telling Nellie everyone appreciated a simple cake. "It's only when you try to get too fancy do you find trouble," Elsie was fond of saying, letting Nellie lick the buttercream icing from the beaters as she did. Some might consider sugaring flowers "too fancy," but not Elsie Swann- every cake she made carried some sort of beautiful flower or herb from her garden, whether it was candied rose petals or pansies, or fresh mint or lavender sugar. Elsie, a firm believer in the language of flowers, spent much time carefully matching her gifted blooms and plants to their recipients. Gardenia revealed a secret love; white hyacinth, a good choice for those who needed prayers; peony celebrated a happy marriage and home; chamomile provided patience; and a vibrant bunch of fresh basil brought with it good wishes. Violets showcased admiration- something Nellie did not have for the exhausting Kitty Goldman but certainly did for the simple deliciousness of her mother's Busy Day Cake.”

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