dinner

out of the shade

This afternoon, still somewhat dazed from not enough sleep and stepping out of the shade-dark bakery and yesterday's grey drizzle into a dazzling blue-skied sunny spring day, I lingered in the street for a moment before starting the car. A moment was long enough to watch a miniature tornado of white-pink cherry petals spin down the street like an invisible whirling dervish delighting in the wayward blossoms. I start as a counter girl at -my favorite- our local bakery this week. I don't remember ever being so excited about a job before. It feels right.

I feel tonight's dinner deserves a mention: local happy eggs fried in organic butter, salt and pepper, a perfectly ripe avocado sliced haphazardly, a slosh of lemon juice, sprinkling of hemp hearts, generous grating of grana padano and handful of spring greens. Last night the man made pancakes with carob, cinnamon, ginger and raisins.

Today's porch-rail observations/ramblings: There's a crow in the closest spruce tree making rattle-croaks, like a glossy black wind-up clock counting up its own enjoyment. Soft wingbeats to my side announced a bird passing by, hedgebound. I turned to look and saw cherry petals glitter like snowflakes in the chiaroscuro edge of the shadow of a house. The clouds are a mottling, almost mackerel sky but too puffed and sprawling. Cirrocumulus castellanos, perhaps. The narcissus nod, thin green stems bending as six-petalled white stars and orange crowns bob. A moth that looks like it unfolded itself out of narcissus petals drags across the sky above the low garden.

photo 1 photo 2 photo 3

Of course the clouds were doing something different by the time I photographed them. Michette loves the sunshine.

pleasing results

I've been eating the same dinner for four nights now. This has worked out beautifully with early bedtimes and switching the contents of two rooms today (a disastrous-looking event with pleasing results). This meal started as a soup on Sunday and leaned heavily towards appetizing sludge as I scraped the dutch oven this evening. It's lentil, potato and leek based with onion and carrots and minced broccoli greens (or some kind of brassica leaves  from the farm market- but shh because Jer doesn't know that I added them). Because it turned out a little bland, we swirled pesto in (yum!) and added some slices of cheddar (also always a good idea) and I poached eggs to place on top of mine. We're also consuming six-day sourdough bread. The bread was meant to be two days from feeding the sourdough but life got busy and it waited in the fridge. I finally got around to baking it yesterday and it seems to have turned out fine, with a complex sweet-nutty-sour flavor. We've eaten one loaf already. I love where we live. At dusk the full moon loomed behind cherry blossoms on the hill. Earlier in the day out the same window, I saw the morning sun illuminate a field of frosted grass. A robin on the fence was beginning to trill. I've always felt that robins are emblems of spring. On the opposite side of the house, out the kitchen window juncos and chickadees were hopping about.

I haven't posted for a few days because I have been very focused on going to bed. Not a lot has changed. Zephyr managed to get onto my desk which was quite a surprise for me (she just nonchalantly surveyed my papers, lamp and jewellery supplies). She just came trundling down the hallway at full speed. Quite a handful, this bunny. Seven is more active and seems much more confident and better balanced so we think her medicine is working. In other news, Jer pulled some kind of hair creature out of our tub drain and unclogged our sink drain with vinegar and baking soda, earning him a home handyman plumbing gold star.

1 2 3

no less spectacular

Driving up the cherry-blossom tree-lined street in the misting night, somehow the first word that came to mind was "galactic". The splendor of the soft rosy poufs against the hazy indigo sky was breathtaking. The view the next morning was no less spectacular. The road has become a tunnel in frothy clouds of pale pink flowers, their perfume coaxing past my cold to remind me that it's spring. Friends came for dinner, which was lovely. J cooked, because he is lovely, but somehow I still felt ill-prepared. Maybe because normally I'm bustling around the kitchen, and physically completing tasks is reassuring. I made what I thought for sure was a failed custard, a clafoutis with frozen raspberries and cranberries which was a soupy mess in the oven long after it was supposed to be cooling on the counter. It redeemed itself at the last minute by firming up and tasting wonderful. Frozen fruit was almost certainly the problem but I would totally do it again, and probably will tomorrow. You see, not a scrap remains.

 IMG_7969 IMG_7972