mornings

Lady Lake's gingersnaps

 

I like mornings. Enough so that I'm glad to be awake for the grey world to slowly be suffused with colour, even if I fall asleep again later once all the light is in the sky. I like seeing the orange squares of light in the window frames of the neighbouring houses. I like seeing the colours, pinks and yellows, flow from the sky into the landscape, and the drained sky to slowly turn blue.

This is kind of a strange place, with gulls wheeling by and the wind always ready to whip up strong and hearty. The garden in the back, all dry grasses and bent plants, is flooded. One night I dreamt that this whole flat area, the garden and the field next to the house, were underwater and there was a great shallow lake with ducks milling around outside the bedroom window. I went out the window into a boat.

Lady Lake's Ginger Snaps a family recipe...   2 1/4 cups flour 1 tsp cinnamon 1 Tbsp ginger 1/2 tsp salt 3/4 cup butter 1 cup sugar 1 egg 1/4 cup blackstrap molasses 1/2 cup chopped candied ginger

In a medium bowl, mix together dry ingredients, then set aside. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Add egg and continue beating. Add molasses and blend well. Gradually add dry mixture to creamed mixture until incorporated. Stir in candied ginger.

Chill dough overnight. Scoop with a spoon and roll into small balls. Roll these in granulated sugar to coat. Press flat. Bake at 350° for 10-12 minutes, careful not to burn.

the light

Out of the corner of my eye I witnessed the sun come out.

I'm drawing a sleepy blank on what to say but I wanted to post a few pictures from the past month. I flipped through my notebook for inspiration and was reminded of a few things. In January and February I was especially glad for this year's seed catalogue, Zephyr the rabbit's silver feet, raspberry leaf tea, cara cara oranges, satsuma mandarins, AlterEco brown butter chocolate, the previously mentioned frozen cookie dough portioned out in the freezer and sideways-pouring silver rain. This month, I am grateful for bright mornings, marmalade! (on everything, now, with butter), flighty spring weather, lengthened light in the evenings, and riding my clattery blue bike, especially through the park where there are ducks and squirrels! galore. This is not to say that mornings have been easy this week with the time change (I almost wrote "moanings" instead of mornings there, and almost left it), but the light- I'm glad for the light. On the subject of marmalade, that bittersweet tangy light in a jar, I am blessed with a mother who makes a batch every winter and have amassed a small -yes, now dwindling- collection of the glowing jars. They taste of days spent scraping citrus rinds around my grandparents' table with cousins and aunts, the fragrant pot steaming on the stove, and the flavour of these gatherings concentrated in the vintages that line our pantry shelves. It's deeply reassuring to me that no matter what else, every year my mother hands me a small fiery jar of her grandmother's recipe. I missed the marmalade making this winter but, with my renewed appetite for the stuff, will be sure to join in next year-it's what we do.

mellow

I had the immense pleasure of deleting and changing alarms in my phone last night. It is so enjoyable waking to daylight. Home coffee and drawn-out breakfast is also a delight after so many rushed and bleary-eyed dark 'mornings'. Even though I'm not a baker at my new job, I still come home covered in flour. It is somewhat of a wonderland of rustic breads and buttery pastries there.

The rain is continuing in a very mellow, Spring sort of way.

A police officer rang our doorbell (which we were surprised to learn we had) about twenty minutes ago and scared the crap out of me. She was here to talk to Jer about some work stuff, totally normal, everything fine. Later on we realized that the bag of catnip on the shelf by the door might not have looked so good, especially not when combined with our coffee table strewn with stuff and two enormous rabbits in a pen with hay everywhere. Oh well, apparently we are not of great concern.

Seven loves to hold and carry things (hay, straw, paper, leafy greens...). Often when I look over she has hay sticking out both sides of her mouth, or just casually draped like a cigar. She got very excited about some large scrumpled sheets of brown packing paper a few minutes ago and circled the living room and me twice, dragging the paper behind her. Zephyr (bunny) is determined to get to know Michette (cat) and cranes her head to nose-bump her as she passes by.

(Seven's contribution as she passed by with paper in tow: =\=8764\iouyt...0`435.'[;m*-k)

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