the scent of water

Salad

It's a beautiful thing. I didn't use to think so, but I was wrong. Misguided, ill-informed, ignorant in the ways of salad-dom.

You can fry stuff! And add fruit!

I may well re-name this blog the scent of salad, and appoint myself as chief culinary genius.

Summer Wreath

Because fake snow wreaths with winter berries make no sense in mid-summer. Not to me.

Food.

Real food. It was one of the early casualties of my return to study and by the time I finished my year we were pretty much on to packet everything. It broke my poor nutrient-loving heart, not to mention added unwanted kilos to my adipose-loving body. So today I cleaned out the pantry, removed the packet everythings, and swore to a rather disinterested (disbelieving) family that I would, finally, Sort Our Food Out.

Quite what I mean by that, I don't know. Getting rid of the packets is one thing, finding the time and imagination to replace them every day is quite another. I did make calzones for the children's lunch, and fried left-over rice for the same. I could mention that it took me until midnight, that I discovered there was absolutely no sugar in my pantry, had been no sugar in my pantry for weeks, and thus I was unable to bake anything sweet, nada, zilch, zero, but I will probably keep such information to myself.

I also ordered a random box of fruit and veg from the local organic shop. Instant virtuousness bought with just a couple of laptop key strokes. It's economical, and seasonal, but you have to take whatever they choose give you, so now I just need to decide what to do with it all.

Roasting seems like a good idea. Have you ever roasted fennel?  I never have. I doused this lot, and the asparagus accompanying it, with lemon infused avocado oil and blasted them for a few minutes in a hot oven. Grilling would probably be better, but even so. Was good.

Bird's Nest

I can't tell you how or why I had the urge to make a bird's nest pendant.  It just seemed like a fun idea at the time. I did a google search for some online tutorials and took it from there. They are shockingly easy. And quick. 

 My technique could use some work no doubt, though the twelve year old tells me that Mark I is the ultimate in awesome. So, you know. There you go.

3/30. Thirty.

1. The shared experience of absurdity. Because play is a good thing.

2. And is also my theme for the summer. Aside from the general duties of being a semi-responsible grown-up, playing is henceforth my job until late February. As is taking the photos thereof. My inner 5 year old is sniggling - she thinks I'm being a little bit naughty.

3. You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. ~ Plato. Don't know if it's true. Do think it's worth finding out.

3/30. Twenty Nine.

1. It must be the heart of peony season if they have made their way to the supermarket. I walk through the sliding doors under a fake pine Christmas arch and am greeted by a large array of very pink, very beautiful, peonies. I reach in my handbag for my phone to take a photo but it's at home. Instead, I just stand there for a minute, pretending I am deciding between one bunch and another, and just bask myself in their glory.

2. I visit the library and take out lots of books on cooking and creating. I tidy up the deck, and plan ways to tidy up the garden. In my head I redecorate my lounge, my bedroom, my hallway; I try to decide how many things I can reasonably get done over one summer.  Not nearly enough. I start crocheting a small, striped, blanket, I plan a bright cushion cover to liven up my sombre armchair. I wonder what kind of artwork I will make to go above my sofa, whether I should stick fairy lights on my currently defunct chimney. I love to study, and I am good at it, but this?  This feels better than Christmas.

3. The Possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination. ~ Emily Dickinson 

3/30. Twenty Eight.

1. I finish my graduate diploma. It feels like there should be confetti or trumpets or some such mark of occasion as I walk out of my last exam, but the moment after completion looks very much the same as the moment before. Still.  Done is done.

2. A friend finishes her diploma at the same time, with the same exam. She hands me a present before we enter the hall in celebration of our achievement; a pair of  inflatable arm bands. It's the perfect gift. When one of us got too stressed or disheartened, the other one would be there to offer encouragement. We called it the Dory Principle, in honour of Nemo's Dory.  Because, sometimes, it helps to know that all you have to do is keep on swimming.

3. I can't think what to do with myself. It's rather a luxury.

3/30. Twenty Seven.

1. I take a break from study, and chill out on an unlikely meal of left-over Pinot Gris, a handful of mixed lollies, and some curly fries.  It's a ridiculous, unhealthy mixture, not at all conducive to learning, and it is very fun. Exactly the kind of childish nonsense my mother always said I could indulge in when I grew up.

2. Apple blossoms are my new favourite; I may even like them more than I like the rose. I don't know what kind of apple we grow, other than it is a crispy, sweet, coddle-moth infested kind. Hanging in the tree is a pheromone trap designed to seduce, then destroy, all the wannabe fathers. I count at least 12 in there so far, and feel a little sorry for them. Not sorry enough to sacrifice my apples for their reproductive pleasure. I think the trap costs at least as much as the equivalent amount of apples we will harvest, probably more, but that's not the point. Grabbing a fresh, juicy, piece of fruit as you walk up the driveway on your way home from school on a late summer afternoon is.

3. Maybe it's the sunshine on my vitamin D deprived skin, maybe it's the sedating effects of the Pinot Gris, or the singularly gorgeous tones of Chris Isaak playing softly in the background. Maybe I don't care. All I know is that some days, life, with all its pain and disappointments, can be heartbreakingly beautiful.

3/30. Twenty Six.

1. The first of the season's roses appear in the backyard. Red, mostly, with one bright pinky coral that reminds me, for some reason, of the Queen. Didn't plant them, but am happy to enjoy them.

2. Halfway through final exams I start to dream about what to do with a whole summer off. What I will make, cook, grow. Lots of things. Lots of things, with lots of colour.

3. I spend an hour trying to come up with a third inspiring thing, but my mind, overstuffed with too many facts of varying usefulness, is otherwise empty. I cheat, and steal a favourite Van Gogh quote off the internet. But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.  Yep. I'd say so.