It's like this...

Remember last winter when we whined and cried for fresh like this? Wes made us Victory Garden Chicken Soup. The flavors subtle and green, softly satisfying accompanied by the crunch of fresh bread. Saying good-bye to him for a season - easier when time slows for wine conversation and mannerly dogs laying their heads on your knee saying, Friend, I only just met you, but as you can see, I love you.

I've been away

Been distracted. Busy. Tired. Lacking bloggerish energy. But I'm coming back, I think.



But here’s my favorite comment from Paige and Anson - other than…”Grandma, I’m going to miss you soooo much” -- Anson, 5 Paige, 3 were embracing in the kitchen. Both were laughing, dancing, falling down together.
Paige says: “Anson loves me very much.”
Anson clarifies: “No I don’t. I was just huggin her.”

After a week of not eating more than two bites of anything I made, except Kraft macaroni and cheese. (I wasn’t offended.) Today jackpot. They left for home today, staggering off, stuffed like little snakes having each eaten five large buckwheat pancakes with maple syrup, one egg over easy, four pieces of bacon, two glasses of juice.

Distribution will not be equal

A friend from Hawaii writes that a branch bearing sixteen ripened avocados fell off their tree, and she would gladly share them if only I would come across. Her husband carefully logs numbers and guards them from scalpers. So there may be no better reason for a trip to Hawaii. Just yesterday I was spared some envy and slightly assuaged with a pretty good one for Minnesota store-bought. Rare. It was large and dark, evenly acned, made you want to press your thumbs in like that gross scene with the eyes in Blade Runner - not a good idea. And don't look up the scene on youtube. The peel lifted smoothly and the inside it was that perfect green to yellow and easily turned to the consistency of Pantene Hair Conditioner when I mashed it with a fork. I added fresh lime juice, minced garlic, hot pepper flakes, salt and spread it on lightly toasted bread, placed a slice of ripe tomato on top, grated parmesan cheese, and broiled it for a minute or two. mmmm. We ate it on the back porch in perfect temps and looked at the flowers blooming wildly as if they know time is short. But a mere branch of sixteen? And today she says that three of them made four pounds of guacamole? I faintly writhe.

I forgot

I just told Denis we needed to reboot our router, so we both headed downstairs, me to get a drink and him saying let’s talk a minute while down there. A second later he was saying, why did I come down here now? And then, what were we going to talk about?

That reminded me, though who knows if I can retain this long enough to make a post? I’m working on the last page of the next issue of Notes From Toad Hall. I’m going to title it: “Things I had a minute ago and can’t find now. “ Like: Title to the book I was going to write. Or: Cell phone. (I’m always calling it from the land line and running up and down the stairs to locate it. Yesterday it was on the back porch, but my ringtone is a bird call and I thought…oh, well. This is making me short of breath.)

If you want to contribute a list send it along. If you remember to do this soon I might be able to use it.

Chicken Salad

The other night we took a supper out to Joe & Becca and their interns. I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for such grateful people. Pretty simple meal. I made a chicken rice salad that looks really sexy when done. (Of course, I forgot to snap a pic of the finished dish.) With savory bacon/cornmeal muffins, fresh lemonade, and chocolate chip cookies…man, I just killed my back trying to stomp on something running across the floor really fast…okay missed it…made by Anita. Joe showed us the hens’ nests he’s building in the shop, nice three-storied condos. They even have carpet inside. The chickens began laying this week. Suddenly, 13 eggs the first day, 8 the next and they’re off. Pretty exciting. But sad thing is they’re mainly white laid by the white leghorns and customers are beginning to prefer the brown. They think that when the dog got in and killed so many earlier this spring he got mostly the other breeds which are a bit more laid back personality-wise. The leghorns are wary freaked-out creatures and probably ran away like that centipede I just tried to kill. They sent us home with a huge bag of basil and some other vegetables.

Still, went to market today and took some pics. (See more on my Facebook.)




Here’s recipe for the chicken salad. It can easily morph a lot of directions and is always a little different every time I make it.

Chicken Rice Salad

1 cup cooked chicken breast or thighs (can substitute crab or shrimp)
3 cups rice (I use brown and wild)
¼ cup sliced celery
¼ cup chopped green pepper
¼ cup chopped red pepper
¼ chopped green onion
½ cup mayonnaise
salt, pepper
Combine and chill. (I often add calamata olives.) Serve on platter or large shallow dish on a bed of greens. Mound the salad and garnish all around with alternating wedges of avacado, lemon and tomato. Beautiful.

O God without, within, above

Morning prayers for the 17th day of the month.

…O God above me, God who dwellest in light unapproachable, teach me, I beseech Thee, that even my highest thoughts of Thee are but dim and distant shadowings of Thy transcendent glory. Teach me that if Thou art in nature, still more art Thou greater than nature. Teach me that if Thou art in my heart, still more art Thou greater than my heart. Let my soul rejoice in Thy mysterious greatness. Let me take refuge in the thought that Thou art utterly beyond me, beyond the sweep of my imagination, beyond the comprehension of my mind, Thy judgments being unsearchable and Thy ways past finding out.
…and so let me in all things obey Thy will, through the grace of Jesus Christ my Lord.

Diary of Private Prayer by John Baillie.

On closer inspection

July 6. Baby wrens flew this morning early. It’s so quiet in the back yard now. No parents scolding us for walking past. No babies screaming for food. We’ve watched them for about five weeks. First the male who sang and sang and sang from the lilac, the clothesline, garage roof, until finally a female deigned to join him. The twigs this tiny couple (they weigh half an ounce each at most, that’s like less than one square of baking chocolate) hauled and maneuvered and pushed through a hole the size of a quarter! That would be like threading logs through the mail slot.

Wrens build scrappy, messy nests, nothing fine or woven about them. We took down the nest to clean it out. Good thing, too. It’s possible they’ll raise another brood, or the chickadees might decide to move in for awhile. The house has hinges so the roof and side can be opened. Nifty. It was packed full. I pulled the whole mess out and noticed there was a lot of dust in the bottom like black pepper had been dumped. Shook it out, peered at it and noticed it was moving. Adjusted my glasses, bent closer, and saw the little grains were piles of living mites. I guess it’s not uncommon for birds to carry mites, but this was so creepy. I still shudder to think of it and all the more when someone joked maybe that’s what our mattresses look like. Ahhhh. I don’t want to hear. What a mix of beauty and repugnance.