Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Was pure quiet in the house, and I made some blueberry banana bread, and there was, for a while, only the show and the hum of the fridge, and me. Evenings seem all about quiet these past few days. There’s a hush in the air, full of a contentment that comes with the passing of winter and the appearance of grass.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I spent the evening in the kitchen, all about ham and corn casserole and whether or not to do potatoes (did, mashed, with pork gravy) and thought about how hot cross buns are good, hot and fresh, but a bit overrated after a day or two on the counter. I love cooking up a holiday meal, and really enjoy the leftovers, but throw in an early church service, a large gathering of people, the dishwasher flooding, ants invading, the dog not feeling so well, three people all needing one car in the late afternoon, and mass consumption of Reese’s peanut butter eggs on top of all that ham, and it gets to be a day.
Listened to the show Saturday, and it was not bad. Been a solid few weeks, I say. That visit to the Caribbean seems like a dream now. Funny — at the time I took those few photos, I was random and nonchalant, and now when I look at them, they bring those days to life. I’m not dwelling, though, mind you. That was indeed a lovely time, and I ate and saw and felt things I’ve not felt before. Pure adventure. But now is now, and I finished triple-checking cookbook #2 for errors and such, and got the kids’ Easter baskets ready (one last time, I keep saying, but we’ll see how that holds up next Easter), and I did some cleaning and baking and driving-to-pick-up, and now one is asleep and one will be on her way soon and one is out in the woods somewhere letting the air and plants and trees fill her up.