Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Chocolatey day



Such an innocuous beginning in a little cup of hot chocolate. Who could have foreseen the elevated heart rates, the increasing silliness, the sensation of being detached from our bodies, the impending prospect of crashing hard in a sugar-and-caffeine slump not an hour after the last fateful sip?

(But if I had it to do over again, I would, oh I would.)


Later that night, the big fondue set made its debut. Because hair of the dog is the only real way to get over anything.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Kitchen assistant

Nice to have a donkey around to keep your carrot stack in perspective.


I think we're good with the carrots.

How about cabbage?



Mmm... let's see. Are we good?



How much cabbage did you say we needed?



Mmyeah I guess there is enough cabbage.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Avocadoed

Lots, and lots, and lots of avocado. The generous giving of friends who had a bumper harvest travelled far, to a friend's family, to a friend's daughter's friend, to a friend's daughter's friend's cousins.

What do you do when there's so much avocado in the house?



Here's a sweet idea: chocolate avocado cupcakes. With a tart raspberry centre.



And a savoury one: cheese, bacon and avocado muffins.


Another savoury one: avocado and bacon scones.

We haven't run out yet. I wonder if guacamole will make an appearance.

Monday, May 09, 2011

Trust, stem stitch, and a garden

I watched an old friend playing with his son in the garden.

Over and over again, he tossed the boy in the air and caught him. The response each time: a gurgling belly laugh and demands for "More! Again!"

I watched them, and thought how much fun the little boy was having.

Wondered whether he realises what a privilege it is, being able to do nothing but share a moment of delight with one's father.

Reflected on how the game is only fun, and only goes on, because my friend catches his son every time. Dropping him, by accident or on purpose (and yes, I've known that kind of parent, too), is simply not an option.



I stitched this a few weeks ago, as an exercise in refreshing two skills that had begun to wane: embroidery; and the word I set out to embroider.

My earlier stitches were uncertain and uneven, but by the time I reached that last "t" I knew where the needle should go and how tight I needed to pull. The motion and skill had been dormant all these creativity-less years; I only needed to awaken it. So, too, with trust. Something I thought I had been doing, and doing well, for years... and it turned out my stitches had been shaky in that department, too.

I sewed that last stitch at least a month ago, but I feel as though the work was only completed this past weekend, across the country in my friend's garden. Watching as a toddler exulted in the secure arms of his father, I was reminded that I have a trustworthy father, too. One whose presence I delight to be in. One who is infinitely infallible. One who also loves to toss me up and watch me soar.

And whose arms are there to catch me, every single time.

Hooked

Saturday, May 07, 2011

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