Yes, this is the mud season. But it's a quick one. The sun is so strong, the ground goes from wet to bone dry almost instantly. Fortunately, our gravel driveway drains well. Summer arrives suddenly here.
Everything is fine at the house, just as I left it. It was a pleasant drive over in John's new Honda, now that I'm getting used to all the bells and whistles. I asked did he want to swap cars? No luck.
It was warm enough to sit outside at Lone Pine with a peach smoothie to celebrate spring.
Neither girl has a cell phone, which I suppose by city standards is unusual. That doesn't mean they don't sneak off with their mom's iPhone to play games, and Nova has a Chromebook for school. Maya sends me cute text messages sometimes, she loves emojis, but neither girls have email accounts, as far as I know.
Amanda and I were talking recently and Facebook came up in the conversation. Maya said, "What's Facebook?" How sweet is that? And sweet faces to go with it.
The weather looks fine across the state, so I'm driving to Twisp tomorrow with a bunch of stuff I collected recreational shopping these boring winter months. I'll stay for a few days and putter around the house which sounds like heaven. Winter isn't over in the Valley yet, but we're over the hump. In the meteorological world at least, Spring begins on March 1.
Ash Wednesday, by Karl Spitzweg
"Here we see a man who, only hours before, was cavorting in full-blown pleasure as Carnaval’s excesses wound to a roaring end. He may have been a costumed reveler, swirling with friends amidst a cascade of Bratwurst, schnapps, and ancient rowdy tunes. Or he may have been a hired performer, a jester exhausted from working the long days of celebration, who somehow got on the wrong side of things. Now, though, he sits in a dungeon. His hope now lies in the faint light that proclaims the morning known as Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. Art conveys what words cannot."
From Professor Carol website
People around here wage a never-ending battle against moss in their yards. On the other hand, moss is essential to Japanese Garden design, lending a feeling of antiquity and and calm.
The Japanese say "it takes a wabi heart to recognize sabi beauty." Wabi is about recognizing beauty in humble simplicity, to open our heart and detach from the vanity of materialism. Sabi is about the passage of time, and seeing beauty in the way all things grow, age, and decay.
Our anniversary was on Sunday. In some ways, 29 years seems like yesterday, but so much has changed since then. Including us. We miss those dear faces, no longer with us.
The symbol is "furniture" for this odd ball anniversary. Ho hum. But if you can make it to 30, "pearl" sounds much better. Late February (a dreary, indoor month) seems like a odd time to get married. I can't remember the reason, we were probably just in a hurry.
We didn't go anywhere this weekend, but I made a coconut cake and a terrific French onion soup.
Finally, you add red wine to de-glaze the pot. I doubled the amount, which never hurts. Then beef broth and seasoning, then simmer another hour until the flavors come together. Like I say, it takes all afternoon, but eventually the onions become nothing like onions--all melty and sweet.
Finally, topped with homemade croutons and expensive grated Gruyere cheese finished under the broiler. John, the onion soup connoisseur, said it rivaled anything he's ever had in a French cafe and requested it once a week. Now that's wishful thinking.
This poor daffodil decided to bloom too early and collapsed in a heap. Fortunately, most bulbs are not that far along yet and can shrug off the cold snap.
What a week it's been. So much bad news to process, and nothing we can do about any of it.
Here's a few happy Friday pictures:
Yes, that's Nova (left) in rehearsal for the upcoming community theater production of "The Fantastic Mr. Fox." Can't wait.
Our amazing dad, out for a first spring walk in short sleeves. Almost time to break out the summer clothes in Las Vegas.
