It I cool this morning and the air is filled with fog. As Tikka and I walk the air I soft and gentle, the breeze like a whisper on the skin.
The fog shroud the world in mystery, in a kind of flatness that awes and confuses the senses. Holding its secrets close, waiting for discovery.
Colors, once revealed seem intensified. That which we once might have simply passed by positively glows.
The everyday becomes a precious jewel.
Perhaps we simply need to be reminded.
It has been a while since I've posted pictures from my neighborhood walk. Last night we walked down around the retention pond below my house.
The path is mowed periodically. It needs to be mowed soon as a few brambly things are growing up in the path, but it is still navigable.
It was breezy yesterday evening, and the flowers wouldn't hold still for their portraits. If I were a more determined photographer I would go back down this morning, but the light would be different. Or I would have waited longer, but Tikka's patience with this particular spot was already waning. I look up and my frustration slips away at the beauty of the sky.
Of course, when the path is mowed, these beauties will disappear for a brief period, only to return.
.
Leaving the retention pond, we wander across the hills and valleys of a field of future building sites, recently enough mowed that there is still a hint of the smell of fresh grass in the air.
The houses on this side of my neighborhood are older than mine, their gardens more established. I have to remember that my garden is only beginning its second summer.
But they are also more protected. Their locations are slightly sunnier. They are also protected from the winds that are always present at my house, the last house at the top of a hill, The differences amaze me. Even when we buy and plant the same things, in the same week, the plants at the end of the street are almost always a week ahead of mine.
Even though our houses are all alike, and our yards are actually quite similar, with similar, if not identical, varieties of plants, each garden is slightly different, reflecting the preferences and attentions, or lack thereof of each homeowner. You can't see it in this photo, but a baby bunny hopped under those flowers above, just before I snapped the photo. I experienced a mad urge to find her, only wanting to say hello, but wisdom prevailed. Peace and safety are too sacred, should not be stolen for mere curiosity's sake.
And once again, we are home. Have a lovely weekend.
My new sneakers arrived (mentioned previously), which allowed me to walk further. I have decided that although neutrals are good for street shoes, I like my athletic shoes to be as bright as possible. No sleek sneaks for me. Or maybe I've just finally accepted that I'll never be sleek and therefore don't have to worry about it. There is a certain freedom in that, much like the freedom that came with accepting that my Uncle Dick may have been right and I'll never have style. If I'll never have "it" whatever "it" is, I don't have to worry about "it".
What a relief.
It was bitterly cold on Wednesday. And although I don't really like bitter cold, it gave me a rare opportunity to wear a favorite Icelandic-style sweater I knit long ago, in the late 1990's. This sweater is knit in thick brushed cashmere, not an original idea, as I was inspired by similar cashmere sweaters in one of the French RTW collections. I don't remember the details, which is one of the reasons I originally started a knitting blog. Even though I had doubts about whether or not I'd ever have the opportunity to wear this sweater in Knoxville, and it is not really my colors, I still love it.
I also started baking again this week. Even though I somewhat underestimated how much time I needed, the process of baking was thrilling and invigorating. Sharing something delicious with others is always good. I made two carrot cakes. The first was a test. But it was still delicious, with only minor tweaks necessary, that were more related to presentation than taste. It is not quite traditional, as it has a French Meringue buttercream instead of cream cheese frosting. But delicious nonetheless. Both cakes disappeared. And I forgot to take a picture until the very end.
We got some more snow on Friday, and it was snowing when we took our morning walk. I love the sense of quiet and peace of snowfall. We walked and romped and played a bit in the snow, me pretending to be a small dog, squatting and kneeling as we jumped and fluffed snow in each other's faces. Tikka accidently slipped into a small dip in the grass and ended up covered, as she got up and shook the snow out of her fur she slipped and slid a few inches, wide-eyed, discovering the joy of the taste of snow, and the excitement of prancing in clouds of fluff. I think we both enjoyed the snuggle upon coming in even more, me with a cup of coffee, Tikka wrapped in a towel in my lap.
Alas the snow is no more and the weekend shall be busy. But there is always time for a cuddle and a cup of coffee.
Last night I went to a wonderful concert put on by the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists and the Friends of Music and the Arts, a performance of music in the Jewish Tradition. It was absolutely lovely, and a not at all traditional, way for me to spend a Monday evening.
There was one delightful moment when a particular organ piece was played, and I recognized it, as I had been idly looking over the score and listening to it in my head while it was spread out on a counter at the church. Even more delightfully, it was far more beautifully realized than I had imagined it. This is perhaps not surprising, as the organ is not actually an instrument I imagine well in my head when reading scores, other instruments come more easily to my thoughts, but it was a magical moment nonetheless, as I listened to the music and visualized the notes dancing across the page.
On the more mundane front, I've been experimenting with ways to use my homemade kimchi, and I am very happy with the results so far. At first, I feared that the I had made the kimchi a little too spicy, but that was mostly because I served it as a side with a pork chop, and perhaps I needed something else on my plate to balance its heat. I've since tried it with the roasted brussels sprouts recipe that Frances recommended in her comment, and it is excellent as a side dish, and mixed into a morning hash or omelet.
I've also made this kimchi omelet recipe several times, and it is wonderful for either breakfast or a light supper. In fact it seems that kimchi and eggs are just meant to go together, and I have begun experimenting accordingly. And since I live in Tennessee, and there is apparently a bit of a porkish theme going on here, kimchi also pairs beautifully with pulled pork barbecue. The garlic and the heat enhance the smoky flavor of the pork. In fact, kimchi and pulled pork would probably make a fantabulous sandwich, except that I don't have any gluten-free, dairy-free buns in the house, and don't feel like making a batch just for me. (and I haven't found a store-bought bun I'm willing to eat again) I'm perfectly happy with my pork and kimchi on a plate, or made into a kind of hash with an egg (of course).
All of this is just a long winded way of saying yes, I will be making more kimchi.
Lastly, since I did not plague you with terrible iPhone photos of kimchi, I shall instead plague you with a pretty terrible photo of the mountains in the distance taken during my morning walk on Sunday. It reminds me that I really should carry a camera with me, and learn to use it. I will, one of these days.
I took a rather slow day yesterday. It was snowing outside and although Tikka and I went out for our walks, where we romped and played and got thoroughly wet and snow covered, we basically stayed home, curled up in the sunroom, watching the snow while ensconced in a cashmere. Not such a bad life, is it?
I am apparently taking another slow day today as well. My sinuses are acting up, and my energy levels are low, low, low. I don't think I am sick though, hopefully just an accidental dietary indiscretion with its accompanying histaminic reaction. It is as good a day as any to feel under the weather, the sun is shining, the snow is melting, and all my appointments for today were cancelled.
My New York self would say that it wasn't that much snow, which it wasn't. But Tennessee is not upstate New York either, and I was perfectly happy to stay home. I read my assignment for tonight's class, which has now been cancelled, and took the unexpected gift of a big block of time as incentive to get back to work on cleaning out the closets and storage areas of the house. I'll continue to work on this today, and probably the rest of the week.
But I also spent time reading and doing needlework. More importantly, I've found inspiration time: time thinking and dreaming and sketching a little bit, time working on inspirations for sewing, for needlework, for my home, just general ideas. To say the least, it felt good. It has been a long time since that creative spark has fired, and although I think it is still mostly sputtering, it is wonderful to see that life is still present. I've never considered myself particularly creative, and certainly not artistic, but that drive to make things my own, to envision the world in a particular way and shape my external environment to echo my inner thoughts and visions has always been there. As I clear away the deadwood, it feels like things are falling into place.
I woke up with gladness this morning, and a song in my heart..
The sky was beautiful when I took Tikka out. These photos were snapped with my phone about 20 minutes before sunrise.
A warm soft wind was blowing, bringing the clouds in for the rain that is expected to begin shortly. Still, we should revel in the glory when and where we find it.
A few snaps from my morning walk:
Pink and blue and full of promise.
IPhone snap. Looking west, the sun behind me and still below the horizon, approximately 10 minutes before sunrise.
A few details from my daily walks through my routine suburban neighborhood.
A daylily from my own front yard, the morning after a rain.
The remaining photos are from my neighborhood, taken on my morning walks, where I continue to be entranced by small details in otherwise anonymous suburban spaces.