curry no worry
Sunshine, and melting snow. Drip by drip emboldens the creation of flow, ponds form across the fields and roads and drives. Our drive an ice rink, the gravel below a smooth suggestion of summer dust. The living room ceiling leaks from a damn of ice two stories above. The bird baths are glacial, the largest still has a huge flow of ice and snow. The birds are frantic to clean out the feeders. Robins bounce back and forth through the woods in large numbers, flashes of orange breast, yellow feet and beak startle the rest of us out of or dormancy. The snow has not yet melted in the bog, but I am curious to see how much of a lake forms for a minute and then I wonder how many peepers will announce spring this year?
Duff Liam turned a gracious 30 years old. As he so nicely pointed out his being 30 makes me old. I have known him since his first breath.
I created two curries dinners this weekend. Chicken curry with red lentil dal and cucumber raita. Lamb curry with red lentil dal and cucumber raita. Two curries without worries in one weekend. The later I hauled to Duff’s birthday celebration. I made chicken curry for sunday dinner with BDM because neither of us got any lamb curry at the party. Red lentil dal is an excellent breakfast.
I spun wool left over in my basket from Three Waters Farm, BFL that was blessedly colorful compared to the pound of brown that I spun up last week. Neen chose the brown over a green for his sweater. Need needles for said sweater.
I drove to the yarn store in the brilliant sunshine, through a haze of salt mist and melt. I left the house with boots on but no socks. 40 degrees people not -12. By the time I got to the bridge my feet were getting cold. I have not been in a yarn store to buy needles in a long while. They were knitting mittens in the center of the store. Jillian at the head of the table leading knitters down a path of colorful lace enhanced mittens. Hellos were had and needles were chosen. How I wish I could have just sat down there and hung out for the rest of the day. The lure was huge, intoxicating.
I finished reading Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson last night. I was reading the last chapters and realized that the words said, February 8th. And that February 8th was on it’s way to ending with a full moon crusing across the night time sky. A good luck moment in book reading moments. It was a book that I picked up each night, entangled layers of history and herstory.
We skyped with Moo and Giovanni, Stefano was in and out of coherence as he was glued to the Roma game. Giovanni is growing fast and now smiles on his Mother and gurrgles his commentary. I also had the pleasure of skyping with Neen at length. We talked on tortillas, the Ruins, tripe, brain, travel, culture and radishes. He is doing well, learning lots and expanding his proverbial horizons both gastronomic and historonic.
