From Asparagus to Artichoke

The spring that went past at race pace is now over, and the raspberries are already in full swing. We enjoyed several happy weeks of fresh, crisp asparagus, served boiled with poached eggs or sauteed with garden vegetables.

Then Easter came, and I had to share this bit of the many precious moments from the day.

The artichokes were better this year than ever before, and I had loads of fun tucking them, caramelized, into toasted cheese sandwiches, pureed and folded into souffles and creme brulee, and classically boiled with lemon-butter sauce and plenty of pepper.

Ladybird took this glowing photo of a spiced apple German pancake that we made one Saturday morning, a few months ago.

Now the garden is quietly sucking up the water and nurture that Bethany and I are pouring into it, and we're anticipating lots of corn and a variety of squashes and melons soon. I can't wait for the new cooking adventures they will bring! So far it seems as if all I do is garden and cook, which is close to true. But I've also spent a lot of time running through the countryside before sunrise with Daddy, dandering in the woods with Gavin (he's so delighted to go outside at any time!) practicing piano and finding ways to keep inspired with it, and delving into books from science to gardening to Jurassic Park.

I spent the week before last in Rockaway with my youth group, helping to lead a sports/Bible camp for Pre-K through 6th-graders, and also a youth group for the teens there (which were few). It was an exhausting week, but far more fun and rewarding than I ever anticipated. I had no idea that watching kids, keeping them safe, entertained and teaching them, could be such a struggle. But when we were the weakest, we could see and feel God acting most visibly. It was beautiful to see, and so exciting to be a part of!

Now I'm home and more summer stretches out peacefully in front of me, with the promise of good times with family and friends, and next month, blackberries!

After a pause

The months since my winter feast have been good. A fair amount of cooking, a more-than-fair-but-still-not-enough amount of gardening, and not-nearly-fair-enough amount of reading have thrived in my spare moments, which are growing longer as the school year winds down. Three more weeks to go!
I took my first SAT two Saturdays ago and feel fairly confident about it. I'm dreading the next one, which will be the week after I finish school. But I'm working through a math preparation book which should help me with the most difficult parts. I'm slowly learning not to stress about it--I may not be the brightest math student, but I know how to study and will do what it takes to pass reasonably. Then I will read a good book and lose myself in the vegetable patch, forgetting about tests and school and delving into summer.
This has been a wonderful school year, really. I have loved my worldview/history course, and geometry wasn't half bad. Spanish in little bites is exciting too. And my favorites have, of course, been piano and "PE" (what we call my passion for exercise, especially running). I haven't run very much lately, which I think is because I know that next week I will start training for the half-marathon at Crater Lake in August. I want to start up with plenty of excitement and vigor.
Spring is going by at race pace and I wish I could catch it and just admire for a few extra minutes. Every bit of time I can I will spend cherishing it.

The Winter Feast

I've been planning this meal for months. I poured over my special cookbook (a Christmas present from Mama and Daddy), trying to decide which mouth-watering dishes to prepare for my Early-, then Mid-, then Late-Winter Feast. Each weekend pushed the event further out and I was beginning to wonder if spring would arrive before I ever got around to it. But then today came, and it was perfect. I decided to make 

 L'AMI JEAN'S Parmesan Soup, and

 Oxtail-Macaroni Gratin (minus the oxtail, because, for those of us who don't live in small French towns with butchers for neighbours, fancy meat is hard to come by),

 and for dessert, little Sarah Bernhardt Cakes.

Thank you for the fabulous Christmas gift, Mamo and Daddo :-)

Monday night cocoas for Mama and me.

The Good Days of February

Rain is slip-sliding in torrents down the windows. Lightning colors the air violet and for just a moment the silver drops can be seen racing toward the ground. A few seconds later, great rumblings pour past us. Gavin says: "Dong Dong not like thunder. Aguess, thunder loud and skiki. Aguess, Dong Dong stay way by thunder." Then he wraps his arms around my neck and adds "Mana make Dong Dong happy." Ahhh, moments like this! The best of a winter evening.
Daddy is popping pop corn, drizzling butter over the kernels, scooping and shaking the crackling whiteness and salting it. Ahhh, moments like this! The best of a winter evening.
Mama is putting Gavin to bed. Then she will join us down here. Books, popcorn, the black rainy night making the kitchen-living room a place of warm goldenness. Ahhh, moments like this! The best of a winter evening.

A Cider Loaf for a Rainy Saturday

Early this morning, while Ladybird dressed and collected a bag of hair and make-up accessories (she seems to be the official hair and make-up girl for church weddings nowadays) I laid in bed dozing, enjoying the gentle glow of the starry Christmas lights still looped around the room, and planning my day. First on my list: make Nigel Slater's Cider Loaf. 

For my 14th birthday, Autumn Rain gave me a wonderful recipe treasury by Nigel Slater, complete with stunning photography and quaint, humorous kitchen notes that make me want to eat seafood, raw tomatoes and alcohol (all of which I have never liked). The problem with being a foodie is that things you don't like, when described very well and accompanied by a beautiful picture, can seem far too appealing. Then when you cook with them, the results are a painful disappointment. But that's a story for another day. The Cider Loaf was a success (in spite of the alcohol, which only showed up as a piquant tart flavor) and we topped it with sweet, crunchy chicken salad to make a perfect Saturday lunch.

The flames are lithe and silken, fanning from clean orange ribbons into soft, translucent wraiths in swift, curling gold. It is a miracle: that mountain dance of rich, pure colors sprouting from hot white ash, heart-beat coals and silent black chunks of oak. And its all tucked away, almost as if it were insignificant and normal, inside the tidy stove with its clean glass window, arched, crossing bars and cast-iron kettle breathing warm moisture into the air. But I know it isn't: Mama keeps glancing at it too--sometimes her knitting goes completely unnoticed for a few moments while she watches the sprite-dance inside the stove. And Chesterton is lying on the floor nearby, not even bothering to sleep on  the rug (anything to be closer to that gold licking firelight). But Daddy remains oblivious, I think, to the magic. For now.
Thursday night almost feels like the beginning of the weekend. That's a pretty good deal, when I realize that I then have only three full school days. Of course, it's not really that way... but it's a good perspective. Agatha Christie's life is almost laid bare, I have a treasure trove of things to work on during the next week of piano practice, Spanish will have a new beginning soon, and a new chapter of geometry is about to start. And it's all oh, so good. Sometimes I don't think like that--I am actually fully capable of feeling tired and worried--but right now, having worked a thorough, happy day and now relaxing with a merry fire and Following the Moon (a favorite baroque album) I can say it with a pure heart: life is good.
There is something unique and precious about this November. Maybe some snatch of firelight, kiss of cold air or shawl of rustling tawny leaves has lent me special joy. But I am more prone to think that it is, in fact, my appreciation for these things that has changed my attitude. After all, what is a glorious sunset if you aren't thankful for it? Just a sunset. I think it takes gratitude for it to be glorious.