Yesterday continued, there's more!

After the excitement of the morning's thrills and spills, I sat out to read, and woke up a while later, my audiobook considerably further on in the plot, woke up.

And realized I had nothing to go with a cup of tea. No cake or breadlike food. So I traipsed to the kitchen to study my Big Binder Full of Recipes. And found one cut from my ancient, supposedly Amish but I doubt it, book which didn't have much of interest but a couple of items, seen here. When I keep the actual good recipes from any cookbook it's surprising how few there are, but where was I?

 The book was a fairly amateurish spiral bound deal, maybe a fundraiser, which is probably why I owned it, and though some ideas were good, the tomato lemon jam definitely a hill to die on, they kept forgetting to list the ingredients.

 Only detective work as you embark on the recipe shows that they're telling you to mix in items they never listed --add the milk in three waves, wait, what milk, how much, and so on. I added notes to complete the recipe, guessing a bit, and did come out fine. I kept it, so it must have.

So with the notes, here's lemon nut bread, using butter, not shortening.

Finally while it baked, tea with the mail. One of the best mail days evah.

 One thank you note from my post office people, written by favorite carrier, responding to -- a thank you card I'd put in the outgoing mail slot! It evidently went over well. Now, do I thank them for thanking me for thanking them? This could go on.

Then, a soft envelope, expecting the seeds a friend had promised,and found not only the seeds she'd saved to share, but CASHMERE!  The raw fiber, combed from a goat, very likely the one whose portrait you see. Just a present to play with. About which more when I write it up at https://beautifulmetaphor.blogspot.com.   Anon.

Then excellent Zoom lecture via Princeton Art museum, all women, presenting on Life magazine women photographers and the  policy toward women by that testosterone driven publication during and after world war II. I think it's recorded so you might be able to find it on their website.

Mad rush to get supper in the interval between the end of the lecture and the start of my centering prayer group, what's all this free time and boredom i hear about, not much around here.

The quiet friendly meditation was just the thing after a fraught day. But technology was not yet finished with your humble blogger. Near the end of the quiet time, my tablet suddenly shut down and started a reboot. The last word, I suppose. The high tech equivalent of flouncing away.

And so, as Pepys would say, to bed.

Rereading reliable old friends

Right now I need good writing which is also funny. A lot of Georgette Heyer audio books on YouTube, listen while I weave.

And there's the paper type of book, too. I have all the novels of E M Delafield. You know, the Provincial Lady series, full of comic characters whose counterparts we know in real life. Doesn't matter that she's writing from the viewpoint of a specific group at a specific time in English history. Her characters live. She's the writer Nancy Mitford thought she herself was.

So after a debate with another aficionada, i realized I got two characters mixed, and decided it was time to re-read.

Pulled out The Provincial Lady, opened it and it exploded into many pieces.

 Glue fatigue. I had been putting favourites onto my  Kindle  before the virus suddenly changed everything, including donations to the Little Library. So I decided this was a sign to continue, and see if I could get a  Kindle version of the PL. Checked and found that Amazon not only was offering the lot, all five for .99c, a crime, really, such a price for such work. Anyway not only that, they said I had a 99c credit.

 
 So her entire oeuvre is loaded now at a cost of zero.That was last evening.That was then.


 This morning came auto related tests and challenges. Starting with braving the post office to send back the old car plates to the mvc. Trying to understand each other through masks and Plexi shielding, we managed more or less. Sign language a bit.

Then, back in the car, I noticed the gas gauge hovering near empty, since I haven't added any in the few weeks I've had this car. Soooo to the gas station, now down to two pumps, oriented parallel to the road. Managed to get the car situated near the nozzle, it being differently located from my old car, though thankfully on the same side.

 Then to find the gas cap release. Then to push, pull, turn, until finally it opened. With the door opened, dark down there. Then, door closed, struggle to locate window opener. Finally able to ask for gas. NJ doesn't permit anyone not employed at the station to pump gas. There's a funny back story to this having to do with the gas station owners'  lobby and liability.

Theeeeen on the way home, a sudden big alert, beeps and display telling me the keyless remote was nearly out of juice. Bar diagram showing barely a breath in the battery. Which was news to me, that it even had one, let alone it was nearly dead.

Long struggle short, several YouTube videos later, plus credit card, screwdriver, thumbs, knife all employed to "pop"(!) the fob open, remove battery, discover, amazingly, that I had a replacement in that drawer of all sorts of stuff, reassemble it all, snap it shut, noticing the mechanics in the videos had mitts like Godzilla, easy for them, anyway, tested same, works fine.

 I also discovered you can still unlock and drive the car even if the fob quits. so the keyless idea is just some engineer's toy, really. None of it's intuitive, though. There's a key hidden inside the fob. And a backup starting chip. Those of us in the know will show you, for a small fee.

Much learning this morning. This afternoon is about weaving and drinking tea, to Heyer's Bath Tangle audiobook. Later a Princeton Art museum lecture. It's all go.

Multitasking rules

So the same setup works for workouts and for play-ins. As you see:

You might say music and movement if the term hadn't been used by more famous people..

Artisanal pizza

So I wrote a long post about the pizza caper that happened today, complete with pix, comments, valuable historical insights, priceless bon mots, and after 45 minutes' labor, my tired dothery finger jerked down and hit delete. Which it did. All except the title.

So after some loudly expressed dismay, I remembered my mantra: it's a chance to do it better.

So here we are. I found a recipe using yogurt and flour for pizza dough. They used self raising. The one time I tried it, i found it too salty. So here I used ap and subbed half a tisp salt and baking soda, works fine.

It's delicate dough, wants to stick and tear, so it looks a bit artisanal. And there's enough for two small pizzas, one to cook on top of the stove, one in the oven.

I had the idea with no shopping possible, so here's the cast of characters, some invention required

Once you've mixed and kneaded and rolled and persuaded the dough into the sizzling oiled cast iron, I used some spicy oil left from another recipe, good time for it

Then you flip it once browned, which is no time at all

Add the toppings, clap on a lid, and in a couple more minutes you're done.

 And I have a pizza kit for using the other half of the doings, dough wrapped in plastic bag

And the debris YouTube doesn't want you to know about.. there's also the floury surface I made the pastry on.  For a "quick" meal, this certainly created some cleanup.

I'll report back on the number of stars it gets.

Emily Dickinson Poetry Walk, this year virtual, May 15

Just a quick note: the annual Emily Dickinson Poetry Walk in Amherst, commemorating her death, is virtual this year. So we can all go!

 It's on May 15,  12-1 est,  and you go to  the https://emilydickinsonmusem.org ,  scroll down to Remote Poetry Walk, and sign up for the Zoom event.  They'll send you the link on May 14. You can sign up to read, or make a memorial message. Or you can just tune in and follow the walk.

Thank you, K, for alerting me.

Reward after an overdoing day

Today I seem to have done a bit too much. I do tend to forget I'm not a kid in my sixties any more.

So what with an energetic workout complete with weights, music practice, carrying the heavy awkward vacuum cleaner down a flight, vacuuming the downstairs including kitchen and bathroom, then lugging it back up, actually easier than down because it wasn't trying to pull me downstairs on the way up, and there was a shower in there somewhere, then lugging plants and potting soil about, doing the drying and folding of a large load of son's laundry as promised, and various other things, I found I was too tired to put it the laundry in the car and deliver it.

I want to drive the car at least a bit because I'm still learning how! New car six weeks ago, still mysteries. And I don't want to get too nervous to drive, which is possible in this kind of situation. I know myself rather well. When I'm doing things I'm great, confident, capable and all that. Stop doing and nerves take over.  Which is why I didn't arrange for him to pick up which he gladly would.

Anyway I ended up promising the laundry for tomorrow. And a few things I thought I'd do today, such as pizza dough. Sufficient unto the morrow be the pizza dough thereof.

And then, feeling a bit defeated, I suddenly saw this lovely friend sitting quietly on the feeder.

 I've made many attempts to get pictures but the redbellied woodpecker is the most skittish of visitors, taking off at the slightest movement from me. Only a moderately good picture, but it's like getting a blurred picture of Nessie. You're just glad anyway! It's taken him a year to return since I had the big dead branch removed, and the feeder hanging from it relocated, no overhead cover, let alone stay still a minute.

And finally he obliged. So this is a good day.

Garden rescues and experiments

The potting soil arrived and, before I repot the bigger house-plants which are in urgent need, I played a bit.

The Vicks plant in the green dish, I nearly killed twice leaving it past frost last year, then putting it out too soon this year, saving only a remnant, which obligingly started putting roots into water. I forgot one day to check and it was dry. Oh. Nothing daunted, it's started new roots, so I've rehoused her in a pot, next to her friends. And I started an apple pit thing in another pot. A couple of dried cores buried in the pot and a few pits scattered on top.  We'll see. After dinner gardening. The third pot above has no occupants yet.

Then through the window I noticed a cheerful little blossom struggling up outside through the iris and daylily and pachysandra and vetch and scarlet pimpernel and Montauk daisies and thyme and sedum and Thai basil and lavender and whatever they call that pretty ground creeper that gets yellow flowers.

 It's the scrawny little azalea I rescued from across the street when my friends moved out, and before their tenants moved in. Along with a clump of yellow daisy-like Fall flowers, which I don't like, bitter yellow color, bad taste in my mouth, but the goldfinches love it, so it stays.

Finally, the little azalea is getting going, despite its crowded situation. I've been tossing spent tea-leaves, organic, says she virtuously, around it,  in hopes, for a couple of years. Adding acid, they love acid. My rescued rose on the patio, likewise. If I had a holly, I'd include it. They all like additional acid. I'll leave the azalea alone, since she seems to know what she's doing.

I only took a bit of the plant material from across the street, politely leaving plenty for the incoming tenants, though I'd been invited to help myself. It was a waste of honesty, though, since the first thing the new people did was tear out every living thing, leaving a wasteland in front of the house. Scorched earth policy. I guess they prefer mud.

So it's good I transplanted what I did. I'm at the other end of the spectrum, my tiny area crowded like a permanent rush hour. The amphibians and worms and birds and bees of all kinds, and praying mantis, love it, so I'm not arguing. And there's no room for weeds.
A certain amount depends on your definition of weeds, of course.

I'm pretty sure if I suddenly found purple loosestrife or phragmites grass out there, I'd yank them out sharpish, they being the Al Capones of the plant world. But other than that, not so much. Since we have cold winters, plants like bindweed die off annually, so they're not the infernal pests they are in other states.

This is big talk from someone who just potted two four inch pots, no?

Mother's Day, 2020

For the first time in the crisis the weather was warm enough, well, 60f, to sit out. So Handsome Son came over bearing groceries which became a mother's day gift, and we sat chatting, drinking tea, each with own teapot and tools, eating fresh cornbread. First time for a sit down chat for so many weeks. Distancing observed. Note the napkins tucked over the individual teatrays, to defend against birds while son arrives.

The birds were competing for cornbread, hoping we'd drop some, bluejays, catbirds, sparrows. Overhead two tree-swallows, first of the year, yes, doesn't make a summer, but I'll take it, and a lone crow mobbing a redtail hawk. A little peregrine darting around the trees on the hunt.

This was one of the best Mother's Day celebrations I've had. Son not working, rare on Sunday, weather cooperative. It was wonderful.

Basho, Villon, weathermen

In one way, all poets are weathermen, in the sense of rebels, but today more literally.

Basho, just happened on this haiku today

Has it returned,
The snow
We viewed together?

Centuries later comes Villon

Ah, ou sont les neiges d'antan?

Insert your own grave accent on the ou.

Translated often as "where are the snows of yesteryear?"

To which friends in New England can say today: right here, in fact.

No snow at my house but bitter wind, warm coat, gloves, fleecy pants, beret, hood pulled over it, and the wind was hard work to walk against. Blowing from all directions. I kept a close eye on the old trees as I went. They can come down with a split second of warning.  You listen for that creaking sound.  If you hear it, you run.

A 75' tree came down on a neighbor's house a couple of years ago. Her son, out on the patio playing cards, with beverages, with friends, heard the sound, yelled RUN, and they all as one man, first seized their beer (!) then ran.

 The tree crushed the fence and all the chairs and table they'd been sitting at. Then, very male, they set up the game indoors, hunting for more cards and refills. Yes, teenage boys, why do you ask?

Meanwhile his mother, white and shaking, ran to my house to decompress. We had tea.

Wrens, Basho and Accidental Poetry

This morning, within minutes of my throwing out the breakfast crumbs, a wren pair came to sample them. See one wren on the fence to the right of the feeder? They like the lentil bread.

And this week, finally, the woodpeckers and,  today,  the white breasted nuthatch, started using the feeder on the shepherd's crook. It's taken them a year to trust the area after the big dead cherry branch had to be cut before it fell on me. That was their overhead cover from hawks. Very glad to see them back.

Basho haiku today

Skylark on moor
sweet song
of non-attachment

One of my earliest memories is the skylark singing over the moor, so high he was invisible, squinting up to find the little dot in the sky. 

And finally, have you tried the Accidental Poetry game? Pick out books, stack them so the titles  make a little thought. Like this

You can emphasize it a couple of different ways.

But nothing will ever top the wonderful government statistical publication entitled Population of the British Isles, Broken Down by Age and Sex. Well, aren't we all?

Sparrowgrass cream soup

I woke up this morning,saw the chilly rainy weather, not getting above the 50's f, and decided I might as well make soup today. I'd put the asparagus in the freezer in case I didn't feel like using it right away.

So here's the story. I looked up a couple of recipes and thought they were a bit like workbooks, full of busywork that didn't seem strictly necessary. So I'm sure you assume I did it my way..

Anyway, here's a couple of handfuls of asparagus, most of a large onion, the only seasoning necessary salt and fresh ground black pepper.

 This is a delicate flavor, no need for a lot of spices. I did use chicken broth, well, one little packet of chicken. Turned out the other box I had was beef, which I must have picked up by accident, but oh well.

I made a roux in a separate small pan, usual butter and flour, ending with cup of warm milk whisked in to complete it. That I left to one side keeping warm till the main action was complete.

Back at the soup pot, onions, only roughly chopped, no need to get carried away, they'll be blended soon anyway, asparagus snapped a bit, oil and butter,  half cup of broth, cook the lot.

 If your asparagus is farm fresh, this will be about five minutes, tops. Unlike the recipes which said 12-14, using old stuff maybe.

Then stick blend. Stop to wipe soup off glasses, note to tip pot further away from self. Then add in the rest of the broth, cook a bit, then the warm roux mixture. About ten minutes more over gentle heat will do it.

I don't add cream, but I did swirl a spoonful of plain yogurt into this right before diving in. It was, well, it was very good. Try it. It's really worth doing.

I got four helpings from this, each one cup, 8 fl.oz. or floz I like to say. My soup ladle, just measured it now after years of meaning to, is half a cup.

I usually make enough soup for six helpings, but I think this worked better in a smaller batch. I have enough stems frozen to do another batch some time.

I freeze soup in single helpings, just enough for one. In the olden days when Handsome Son came to dinner, I'd just take out enough containers. One for me, three for him, he likes the soup around here.

A couple of days ago, to turn to a sadder tale, I wasn't in the mood to make a cake but I fancied a little something. And we will draw a veil over the YouTube squeaky lady who explained how this was a chocolate cake needing no baking, no pans, no ability either.

 It was baked in the microwave. In a container. And took approximately three times as long as she said, might as well have made a real cake. And it's almost edible. If you're desperate for a cakelike object with your tea. Identity witheld to protect the guilty.

 No pictures, I'm protecting you from the science fiction thing trying to escape from the dish. She had put in so many disclaimers I should have guessed it was a dud.

 And we will never know how many iterations it took to yield that very nice cake she cut into enticingly. Or maybe she ran to the bakery in desperation, facing a deadline.

But as my Uncle George would have said, this cake's awful, I'll be glad when I've had enough!

Vetch, a favorite, appears

It's spring for any number of reasons, one being the flowering of vetch among the ground cover. It's flowers are like tiny sweet peas, not surprising, since they're in the same family.

This little corner also houses sorrel,scarlet  pimpernel a bit later, and other wild flowers some people refer to as weeds. 

Interestingly a lot of the flowers in my wildflower book also appear in my weed book. It's largely about location and density and whether it's a pest to crops. It's not about some moral failing on the part of the plant, though some folks talk as if it were.

Anyway I treasure them all.

I noticed them as I was rolling up the daffodil foliage. I just sort of take it in handfuls, roll them back and hide them under the ground cover. That way they decay naturally, out of sight, and you don't see them yellowing and dying off. But they do preserve the nutrition for next year's flowers.

I have a few square feet of land, and I talk as if it was the back forty.

Asparagus tip tips, and first world problems

So I washed and washed the asparagus to get the sand out, then you know about determining where the tender part of the asparagus tip ends? I used to grow it, so I've done a lot of this.

You snap each stalk. Where it breaks is where the tip ends and the tougher part starts. It tells you.

So here, tips for steaming, and stalks for soup.

Meanwhile back at the dryer. The supplier now tells me the dryer I told him about does after all exist, but he has no mounting  bracket and installers are on leave because of the virus.

I had found the dryer he said didn't exist, he grudgingly found it's still made, but, oh oh..the mfr won't take orders, made in China, completely shut down. No dryer, no bracket, no installer. Aside from that, Mrs Lincoln.. I'm pursuing another supplier but not with much hope.

First world problem, but I'm still not impressed that the supplier guy claimed the dryer didn't exist. Claimed their chief salesman agreed with him (!) One o' them there hoaxes.

Asparagus is in!

Over as soon as they opened. Several other cars there already when I arrived. When the day's crop is gone, it's over till the next lot is ready. Very slow growing this cold season. Could be a day or two. So people who know that are prompt.

Picked this morning from the field next to the trees you see.  All the precautions in place. Everyone masked, polite, friendly.

And now for a lovely dish of steamed sparrowgrass with lemon butter sauce. No need to get more fancy. This is Jersey Fresh!

It's a nice change from the excitement of the weekend. It wasn't all sitting on the patio. There was a urgent call late Saturday from tenant about sparks shooting out of the wall in the laundry area. We both feared an electrical fire, and he had had the presence of mind to spring for the breaker box and turn the circuit to the washer and dryer off.

Then various tests and consultations with Mike and my neighbor over Saturday and Sunday, all done by text and phone, indicated that probably the dryer was shorting out, not the circuit.

Which means replacing it. Which may be very tricky. It's wall mounted in an alcove, water heater one side, wall the other, no floor space because door. It's small and the appliance people who usually save me are telling me dryers like this don't exist, where did I get the idea etc. I sent pix, model info etc. Silence now.

I'm pursuing this with other suppliers but they usually have nothing this small, that's how I ended up with the current supplier, who did great detective work when I needed to replace the washer.

 I think that man has left, though. Maybe I drove him out! So tenant will be getting his clothes dried by his mother, that would be me, until, and if ever, we get a solution.

Really didn't need this added stress. I thought I was doing okay up to now. Until neighbor told me of two close friends who died this week of the virus. And doctors now think his sister in law who died in February, probably had it too, not detected.

So this is what's up. Where I live is very much affected.

But I'll still steam the asparagus. And maybe make soup, too.

First tea on the patio this year

First outdoor afternoon of the year, listening to a Georgette Heyer audiobook, weaving a miniature hat, watching the clouds.

 A crow chasing a redtail hawk out of his nesting territory, getting in a fierce peck at the tailfeathers. Turkey vultures flying lazy circles.

 Drinking tea, eating cashews and golden raisins, while bees buzzed around the flowers and the newly opening lemon balm, sage and thyme.

 Calm, neighbors playing with their kids. Kids laughing, because out of the house.

The trees in their earliest green. Dogwood in blossom.

I wish everyone this kind of quiet afternoon, to recover our balance, and remember later.

Basho for today

In my new robe
this morning --
someone else

I had read this haiku the other day, forgotten about it, then upcycled the sweater. Centuries after he wrote, his words may have unconsciously directed that idea. Cool.

Lentil bread verdict

So here's the finished lentil curry loaf, to be cut again, into four loaves. Nice crisp crust, the crumb a bit heavy. Next time I'll use less water in the lentils, and I might chuck in capers as a nice addition. The curry flavor is indectectible, so I'm not sure what the point was.

All in all a 7 out of 10. It's edible, and may be better tomorrow. It's a savory bread, not a jam holder. I think capers or some such accent would be good. Or spread with butter and anchovy paste is an idea.  I had it toasted with sharp cheddar for supper, not bad.

No whole-wheat so needs must

I'm so used to whole-wheat flour that it's a new landscape not having it. Now that I have enough white ap flour, and need bread, I consulted with my trusty Healthy Bread book for good alternatives.

And found curried lentil bread. Worth a shot. It worked differently from my usual.

See how it's trying to rise and escape? Then, wrestled down again, it looked yellowy. I used red lentils, which is why. They're more orange than red in color. Here it's going into the oven.

Then I had to guess at the baking time.  I guessed fifty  minutes, rather than the usual 60 when I use this pan. Waiting for it to cool before I find out if it worked out.

The recipe wanted two cups of whole-wheat, for which I subbed rice and oat flour that I'd ground. I'm guessing the change in flour accounts for the runaway tendency, since they have zero gluten. But the other 5.5 cups of Ap may have saved it. And the vital wheat gluten the recipe includes.
The cup of lentils rounded out the solid ingredients.

Whatever it's like, I have plenty of it.

A funny thing happened on the way to the clothes closet

Just musing on what to wear today over the usual white tee, and noticed another turtle neck that hasn't worked for me for ages. The scissors were close at hand.

And this happened. Another handy comfy jacket. No sewing. Wearing it right away. Notice the phone purse, an experiment in filet crochet. Also a safety feature, never without my phone, because You Never Know. I have a few purses, to work with different outfits. Of course!

Posed on location in the Little Gallery, aka downstairs bathroom.

Later in May Day

After the storms moved away yesterday, I got out to pick violets and yellow sorrel for my first day of the month flowers.

And on the way, saw a bee sleeping in the honesty plant. Still there when I came back.

Spring!

Great addition to May Day and White Rabbits

I noticed a reference on Twitter this morning to Basho, Japanese haiku poet, and the comment that if you read a few a day, it will carry you through quite a while.

You can't really assimilate and think about more than a few haiku of this quality a day, if that. They're so compressed with meaning and suggestion, that they stop you in your tracks.

So I looked for a book of his poems, found this on Hoopla

Read a bit and didn't like it much, full of academic argument and debate pushing the work out of the way. More of a comparative study guide than I wanted.

 I found a better version, he's written a lot, plenty to choose from. And actually bought it for my Kindle, where it's nestling in my file of Austen, Trollope, Anthony not Joanna, and ready for a few minutes quiet study daily.

I was at an online meeting last evening, despite technical obstacles, arghghg, and it opened with a reading from Richard Rohr. I can not read him in print, just find him incoherent.

 But read aloud, suddenly he made sense. Nice discovery. Probably my rapid reading interfered before. And it fits in with the haiku in concept so well. When the student is ready the teacher will appear.

Anyway one great bit from Rohr stays with me: life is not about me, but I am about life. I stayed on that for the whole meditation period that followed, until my tablet cut me off (!) I'll be back next week.

The group is sponsored by the convent where I learned goldwork embroidery and met my first Anglican nuns, still in traditional habit, and had a good time with them. It's through their newsletter that I got the invitation.

 So I was glad of the chance to remeet some of the community without driving. I'm neither religious not Anglican, but this seems like a time not to be concerned with divisions, and they were welcoming.  The leader is a laywoman, as are a lot of participants.

And now I'm off for a natter with me mates at our Ravelry knitting group.

I'll leave you with a couple of sky views from under my porch between rainstorms. I had planned to go pick violets for my first of the month flowers, but the weather's telling me to wait.

Meanwhile, Happy May Day, and White Rabbits.