I am home, alone, on a Saturday afternoon. I thought we were going to an Equinox celebration, but it turned out I wasn't going after all. That man has gone. And I am at home cooking. Cooking exotic foods and making my house smell like one of those city blocks in some thrid world country where there are little cubbyhole restaurants serving up delicious fare from all over the world. I was bashing and chopping and peeling and slicing with a vengence. I was possibly sitting with my neighbor today, and that man had gone where he always goes on Saturday mornings. It's directly on the path of where the equinox celebration is. I assumed he would call and say--what's happening ? Are we going? Are you busy? Shall we meet there? But no phone call came and then suddenly he was coming in the front door. Half an hour before the thing starts. Half an hour away. No thought beyond his own...never mind. Never mind.
SO. I keep thinking of turning off the soup and leaving. Going somewhere. RUNNING AWAY. Being alone. (like I already am, here, but someplace else.) Sweet Jehosaphat. I don't even care so much about the Equinox thing, but I get so weary of not even bering considered. Thoughtlessness...which feels like neglect to me. Not a thought to what might be something I want to do, or somewhere I want to go. Or even a thought to just call and say...something. Arrgghhh...
Anyway. I am making a home made version of a Thai chicken soup, sans the chile. Lemon grass, garlic, ginger, onion, coconut milk, chicken...a little finely chopped celery and carrot. I realized I don't have any rice noodles, but I will just use soba. It won't be as delicate, but I don't care. The smell is intoxicating. If you recall, I froze quite a bit of lemon grass stalks from my garden this year. They certainly come in handy. I do need to get some cilantro for the top. Or not. Maybe I'll use some dried fennel I have in the back. Who cares? It's all good.
Speaking of dried fennel... It's time to start checking out my stores in the pantry and see what I have left, how much more/less of some things I may need to plant and put up. I have some herbs back in the back closet that have been drying and need to be taken out of the brown bags and labeled and put in jars. Basil, fennel, mint, oregano, thyme, sage, bergamot, anise, parsley... spring cleaning time for the pantry. Fun stuff. I have done a pretty fair job of cooking using pantry items this past year, and hope to get even better at it. Sometimes it's easier to just grab something at the store, but that's not the way I want to do it. Otherwise, why on earth would I go to all this work and trouble putting food by ?
Yesterday the seed potatoes came. YAY!! The Irishman shoveled a truck load of leaf compost onto that back bed where we are putting the taters this year and even got it all dug in nicely. So, it's basically ready to plant. Of course, that makes me even more impatient to get planting, and the truth is, it's way too early here for anything but potatoes. We do have onions and garlic in from last fall. NEWS FLASH !! They have just changed the forecast to possible snow tonight and tomorrow now. sigh... Oh well. We need to let these potatoes sit out and sprout a little anyway. Around these parts most of the gardeners say you need to have your taters in the dirt by St. Patrick's Day, but I haven't met that deadline yet, and we always have great tater crops.
I got a new book to read, called Water, Carry Me. It's by Thomas Moran and looks promising. I'll let you know. It's set in Ireland, the author is a journalist turned fiction writer, and the main character is a young woman named Una Moss. It was written in 2000, the author's third novel. Stay tuned.
We also watched a movie last night whose title I wrote down during the Oscars...It's called "Beasts of the Southern Wild." IT IS A MUST SEE. Magnificent piece of work. Get it through Netflix or Blockbuster. I was trampled by this film.
Alright. As often happens, I am calmed down by the act of writing and think I'll go make some hot chai tea and sit in the living room and snuggle up under the fleece and start my new book. I'll stir the soup and bag the herbs and perhaps, for now, running away will have to wait. For another day, another time. Or perhaps, as Terry Tempest Williams says, " It just may be that the most radical act we can commit is to stay home."
Have a grand Saturday, everyone.