Storms and Sniffles

Spending a rainy day in today. There's a terrific wind outdoors bending the tops of the tall trees in the neighborhood. We were out this morning with our homeschool co-op pals and as we drove home the road was littered with fallen leafy branches blowing around in circles. We are supposed to get a big rain to boot but so far we've seen nothing but clouds and a lot of big gusts. We've got a crazy level of humidity today which makes me glad that I pre-baked dinner last night to make co-op day easier on myself.

The nice thing about stormy days pre-rain is that they always bring really interesting light. Fascinating to watch how different colors look in the changing palette we have coming in through our windows. These are lipstick pink chard stems....kind of a late summer echo of the rhubarb stalks. Great colors, right?

Baby Pom is sniffling away from a little cold. Although he is being very resolute in spite feeling stuffy and having a very pint-sized and tragic, little cough. I think we will spend tonight nursing in the rocker and propping him up on a stack of pillows between sessions. Time to get out the Vicks and drink extra cups of tea after the sun goes down to keep up with the milk demand.

Spring, When the Livin' is Easy!

Today the air is heavy with suppressed humidity, the kind of weather makes the sky feel like it is hanging low and as though all the clouds are some heavy swooping blanket muffling over everything. I make it sound so grey and oppressive. Truth is that the air feels moist and swirly, there's a gentle breeze occasionally that keeps the maple branches outside all tipped with little bouquets of bright green blossoms, bowing and nodding  surprisingly at odd moments.

Image by ~ Martin ~ via Flickr

Maple Blossoms.

There is a kind of dark intensity to the light on this kind of a day too. Colors seem richer and more saturated without the sunlight there to wash them out into pastel versions of themselves. The air is laden with water which (scientific fact!) makes all perfumed scent from the neighborhood flowers more deep and rich, a heavy trail of sweetness sometimes whirls inexplicably in through the open window when a gust of wind hits the poet's narcissus or the pansies just the right way.

Image by vinmar via Flickr

The magnolia at the end of our street is a gigantic cotton candy ball, all pink whirling petals and creamy undersides, a massive undulating mass of curve and shape and soft pastel joy. Last night when I was out running I avoided the tree until the very end of my run when I had finished pushing myself through the very last bits of reserve that I possessed. Only then did I let myself pant to a stop under the great pastel mass of a tree. I knew that if I let myself end up under those spreading baby pink branches before I was finished with my run that I would leave off, part way through, my face lifted not caring two sticks whether I finished the course or not. All else can dissolve in the presence of a tree in full bloom. What is running really when there are five thousand, thousand creamy petals littering the sidewalk and a host more poised in the air above you?

The magnolia is not the only focal point. Our apple tree opened it's first little wads of magenta, the verbena hedge between us and the neighbors is just beginning top open, our potted nectarine is an absurd stick with wads of bright tissue paper blossoms and all across our back lawn there is a rippling spill of violets, deep purple mixed with a purple veined white variety...so many more of them than I dared hope when I noticed their little rosettes of leaves in amongst the grass last fall.

Spring is my favorite. My very favorite. I feel hopeful that I can make it, that I can smell success on the wind. I know that it's supposed to be summer time "when the livin' is easy" because of the cotton being high and all but I have to say that it feels like a misdiagnosis to me, Spring is where it's at.

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Winter Light Show

Overlooked winter fact: Cold weather sunsets are stunning! (especially from the inside of a toasty car)

One of the items on my long To Do Before Dying list is "watch the sunset every single night for a whole year." I still haven't done it although sometime here it's going to show up on my resolution list. That said, lately, I'm running a little accidental warm-up routine thanks to one-car-family-life.

I think of sunsets as being summer happenings. That's kind of silly in some ways, we do have a sun even when there is snow on the ground after all! On the other hand, I think I've never really consciously watched for the sunset in winter. Here's why:  since  the old adage "red sky at night, sailor's delight" means that a vivid crimson streaked sunset means a hot, sunny day to follow I assumed conversely, in winter (since we don't get hot, sunny weather) every evening would be met with a tepid, pale end as the sun sank lustrously below the horizon. This, my dear readers, is how old wives tales are formed. Heh.

I couldn't have been more off. Because I'm at least twice a week (three times this week!) driving A to and from work, at this particular time of year we are rolling our way down the highway to fetch him at exactly the same time the sun is setting up for a glorious show. I was right on one small detail, there's little to no red in the evening sky at the moment...that said, who needs the red when you have January's luminous gold with blue and purple puffs of cloud as garnish! I am truly struck and have taken to bringing the camera with me to capture the glow. I can see a sunset painting in my future. I keep taking these photos...more and more views of this glowing winter sky that I would have missed altogether if we were living luxuriously with two cars. Small gifts, people, small gifts.

If you find yourself outdoors lately, around sunset...don't assume it's bland just because the weather is chill...go take a gander at the winter gold and think of me out there, snapping away happily on my way down 95.

Sharing The Consolation

Its a crazy little cloudburst kind of day. My first day flying alone with all three of the boys...and you know what? I made it. There were no tear-type cloudbursts...just dramatic thunderclaps and lightening zaps and driving force rain outside our window. Am very pleased to be feeling as buoyant and I am actually making this three kid thing work. True, I didn't give the boys their regularly scheduled bath, true, we never made it outdoors for playtime and true, true, true...I didn't get up fast enough and get boys clothed fast enough to make a real breakfast or take A to work so I could have the car to go to my painting group. BUT....I managed all the snacks, had the handyman in to do odd jobs around the place, made lunch and everyone took a sound nap. And as I mentioned....I haven't cried once.

In honor of doing well and feeling good and not needing a lot of consolation myself at the moment...I'm passing on "my" (read Julia Child's) recipe for Chocolate Consolation Cake that buoyed me  as I waited in that nasty in-between place for little Reid to arrive. Maybe somebody else out there needs a little lift today, have some chocolate cake, chocolate can sometimes make everything better! So, here it is...for those of you who made requests...heat up those ovens...here's the recipe!

Le Glorieux (The Glorious...if my French detective work serves me well....what a great name!)

7 oz. semisweet baking chocolate
2 oz. unsweetened baking chocolate
1/4 c. of orange liqueur (I omitted it as I hadn't any)
the grated rind of one orange (ahem...I omitted this too)
2 sticks of butter
5 large eggs
1 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla
1 c. cornstarch



Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Break up the chocolate and melt it with the liqueur (if desired) and orange rind in microwave 30 seconds at a time with a stir each time the microwave beeps. Continue until perfectly smooth and creamy. Cut butter up into small chunks and stir the bits into the melted chocolate until perfectly smooth. Then set mixture aside.

Beat the eggs and sugar for a moment at low speed to blend. Increase speed to high and add the vanilla. Continue to beat for 7-8 minutes, until pale and fluffy, doubled in volume and holding soft peaks. (This part is so lovely and pretty to watch)

At slow mixing speed, sprinkle the cornstarch into the egg mixture and incorporate slowly. Don't try for a perfect blend, just a mostly perfect one, you wanna make sure to mix it briskly so that you don't deflate the eggs completely. The take a spatula and use it to fold a large gob of the egg mixture into the chocolate butter to lighten it. Then fold the chocolate butter into the eggs, one large glop at a time until completely incorporated. Make sure you smooth your spatula down the sides of the bowl to ensure thorough mixing.

Pour batter into two prepared 8 inch cake pans and bang lightly on a table to evenly distribute the batter in the pans. Bake for 25-30 minutes. The cake should be slightly moist when done in the "French manner" (so says Julia!) and the top of the cake will crackle and flake a little which is normal.

Cool cakes after removal from oven and while they sit you can:

Melt 3 oz. of semisweet chocolate, 1/2 an oz. of unsweetened chocolate, 4-5 T of butter and 3 T of orange liqueur together until perfectly creamy. When the cakes have cooled, pour the new chocolate mixture between the layers and sandwich the cake together....I served it just like that, with spoonfuls of whipped cream on the side but, of course you could also frost it if you need deep consolation.

There you have it.