Friday Ramble - Wishful Stirrings

Another icy morning, motes of sunlight scattering like stars in the cold air, an icy wind that goes right to the bones and makes a valiant effort to flash freeze one's whole metabolism, the parts not already frozen, that is. Underwhelming to say the least, and I am not alone in my disgruntlement. When I tried to entice Beau into going outside a few minutes ago, he peered out into the garden, gave me a filthy look, turned his back on the door (and me) and trotted back to bed.

At times like these, exotic spices and culinary offerings from faraway places go dancing through one's sconce, clattering their cymbals and shaking their tambourines. The morning's opening gambit is an espresso strong enough to walk on and a lovely stack of cookbooks from warmer corners of the great wide world. There is already a heap of recipe books on the library table, but a few others will be added before I plunk myself down in the Morris chair to sip and ponder and scheme. Of course, there are several garden catalogues lying around the house too. Cherokee Purple, Indigo Rose, Brandywine and Queen of the Night heirloom toms are calling me. 

There will be an Asian concoction today, something improvised, serendipity and redolent of aromatic spices. Whatever is stirred up will likely contain saffron or turmeric, pepperoncini, tamarind paste, perhaps pomegranate seeds or an anise star or two. Just seeing a dish of saffron threads always cheers me up. My departed soulmate and I cultivated autumn blooming crocuses in our garden for years and tried to harvest saffron threads, but squirrels loved the stuff as much as we do and always made off with the corms. Perhaps I will try again this year. Aha you say, the old hen is thinking about the herb and veggie gardens to come. Indeed, I am.

The day's culinary adventures will conjure sunlight and warmth and comfort. All three are welcome when one can't wander about with a camera for fear of going base over apex on sneaky ice, and her canine soulmate refuses to go out. There is an element of ritual to this morning's activities - perhaps my saffron threads and wishful stirrings will be noticed by Lady Spring, wherever she is hiding. If not, the dazzling reds and oranges and yellows are indecently sumptuous, and they make my heart glad.