spring equinox

The same night I took some photos of canning jars in my back room, I sat in one of my rocking chairs and tried to ignore the awful migraine that was bouncing around inside my head... and in a spare moment, I enjoyed the sunset, as seen through my northwest window.

Since the time change, my back room has become one of my favorite places to be in the early evening. I love watching the light go from golden daylight to even more golden pre-dusk, and then fade imperceptibly to silvery pre-night.

I realized with a shock the other night that I will be able to enjoy this same light from this same spot in this same room SIX MONTHS FROM NOW. Which is pretty awesome. Here's to six months of light enjoyment.

blessings in a salad

I took the above photo this morning when I went into my fridge to get some almond butter to eat with my Extra Strength Advil. I noticed that the pea shoots that I bought yesterday at the farmer's market were all backing away from the top of my fridge, as if repelled by the cold or something. Made me laugh. I know food that's stored right beneath the freezer tends to freeze, for sure.

This morning at church the guest preacher (a member of our congregation who is also a member of parliament) talked about a mission and service trip that some of the congregation took to a First Nations tribe in northern Ontario this past week. We had raised money to buy nets to allow the tribe to feed itself according to its traditional ways, and Glen's story of that visit was very moving and also heart-wrenching. Among other challenges, these First Nations people can't afford the healthier food that can be shipped into their community (a carton of eggs or a bag of potatoes can cost $20), and therefore their diets are often poor, and diabetes runs rampant through the community.



When I got home and started making my lunch, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the abundance of affordable, healthy food here in southwestern Ontario. The above salad (my lunch) is made with fresh organic spinach and pea pods from organic farms, as well as Ontario carrots and apples. The only thing that was shipped from somewhere else was the celery, and even then it was really inexpensive (although don't remind me how many pesticides were used to create it - I might lose my lunch).

Seriously, though - that is some miracle sitting in my bowl. Awesome.

Really quick, here's how I make homemade dressing for my salads: drizzle olive oil over everything (don't ask me how much), and then splash red wine vinegar on top of that, and sprinkle liberally with salt or Herbamare. I toss salads with my bare hands. True. I usually wash my hands first, if that helps. Besides, I'm usually the only one eating my salads. Anyhow - when everything's all tossed, I test the flavour by popping a leaf or two in my mouth. If the salad tastes like something you'd buy in a nice restaurant, you probably drizzled, splashed and sprinkled right. Otherwise - lather, rinse, repeat. Wait - that's for shampooing. Nevermind.

how i spent my christmas eve

I was lying in bed late last night, trying to remember the last time I didn't go to church on Christmas Eve. And to be honest, I think last night was the first time ever. I've gone to church on every other Christmas Eve of my life.

As I approach the new year, I've been reflecting on the year past. Normally New Year's doesn't mean that much to me, since I measure my life by my birthdays, and not by the calendar year. But at this time last year there were many new things just about to happen in my life, including a job that I began in the second week of January, 2008. How strange, one year later, to be leaving that job and searching for another.

It's about balance. I loved the work, but it had taken over my existence. I was doing noble things, but had set aside many of the activities that I loved most, including my creative writing and visual art. In the end I realized I was waking up unhappy more days than not. Life had lost its juice. I yearned to be in a place - live in a place - that would feed my inner callings. Less and less did it seem like that place was Toronto.

As a result, I have upended my life and moved away. Or should I say towards?

I find myself facing new beginnings once more. I am in the waiting place yet again. Exhausted from my move a month ago - all that painting and unpacking! - part of me just wants to hibernate for the rest of the winter. December has been a blur, compounded by frequent commutes back to Toronto for my work with the Chorale.

I've observed a few of my favorite Advent rituals - the Wesley-Knox Christmas concert with Denise Pelley, the RCCO Carol Service - but last night I wasn't ready for Christmas to happen. How did the days go so quickly?

I enjoyed the Chorale's Indigo concerts within the last week, and I've even made it to Sunday services at various churches this month. The music is running through my head. The scriptures have been read in my presence. I wasn't feeling the magic, though.

Yesterday I woke up intending to do some cleaning in my apartment and maybe (hopefully! finally!) unpack my library and set up my meditation/yoga room. My best friend and I had tentative plans to hang out in the afternoon, and then I was likely going to go to my new/old church for Christmas Eve.

When I tried to go online first thing in the morning, however, I realized my phone line was dead. That one event threw a spanner in the works. I couldn't pick up Laurie when she got off work early, since I had to wait around for the Bell technician to show up. When he finally finished, it was nearly suppertime. Laurie wasn't picking up her phone, and her voice mailbox was full.

I packed my bags for my trip to my sister's this morning, and ate some supper. Laurie finally called me back, and that's when I made the decision that I wanted to do nothing more than spend Christmas Eve with my best (and Jewish) friend, working on my apartment.

I fed her some of my supper and put her to work folding boxes and flattening packing paper. Sometime after nine we finished for the night, all my books unpacked and safely in my bookshelves. Both exhausted, I drove her home, and I'm sure she hit her bed as quickly as I did.

The evening couldn't have been more perfect. I got to spend time with one of my favorite people, who sometimes feels left out at this time of year; we laughed a lot; I now have a meditation room; did I mention I got to spend time with one of my favorite people?

Christmas in the past has been about catching that warm fuzzy feeling, for me. I think I'm there...

cheese

I have become a cheese addict.

I've always loved cheese - with macaroni as a child, on pizza, on tacos... and as an adult I learned to appreciate some of the finer cheeses, such as creamy Brie, aged cheddar and true Parmigiano Reggiano... but I didn't truly fall in love with cheese until last weekend.

Visiting a winery as part of a choral management conference, I was mesmerized by the well-stocked cheese cooler in the vinter's agreeable little food shop. I chose two cheddars - a horseradish-flavored one and a smoked one - and took them to my sister's that night. The smoked one, particularly, became the focus of every meal I ate at my sister's for the rest of the weekend, and I craved it for days after I left it behind at her house. Even her kids loved it - said it tasted like ham (which made the adults laugh, since I've been a vegetarian for over 20 years).

This week, back home, I have tried to seek out new and different (to me) cheeses, first at my local grocery stores. At Dominion I purchased some standard provolone (long a favorite, although I generally prefer it smoked, and had to settle for plain), spiced Gouda, and a cheddar with olives and red peppers in it. Loblaws offered some more exotic choices, including a chunk of Oka and another Quebec cheese I'd never heard of called Hercule du Nord.

The Oka (pictured on the lower right in the photo above) has been interesting. It came with a gritty orange-ish rind that, upon tasting (I'm usually not deterred by rinds), I learned was decidedly inedible. (I think it may have had ashes or something in it.) Even cutting off the rind didn't rid the cheese of its distinctively strong aroma and slightly bitter taste.

The Hercule du Nord (a semi-soft, ripened cheese like the Oka) has turned out to be much milder in flavour and very pleasant.

I eat my cheese in thin slivers, usually with fruit or tomatoes to provide contrasting tastes and textures between bites. The above cheese was photographed during my al fresco breakfast this morning, and was accompanied by peaches. The provolone (in the upper left) was a perfect foil for the sweet ambrosia of peach juice.

This afternoon I stumbled upon a cheese store that's been open in my neighbourhood for a year or two, but whose threshold I've never crossed. About Cheese is my new favorite food shop; it's filled with really fine cheeses (including several local artisan and organic choices) and other foodie stuff like imported spices and artisan bread.

I asked if they carried a smoked cheddar (still pining a week later), and they let me sample a sheep's milk one from Stratford, ON (photo below, left). Sold. Then, wanting to broaden my horizons a bit, I asked which cheese they've been featuring recently, or were really excited about. I was treated to a sample of Lost Lake organic chevre, which made me swoon with its creamy tartness. I almost asked for a second sample, it was so good. Bought that one, too (photo below, right). They were my supper tonight, with a couple more ripe peaches.

I think I'm going to have to get a second job to pay for my cheese habit; these specialty cheeses don't come cheap. I'm so excited that my summer memories will be tied to these new flavours, though - and I can't wait to try some more cheeses. Remind me to revisit About Cheese again late in the day on a Saturday - today they sent me home with a free loaf of sourdough bread which would have otherwise been thrown out before the store opened again after the holiday. Sweet.

In a recent blog entry, a friend who has moved her family to Belgium was unfavorably comparing Canadian cheese selections to those she's discovered in Europe; maybe she's never been anywhere like About Cheese?

the return of my smile

Driving home yesterday from a visit to my hometown, I couldn't stop smiling - not because I was going home, but simply because I was happy. Happy is a good thing. (So are vacations.)

I'm still trying to sort out in my mind what the difference is. Is it just the vacation, or is it something else? (Like the end of my period, and several blissfully migraine-free days?)

Part of it, I'm sure, is from hanging out with my parents, friends, niece and nephew for several days. Being surrounded by people who love you is certainly a balm for the soul.

Another part of it is taking a break from worry - and in my case, much of my worry over the past several months has revolved around my job.

I'm trying to prepare myself for the eventual return to work next week. How can I carry "vacation brain" back into my regular life?

A work in progress...

kissing a mango

Sitting at my breakfast table
this morning eating two fresh mangoes
I find myself
thinking that eating
a mango is not unlike
kissing.

Warm, wet, slippery
bold nibbles,
smooth flesh,
darting tongue tasting
sweetness.

the light of the moon

I'm ashamed to admit how little time I spend outside during the course of my "normal" day-to-day life. I walk from my apartment to my car, and from my car to other buildings. Occasionally I actually go for walks on city streets. But generally I spend very little time outdoors, and even less time in a natural setting.

I'm house-sitting right now, looking after two large dogs. They need to be let out several times a day, and walked at least twice. The property is quite large, and one circumnavigation of the park-like grounds is a frequent choice for the daily walks.

I am loving being outside with the dogs in this crisp, autumn weather.

This morning I took them out early, since I also had to put out the recycling for the garbage trucks before 7:00 a.m. It was still dark, but I've done the walk around the grounds with the dogs often enough to feel comfortable on the unlit terrain.

And I hadn't counted on the moon.

When you live in a city with streetlights, it's easy to forget how bright the moon is. I remember reading books as a child, with stories about people travelling "by the light of the moon," and I could never figure out how the moon could give light.

Then I spent a summer planting trees in northern Ontario, where there are NO lights for miles; during a midnight pee I found myself blearily wondering where the spotlight had come from - and then realized it was the moon, high above me!

It was magical walking by the light of the moon this morning with the dogs. They had shadows! That made me laugh - to think the moon is bright enough to cast shadows.

(And it's only a quarter moon right now; it will be a lot brighter in a week's time...)

what i'm doing with thanksgiving leftovers

I've tagged this post with the label "gratitude," because this (and every) Thanksgiving I'm very grateful for... leftovers!

Mom sent me home with lots of goodies, including leftover peas, rutabaga (turnip) and mashed potatoes from last night's family celebration.

I defrosted and heated up a serving of my ginger squash soup, adding some of the cooked peas and turnip to the saucepan. Yuuummm...

1 serving ginger squash soup
1/2 cup cooked green peas
1/4 cup cooked, mashed rutabaga
dash of salt

A friend of mine once told me that she loves leftovers because it means you don't have to cook that night. Amen.

If you like leftovers too, there's a really great cookbook that gives all sorts of recipes to make with leftovers. The book includes master recipes for the first-time-around foods, too!

Leftovers by Kathie Gunst.

driving

One thing I will always be grateful to my ex-boyfriend for is the amount of time during our relationship that I got to spend driving on country roads to get back and forth between my place and his.

Today I made another trip - and it was a gorgeous day for a drive. The fall colours are just starting to turn, and the rolling hills between Toronto and Barrie were amazing.

There are two landscapes that tug at my soul: the flat fields of southwestern Ontario where I grew up, and the hillier version in central Ontario where my ancestors homesteaded.

what I love about my life

I'm sitting here in the edge of my bed (a pristine, white-sheeted mattress on the floor—very "French country" meets "Japanese minimalism"), my laptop on a small wooden stool in front of me, my legs tucked up under my chin as I stare at the screen and key away...

And I realize it doesn't get any better than this. I love being self-employed. My schedule is my own. I'm editing a paper for a client at the moment, but I'm doing it at my own speed, on my own time.

I'm wearing yoga clothes. The same yoga clothes I'll be wearing later in the day when I leave my apartment to do some dog walking. The same yoga clothes I'll be wearing a couple of hours after that, when I help an organizing client clean out her basement.

I love my life.

I'm comfortable, and I do work that I love.