Driving home from Salem, I assembled the ingredients in my mind: basil on the window sill, garlic in the bowl on the counter, Parmesan in the cheese drawer, pine nuts in the pantry.
Pesto? Really? There may be a foot of snow on the ground, but — yes — I just made and devoured a heavenly bowl of pasta with pesto. Since this dish usually appears on my table in the hot months and almost always with some element of planning, I felt a little surprise in its coming together. Joy, even.
It’s possible that a new status quo is emerging in Salem, though it’s a little hard to tell. Today, my sister was alert and clear thinking, with one exception.
“Will you be taking the Berkshire spur home?” she wanted to know.
No, I told her. Route 128 all the way.
For some reason she thought we were in Western Mass.
PS I do know not to house fruits and vegetables in the same container. I think K must have put the onions in the fruit bowl.
It was cold when I drove K to the train at 6:30 this morning and still cold when I headed up to Salem an hour later. A desperate call. Abandoned coffee.
I drove home in silence.
It’s coming down hard. Brush the car off one hour and the next it’s covered again — with four inches of snow! Been shaking the branches of the arbor vitae and holly.
With all the sticks littering the backyard, Finn just wants someone to play with him when he’s out back. Right now, though, he’s snoring, curled up next to K.
March is birthday month: both boys, my brother and sister in law, and my mother in law. A few pictures going back to first boy’s first year.
A little peanut in a Moses basket.
A first Christmas in Florida.
The Uncle Fester phase.
Precious commodity: sleep.
Bumpers, quilt, and curtains I made. A happy chappy (Oh Lord, was there a heating pad in the crib?)
First trip to the Vineyard. Two color ear flap hat knit by moi.
PO’d kitties. Suddenly not the center of our world.
Blessing two: the tree landed two feet away from the house. One branch was closer: about six inches!
I was also worried about the arbor vitae on the south side of the house, bowed as they were over some power lines.
After filling the feeders, freeing these shrubs of the cement-like clumps of snow and tying them up as best I could, I made soup. Delicious soup.
The bitter cold continues. Today, however, is brightened by a clear sky and glorious sun and all that light reflecting off blankets of white snow.
Getting back to writing after a brief hiatus is like turning a cruise liner — generally taking longer than one might expect. Here it is Friday and I am finally back at it. You know you’re working when entire paragraphs come to you while out with the dog.