Today it is 40 degrees outside. I stood on our back patio with bare feet, looking out at the brown grass. Just a few days ago this was covered in snow, and I had finally accepted that I must burrow beneath several blankets and wear thick wool socks just to feel warm enough. Now this welcome break in the cold weather has jolted me back to life.
Tim and I have been living a world of Netflix, Jet's pizza delivery, and crackling fires in our wood-burning stove. Sure, I cook occasionally, but it's been foods like Potato Soup the way my mom used to make it with bits of ham for extra flavor or creamy Chicken Pot Pie made with a short cut using puff pastry as the crust. I don't use a recipe for these dishes but cook by taste and memory. There has been little recipe research, menu planning, or keeping a dining schedule, and I think it's been nice--for Tim and for me. He has been getting greasy, cheesy, deep-dish pizza (with mushrooms on half for him) nearly every week, and I have had the chance to spend my evenings enjoying his company. Win-win.
And now today with the sun shining and snow receded, I finally inspected our long neglected flour pots; the former homes of fresh herbs so fragrant you could just barely brush past them and smell their perfume. Much to my surprise, in one of the pots were green leaves. Our parsley, the same parsley that had refused to grow last summer in time for us to use any of it, was suddenly vibrantly green and firmly rooted in the potting soil.
It seems that parsley has decided to come out of it's slumber at the same time I have.
I have lots to tell you about. I hope you'll visit again soon.