As much as I am denying it, summer is over. It has been over for a couple of weeks now. Here it has, anyways. It is Sunday afternoon. Really, it's early evening but in my true denying nature, I claim it is afternoon.... The leaves are starting to fall from the giant elms outside my house, shedding its lovely canopy of leaves that has given my street a cathedral feel for the past four months. Pretty soon, I will be awash in the leaves and you will hear me whine about the bags nd bags that line the back lane, waiting for pickup on refuse days.
Last night, there was a frost warning and I was out, frantically picking apples off my tree, wondering what I would do with the 40 or so organic apples I had picked. I can only eat an apple or two at the most each day. I am not a baker- last year I attempted an apple crumble but the crumble rotted in the fridge for weeks.
The inevitable coming of winer. I dread the thought of the cold. Partially because I keep my place so cold. But also because the dark is painful for me. I already miss the early morning sunrises and find it hard to rise each morning, despite heading to bed earlier and earlier each night.Coming from a place of equal sunlight and darkness, I have always been fascinated by the movement of the sun. Because I have been so cold the past few days (the heat hasn't yet kicked on since late spring and I leave my thermostat at 15oC), I stood in my mudroom window today at noon, basking in the bright sunlight and its warmth. It felt so good to feel the radiation on my skin- and so I dragged the book I had been reading out and sat on the deck in the sun. I felt like a lizard, soaking up all that energy as I rediscovered my love for reading again. I have always been a voracious reader but had fallen on dry spell. The library donation centre called up, worrying why I hadn't been feeding their coffers with the numerous fines I usually rack up because I sign out so many books at once and when I forget them, they benefit. There is this new wing they want to build, you see.... Anyways, Bryce Courtenay has a new book out called "Whitethorn" and I was thoroughly engrossed in the book. It has to be one of the most pleasurable ways to spend the afternoon, reading a good book in the afternoon warmth of an autumn day, the smell of tea eggs gently bubbling away in the kitchen.
Yes, I decided I was making tea eggs again. It's really easy, right? You boil up some eggs. When they are done, you gently crack the shell and slip them back into the boiling water, this time the water has some light and dark soy sauce, salt, a few peppercorns, a star anise and a tea bag. Turn it down low and let it simmer for as long as you can- at least an hour, longer if possible.
Stamping has been on the backburner for a awhile now, although I did have an open house yesterday.
