Saturday Morning Musings
Posted 07-21-2012 at 09:18 AM by Urban Sasquatch
Today the weather has broken from the awful tedium of crushing heat and a smothering humidity which practically required one to employ scuba gear in order to go outside.
It's a lovely 75 degrees of non-humid wonderment here, although I can feel the temperature rising. Nevertheless the morning is absolutely gorgeous.
The boy and I both rose fairly early (a bit before 0800, yes I slept IN for once) while my so-called "spouse" has remained in bed, as is often her wont. Left to her own devices she would sleep her days away entirely, as much as 15-16 hours a day. Sadly, this is not exaggeration.
The boy and I, choosing to LIVE, set off for the local farmer's market where I made the purchase of several perfectly ripe eggplant (a Mexican guy there has an amazing green thumb and doesn't let his vegetables go overripe on the vine) and some amazing, firm zucchini. My plan is to cook a dish today using eggplant, zucchini and lamb, along with tomato, herbs and spices, and mozzarella cheese.
As I sit here typing the veggies have been sliced and set to cure, my ingredients have been gathered for later and all which can be has been prepared in order to expedite cooking later.
While out we snagged some breakfast at a local buffet, the boy scarfing down voracious amounts of scrambled eggs with a bit of cheese, while I had an omelette and some coffee and flirted a bit with our regular waitress -- a country gal who disdains my flirtations as much as I disdain hers, neither of us taking it the least bit seriously.
On the way home the day was just so pleasant the boy begged to "go exploring," by which he meant that we take back roads we've never driven before; and he was right, the notion was irresistable. The result was a bit over an hour of The Penguins of Madagascar having great adventures as we wandered country lanes, up and down hills (which in our play resulted in great mountains), round bends and past myriad fields of stock, yard signs advertising fresh eggs for $1.50 per dozen, silos and orchards. I was the Skipper, Kowalski and Private, while my boy was Rico -- because he greatly enjoys making the blagh vomiting sound Rico makes when he coughs up a variety of equipment, bombs, assorted instruments of mayhem and perhaps even a fish.
Days like today make me wistfully hearken back to plans I once had (and in many ways still have) about this little farm. I think often on that back porch I want to build, enclosed by windows and screens, roofed in. Today would be the perfect day for sitting back there in the breeze, shaded after some early morning chores, enjoying small tazze di caffe and hard bread, dried sausage, red caviar with butter and perhaps a bit of rind from parmiggiano.
Quiet. There is something invigorating about sitting in relative silence before the light is full, when the air is cool and robins and larks sing, when wrens chirp and the insects who haunt the night have settled, while those who inhabit the day have yet to rise and fill the air with the hum of summer.
Twilight and vespers are such a gradual change there is no moment where something fails to happen, all is filled in one way or another.
Dawn is different; there is a brief time when the entire land about takes a pale breath and holds it.
Shortly the boy and I will go to a place about 40 miles away and wander a small forested area, hunting arrowheads. The recent torrents of rain, brief as they were, may have unearthed some primitive treasures. I hope so; it's the boy's first time doing this and I hope there's adequate reward to keep him enthused.
Shaping up to be a good day indeed.
It's a lovely 75 degrees of non-humid wonderment here, although I can feel the temperature rising. Nevertheless the morning is absolutely gorgeous.
The boy and I both rose fairly early (a bit before 0800, yes I slept IN for once) while my so-called "spouse" has remained in bed, as is often her wont. Left to her own devices she would sleep her days away entirely, as much as 15-16 hours a day. Sadly, this is not exaggeration.
The boy and I, choosing to LIVE, set off for the local farmer's market where I made the purchase of several perfectly ripe eggplant (a Mexican guy there has an amazing green thumb and doesn't let his vegetables go overripe on the vine) and some amazing, firm zucchini. My plan is to cook a dish today using eggplant, zucchini and lamb, along with tomato, herbs and spices, and mozzarella cheese.
As I sit here typing the veggies have been sliced and set to cure, my ingredients have been gathered for later and all which can be has been prepared in order to expedite cooking later.
While out we snagged some breakfast at a local buffet, the boy scarfing down voracious amounts of scrambled eggs with a bit of cheese, while I had an omelette and some coffee and flirted a bit with our regular waitress -- a country gal who disdains my flirtations as much as I disdain hers, neither of us taking it the least bit seriously.
On the way home the day was just so pleasant the boy begged to "go exploring," by which he meant that we take back roads we've never driven before; and he was right, the notion was irresistable. The result was a bit over an hour of The Penguins of Madagascar having great adventures as we wandered country lanes, up and down hills (which in our play resulted in great mountains), round bends and past myriad fields of stock, yard signs advertising fresh eggs for $1.50 per dozen, silos and orchards. I was the Skipper, Kowalski and Private, while my boy was Rico -- because he greatly enjoys making the blagh vomiting sound Rico makes when he coughs up a variety of equipment, bombs, assorted instruments of mayhem and perhaps even a fish.
Days like today make me wistfully hearken back to plans I once had (and in many ways still have) about this little farm. I think often on that back porch I want to build, enclosed by windows and screens, roofed in. Today would be the perfect day for sitting back there in the breeze, shaded after some early morning chores, enjoying small tazze di caffe and hard bread, dried sausage, red caviar with butter and perhaps a bit of rind from parmiggiano.
Quiet. There is something invigorating about sitting in relative silence before the light is full, when the air is cool and robins and larks sing, when wrens chirp and the insects who haunt the night have settled, while those who inhabit the day have yet to rise and fill the air with the hum of summer.
Twilight and vespers are such a gradual change there is no moment where something fails to happen, all is filled in one way or another.
Dawn is different; there is a brief time when the entire land about takes a pale breath and holds it.
Shortly the boy and I will go to a place about 40 miles away and wander a small forested area, hunting arrowheads. The recent torrents of rain, brief as they were, may have unearthed some primitive treasures. I hope so; it's the boy's first time doing this and I hope there's adequate reward to keep him enthused.
Shaping up to be a good day indeed.
Total Comments 1
Comments
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Mmmmm...love the idea of sitting there and feeling the breeze...Posted 09-17-2012 at 02:59 AM by stan4
