Well, I'm without a computer for a little while. My laptop had a flash encounter with a mug of hot peppermint-nettle tea and a rambunctious silver rabbit, which, all things considered, is not a bad way to go. Hopefully it's just the keyboard that's been affected and it'll be geeked back into working order over the next few days. I dug out my ancient MacBook G4 the night of the incident, but the internet seems to have left it in the dust.
I've been playing with my spirograph (did I just date myself here? They're awesome.), watercolour and gouache. I could certainly get used to spending my afternoons at my coffee-table studio with the rabbits snuggled up beside me (or quietly removing the side of a bag of flour in the kitchen... ahem, Zephyr...). Spring here is at that delightful indecisive stage where an enthusiastic breeze roars into a bright day, the sky darkens and breaks into rain showers (and that weird tension that you didn't realize was building gives way to relief). Then, still pouring rain, the clouds break and the brightness is blinding even seen through somewhat dusty windows (stand on the porch and take this in). I seem be geekily enthusiastic in welcoming all kinds of weather, but spring weather is invigorating.
Last night after sweet Seven's 3 am check-in, I lay awake thinking about fermented porridge until I got up to start some for the morning. I've mentioned this breakfast before, it's one of my favorites. It doesn't hold a candle to my friend Kyrie's frittata or her eggs benny, but it's exactly the kind of wholesome simplicity I look for in a weekday breakfast, heartier and more flavorful than regular oats or unsoaked steel-cut oats, with the added benefit of a fairly speedy cooking time.
Night-fermented Steel-cut Oats Adapted from Sally Fallon's Nourishing Traditions 1/3 cup steel cut oats 1 spoonful (closer to a tbsp than a tsp) plain, happy-cow, probiotic yogourt 1/3 cup water (you can also use liquid poured off of the yogourt, which will leave you with thicker yogourt - yum!) Stir ingredients loosely together in a smallish bowl, then let it sit overnight on the counter (you can cover it with a plate or cloth, or tuck it in the cupboard if you like). In the morning, bring to a boil: 1/3 cup water Add fermented grain and simmer until it comes together and oats soften (try a little to check, they will be more toothsome than rolled oats), maybe about 10 minutes. I like to serve this with a pinch of salt, a knob of butter, about a teaspoon maca powder, and a sprinkling of cacao nibs and hemp hearts. It's also very tasty with heavy cream and maple syrup, or topped with granola and milk. If you have stewed rhubarb, don't hesitate to add it. Some days an impromptu coffee date interrupts my intention to make this in the morning and the soaker fares perfectly well sitting out until the following morning, in fact it might even be improved. (Insert Pease Porridge rhyme...)
Hi there! The sun has just come out here. This morning was almost dark, so thick were the clouds. Seven is doing okay. We're giving her pain medication and she seeks out her food-sludge and kale pesto on her own now. I've had the great fortune of being able to stay home with the rabbits these past few days, which has meant a lot of time on the sunset-striped blanket on the living room floor, monitoring and supervising and doing art. Not being able to clean the house or rearrange the kitchen (Zephyr would find something to destroy/remake- my yoga mat has been on her list of interesting objects for sampling) has been a surprisingly wonderful opportunity to sketch and paint and cut and glue and generally revel in a world of imagination and colour.
I had the immense pleasure of deleting and changing alarms in my phone last night. It is so enjoyable waking to daylight. Home coffee and drawn-out breakfast is also a delight after so many rushed and bleary-eyed dark 'mornings'. Even though I'm not a baker at my new job, I still come home covered in flour. It is somewhat of a wonderland of rustic breads and buttery pastries there.
The rain is continuing in a very mellow, Spring sort of way.
A police officer rang our doorbell (which we were surprised to learn we had) about twenty minutes ago and scared the crap out of me. She was here to talk to Jer about some work stuff, totally normal, everything fine. Later on we realized that the bag of catnip on the shelf by the door might not have looked so good, especially not when combined with our coffee table strewn with stuff and two enormous rabbits in a pen with hay everywhere. Oh well, apparently we are not of great concern.
Seven loves to hold and carry things (hay, straw, paper, leafy greens...). Often when I look over she has hay sticking out both sides of her mouth, or just casually draped like a cigar. She got very excited about some large scrumpled sheets of brown packing paper a few minutes ago and circled the living room and me twice, dragging the paper behind her. Zephyr (bunny) is determined to get to know Michette (cat) and cranes her head to nose-bump her as she passes by.
(Seven's contribution as she passed by with paper in tow: =\=8764\iouyt...0`435.'[;m*-k)
This evening we wrote down our fears on little slips of paper, and possible solutions on the reverse, then took turns reading and responding before giving them over to smoke and ash in our fire. Tonight in rabbitland, Seven is going through my purse and snacking on bits of crumbs from this morning's toast. Zephyr alternates between cuddling up for nose rubs and adventuring onto the couch.
My right hand is all seized and sore from scooping hundreds of cookies yesterday. Only three more days of working as a baker making sugary cookies and then I'll be selling delicious wholesome, toothsome, locally milled and lovingly cultured breads and pastries much closer to home!