I’m sitting at the dining table in front of a vase filled with the loveliest yellow sunflowers and soft purple tulips. I bought them yesterday because our Spring break ended this weekend, and I wanted to usher in the busy new week with something beautiful that would slow us down for a few moments and remind us to be grateful for the little things.
Growing up, my mother always kept flowers in the house. She still does — but now, rather than blooms freshly cut from our garden, she keeps exotic orchids or knock-out roses in frogs and bud vases from the bush out front. When we lived in Connecticut, it must have been a bit easier to grow our own flowers. My backyard was a little girl’s dream, filled with lilacs, Hyacinth, Lily of the Valley, Gladiolus and yes, Tulips.
Dinner is cooking in the Instant Pot: mushroom barley soup. I sure hope it turns out well, since the mushrooms I used it in were tatty. Like, caps falling off of their weak stems kind of tatty. They are organic, and I bought them this morning. The thing is, they were the absolute last box of baby bellas, and I find white mushrooms flavorless.
I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m sending out a housewife’s ramblings into the vast unknown, and that mushrooms are trivial, but I so want to write and these few sentences are the first steps toward something eventually very meaningful, I’m sure. But for right now, let me linger on flowers, and mushrooms, a while.
I’ve just heard the timer beep on dinner. In about an hour Will has a very funny surprise coming to him. Over the course of the past few months I have acquired (unintentionally) the ingredients that comprise a martini. I used a little vodka for some pasta sauce, and tonight the smallest spoonful of vermouth to cook along with the mushroom soup. I asked my father what to do with all the rest of the vermouth I’d have on hand, and he said that I could make a martini. So, in very James Bond or Mad Men fashion, Will’s going to have a little cocktail hour after work today, which is making me laugh just thinking about it. I did tell him about his little gift and he’s in for it — he even went to get a set of martini glasses from the antique store nearby, since nowhere else he checked had them in stock! I won’t be drinking with him this time, but I’m looking forward to making it for him and seeing what he thinks. I’ll have to let you all know — wish me luck!
Until the next time —