Happiness is...

...a pocketful of almonds.

On the Brain, Part II

The other theme in my mobile photo library.

More daffydills

When the carpet cleaners parked me in I made lemonade, so to speak, by taking a walk to the park. I asked this little tuft of grass to let me make a ring out of it, and to prove its undying devotion it complied, the whiff of wild onion upon being twisted and torn its olfactory equivalent to "Oh, happy dagger!"

A meeting in the basement? On a day like today?

I started blogging after I discovered the first violet this time last year and, as usual, couldn't keep quiet about it. For years that first blossom has become synonymous to me of our hope and God's faithfulness.

Last year the first violet caught me completely by surprise. This year my blogiversary came and went, followed by the first day of spring, and I've been keeping my eyes peeled. This has resulted in some clumsy walks and a discovery of quite a bit of dog poop in my neighborhood, but my hope remains deferred. No purple head peeks out by the sidewalk, the tree root, the bush.

Still, my hope is in Him and He's faithful, whether or not those sweet little reminders appear. Silly of me to look for the sign instead of the source.

Anyway, spring seems to have arrived without the violets.

On the Brain

Browsing my iPhone photos the other day, I detected a theme.

Mmm, authentic enchiladas.
Sure was nice having the Delgado family in town.

The only thing better than a café miel at Quills...

...is a café miel at Quills with Kristen.
(She's looking a tad grainy here -- no fault of her own.)



After living in My Own Place for six months, I finally bought a kitchen table and decided the inaugural meal warranted commemorating. In case you're wondering, that's a mug of homemade baked beans, and the jar of milk is the closest to farm fresh I can get.

This meal made me think of Gramma, for no other reason than that I sprinkled my eggs with herbes de provence gleaned from her kitchen cabinet after she passed away last summer. It occurred to me as I enjoyed my little supper that Gramma would have been an avid Craigslister had she known how to use a computer, and she would have been proud of me for talking the previous owner of my "new" table into selling it for $40 instead of $50.



Java doesn't brew my favorite coffee in town, but they do serve it in my favorite misshapen turquoise mug.



This is peanut butter and jelly. Literally.
It made for a good midnight supper after a long day of work.

Rainy Sunday afternoons are for coffee, cookies, and parables.

And also red shoes.



"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."
- T.S. Eliot

Sooner than hoped.

But definitely not daffodils.

Prrrr

Winter may remain for a time, but rejoicing comes in the spring.

Daffodils are not far off.

Hangin' Out in the Kitchen

Snow Day, Part 2

Some offices have coffee breaks involving burnt Folgers and styrofoam. Around here we build snow creatures inspired by Dr. Seuss and sip lattes. Don't you wish you had my job?

Oh, and we definitely have the best snowman around. Those kids down the street didn't stand a chance.

Some days grace is brown and hot and liquid.

I drink deeply.

Success of the Day: Homemade Yogurt

When Life Hands You a Snowstorm, Make Snow Cream