New beginnings

Each day brings the promise of renewed hope. This Christmas hearts will be broken, our faith in others challenged and it will seem that nothing will ever be the same again. The sun always rises and sets, a reminder to ourselves that everything passes good or bad.

Photo copyright SvD.

The Secret Language of Trees.

 

 

 

 

 

I have written before on this blog about the secret language of trees which exists in their bark. We can tell their age, their health and the species of tree by looking at the bark. What captivates me is the pattern that defines the tree's personality. As an artist, I see a weave for a carpet here or brushstrokes of oil paint on a canvas. Imagination. It's the one thing you either have or refuse to cultivate. Let your mind roam and think about something else besides the hum drum of life. Go for a walk in the woods and look at the trees.

Photo copyright SvD.

Food to heal

Tomorrow will be three weeks exactly since I got the winter bug: sore throat, lethargy, coughing. Oh joy! Antibiotics which I last took more than 20 years ago have helped clear the chest infection and food has also made a huge difference. I dragged myself to work though which set me back quite a bit hence coughing and spluttering still. I should add that the love of a good man has been wonderful too.

This recipe, reminiscent of my childhood which my late mother made often, has the right balance of peppery kick to clear the lungs. Groundnut stew, chicken simmered in a thick peanut sauce over boiled rice went down a treat and it takes less than an hour.

Photo copyright SvD.

The Beauty of the Human Condition.

Photo copyright SvD.

My salad days.

When I was a university student in Bordeaux in the 80s, I lived off three things more or less: shop-bought Moussaka which I shared with my neighbour, Yves, washed down with bottles of beer and followed by numerous Camel cigarettes. The other favourite was Carbonara from the local Italian restaurant where the owner would start ladling extra sauce onto the spaghetti as I walked through the door. For the princely sum of 26 francs, I could eat a huge bowl of Carbonara laden with crispy lardons, a green salad and half a carafe of red wine. The owner was very generous  and ensured that my Carbonara was swimming in the egg sauce although it has remained a mystery to me how a large vat of the sauce was forever simmering in the background. Aficionados will know that the Carbonara sauce is raw egg with perhaps cream and a grating of nutmeg, amalgamated over a bain marie or cooked by the freshly boiled hot pasta.

 

The third dish that I adored and have never, ever found again was in the local crêperie where for 20 francs I could eat two large crêpes wrapped over patties of minced beef topped with creamy spinach. The dish used to be a complete delight to eat and was so nourishing. To this day, if I am tired, I always have a bloody steak and spinach.

 

Of course when I returned to Bordeaux last year after thirty years, none of those establishments was still standing. Life goes on but my memories will always keep me company.

 

My homemade Carbonara.
Photo copyright SvD.

Happiness is...

...sharing your dreams together.

Photo copyright SvD.

Walk your blues away.

My favourite way to clear my head is to walk. Now, who would argue that not only does this view inspire but it relaxes too. Win, win all round and free!

Walk it off in Beautiful Britain!

Severn Trent Draycote Water, Rugby,Warwickshire. Photo copyright SvD.