SPRING! of Bluster

Spring! There was sunlight this morning, and I had hope in my heart. Eh . . . it didn't really last through the tiny depredations of the forenoon. The Sparrowhawk went to count the money. I talked to Queenie. The Sparrowhawk came back, and we had our morning coffee. I took a shower, exchanged texts with a relative who needed some contact info I would have thought they already had, but oh well. At this point, I realized that I would not have time to both go for a walk and prep the corned beef for a belated St. Patrick's Day type dinner. I had pictured myself gamboling through the spring fields like Bugs Bunny dressed up as Brunnhilde . . . but it was not to be, alas. It's my own doing, because I wanted lots of vegetables to be roasted along with the meat, so I had to make that happen. I made so many that I had to use two extra pans for them--one for the cabbage and onions, one for the potatoes and carrots. The recipe that I was using recommended drizzling them with melted butter and horseeradish, salt and pepper. But I thought it would be easier to saute them in the butter to soften them up, and then add the seasonings, so I did. I sometimes think I don't follow a recipe so much as set it up as an adversary and defy it.

I was supposedly taking some writing time, but really I was just scribbling in my notebook to no avail. I will eventually get the Muse by the tail again. When the Sparrowhawk went to the gym, I did go for a walk, though the finest of the bloom was off the day by then. Snowdrops are still blooming, some in my backyard now. Red-winged blackbirds are calling. More trees are falling by the nuns' former residence. It would be nice if construction didn't ALWAYS involve lots of trees dying. The corned beef and vegetables came out pretty well. The veggies were well done and had a good flavor. Some fronds of the cabbage had actually crunchified, like when you make kale chips, which I never do, but if you did. I thought it was good that way. There should be enough for a couple more days, if the Sparrowhawk doesn't get too ambitious with his sandwiches.