The Mystery of Your Thirst

I need to learn to read the signs around me more carefully.  Things come to me with repetition as if they are tapping on my shoulder.  It isn't as if I read everything I receive, cataloguing with impressive organization.  It's more as if I skip like a stone across the water of the influx of information rushing at me, finding inspiration in repetition as if the singular would not be loud enough.  Often it isn't.  Even in repetition, I'm still unsure how to interpret the hieroglyphs.

I stumbled on the above today, only hours after reading The Mystery of Your Thirst by Rob Brezsny. I'm trying to figure out if I can see the river or if I know about water.

stuck in my head

There have been a lot of thoughts stuck in my head lately.  Thoughts of renewal, thoughts of improvement, thoughts of all the things that get in the way.  Things are just so scary when you aren't in them.  I guess I just have to jump in.

In any case, I keep waking up with songs stuck in my head.  For whatever reason, they swirl about in my head and I just can't get rid of them.  Here's what has been swirling around in my head for the last week:

My allergies have been acting up, and while I haven't developed a headache per se, I am having trouble thinking clearly this morning.



It's all your fault I screen my phone calls.  I have no idea why this one stuck in my head.  Just no idea.  Maybe I need a little less NPR and a little more hella good dancing.  Especially some jump up and down ska inspired dancing.  Holla!



Okay.  Since George Jones died, I have heard He Stopped Loving Her Today a little too much given how sad that song is.  I don't listen to young country, but some of the old classics are awesome.  The first George Jones song I heard was She Thinks I Still Care.  Which is awesome.  And if you made it through all of these in their incongruous order, you're a gem. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy Thursday!

xo,
Sera

how does your garden grow?

We had a few more days of glorious sun last week, so I spent a good amount of time digging around in the garden, both mine and my mom's.  It's both inspiring and exhausting.  I have a lot of space to work with, and yet I have too much space to work with.

Without much help from me, spring begins with tulips and bluebells brightening the green green beds.  Once they retire for the year, it's up to me.  Soon.  I have already begun pulling out some of the weeds and grass that have invaded in full force.  

I have already planted some sweet peas, beets, arugula, and carrots into one of the planter boxes.  I've got six inches of pea shoots already!  And, I think with last night's rain, they grew another inch today, but I'm not exactly getting out the ruler.

Otherwise, I am getting inspired for plantings, assuming I ever do get those weeds pulled out.  I have a color scheme all picked out.  I have seeds and a few tiny geranium plants.  I think I'm too late for poppies and forget about the peonies.  But I'm hoping for a couple of new dahlias, all in the same color scheme below.  At least this is what I'm dreaming of.

oh hello friend

Mandy Disher 

design*sponge

500px

Leonardo Medesani

unknown source via pinterest

orzo risotto with sausage and herbs

Several years ago, I made a spicy chicken sausage and pasta dish based on a recipe on the back of the package of sausage.  It turned out amazing.  I'm not sure if it was because of the brand of sausage or my amazing talent, but it was really really good.  Naturally, I didn't write it down or try to make it again.  Not in six years.  Sometimes I wonder what I'm thinking.

I can't seem to follow a recipe.  Often, I have something in mind, but I can't put my finger on it.  I then search through eight or nine cookbooks in order to find something resembling what I want and then wing it from there.  Last night was no different.  I knew I wanted that sausage and pasta thing from so many years ago, that I didn't write down, and which I didn't know where to find the recipe.  But I knew I wanted it slightly different anyway.  I knew I wanted to make it with orzo, which I have never cooked with before.  Was I feeling creative?  Meh.  I just wanted orzo with chicken sausage.

I set to work.  Usually, when I know I'm going to wing it, I turn to my tried and true friend, Mark Bittman.  I highly recommend his book Food Matters to explain his version of how we can individually impact our health, in easy and flexible ways.  I own five of his books, largely because I love his improvisational style and because I love his conscientious impressions of food.  In Kitchen Express, he writes recipes in paragraph form without actual amounts of ingredients, you just have to give it an educated guess.  Mostly, I love this, except when I'm trying to make a proportionate amount of something for two people and maybe some leftovers.  Then I turn to his How to Cook Everything which seems to be on everyone's shelf, or should be.  It's my Joy of Cooking. 

I started with Orzo "Risotto".  Then I ad libbed some of his Jumbalaya recipe, just to confirm if I could get away with this one pot business.  As it turns out, I can make stuff up and eat pretty well.  

And because I loved it enough, here I am, writing it down.  Honestly, I'll probably never make it the same again, but now I have a record of what I tried to do.  

I'll probably use different sausage, different cheese, and with whatever veggies I have on hand next time I make this dish.  Basically, this recipe is open to improv.  Mesh whatever flavors you like together, Mark Bittman style.

One Pot Orzo Risotto with Chicken Sausage, Tomatoes and Herbs

Chicken sausage, sliced (I used sundried tomato, but I'd probably use italian sausage next time)

2 TBSP extra virgin olive oil

2 TBSP butter

1 medium onion, diced

1 yellow pepper, diced

1/2 pint of cherry tomatoes, halved

3 cloves garlic diced

1 cup chopped spinach

a few sprigs of fresh thyme and oregano, chopped

1-1/2 cups orzo

3 cups broth (I used a no-salt veggie bullion cube and 1 Trader Joe's chicken packet)

1/2 cup white wine

salt and pepper

For garnish, a few sprigs of fresh parsley, chopped

two green onions, whites and greens, chopped

crumbled feta (I think goat cheese might be good too)

In a heavy cast iron pot, brown sausage in olive oil over medium low.  Remove from pot.  Add butter and saute onion and pepper until onion becomes translucent.  Meanwhile, heat the broth or stock in a separate pan. 

Stir in the garlic, thyme and oregano, salt and pepper. Add the orzo to the pepper and onion and stir for about 1 minute. Add white wine and stir gently until the wine is incorporated into the orzo.  Begin slowly adding the broth, continuing to stir for about five minutes.  

Add the rest of the stock and cover, stirring occasionally for 5-8 minutes until all the broth is incorporated.  Add tomatoes and arugula and stir just until arugula is wilted.  

Serve topped with green onion, parsley, and feta.

Enjoy!

Photo of the day: The Squirrel

Once upon a Monday morning, in the kitchen I sat sorting,
Tasks productive, needed, boring, penning lists out, what a bore,
As I went on with my mapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the kitchen door.
Silly wind at bushes, I thought, no one's at the kitchen door.
Through the door glass, I see no more.

Back toward the counter turning, all my thoughts within me stirring,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my roofline gutter,
Let me see then, what this is, and this mystery explore.
I climbed the stairs up to the office, and saw the view of nothing more -
But no, still I heard tapping more.

From the roof there came a stirring, then, with an incessant chirping,
I brought my face up to the window and saw nothing, like before.
I sunk down at the desk to typing an email that turned into griping,
Muttering, concentration lost, the tapping grew louder than before,
I flung open the window, and poked my head out to explore,
'How could I not know this!' here I swore!

Here I saw the culprit waiting, friend or fiend! I wondered, staring,
Here upon the rooftop edging, tapping, tapping as before.
Caged and furious, panicked and tumbling, growling and teeth baring,
A squirrel in the trap set in the morning, whimpering as if to implore
'Let me out you evil woman!' I snapped a photo of this poor
thing and sent it to my husband.  Nothing more.

the squirrel

inspired by Tuscan Whole Milk Gallon

photo of the day: spring blossoms

pale pink white petals 

snow across the green green grass

spring's long limbs outstretched

This is the current view of the cherry, plum and apple trees from my kitchen window:

When we moved in there was no view of the backyard.  Can you imagine missing this every year?  

other words

Pathways

Understand, I’ll slip quietly 
away from the noisy crowd
when I see the pale
stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.
I’ll pursue solitary pathways
through the pale twilit meadows,
with only this one dream:
You come too.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

via this amazing post on A Practical Wedding.