Friday, March 29, 2013

Spinach Soup

Last night's dinner was a surprising success.  I did not expect to watch the kids spoon the soup into their mouths - without a single complaint.  I even received complements.  That is rare out of the mouths of my children when dealing with anything spinach that I thought I would share the recipe.  (Sorry, no picture...)

Spinach Soup 


4 slices bacon
  • fry bacon, remove from pan and set aside
1/2 large yellow onion, chopped
  • saute onion and then add
1 teaspoon salt 
6 medium potatoes, chopped 
3 boullion cubes
3 cups water
2 Tablespoons butter
  • simmer until the potatoes are soft
  • take half of the soup, blend it, and return it back to the pot
3 Tablespoons flour
3 cups water 
  • whisk the flour into the water and add to the soup, then bring to a boil
3 ounces cream cheese
2 cups chopped, frozen spinach
dash of nutmeg and pepper
  • stir in cream cheese and spinach, add nutmeg and ginger
  • when the cream cheese is melted the soup is done
  • crumble the bacon and top the bowls 
1/2 cup grated Pecorino Romano (optional)
  • top each bowl with a little grated cheese
I served the Spinach Soup with Herbed Sweet Potato Biscuits from my new favorite cookbook Essential Eating Sprouted Baking.  It was a delightfully colorful meal!


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Sun Shower!

For just a few minutes the rain fell, the sun shone, and the sky was filled with a rainbow! 



On the Edge

I remember from one of my college classes that the highest biodiversity is found on the edges of bio-systems - tide pools, the soil surface, where the forest meets a meadow. 

We are living an edge, the undulating line between winter and spring, warm brilliant sunshine followed by flurries of snow, and it is filled with activity. 

When we can, I try not to leave the neighborhood or even our yard and we just stay put.  The car stays in the driveway.  Bikes, helmets, toy trucks and shovels are pulled out and we play and we dig. We move rocks.  We tuck away seeds.  


We dream of flowers, and because we are to impatient for our plants to grow, we make our own.


We raid the recycling bin. We paint, we cut, we fold, we glue and we sort through the buttons for just the right colors and sizes. 


We hang our final project, a colorful paper and cardboard wreath on the front door - to welcome home Adam from his field work, to welcome neighbors, and to welcome spring.



Monday, March 18, 2013

NeighborWood News!

Last week I wrote and published (with very limited distribution) the first edition of NeighborWood News!
This bi-annual (spring and fall) newsletter provides proper tree maintenance information, features a native plant and contains a fun, inspiring tree quote. 

Why you ask? 

I love trees and I love my neighborhood and have a vested interest in maintaining and improving both the trees and the little spot on this planet that I have chosen to call home. 

Do read it and do a look at your trees, but please don't steel my content. 
For more information on our Neighborhood Certified Arborists at Watershed Consulting L.L. C. click here.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Sunday Snapshots

Sharing Blueberries and reading Richard Scarry's "Cars and Trucks and Things that Go. 
Folding a Weeks work of Laundry..  My Sunday Routine. 
Pomegranate Pork and Red Wine for Dinner..  Ivory painted that Candle Stick. 

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Shifting

"Mama, come on."
He is tugging on my hand, pulling me persistently from my bed.  He had just climbed from the middle of our bed, over my back and onto the ground.
"Where are we going?"  I ask, reluctantly slipping out of bed and following him through the door, back across the squeaky floor to his bed.  He climbs in, lays down, and asks for his blanket.
He had woken up crying, and like every night, I had retrieved his little body and placed it next to mine, but this night it didn't calm him.
Sylvan, barely visible in the dark, breathing slowly and deeply.  I can't help but wonder: "can I go to sleep without him beside me?"

Our world is shifting.

My toes and heals touch together, and suddenly I am stable, balanced, light and elated.  My knees perched on the table of my arms.  I breath and when my toes touch the mat again, I wonder: "How exactly is this pose related to the crow Sylvan pointed out to me in the parking lot?"

My world is shifting.

The kid sized picnic table has all flour legs on the ground.  It had been leaned up, letting snow and rain slide downward, just outside our dining room window all winter long. In the bright sunshine, the sweater wearing air, we ate our first outside lunch of the year.



The season is shifting: winter to spring and back again.

I fall asleep with my arms folded under my head, the warmth of my husband's body breathing next to mine.  When I wake up, a second smaller warm body is curled up beside me. I hold him tight. He stirs and his eyes meet mine: "Mama, get up."