I refreshed my wildflower bouquet from my walk this morning and that's what it looks like with the evening sun shining on it. As the pecan leaves fall, the light on the porch becomes brighter to the point where sometimes I have to use the bamboo matchstick blind that stays firmly rolled up all summer. Pecans are the first to lose their leaves in the fall and the last to come out in spring making them a great source of shade when we need it and allowing the sunlight when we don't.
I pushed myself to be more active today. I took that walk and I worked some in the garden but I got so damn hot out there that I could only weed two rows and had to call it quits. For whatever reason I just cannot tolerate heat the way I used to. Could be a medication I'm on, could be age. Who knows? Not me. But it's real. I actually started feeling a little woozy by the end of row two but I feel fine now so I don't suppose I did myself any damage.
Mr. Moon has had a very big day. After sixteen years he finally got his garage doors! Whoo-hoo!
Our venison pie was very nice last night but it was rather meaty and so tonight I'm making the delicious creamy cashew squash/sweet potato, coconut milk soup that I love so much. I don't think it's Mr. Moon's favorite but he does like it and I'm making naan to go with it so all will be well.
Would this be a good time to talk (again) about the ridiculous stupid habit of online recipe posters, talking about everything and anything under the sun even remotely related to the food you're trying to make before giving the recipe?
FUCK THAT SHIT!
I don't want to read about your sister who makes Indian food all the time. Okay? Or about her visit where she showed you how to make this. Or about the first time you ate this particular food. Or how you feel when you make yummy, nummy delicious fresh food for your family!
Give me the damn recipe. Thank you. That's why I love the online New York Times cooking app. It does give a little paragraph describing the food and a picture and that is perfect! Thank you, NYT's cooking app!
And let me admit right here that when I had it in mind to write a cookbook, it turned into more of a memoir than a book with recipes so there you go. I completely understand the urge to wax poetic about food.
Just call me an annoyed hypocrite.
Well, I better get to naan rolling and grilling and soup-finishing-up.
But first, in a completely unrelated matter- have any of y'all watched the Dolly Parton doc on Netflix? It's titled Dolly Parton, Here I Am.
We've been watching a little of it every evening and yeah, it's made me cry. When I called her a saint last week, I should added that she's a genius. Because she is.
That's what I think anyway. Despite the wigs. Or maybe because of the wigs. Who am I to say?