Roses - The Flower of Endurance

Have I told you about my roses? Yes, this funky little cottage came with a rose bush. It's starting to bloom and it's simply lovely.

It's prompted me to read a little about roses lately. Did you know that the oldest living rose bush is in Hildesheim, Germany growing against a cathedral. Some documentation says that it's been there since 815! During World War II bombs were dropped nearby causing the bush to catch fire, but because the roots remained unharmed the bush was able to grow back and still flourishes today. Now that is a resilient flower!

Roses are interesting because most varieties only grow well with "hard" pruning. This means that once or twice a year you have to cut your lovely rose bush back to barely anything at all, trusting that it will grow back twice as beautiful. The dictionary defines pruning as "cutting away dead or superfluous parts of a plant in order to improve shape or growth". And, of course, after you cut all of this away it does come back even prettier than the previous year. We call it the flower of love, but maybe it should be the flower of endurance.

Then again maybe that's what love is - a lifetime of endurance. Maybe in order to truly love we have to cut away the past, the dead, the decayed. Maybe this is the only way love is able to grow. Maybe it's possible for love to be burnt to ash, yet endure, because the roots are still strong. That gives me great hope.

So for now I'll enjoy these beautiful blooms. Then in the fall I will cut them away in hope that new, bigger blooms will return next year. But I will certainly have more sympathy for my rose bush when it comes to pruning. It may be necessary, but it still hurts.

Nigella's Madeira Cake

I love this cake. It's so easy to make but so luscious. It's like a pound cake but not quiet so heavy. It just sort of melts. It's called Madeira Cake, though I don't know why because it doesn't have a drop of Madeira in it. I got the recipe from Nigella Lawson's How To Be a Domestic Goddess*. Oh, Nigella you are the only true domestic goddess (sorry Martha but paper crafts take second seat to being sexy while making good food).

And remember that black and blue jam/sauce I made last summer? I'm down to the last couple of jars. It was a good jam, my first jam. So it deserves to go out in style. And what better way than poured lovingly all over a yummy piece of this cake? Mmmm. I'm so distracted by wanting to go into the kitchen and have a piece right now that I'm having trouble finishing this post.

I made this cake last night for my husband. It was my way of saying thank you for doing all of the dirty jobs around here that the rest of us don't want to do. Like taking apart the toilet (again) to get out the toothbrush that's clogging up production. If I were single I would probably ignore it until it got so bad that I had to call a plumber because water was overflowing into the kitchen. But thankfully I have a husband who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. The least I can do is give him a nice slice of cake to look forward to after the work is done and maybe the promise of other sweet things later.


Nigella's Madeira Cake

1 cup softened unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
3 large eggs
1 1/3 cups self-rising cake flour
1/2 cup all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350. Cream butter and 3/4 cup sugar and add the lemon zest. Add the eggs one at a time with a tablespoon of the flour for each. Then gently mix in the rest of the flour and, finally the lemon juice. Pour batter into a prepared loaf pan. Sprinkle with sugar as it goes into the oven and bake for 1 hour or until a cake tester comes out clean. Remove to a wire rack, and let cool in the pan before turning out.

Enjoy!

*If you love to bake, I highly recommend this book. It's full of lovely recipes.

Mile Run

The boy woke up very anxious today. In fact he woke up before 6am. He came down quietly and made his breakfast. He was nervous and couldn't sleep any longer. On the way to school he doubted himself, saying he wasn't going to do well, everyone was going to tease him.

You see today was the mile run. Every year the students in our school run a timed mile. And for most kids, it's just another day. For most it's just a thing they have to do whether they like it or not. But for the boy it's a big day. It's a calendar day. Because for the last couple of years the boy has finished first in his class and in the top five in his grade. They all know he's fast. He's the one to beat and he knows it. That's a lot of pressure for a nine year old.

I let him talk through his self doubt and just said do your best. He got out of the car a ball of nervous energy. I met him out on the track a little later and watched as all of that nervous energy propelled him like a rocket. He started lapping some of the other kids, once, twice. The hope of beating him propelled some of the other kids to speed up as their classmates yelled "he's behind you. he's coming. man, he passed you". He finished first, with a smile. He took his victory popsicle and sat down in the middle of his friends, content with his performance. I smiled deep as I watched him relax into confidence. The pressure was gone, at least until next year.

Lemonade Dreams

She set it up herself. Made the lemonade herself. And made three whole dollars all by herself. She's a dreamer with a strong imagination. She has always been my child that couldn't understand why I said somethings don't work. So I quit telling her that some things don't work because in her world anything she imagines can happen. And she is so strong in her determination that the things she imagines do happen. She pushes until, without realizing it, the rest of her doubting-somewhat-cynical family is helping her make it happen. And she brings us along into her fathomless world of belief.

I'm jealous of this. I want to be as strong as my daughter and believe that anything is possible. More than what I want for me, I want for her to never lose it.

Happy Earth Day!

Poetry and Wine

We went on a date this weekend. It felt more like a journey by the time it was over. We started simple, with sushi, but realized quickly we were too melancholy for such a sterile environment. So we drove over to the grungy side of town where you can buy a bottle of wine and brood under dim lights. We happened upon a poetry reading and then a folksy local band. They fit our mood and made us smile sad smiles. We whispered I love you over the beat of the drum. We needed to talk, to share. We preceded to have a conversation that still has my head ringing at midweek. We ended up wrapped under sheets, deep in that hard sleep that comes from too much poetry and wine.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

"Then he nibbled a little hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out,and...
he was a beautiful butterfly!"
-Eric Carle

We love it when the caterpillars come out. The kids like to pick them off of branches and let them crawl on the back of their hands. Most of the caterpillars get set down gently to go on with their pre-chrysalis fattening process. But we keep a couple of nice big ones to watch. We get jars and fill them with tender leaves and vines to climb on. We feed them more daily and wait for the day when we go to the jar and find the chrysalis. We keep the jars close for the next couple of weeks so that when the little fellow starts to wiggle out of his shell we can open the lid and watch the butterfly/moth fly out when he's ready. It's exciting every time. No matter how many times I've seen a new creature fly out of the mouth of the jar I'm awed. It's such a wondrous process. I love that my kids get to see it from beginning to end. It's one of those things that draws you into childhood and makes everything else in the world go away as you focus on this one special moment. And it all starts with a very hungry caterpillar.