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just write {89}

June 18th, 2013 | 1 Comment »

I’m good at so much, but lately, I feel like I’m not good at anything at all except moving through each 24-hour period.

I made an amazingly tasty batch of Kamut-Millet pancakes last week, thick and dense with the good stuff, and we ate them daily for three days. Each time I took a bite I thought ‘I need to share this recipe!’. Then my mind goes elsewhere; I end up thinking that it’s just a pancake. Everyone has their favorite pancake recipe, as do I, and right now this one is my favorite, but that might not be the case tomorrow.

So I didn’t share the Kamut-Millet pancakes. Yet.

Then there was the surprising and incredible Chickpea Fries that were made, last week too. It was a good week for food in our house. There’s still a few strips of thick dough, wrapped tight in plastic in the refrigerator and I can have them photo-ready within an hour, if I want. They are so unique and wonderful.

But I haven’t shared those yet, either.

Last Saturday I drove home from work through the most drenching rain I’ve ever seen in my life. From inside the car, it overwhelmed the wipers, on high no doubt, and filled the lowest spots on the highway with pools that covered our tires, sending waves of water as high as the pick-up truck roofs as we carefully drove through them. The drops were immense, and it lasted my entire 25-minute drive home. I kept on, doggedly driving through it, mesmerized by it’s sound on my roof and the pelting of the windows and with all the water that’s fallen on our state this Summer, I kept thinking to myself ‘Where does the rain go when it’s finished?’ The rivers and streams pour through their channels, fat, swollen, and furious; Minnehaha Falls roar over it’s edge with a noise you can hear from blocks away. The air is so thick with water and the mosquitoes so fat and starving. My legs are speckled like I have some disease, and I can’t find the bug spray.

I did manage to plant the very last of our garden; lovely and colorful Rainbow Chard, a row of Broccoli, more Basil, more Tomato plants (does 7 seem like too many???) as well as Lemongrass and a strange, lovely herb called Curry Herb, of which I have no clue how to use but it’s scent, like soft curry, is so intriguing. I run my fingers through the Lemon Thyme with each passing of the fragrant garden plot, then lift them to my nose to inhale, close my eyes to that around me and just breathe in the scent.

In our scurry around and keep busy world, this might look like nothing at all. But to me, it’s huge, that life-affirming scent, the soil under my feet, rich with black, healthy dirt and fat earthworms. Like sitting in the sunshine on my faded redwood steps, soaking up the warmth while I eat breakfast and sip coffee. It’s nothing, to the busy-ness and go go go. But to me it’s everything. Like sitting idle, magazine in hand, coffee by my side, while two cozy felines snuggle on my lap. It’s nothing, to the schedule every minute people, but to me, and to them, it’s the world.

The Kamut-Millet pancakes, those Chickpea fries, that garden, my breakfasts, purring cats. It’s all so good.

It’s Just Write Tuesday over at The Extraordinary Ordinary, who just landed in Texas to begin a new chapter of her life.
Minnesota will miss you, Heather. I’m so blessed to be able to understand, to know and to be friends with a soul like yours.
Thank goodness for the Internet.

One response to “just write {89}”

  1. That rain is something else, isn’t it.

    I love how your write, Kate 🙂