New beginnings

Easter Sunday - calm and serenity

We had a calm, family only kind of Easter Sunday - I layed out a three tier cake plate of assorted Lindt chocolates, and prepared the ‘kids’ hot chocolate in a lovely Wedgewood coffee pot picked up for a couple of pounds a few years ago. I arranged a dozen hard boiled duck eggs (because they are white) for dying with natural dyes - tea, beet root juice, Jamaican tea, blueberry, etc. All the arrangements were left on the dining room table accompanied by little bird ornaments so the ‘kids’ could colour and paint them when they woke up. When they at last emerged from their beds at 11 am, they feasted on chocolates and hot cocoa, while I stuffed myself with Marks & Spencer’s Luxury Hot Cross buns and coffee.

Later I took Sirius out for a very long walk in the Easter sunshine (Sirius’ big Easter egg!). The walk was a far cry from the previous three days of trudging through faucet-like rain! We walked along a pine ridge at the edge of a famous wood, through a wood choking with overgrown Rhododendron, into sodden but green fields. All along the forest there are logs piled high in the National Trust’s attempt to manage growth. They are also culling the Rhododendron in places as it grows like mint, and I suppose starves the forest floor of sun and nutrients. As I walked along I passed by stacks of cut logs in various stages of seasoning. The air smells of cut wood, the spiciness of rotting leaves and rain. The sky, which was at last quite blue for the first time in days, was packed full of gliding turkey vultures and hawks. It was windy but dry, so Sirius had a great adventure. Later in the day, we ventured out again, taking the older dog, Scooby, out for a shorter jaunt along the same dirt road. Little Scooby gets so breathless, but he wants to keep up anyway. He can't handle the long walks any more so I double up the daily outings, offering him the ‘light’ version after Sirius expends some of his energy during a solo trek that's about twice as long.

On Sunday afternoon we watched all five hours of the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice (with Colin Firth, sign), followed later by the movie, The Young Victoria. After the marathon of period drama, my son insisted we watch something modern, choosing the Charlie's Angel's movie! God bless boys, eh? That's when I made the move to the kitchen to organise dinner which consisted of chicken breasts sautéed in herbs, butter, garlic, with a splash of Vermouth and Pernod (I didn't have any tarragon). I served the perfectly browned breasts with steamed French beans and whole grain brown rice accompanied by sweet gravy made from the chicken drippings, a cup of Riesling wine and crème fraiche.

I know we should have had lamb, but the fields around here are so full of the little nippers. Frequently when driving home, I stop the car to watch them play in one of the nearby fields. All the lambs and ewes are numbered so the farmer knows which lamb is from which ewe. As a result, as the babies play in groups you can easily identify them individually, witness first hand how social they are-- which ones are bolder, which ones are friends, how the alliances grow and contract with each new adventure. Over the course of the last couple of weeks with each individual lamb clearly marked in big spray painted numbers, you can see, for example, that lambs numbered 115, 56, 43 and 27 are a gang, and there are several gangs within each field. I've seen them grow up like children in a village or neighbourhood, darting about with their mates, exploring the ducks feeding in the flooded part of their fields, jumping in the air with their little half twists, running back to make contact with the flanks of their mothers, then racing back into little groups to pile on top of each other in a king of the hill sort of way. Sometimes you can see them sprawled out across their mums, or curled into each other, huddled against the wind. They're so social -it's quite amazing to watch. As a result, I just cannot seem to bring myself to eat them anymore! I do love lamb, but somehow knowing that they have this whole lovely, innocent childhood, chock full of experiences, loyalties and adventures, makes me feel like I shouldn't eat lamb anymore.

Easter Monday - the awakening

At some point early this morning around 3am, I woke up to a bright moon spilling through the open curtain. There was a smoky layer of cloud speeding past the illuminated semi-circle. As my eyes adjusted to the fluctuating light, it almost seemed like the moon and shadowy clouds had seeped through the glass and were drifting into the room. I lay awake watching this spectacle of night until sleep pulled me back again. The next time I opened my eyes I could hear the birds singing, and sadly, the magical early morning sky with its layers of smoky cloud had vanished into the flatness of a dull, white, overcast morning. I took solace in the memory of the beautiful night sky, so different from what I was now being offered. Despite the dullness of the morning, I dragged myself from beneath the covers and headed for the kitchen to put away last night's dishes and drink coffee in an attempt to conjure up enough initiative to venture out with the dog.

A few hours later, after having consumed several cups of java, sliced up the half side of salmon, now ready to cook for lunch, you find me here writing this post – a cleaned up, rehash of an earlier email jotted off and quickly sent to my brother who, like or unlike you, suffers in silence as he puts up with early drafts of meandering correspondence littered with more typos than hot cross buns have sultanas.

Oh, and yes, of course I managed to generate enough energy to run through a few miles of woods with the dog. Admittedly, it was intended to be an invigorating walk through the forest, however, mid-walk I spotted a pack of ten or twelve dogs further up the road. Fortunately for us the pack was nearly a quarter of a mile away, while Sirius was singularly focused on the remnants of a musty badger trail. Rather than facing possible carnage, I made the decision to hastily forge a new path in another direction, quickly putting much needed distance between us. Seriously, who walks ten or twelve dogs in the woods without leads on Easter Monday? I can barely manage two dogs at a time!

Poor Sirius: He’s lying prostrate on the sheepskin rug – no blogging for him today.