There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
The first week of April has presented us with a mix of warm sun, balmy temperatures, rain, and ice pellets. But the coming of spring is unmistakable. The birds are proof, as are the ever-rising daffodil and tulip leaves, the huge growth spurt in the greenhouse- where temps have been into the 90s sometimes, and the buds on my Christmas Cactus (which is really a Thanksgiving and Easter-blooming cactus). All of this gives me a whiff of hopefulness. I hope you are all witnessing and “looking upon with a loving eye” some springtime renewal in whatever way it happens where you live. (I’d enjoy hearing about it)
This week in cooking
Indian Fried Cauliflower and Potatoes with Rice and Swiss Chard
This was an easy to put together weeknight vegetarian dinner with Indian spices. It made a mess of my new stove but the Indian Fried Cauliflower and Potatoes with Rice and Swiss Chardtaste of potatoes fried in coconut oil was great, and the oil is one of the safest to use at high temperatures.
In Writing This Week
In My Seventies, My Brain Refuses the Boring Stress I Don’t Need and Gets Excited About Things That Used to Seem Stressful
Crow’s Feet Prompt
Don’t get me wrong. I have my days. There have been times in the past few years when I have been plenty stressed and I know there will be more coming up. It’s sort of guaranteed by the fact that I am living this long. The body parts wear out, people and pets get sick or die, suffering continues as countries make war, and then there’s the warming planet. Don’t get me started on that.
This Social Worker Had to Lie to Her Own Therapist to Understand That She Had a Drinking Problem
I want to say at the outset that I am a drinker. I tell the doctor that I have a glass of wine with dinner most nights. I allow myself six ounces. It has not always been that little. For many years I allowed myself two. But as I get older, that has begun to feel excessive. So I’m down to two three-ounce half-glasses of wine. It has been twenty-five years or so since anyone, including my own conscience, suggested I might have a drinking problem. In my mind, the problem part of drinking is gone for good. But who knows.
Photo by Sean Bernstein on Unsplash