There was something extra special about the market yesterday. Companionably cold and crisp, everyone was bundled up against this new nip in the air.
The bread turns into a kind of tender cake that sits in the midst of a creamy custard, while the apples and raisins somehow mix all through the whole dish offering sweet little surprises here and there. And the layer of bread on top turns into a crunchy, sweet crust that is making me weak in the knees just thinking about it.
And of course it is moments like these, all knitted together in one fine tapestry, that make me unspeakably grateful to be living this artful life, on this priceless land, in this remarkably rich part of the world.
… birds feed on freshly sewn seeds just outside the window, and the world is right, as I am left to read in the warm morning sun, for as long as I like.
Gathering wood today for cooking and warming fires is an activity as old, beautiful and essential as the ancient need was, up here in the high desert.
I woke up REALLY early this morning–just more evidence that I’m getting better I think–and I got to start my day with delicious buttermilk pancakes, excellent coffee, good company and a passel of pets curled up all around me.
I frequently write about “driving down the mountain,” but I haven’t ever offered you a photographic “tour” of doing so. Yesterday I had a great opportunity to create a visual for you.