Eunice in the Springtime

 

Eunice says, "Life isn't worth living."

Eunice says, "Every day is a gift."

Eunice says, "To live is to suffer."

Eunice says, "There is joy and beauty in everything."

 

In short, Eunice doesn't have a clue. She shifts like sand dunes in a high wind. Her moods are as firm and long-lasting as an ice cube in a sauna. Up and down, left and right. Follow Eunice as she tries to make sense out of—out of life? Forget it! Out of HER life" Not a chance! Out of the way the world is going? All she can do is rant.

 

Rant, Eunice. No one is listening anyway. Rant away. Rant, don't rant. The world will be the same. Save yourself the energy.

 

Withdraw. Read. Don't go out. OUT is where decisions have to be made. OUT is where you will have to decide what is right and what is wrong. OUT is where economic necessity meets social injustice. OUT is where us and them are always separate. OUT is where the twain shall never meet.

 

So that leaves Eunice up a creek without a paddle. She could walk home, I suppose, through the cold rocky creek. She'd ruin her shoes. Could she do it barefoot? Not bloomin' likely. Hurt her feet, she would, and not be able to go more than 20 yards before she'd give up. Poor Eunice.

 

Is there anything up this creek that will please her? Look around, Eunice. The leaves have tinged those black branches with the palest yellow-green mist. That's what happens this time of year, and Eunice does like that.

 

What else? Off in the woods she hears a cardinal doing his territorial call: this is MINE and only mine and don't come near, you other males, or I'll peck your eyes out. It sounds more friendly than that when Eunice filters it through her human ears, but she knows what he's really saying. She might as well be reading the headlines.

 

Okay, forget the cardinal. Look at the ground, Eunice. See the trilliums beneath the trees? See the may-apples, the patch of violets? Does that make you feel better?

 

Eunice, notice that the air is warm. Certainly warmer than the water in this creek you're up. So feel it. Stay away from the cold water where you're stuck without a paddle. Just notice on your skin the slightest hint of a soft breeze. Notice that you can take off the multiple layers you've been wearing during the long winter. Notice that the sun is dappling through the canopy, spotlighting this corner and that flower and this outcropping of stone and that blanket of bright green moss.

 

So what about it, Eunice? Yea or nay? Ah, well. I'll let you off the hook. Don't make a decision if you don't want to. And even if you do, you can always change it tomorrow, if your mood changes. And since you wrote the book on moods, Eunice, you certainly know that the one sure thing about moods is this: they always change.

 

 

Copyright 2012 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Winter

When you walk in the woods

in winter,

hold your arms away from your sides,

lest the swish

of your sleeves

still

the silence of snow.

 

Copyright 2012 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Bread

I'm not sure yet whether I want to write about wheat or about bread. But I'll start with bread. I love bread. I could live on nothing but bread—though of course, I don't. I'm a true twenty-first century woman. I watch my carb intake and I watch my wheat. But I DO love bread.

 

How do I love it? Let me count the ways. Sandwiches, for starters, and toast. (Did you know that if you toast bread you lower its GI number? True.) French toast, with jam or syrup or just plain powdered sugar. Bread pudding, plain or fancy, with or without a bourbon sauce and pecans. Thick-cut bread with a hole in the middle and an egg dropped in and then it's all baked until the egg is set.

 

And a bread and cheese sandwich brushed with olive oil and toasted in a black cast-iron ridged skillet, weighted or not. (Who needs a panini-maker?) Or open-faced summer sandwiches of bread spread with coarse-grain mustard, then topped with a slice from a perfect tomato and a slice of old cheddar, the whole thing broiled until the cheese melts.

 

Or bread for dessert: a slice of ciabatta or other good bread, and on it you put a couple of wafers of 70% or better chocolate. Stick this in a warm oven (leftover heat from an earlier baking is just fine). Take it out after a few minutes. When you look at it you'll think nothing has happened to the chocolate, but touch it with your finger and you will find that it is totally melted. Eat it warm. Or sprinkle it with fleur de sel before you eat it!

 

Another favourite bread dessert: bread with stone fruit. Halve and stone fresh plums, apricots, or peaches. Slice the fruit or not, depending on its size, and lay it on (buttered) bread in one layer, then bake it for ten to 15 minutes. When it comes from the oven, sprinkle the fruit with a teaspoon of sugar. The fruit is hot, so don't burn your tongue.

 

Bread pudding can range from bare-bones to high-falutin', and it's delicious no matter how it's done. And don't forget savoury bread puddings, sometimes called "strata," meaning layers. Use bread, lots of cheese, egg & milk beaten together, and any flavourings you want: bacon, ham, roasted red pepper, mustard, smoked salmon, parboiled broccoli. Let it stand overnight in the refrigerator so the bread soaks up all the liquid, then bake for 45 minutes in the morning for a perfect brunch dish.

 

The North American favourite taste is "crisp," according to the polls. And bread crumbs supply crisp. Fresh bread crumbs (run a couple of slices of bread through the food processor, and leave the crusts on, no matter what they tell you) can be mixed with a little olive oil and/or cheese and scattered over any kind of casserole, savoury or sweet, before it goes into the oven. Of course, the better the bread, the better the crumbs.

 

Dried bread crumbs (toast a couple cups of fresh bread crumbs in a slow oven until they are dry, then process them to a fine crumb) provide excellent crispness. If you have a leftover roast of any sort, slice it and spread it with good mustard. Dredge both sides of the mustarded meat in a plenitude of dry bread crumbs, then fry the meat in a little olive oil until both sides are crisp. Much better than a plain old slice of cold meat.

 

Many alternative health practitioners are quick to suggest wheat allergy as a possible source of health problems. Also there is the theory that if we crave a particular food it might be because we are allergic to it. I recognize that such an allergy might take a long time to discover. I have spent several six-week periods avoiding wheat. It is unpleasant but not impossible. And never have I seen the glimmer of a difference. It may be that my "rosacea" is actually a form of wheat allergy. But at my age, I'd rather have a red nose for the next ten years (a minor blemish compared to all the other ravages of old age) than spend them not eating wheat.

 

Bread, the staff of my life. The stuff of dreams. 

 

Copyright 2012 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com