Sunshine

The sun shone from sunrise to sunset today.  The temperature topped out at 48 degrees which felt like a benediction.  I rashly opened the patio door and turned the furnace off for an hour to let actual fresh air blow in.  It felt great.  Don't get excited, the clouds are supposed to roll back in through the day tomorrow and it's supposed to get to a high of 25 by Wednesday.  Winter, it's an adventure.



These two little sparrows were snuggled up in the leafless branches of the shrub this morning.  It's not the best focused photo because the camera couldn't decide what to focus on but I liked their little fluffy selves nestled in the dark red twigs.


I spent the afternoon with knitting friends and an old neighbor who raised her kids a couple doors down from us who, it turns out, grew up with a knitter I know.  It sure is a small world.  We went to the taproom for snacks and drinks and a couple hours of chat.  I foresee the taproom being a popular knitting gathering spot.





I knitted another tiny preemie hat.  These tiny hats feel like the right things to be knitting lately.  Anything more complex fuddles my brains.



 

After getting home I whipped up a batch of WW marinara sauce.  This is such an improvement over the old way of cooking down tomato juice.  You saute onions and garlic (I added a little bell pepper), then whir up a big can of plum tomatoes and juice, add that, along with salt, pepper, and sugar (I added pre-sauteed mushrooms and Italian herbs too. Might as well doctor it up, right?). I simmered it for half an hour to thicken it up a bit.  A batch makes eight zero-point, half-cup servings which freezes well and is just the right amount for a single lady.


02 February--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Cecilia listened to the conversation but gradually her attention was drawn to the room.  She considered the pictures on the wall, the baskets of doodads, the design and floral books and catalogs.  She’d regularly bought flowers for her store from Tiffy, so she’d been in the main part of the boutique but never in the office.  Standing in the doorway she was aware of the smell of the flowers, good rich earth, and the faint nasty smell of death.  She shook her head and began to explore, hands behind her back so as not to touch anything.  As she looked at the scene, she got the impression that the room was divided into two sections, the business end and the personal end.  She started her tour at the business end. The shelves along the left-hand wall were crammed with catalogs for flowers, accessories, and plants and seeds, design books both floral and home, and untidy notebooks filled with sketches and ideas.  In the corner was a table covered with three cloths and surmounted with a nice arrangement of baskets on several levels containing swatches, more books, trims and ribbons, and other decorative things.  Next along the wall opposite the doorway was a client chair and Tiffy’s messy desk with its little brass lamp lit.  Behind the desk was a credenza covered with unfinished projects, more idea notebooks, personal photos, and more books and catalogs.  The desk chair was pushed back against the credenza.  A design magazine had fallen to the floor open to a page featuring shadow box frames containing botanical specimens.  The tile floor was covered with a beautiful faded Oriental rug that picked up the pale green of the room.  The walls were a myriad of framed prints, twig wreaths and swaths that Cecilia suspected were chosen more for their sales appeal than as actual decorations of someone’s personal space. 

By now she felt more comfortable in the room, realizing that it wasn’t covered in blood, relieved that Archibald was telling the truth at dinner.  She tuned back into the conversation to hear Archibald and Graybow, standing frowning over the desk, still discussing the possibility that Tiffy was awaiting a lover.

“I don’t see anything with a name or any indication that Mrs. Davis was waiting for anyone else.  We’ve looked at everything on top of and in the desk.”

“Do you think she’d be careless enough to leave evidence of a lover where anyone could find it?”

 Looking at the desk, Cecilia interrupted, “She wasn’t waiting for a lover.”  The men were startled at her interruption.  They’d forgotten her presence.  “Look at the mess of empty soda cans and candy wrappers!  Any woman worth her salt would clean up before a lover arrived.  This looks like the desk of a woman planning to get some work done.” 

Yesterday's lunch salad was so good I replicated it for supper tonight.  I think I have enough ingredients for one more big bowl full.  So tasty and so unlike me.  I did add cheese which is definitely like me, though.
--Barbara