Happy Father's Day & Poppies

Since all the people Durwood is the father of are not here today I thought I'd make him something special for Father's Day.  Yesterday's recipe of the day on Allrecipes.com (I get a daily email from them) was for Mancakes, that's cornmeal pancakes with crisped bacon, sharp cheddar cheese, and wilted green onions stirred into the batter.  The recipe calls for a tiny pinch of cayenne or chipotle powder in the batter and another tiny pinch in the syrup but I skipped those because he's not a fan.  They were very good, VERRY good.  Easy too.  That recipe's a keeper.

Evey time I look out at the garden and see the blooming poppies I hear the Wicked Witch of the West's voice when Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion run through the field of them and fall asleep.  "Poppies, poppies," she says with a cackle in her voice.  They might be my most favorite spring bloom but they are sure short-lived.  That first flower is already faded and crumbling at the edges.  *sigh*  Beauty, like youth, is fleeting.

I weeded out the violets and other "wildflower" volunteer-type plants from around the shrub rose in the garden, you know, the one I was sure hadn't survived the harsh winter.  I thought it'd be nice to give it a little leg-up, a little circle of ground without competition, and I plan to give it a dose of rose fertilizer later today too.  It got a nice big drink yesterday evening too.  Maybe it'll make a flower or two this year.

Man, it's windy today.

June 15--Vincent van Gogh, First Steps, After Millet.  Yellow and blue makes green and those are the colors Vincent used, with a touch of black in the shadows.  I can see him in his studio staring at the canvas, then squeezing yellow, a bit of blue, and a comma of white onto his palette.  I imagine his confident fingers sorting just the right brush out of the clutch of them gathered in an old squat vase on a paint-scarred table.  He would have sketched the figures and a few basic lines on his canvas before dragging a big of the blue and a smear of white to blend for the key.  He'd paint in the sky first, everyone understands the need for a good sky.  Crowded in the back of his mind would be the paintings he saw at the last exhibition.  They sold well and critics liked them.  He needed a bit of success to pay back his brother Theo so I imagine him mixing yellow and blue to make the perfect French spring grass.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there in blog-land.  Hope it's a great day for everyone, dad or not.
--Barbara