Tiny Springtime Treasures

I haven't been knitting much lately so there's no yarny goodness to share, but I did look very closely at the planting bed right outside the patio doors this morning.

The first thing I spied was a raindrop twinkling in the sedum,





looking even closer I found a tiny, tiny, tiny lily of the valley bud barely poking out of the curl of leaves,




then I realized that one of the ferns is sending up curly fronds.  Don't they look like they're from another planet?



A couple weeks ago I watched a Pioneer Woman episode on Food TV about making one-dish things, you know, sheet pan suppers and one-bowl cakes, but the thing that intrigued me the most was a ramen noodle soup bowl.  She used thin slices of raw steak which I don't have and have no plans to buy but the essential concept was something I had to experiment with.  I sliced off a little bit of grilled chicken breast and cut it into matchsticks, thin sliced a single scallion, grated a couple baby carrots into the bowl with the meat and onions.  Then I sloshed in about a tablespoon of low-sodium soy sauce, about a teaspoon of hoisin sauce (you could use oyster sauce instead if you'd like), and a tiny squirt of sriracha.  I broke up the noodle cake a bit, sprinkled on a bit of the seasoning packet, poured on 2 cups of boiling water, clapped a cover on the bowl, and let it sit for about 5 minutes.  Mmm, yummy.  Yesterday I made one batch in two bowls to share with Durwood because I'm a nice person and, to be honest, the bowl with the whole cake of noodles was a bit much for me for lunch.  Even better a whole cake of ramen is only 6 Weight Watchers points so with an ounce of meat (1 point) and some sauces (maybe a point combined) it makes a good lunch, especially if I put in more veggies.  I love lots of veggies.

May 2--Gustav Klimt, Roses Under the Trees.  Cheryl thought the roses looked like snowflakes or stars against the dark green trees.  She wouldn't think there was enough sunlight for them to survive, much less thrive tangled in the branches the way they were.  Of course these were hardy shrub roses, wild roses not hybrids.  The roses in the trees had a single frill of petals around their center and the fragrance hadn't been bred out of them.  She spread her blanket in a small clearing, ate her lunch, and got to work on a short story but she got distracted by the thick overpowering rose aroma that rolled over her out of the tangles of roses.

It's still cold and cloudy.  I dropped my car off at Joe's to get some body work and painting done and it was darned cold and pretty darned windy walking home.  Not that I regret the walk but it would have been a whole lot more pleasant if it hadn't felt like my hair was going to blow off.
--Barbara