I write this as rain falls and the first of two homemade pizzas cook in the oven I do not love (electric, hélas, and half broken), a kid's pizza with cherry tomatoes, ham and basil. Later, when the children are tucked up, I'll make another for Martin and I, perhaps a caramelised leek, white bean and more basil and perhaps some silverbeet, because our garden is bountiful, hooray. Or I may use up the eggplant, and we have some green olives cunningly stuffed with parmesan which are from heaven.
Anyway, yesterday we were camping and today we are home again as if the beach almost didn't quite happen but we have brought some of it home with us and I'm not just talking about the ratio of sand to foot tucked inside Una's natty canvas yellow sneakers (acquired in haste from the cleaner in a closed op shop, because we forgot to take shoes for her. Could not have bought better shoes for her). Martin and the girls are making a wooden country mansion on the table beside me as I write, also acquired from an op shop (an open one), which seems a terribly wholesome indoor, rainy day activity. Last night as we ate our fish and chips on the beach the first rolls of thunder boomed across the sea. By the time the paddlepops were gone, we'd decided to come home. The girls were home in bed by 9, and it turned out to be a good decision since the girls slept all night in their own beds for the first time in many a long while, like years. Seriously.
Now it is hard rain falling, a good sound on our tin roof, when we know our tank is filling up and the pizza in the oven is filling our house with warm, comforting smells. I should get up and start caramelising the leeks, but I feel like sitting just one minute longer, listening to the rain.
All sounds beautiful. Except the mansion, which would not bring creativities and brightnesses to our house, but fury and frustration. Sigh.ReplyDelete
Oh yeah, just after I posted this everything went to crap. except the pizza. Pizza was good.ReplyDelete