pretty in pink

A bit of snow dusted the grass this morning when I let the dogs out, but the sun was shining! Oh hurrah, how I love a blue sky. Maybe that’s why blue features heavily in my life. 

Pink used to be my colour, but I o’d on it years ago. The whole house was painted pink, every single wall. I loved the calm feeling it gave me. On a sunny day the great room felt like it was bathed in the light from a perfect summer sunrise. Almost everything else was pink as well: towels, dishes, pillows, sheets… everything. Our house could have featured in a mocking facebook post. People must have thought I was nuts! And I was! I loved it for almost 20 years and then suddenly, like a switch was flipped, I hated it. Most of the pink has vanished.

I made 2 new recipes today: Wild Rice soup with mushrooms & chicken and Artisan bread. The soup was a mashup of a few different recipes and turned out pretty well with a lovely wild rice flavour (well, duh). I should have thickened it with a roux. Next time. I wasn’t sure what the bread would be like as it is a no-knead recipe and I don’t have enough different breads under my belt to guess. I followed the instructions carefully and was pleased that it turned out so well with a chewy texture. It was an easy 5/5 and will be a favorite going forward. One packet of precious yeast yielded 2 smallish loaves.

Headline tonight: Over one thousand deaths in Canada.  643,508 cases, with 28,506 deaths in the US. There are a total of 28,379 (26,897 yesterday) cases of Covid-19 in Canada today, with 1,010 (898 yesterday) deaths to date.

“One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands out and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun--which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with the millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in someone's eyes.”

~Frances Hodgson Burnett,