First of all, a warm hello and welcome to all those who read and adore Bloesem Kids! Irene, thank you for such a lovely feature--it is an honor and I pretty much fell off my chair in delight.
Last night I went for a nice long run. The skies were trying to muster a thunderstorm, which is cute for Las Vegas, and all I could think of as I watched the moon peeking through the clouds was this line from a poem my mother used to tell me: The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The poem is about this dreamboat of a highwayman who has a yen for Bess, the landlord's daughter. And who wouldn't? She's got ebony eyes, red lips, and she keeps plaiting love knots in her long black hair! Anyway, the pair gets dimed out by some moldy-haired stablehand who has a school-boy's crush on Bess. He's one of those creeps who skulks around in the shadows and probably dug through her trash on a regular basis.
So a bunch of red-coat soldiers come by the inn to set up a sting for the highwayman. As midnight approaches, lovely Bess, who has been bound and gagged, manages to get her finger on the trigger of a gun and shoots herself to warn her lover! What the?! Bess, honey--did you think this one through?! After all, this guy wears a bunch of lace at his throat!
As you may imagine, once the highwayman realizes what has happened, he goes beserk. I'm not sure what he was hoping to accomplish, but he wheels his horse around and comes charging back toward the inn, waving his sword in the air (note to highwayman: you do remember it was a shot that warned you, right?). Long story short--he ends up getting blown out of the saddle.
This was one of the poems my mother would recite before tucking me in at night...pretty much guaranteeing me not to get any sleep for the next 48 hours.
Funny thing, because my parents banned television from the house. They raised us on a strict diet of classical music. We were not allowed to see Grease. Yet my mom apparently had no qualms over filling my head with images of an illicit and ill-fated relationship between an innocent young woman and her dashing criminal mastermind.
Ah, but it's late and I have no pretty drawings to show you. This house has been like Grand Central Station ever since school began and I feel as if I'm barely keeping up. Perhaps I will leave you with a few photos of something I recently added to our dining experience, even though I basically discourage the use of salt and rarely let the girls use it. It's more the idea that has me enchanted!
Doesn't it seem more delightful to use salt this way? To pinch it between your fingertips and artfully let it sprinkle upon your food? This is how I add savor when cooking and it always gives me a certain thrill, as if I'm a witch hovering over my cauldron. I like handling spices, crunching herbs, dusting them between my palms into whatever it is I'm cooking. Or should I say brewing?
Plus, this salt comes from France. So that right there is instant glamor.
And freshly ground pepper! What could be more satisfying? This blend comes from India. India! I feel as if I've brought the world to my table.
Wishing you a little spice for your day!