Anybody remember January? January when the snow was as deep as a dog in a dingle? In the bleak mid-winter indeed. I'd stand at the window in a room with the log burner roaring and stretch my imagination. Leaves, flowers and fruit; an impossible notion. Suffice then to be sheltered and dream. Would green and warm and frutiful ever happen?
It's been a long slow haul this year; a late spring and dry months since. I'm an impatient soul and find it hard to tick off the produce we have actually enjoyed to date. I have worked hard on the garden - I want to reap the benefits. In truth there has been much to enjoy already.
That ruck of Basil - what a wonderful herb it is. We will have pasta with prawns and pesto tonight. A handful of basil, pine nuts and Parmesan; a little garlic and seasoning and a gloop of olive oil. Wish I could say I made like it an Italian matron and using pestle, mortar and muscle power. Nope, it's all whizzed up in the Magimix, seasoning adjusted and ready to serve. Plenty for tonight and plenty to stir into new potatoes or dip a bread stick into. Oh, what greedy souls we are.
Pretty good really. I count my blessings.