I have a wishlist- do you? It's a mixture of things that make me go weak at the knees, wobbly legged, heart fluttery, should I lie down-y. Thoughts of my wish list keep me going. Things to sigh over, to want, to wish for (even if I know I never will actually get them...) things that make it all okay. Here's something new on my wish list. Emma Franks calms me, makes me stop with her beautiful, dreamlike paintings. I love the soft palette, the gentleness, the clothes and those darling hats...



If you are in Brighton, UK Emma will be at the Brighton Art Fair this September- go and say hello!

Oh, I'm very excited!! Mark Hearld's new book is going to be re-leased in October and I can't wait! I love his style and this promises to give an insight into his work, his thought process and inspiration. It all just sets my little heart a pitter patter...Go here for more details.

It was a quiet enough weekend. Will and Mide came blackberry picking with me. They loved the whole process of looking for berries and carefully pulling them, avoiding the scratchy briars and trying not to squish them too much.Will made sure to leave enough for the insects and birds and foxes.There were also puddles to jump in which can only ever be a good thing, right? Anyway our haul amounted to little less than a pound in weight but it yielded one fine pot of blackberry and apple jam and some happy memories!

A nice soft day...
Elizabeth David, the food writer, once summed up the difference in how we Irish look at weather thus "... what the Irish describe as a nice soft day, the Scots as a bit mixed, and I as a hurricane..." Well, it wasn't quite hurricane conditions- just wet and a little windy when I walked the dogs this morning. I spent the time thinking about how much beauty there is in small things. Marks in the mud, the few leaves that have fallen, water droplets hanging on to seed heads, spiderwebs, and lichen on treetrunks. It soothes the soul a little to appreciate the details.

this is the boy who loves to climb trees

 this is the boy who flies his balloons

these are the boys concentrating hard- homework is back on the agenda again- much to their chagrin 

 this is the gossamer thread of web on the box hedge, reminding me of Seamus Heaney - "a strong gauze of sound" - a strong gauze...like a mother's love...light enough to sometimes be barely noticed but strong enough to hold you safe when you need it

This weekend I said enough. No more cooking or baking or kitchen. I am on strike. But...I cannot help myself. I do not want to help myself. I like my kitchen.I love baking and, on good days, I like cooking. So I made bread. A simple white loaf - nothing fancy. Just light and airy and delicious. On Saturday we ate the bread with the left over tomato lasagne and salad, dipping it in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Today we ate the bread toasted with marmalade.

I also made curried parsnip soup. It's a real autumnal soup, nourishing, comforting with a slightly spicy warmth which we ate outside, despite the wind. This started as a Jane Grigson recipe which, through my own slapdashery, I've changed to really be as simple as possible.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, chopped
4-5 small to medium parsnips
1 teaspoon curry powder or paste
1 litre chicken stock
250ml milk
2 tablespoons cream

Gently fry the chopped onion in the oil without letting it brown. Peel and chop the parsnips and add to the onion. Let this sweat on a gentle heat for 5 minutes or so. Add the curry powder or paste to your taste. Mix to cover the parsnips, then pour on the chicken stock. Let this cook until the parsnips are tender. Then add the milk and cream. Finally purée until smooth. If you think the soup is too thick you can thin it down with a bit more milk.

This lovely print from Rebekka Seale arrived when we came back from France and I recently got it framed-it's in the kitchen-how gorgeous is it??
                                          

Hugo is ten. 

I thought that my heart was broken when Mide turned four earlier on this week, but in actual fact it's nothing to a son turning ten. Hugo is in school as I write, going through the last day of the week before coming home to friends, presents, cake, candles, treats, games...all the while I watch as he grows up. Up and slightly further away. Which is how it is and how it should be. A time of change. All around there is change- autumn has crept up on us, arriving on the tailcoats of summer, just about noticeable, but here nonetheless. There are blackberries and rosehips in the hedgerow and the morning air has a cooler note. I love autumn so none of this causes undue alarm. On the stove the tomato sauce is puttering for tonight's supper of tomato lasagne to which I'll add ricotta and spinach and there is yesterday's apple crumble and home-made custard to finish. Oh, and hopefully there'll be chocolate cake...

I am reading...

Mide is loving his birthday book illustrated by Mark Hearld- it's just so beautiful- all about nature, based around the seasons and written with a gentle poetic, lyrical voice.

"Autumn is exciting! Trees turn flame coloured and the wind makes a whirligig of fiery leaves. Birds feast on berries and the first frosts sprinkle the spiders' webs with diamonds"

Mide is four!

Being four is great. You get presents. Lots of presents (but you primarily want the dinosaur DVD and to heck with the rest). You get a birthday cake in Montessori school (chocolate with chocolate icing and spider jellies). You get iced buns. You get number four shaped biscuits. You get a mummy-made dinosaur bunting with all your favourite dinosaurs. Your mum and dad get to look at you and think about how much you've grown. How that makes them both sad and happy. Sad you are no longer a baby. Happy you are no longer a baby. Your mum and dad talk about the day you were born, how they made it to the hospital just in the nick of time. Your mum and dad need a gin and tonic when they think too much about how their boys are all growing so much, changing so much....happy and sad. Happy fourth birthday Mide Bean- we love you!