When planning a brunch, I find it helpful to prepare food that doesn’t have to be eaten as soon as it is cooked — that doesn’t collapse like a soufflé, or won’t spoil like soft poached eggs.
While planning this post, I realized I had no idea where or how food preservation began.
The sun, it seems, is rising with reluctance. Dawn, as if taking a cue from the sun, is appearing later and later, and so is her chorus.
Rosella, or to some, Wild Hibiscus.
I could stare at a rosella plant in the same way our Jack Russell stares into the branches of a mukwa tree after spotting a squirrel. For hours and hours.
If I’ve learned anything about living as we do — off the land, and overwritten by the principle of enoughness — it’s patience.
To me, the hour-glass butternut is like one of those friends who, when you bump into on occasion, leaves you feeling energized and happy to be alive.
