Satellite

Today, I came home from what was a very very long weekend of non-stop work and remembered how little I had in my fridge. After engaging the help of my boyfriend in  a very comedic endeavor of splitting a little sugar pumpkin with a large butcher knife and a rolling pin as a mallet, I decided to make carrot, pumpkin risotto. Onion, garlic, rosemary, white wine and vegan bullion rounded out the recipe, with a bit of prized humboldt fog goat cheese as a garnish. It HIT the spot, I tell you. There is something astounding about the flexibility of rice. So many kinds of rice. And they are ALL perfect in their own way. Brown rice with delicious baked chicken and chicken drippings. Jasmine rice with new spring peas. Stick, white rice with a plop of Tamari and stir fry. OR, Arborio made into delicious risotto. Definitely not forgetting long grain wild rices here...I could go on forever, so I must stop myself.

This was perhaps not a prize-worthy dish or even restaurant worthy. It wasn't particularly pretty, but I care little about the aesthetics when I am hungry and when I know there is plenty of nutrition involved.

Sitting here, after walking through mud and throwing hay and attending to needy customers and hungry horses, I am perfectly content. I am back home in my little cabin for the first time in two weeks and after much hubbub of the Christmas season. Solace...Rest. Night. Sweet, deep, dark, quiet night.

I have never looked so forward to the rest of a long winter. I am going to cherish the somber hush of the season. I need it, we all do. Somethin' about fire, somethin' about woolens. Somethin' about the skeleton skyline the trees provide as the sun falls easily into hibernation. Winter blues can be just as lovely as they are blue. I'll take 'em this year.