moment of grace

Although I'm sure there are several people who would be willing to attest to my soup fanaticism (and should this subsequently mean skill?) I have had a very disheartening run lately, of disasters running to the inedible. Yes, sacrelige, I know. At any rate, to celebrate the first deliciously decent bowl of soup this month (year?!) - I will regale you with instructions.

everything roughly chopped -

half onion in butter+/olive oil

add - carrot x 2 potato x 2 half a butternut squash a few spring onions

healthy pinch of smoked paprika handful of torn basil leaves cup and a half of red lentils

water, just to cover (more if you insist on thin soup)

salt to taste

bring to a boil

let simmer until all squishily tender

blend

yellow soup happiness. a moment of grace?

learning to be weary

This week has been nothing very profound.

Driving interminable times across town (home-hospital-clinic-random houses of the child-bearing-repeat) I have reached some very trite conclusions:

I really like roundabouts, negotiated with one hand on the steering

I really do not like rooms in houses that are still and quiet because no-one ever goes in there

And I am learning - What the curve of a spine feels like - curled every which way beneath secretive folds of skin and liquid

That, eventually everyone unfolds the corner of their quietly remarkable self. And if you are there to see it as they breath newly-expanded-love over 3500g of recombinated genes, then you are a priveliged human indeed.

. . . and I'm learning to be weary because even that, can, every so often, catch you a glimpse of something profound