I am writing this post with both feet free and resting comfortably on the floor. Gone for now are the days of cast-up limbs and crutch-hobbling! To celebrate, I went on a lovely walk with M yesterday. It was tough going. My ankle was stiffish and my heel protested strongly against each footfall. I thought for sure I'd be half lame today. I was certainly stiff in the joint when I got up this morning, but I'm ecstatic to report that after returning from walk #2, my ankle is worlds better! If this keeps up, I should be back to normal in a week or two. And that is a thought that warms the cockles of my heart. (I've always wanted to use that expression.)
Yesterday our cow was milked. Alright, it's not our cow, but it's the cow that gives us our milk so in a matter of speaking, it's our cow. When the milk comes, it brings with it a special treat. First we boil the milk to pasteurize it and then we make it into yogurt. But, some of the milk is put aside. This milk is ladled into mugs, mixed with a small spoon of sugar and served warm alongside biscotti for dipping. It is a treat that the children look forward to ever so much! I can testify, there's not much to top the taste of fresh warm milk with a dash of sugar! (Unless we're talking about homemade caramel, but I digress...)
The other day one of our neighbours had some refuse to dispose of, so they burned it. It made the whole neighbourhood smell like autumn! The smokey tang seeped through the air and positively warmed my bones. And the cockles of my heart, if it must be told. It reminded me of home. The chills that necessitate a warm sweater and a scarf and the gorgeous richness in each leaf of red and gold. I will let you know if the mountains have yet changed their green garments for more colourful apparel. Here in the plains, green reigns supreme.
Gearing up for the winter months here begins in warm months with canning and pickling. Technically, we don't can. We jar. The main spotlight rests on tomato sauce. Then the pickling. Cucumbers, stuffed eggplant, olives, etc. I guess the olives aren't pickled, but they're certainly a large part of the whole experience. It's kind of fun getting food ready for the winter. Perhaps that's due in part to fact that many hands make light work, and everyone is around to chatter and gossip while hands are flying. If only the weather would reflect the cozy nature of the work. I am longing for the cold, and can't wait to wear long sleeves! It will definitely warm the cockles of my heart when the weather turns...