seeing

A burst of color wherever I go--such a welcome change from the drab tones of winter! I can't get enough.

tasting

Homemade granola with bananas and milk, and fresh, juicy oranges (not together, of course).

hearing

Lots of Bon Iver and The xx; I've put together a little spring playlist here for you as well. (if you're viewing this in a reader, you'll have to click through to see the music)

smelling

Sweet breezes from my open window. I even slept with it open a few days ago...it was glorious.

touching

Tender new plants in the garden--it's such a rewarding feeling.

credit: angela hardison

Has spring sprung where you live yet?

xo

It smells fresh and clean here, like sheets that are left to dry on a decade long sunny afternoon. And when they are back on the bed, the warm, sleepy smell of sunshine still lingers, tinting dreams with the peachy golden hues of a watercolor sunset. But it's morning now, and my mind has released the hazy dreams of the night from its clutches. I have memories that are blended together with my dreams and I cannot separate the two. So they stay intertwined, twisted together like ivy climbing up tree bark, only resurfacing in unclear moments of deja vu. Arriving with the ebb and flow of the tide, there are photographs in my head of places I'm sure I've been to, and things I'm sure I've done, but I cannot remember when or how, or even why. Perhaps that's why I love the sun so--it brings forth hazy recollections that I didn't even know I had.

There's a fine science to getting the perfect oatmeal raisin cookie. The ratio of raisins to oatmeal needs to be just right, and the cinnamon should be prominent but not overpowering. A cookie should have the perfect proportions of spicy and warm and nutty, each flavor balancing the other, like a pendulum swinging back and forth. It should bring back memories of younger days, fingers sticky with honey and a messy, smiling face.




But the best thing about these cookies? They have no sugar whatsoever. Since I gave up sugar for lent, it's been a constant struggle (it's never a good idea to troll the internet looking at pictures of cookies and pie and chocolate when you can't eat any of it). But these satisfy my sweet tooth without my having to feel guilty. It's a win-win all around, no?

oatmeal raisin cookies

yields two dozen

ingredients
-1 stick butter, softened (1/2 cup)
-2/3 cup honey
-1 egg
-1 cup unbleached flour
-1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
-1 teaspoon cinnamon
-1/2 teaspoon salt
-1/2 teaspoon baking soda
-2 cups oatmeal, uncooked
-1 cup raisins
-1 cup chocolate chips (optional)
-1 cup shredded coconut (optional)

directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Beat the egg until smooth and creamy, then beat in butter and honey. Set aside. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda. Add to liquid mixture, stirring until just until evenly combined. Mix in oatmeal and raisins, and if desired, chocolate chips and coconut. With a tablespoon, drop dough onto lightly greased cookie sheet, closely together. Dampen hands and flatten cookies slightly. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Serve with a tall glass of milk and enjoy!




Happy March!

xx.

There are, of course, the sounds that are immediately apparent--the distant hum of the highway, the dog rooting in the yard, or the dull roar of an airplane flying overhead. But then there are the ones that aren't so immediately apparent, like the quiet rustle of the wind stirring through the bushes and trees or the water trickling its way through the rich soil, staining it a shade darker. And the birds, what seem to be a thousand, calling back and forth in the air, some warbling and some trilling a simple song. There's the wonderful feeling of sunshine browning skin and the earthy smell of spring that beckons a deep breath, an aroma so ambrosial it could be bottled up and sold. And let us not forget the sweet sensation of bare toes on new grass--that's something that could be bottled too.

Spring is more than just the world awakening from winter's slumber; it's a rejuvenation of the mind and senses, too. Forgotten sights and beauty that once again unfurls just as the memories of last spring were beginning to fade, bring along with it hope and contentedness...and I think I like that feeling best of all.