Slow Sunday & a recipe

Spaghetti with butternut squash creamy purée

When I got out of bed it was pale dawn, soft shades and silent spaces, with the houses along the road; all asleep.

Last night there was frost on the roads, the recycling boxes glistened under deep dark sky, while a fox sauntered between parked cars, and the air smelt of earth.

This morning, early, before the sun had risen, but the sky had started to show itself shifting from black to that dark blue, that is full of light to come; 3 seagulls flew the air currents in the distance, then, later on I saw 2 black crows walking across the road together feather to feather. After that, one solitary magpie glided through the crisp air into a tree, chatak chataking.

As I write now, it is evening, there is a blackbird in that firework tree out front, singing his little heart out, and beyond the firework tree, darkening sky, with sounds of cars passing the end of the street then; silence, as lights twinkle on in people’s windows across the way.

In the afternoon the sun was shining, kids playing on bikes in the road with little yelps and laughter and, a family washing their car. It was lovely to see so many people out all at once.

These had been the ordinary, simple things of life in my road today, as I headed towards the park. The caravan cafe was there, and people, all sorts, sitting around at old wooden tables and on chairs scattered about; wrapped up warm. And there were dogs running, barking, playing, chasing balls and sticks; one barking up at a tree where a squirrel climbed out of reach.

As I walked back home I heard that song by the Specials “A message to you”, coming from a car. The driver had a relaxed smile on their face and the world felt soft as velvet, as I found myself singing along, body starting to walk in rhythm. The sun shared the rest of the day with me.

Then I arrived back home, and looked out of the window at the red bricked walled house opposite, wondering about the lives of the people inside as the sun, ever so slowly, started to disappear from this little piece of sky, and I reflected on all the things I didn’t achieve, and thought, perhaps I will do them soon. But for now, I will pick up my guitar, and see what I can remember, and then tonight I will light the candles, turn off the lamps, and perhaps, practice. Tomorrow is another day, another week, and I am going to search out the beauty in every busy filled moment of it, living, to my own pace.

Photo by Nickype—pixabay

Joy dots

The smell of hyacinths

Still clear dark skies

Birdsong

Humanity

Frosted night air

New day before the sun has risen

Possibility

New beginnings

Day to night and night to day

Candlelight stillness

Recipe

Spaghetti with creamy butternut squash purée

This was a tasty dish. I cooked the butternut squash in some water then puréed half of it with lemon, salt, black pepper and cream. I sautéd some sliced onion and garlic matchsticks in butter then added courgette. Meanwhile the spaghetti was cooking. Finally I tossed the cooked spaghetti into the sauted courgette, onion and garlic, along with the rest of the squash, and served on the creamy butternut squash purée. Quick to make, easy to eat, tasty.

Update

I have been spending a lot of time designing a new website, in February I will develop it. I gave a Peaceful Belly talk last week at the Bath Rebalance festival. Soon I will be piloting my 21-Day Ayurvedic Challenge, then I will begin writing the book of this, serialising it as I write for my paying subscribers. I think this will be the image I use at the top of my homepage, do you like it?

Imbolc and Candlemas

I’m looking forward to these festivals of light this week, Thursday 1st and Friday 2nd February. I shall fill my home with candle light and search for snowdrops. This is the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It is a time for new beginnings and the return of the light. In Ayurveda the principle of light is sattva. Sattva is one of the gunas. The gunas bring energetic qualities that underpin everything— the other two are rajas and tamas. Sattva makes light possible, rajas makes action possible and tamas enables mass to exist. Light, action and mass mean that we get to live out our human lives on this, incredible, planet called Earth. And so, I thought I could pop up an extra letter this week, by Wednesday, with a list of all sorts of sattvic ways you could feed your mind and body.

Photo by Udayaditya Barua—Unsplash

I’m starting to write another episode of my Sam ‘Fall Asleep’ story for kids. I thought I could share it, for anyone who has children. You can find the first episode here. I will record them soon, dreadful the way it is taking me so long to understand the software!

“Sam sloshed both his Wellington boots into the puddle beneath the tree out front of his house, then continued to splash his way down the road. The sun was out but it had rained all night, and then, another downpour while he was eating breakfast. This meant he could enjoy getting splashed by the cars as they swooshed through the water on the road. He and his mum were going to the little wood where there would be mud and lots of squelching. And they would pass the place where time stopped.

On the way they splattered through a park that had a bridge over the little railway, and watched a train slowly rattling along, then they went under an arch, and down some steps onto the canal. Sam stood mesmerised by the water sparkling around a big duck, with lots of baby ducks, soft and furry. He bent down and put out his hand. They paddled past in a wobbly line taking no notice of him, and as they passed by, he smiled.

To get to the wood they had to follow the canal for half an hour, then turn off and up some old stone steps onto a muddy path. This was the place where his mum said, time stood still. It was a place you could come, when you wanted the world to stop. And then, when you came back, the world started again, in a way that you liked.

Sam loved it here, because he knew that a little further on there were three little streams under falling down trees, where he could make dams and splash, and walk across tree trunks, and fall in the water, and not mind. And then, when he was ready for something to eat, his mum would get out a bag, with sandwiches and cakes and hot drinks. And they’d sit on a tree trunk looking up into the branches, searching for birds, or just looking at the twinkling sunshine. Then, they would wander around the wood, searching for creatures, and when they returned to the place where there was no time, they would stand and watch the sheep in a field, and sometimes, Sam heard bells ringing from a distant church.

Sam would happily spend all day in that wood, but eventually he would have to go home. And on this day, he splashed all along the pavement because the rain had returned and he and his mum, were getting completely soaking wet, as they sang, “this little heart of mine”.

Once home, Sam got cosy and warm, ate some tea, and went to bed, listening to the sound of the wind, as it blew the branches of the tree out front, feeling all wrapped up in his cosy duvet, eyelids, ever so slowly, closing, as he felt himself, drift off to sleep. Once asleep he dreamed. He dreamed of owls, and ships, and that he was…”

Photo by kevinsphotos—pixabay

Wishing you the warmest of weeks,

Lucy x