So Unexpected

I composted the tired evergreen boughs in my window boxes today. There were acorn squashes in there too, repurposed from my Halloween spread. I pulled out the boughs of cedar and pine, then the sodden squashes, long sunken and engulfed by the evergreens. The bodies separated from their stems, soft and broken. But when they were vibrant they were a highlight through the winter. So unexpected. 

The house looks naked now, frozen in the liminal state before trees have blossomed but long after wintery decor has waned. It’s also a time when the snow has melted and all that we have left is the truth: chip bags and paper coffee cups clustered in our basement window wells, blown by the wind, faded by the cold sun and squashed by the weight of winter. I pick up the garbage and turn to face the house directly across the street from ours. The previous owner abandoned it twenty-five years ago, furniture and all. She lives in a retirement home nearby, too overwhelmed by the house to return. Someone took care of it over the years, checking on the heat and water, making sure the pipes didn’t freeze. I dreamed of buying it at one point, to revive it for a family, but it didn’t make sense to spend all that money just so I could see a soft glow of life and light through the windows at night. Someone else has revived it, and now there are five university students living there, adding light and life to my view. But the light is from a fluorescent luminous tube hanging on the living room wall, twisted in the shape of a bearded goat wearing sunglasses. So unexpected. 

Later I went out for lunch with my friend Lynne. We ate tuna rolls topped with spicy mayo and talked about writing, reading, downtown living and how important a touch of the ‘unexpected’ is in life. The idea came from a comment fashion blogger Jeninne Jacob had made about Jenna Lyons, the American fashion designer and former creative director of J. Crew. Jacob says that Lyons’s outfits over the years have always included pieces that don’t belong - a fur collar with overalls, denim with pink taffeta, a baseball cap with a tuxedo jacket. The juxtapositions work, and have inspired Jacob to always ask herself, what doesn’t belong here? What rules should I break? In Jacob’s case it’s a leopard print blouse with sweatpants and cowboy boots. So unexpected.

That afternoon I made a pot of licorice tea. (I have been trying to drink less caffeine throughout the day. Remember the new me from last week?) I boiled the kettle and cracked open my laptop. I’m back in the kitchen to write this week. Our builder is still working upstairs; there’s nowhere to hide. But there’s something special about this guy. I can hear In the Arms of An Angel emanating from his paint-splattered boombox. He likes Sarah McLachlan. So unexpected.

I pour the tea into a mug and stare at the dark, reflective liquid. I miss the creaminess of coffee, the froth, the density. So I heated up the cashew milk I made earlier in the week. Cashews don’t need soaking. Blended with a pitted date, a splash of vanilla and a pinch of sea salt and cinnamon, it’s the easiest nut milk to make. And as it turns out, it’s lovely and creamy in herbal tea. So unexpected. 

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Cashew Milk

1 cup raw cashews

4 cups filtered water

pinch of sea salt

1 date with pit removed

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Rinse cashews until the water runs clear. Place them in a high speed blender with 2 cups of the water and blend on low speed for up to 2 minutes until the cashews are pulverized. Add the remaining 2 cups of water, salt, date, vanilla and cinnamon. Continue to blend until everything is completely smooth and creamy. Transfer to a lidded glass jar and store in the fridge for up to 5 days.

Shake well before using.

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A few more thoughts - 

1.  I enjoyed this episode of The Secret Library where host

   Caroline Donahue
   talked to Kern Carter about the business of writing and how writers can potentially earn more money by promoting their work in unexpected ways. 

2. Have you watched the 2024 Oscar winning documentary short, The Last Repair Shop, co-directed by Nova Scotian Ben Proudfoot? It tells the story of a ‘dwindling handful of devoted craftspeople maintaining over 80,000 student musical instruments, the largest remaining workshop in America of its kind.’ Have tissues handy. 

1. I’m making Colu Henry’s tiramisu for Easter dessert. I’ll have to wash out my glass trifle dish that is currently filled with powdered laundry detergent - a leftover from the early days of the newly renovated laundry room when I was trying to make chores pretty. I’ll report back.