Life has been random, as is its nature, and so shall this be.
I hadn’t intended to make rye bread any time soon. I made a large batch a couple of weeks ago. (A small batch isn’t worth the effort, as you have to mix the starter three days in advance.) I love it, but I’m the only one who eats it. I have five of my six small loaves left in the freezer. On the other hand, I had not reckoned with the baking gremlins. I was intending to make Indian chapattis to go with lentil and tomato soup for dinner. I grabbed the nearest canister of non-white flour and mixed. Only one problem – once blended with water, it became very clear that the grain in question was quite a dark brown and sticky into the bargain. I took a bite, and sure enough, I had grabbed the rye flour instead of the whole wheat. That left me a choice – either toss it out, or add another cup of water and a bit of yeast and let is start fermenting. So after I’d pulled out another bowl and made the intended chapatti dough, I turned my mistake into the basis for another batch of rye bread, which is now bubbling away happily. It’ll be ready to bake with on Sunday, and I’m figuring that this one will be seedless raisin rye, just for fun.
Our son will be a C.I.T. (counselor in training) for the day camp he attended last summer. They’ve never had a C.I.T. program before, but they had a couple of kids they really wanted to keep that would have otherwise been too old – Joseph and his girlfriend. He starts Monday, and he’s tremendously excited. I’m not sure if it’s about camp, about the prospect of some responsibility, or about spending every week day for the next six weeks with T. It doesn’t really matter, though; what matters is his about-to-jump-out-of-his-skin enthusiasm. But one of the things that came with it was a staff meeting this last Tuesday, and after it we got some carry-out and went to have a picnic.
It was the perfect day for it; sunny and warm but not hot. Indeed, it was the first rain-free day in most of a week. J. was done eating long before I was, so he went off to explore the park a bit. It wasn’t long before he was back, urging me to hurry and finish so he could show me something.
“Something” turned out to be a whole colony of bird’s nests made out of mud. It took us a few minutes to figure out that there were birds sitting in them. They’re up in corners on the park buildings, no more than 3 or 4 inches under the eaves, so it’s quite shadowed. But there was the line of a feathery tail, and then we noticed the curve of the top of the head at the other end, one eye watching us carefully. We walked around, finding that every suitable corner had its own nest, some of them with distinct cheeping sounds coming from inside. We watched for awhile, until I saw a bird fly in and another fly out, and there was that distinctive divided tail. They’re small, fast, and absolutely beautiful in the air. Finally, after much wandering around, one of the adult birds hopped up to sit on the edge of the nest and I got a picture with my phone. Not a great shot, but good enough to compare to a photo at home, and sure enough – barn swallows! I’m trying to figure out how to set up a place they would consider appropriately safe from our cats to lure them to nest here. Not only are the a delight to watch, but they evidently eat their weight in insects daily. Given the bugs around here, that sounds wonderful! It shouldn’t be too hard, as the birds actually prefer rough wood to painted surfaces. They need something that their mud nests can adhere to.
And that’s life. I just let Tornado in the door, and watched as she got past her nemesis (Cloud) by the simple expedient of jumping over her. Tornado ignored my laughter; Cloud licked her paw and then wandered off as if to say “We planned that game of leap-frog”. Tomorrow I’m planning to drive over to Chicago for the day, and Sunday His Boyness wants to go swimming, weather permitting. Not terribly eventful, and even though some of the eventfulness of the past month or so was joyous, the calm is wonderful.