Trouble with my own tendency to throw myself into the inspiration of the moment that is, with little regard as to the repercussions with my own internal “should” monitor.
October always seems to be one of those months that gets too busy too fast and this October has been no exception: the beginning of the “arts” season, four trips, a Camp Grandma weekend. That would be excessive in and of itself, but somehow I failed to factor in the most critical thing of all, namely who I would be when I moved back into the house. And I have been caught somewhat by surprise.
Admittedly some miscalculations were made. I made plans assuming that I would be settled in the house by the end of the summer, but work on the house ended just before Labor Day, and I underestimated my ability to settle during the work. I also somehow underestimated the pull that creating this space would have on me. At the moment I want nothing more than to finish unpacking and settling, to disappear into creative pursuits and dreams. It feels like I have been putting this off too long, and now it is time to put off other things so I can do what my heart has been calling me to do.
But as I said, I underestimated that pull, and said yes to some things I should not have. And so here I am, writing a post in an airport, while I go off on my third trip of October, a trip I, in no way, regret. But when I was home I wanted nothing more really than for the world to disappear and to leave me to unpack, settle, nest, play with yarn and fiber and fabric, patterns and dreams, but obligation would raise its head, and it would leave a crack open for my stubborn inner critic, always ready to criticize my choices.
I did play though, although not in the studio.
I needed food and I went to the Farmer’s Market. Once there I was quickly inspired. I am not complaining. I had missed that inspiration to play in the kitchen. I do, however wonder why it had to arise at such an inconvenient time, in a short busy week between trips. Or perhaps therein lies the secret to happiness — pursuing your dreams when it is not easy to do so, much as the same way helping others when one is tired and wants nothing more than to be alone, is exactly what our souls need to soar the highest. P
One of the things I found at that farmer’s market, which was a week ago now, was fresh ginger root. I bought a couple of pounds, and proceeded to pickle it. There are a couple of jars of pickled ginger sitting in my refrigerator now, happily doing their thing while I am away. I also tried using the ginger stems to infuse some tea. The stems had a subtle flavor and although it was good, it was not a completely successful experiement. I ended up turning the tea into a green tea/ginger leaf syrup, which was an improvement, and I concentrated it and froze it for use upon my return.
I also discovered that the ginger leaves are quite edible and have a lovely, if subtle, ginger flavor. I stir fried a bunch with that large yellow oyster mushroom and a little chicken breast for dinner before tossing the remaining leaves into the infusion. In retrospect, I think the leaves also would have made a nice ginger-leaf kimchi, and I’ve put a note in my calendar for next year.
A bottle of wine that sat in my car for the extended trip home from sewing camp, was the basis for starting a batch of red wine vinegar, and I started a batch of malt vinegar as well, using some dark gluten-free beer. I suppose my vinegar will not be true malt vinegar as it contains no barley, but I hope something good comes from the experiement anyway.
The fermentation kick was partially inspired by all those red peppers I found at the market. The idea was to make a salt-brine fermented sriracha. I started by chopping all those hot peppers in the food processor but I was a little nervous, perhaps more so than I needed to be, or perhaps not, about burning my eyes, so I did it outside on the deck, wearing the goggles from my circular saw over my glasses while I worked. I may have been a sight to see, but I did not take a picture. Nor did I take a picture of the peppers either, which are happily bubbling away in a crock in my basement.
I discovered lovely carrots with beautiful greens, and bought two bunches. In fact the farmer from which I purchased the carrots was very happy to give me extra bunches of greens that he had trimmed for prior customers, enough that I made a batch of carrot-greens soup to get me through the week and still had extra to freeze for future, off-season, use.
As I write this, I remember how happy the time in the kitchen made me. Remember the wonderful meals: Curried chicken, Szechuan okra, various roasted vegetables, a fabulous cauliflower salad and am happy that I indulged in this creative outburst, even if it meant neglecting other creative pursuits. Winter will be here soon enough, the market will mostly continue to slow down and eventually end, and there will be long weeks when little inspires me to cook. Rather than beating myself up over the things I wasn’t doing — unpacking, cleaning the house, blogging, etc — I should have cut myself some slack. This is, in the end, exactly what I want to be able to do in this time of life, have time to indulge and even sometimes over-indulge in passions.
And of course the added benefit is that I will also get to eat well. Perhaps gratitude is best found in the most difficult corners, when one is too tired to look.
