WATCHING THE MELT

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

I’ve SO miss Caro’s presence for the past few months---she’s had a bit of a knee problem, and would rather not brave the stairs except for absolute occasions when everything really HAS to be down here in the bigger space---like Christmas Eve Dinner and our little tea party.

 

We both cook, and send some of our dishes up and down to share, for her schedule is so odd to ours that we seldom ever have a meal together.  It has customarily been our habit to have Sunday night supper together, down here, perhaps on trays, with a good TV show we all enjoy, and Monday nights are usually Sweetpea and her family here to eat with all of us.

 

So our several Sunday Brunches up in her sitting room have been a bright spot in our cold days---it’s bright and warm and comfortable, and we sit long at the table and chat for hours sometimes.

 

We were all snow-bound for three days, and it was just a relaxing, stay-at-home, wear-your-new-flannel-pants-all-day time, with lots of catching up on TIVO shows, reading whilst something simmered in a fragrant pot, and just BEING for a while after all the “throws” of Christmas. 

 

 Then on Sunday the 5^th, the sun was bright on the snow, and we settled in for one more of our little gatherings up in Caro’s sitting room, before the marimba-key table is folded into its handy bag for Spring outings.

 

She’d brought home on-sale roses for the little square red glass  bowl, and I made the grits and gravy downstairs while she baked the biscuits and cooked the scrambled eggs.

 

 

 

A quick bake of can-popped GRANDS, and the wrapped pan in upper corner is another of those heavenly lemon Danish coffee-cakes.

 

Pot of old fashioned Grits.

 

I seared several pieces of a nice ham steak, just a quick 1-2-3 in a hot skillet to sizzle both sides, and then popped in two jumbo eggs for Chris, who likes the unctuous blend of broken yolks in his buttery grits.  A little oil into the skillet, all the bits of yummy sizzly ham remnants scraped up, then a bit of flour to brown and make hot-water gravy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ham-and-egg plate before he trimmed away the egg whites and we removed our ham slices.

 

 

 

My plate, with gravy on the biscuits and his egg whites.  Bowls of tangy-bitter pink grapefruit all around, and some time in there, Chris disappeared downstairs, to return with every jar of Smuckers in the fridge.

 

 

Lots of talk and tea and coffee refills, as the sun slanted through the blinds, and we watched the melt drip from the eaves and bushes.

 

Fulsome and refreshing and sustaining, these blessings.