There's a pumpkin roasting in the oven, one baby girl is asleep & my big girl is at the theatre. The house is all quiet & warm. Patchy blue is starting to peek through the thick fog that we've been having for the past few days. It shrowds the town, our street, the house by five o'clock in the evening, making everything quietly slow, thick like butter, & delciously warm inside. I remembered I'd left the pram outside just as I was drifting off to sleep last night. Out of a warm bed & into my wellies I hopped, down the side of the house. The sky all aglow like a big softbox with the streetlights & low cloud. The pram, my scarf & mitts all damp. Back inside & into a warm bed. Felt so good. Niamh & I walked up the hill & into the bush this morning. We could hear the town noises below. Traffic, lawnmowers, all the neighbourhood renovations going on & we were up in this floaty whiteness, worlds away. Everything drips with the damp air. Birds sing but we can't see them. Ibis fly low over our heads with a whooshing of wings, hugging the treeline for navigation. The pea soup clears by lunchtime & then we have the most glorious few hours of sunshine. Such a mix of odd bod days. Winter & lingering autumn & then the feeling of almost spring. There are jonquils flowering already & small, sweet apples on our tree. That's never happened before. The birds & coddling moth usually get them. We've been slowly pruning our big, old tree back so it's a manageable size to net. Then there'll be apple pie & crumble. I always feel sad for some reason after pruning big trees, unless it's a privet. It's like their personality changes & they become unbalanced for a time until they've grown into their new look. The altered skyline takes a while for me to settle into. It was funny watching the girls settle up there to roost for the night, looking around for familiar branches, working out a new roosting routine. Who perches next to who, who sits the highest. Matilda was all settled, then Clothilde kinda moved on in, slowly shoving & pecking her way to where she wanted to be.
We've been walking around the neighbourhood in the mornings admiring all the gardens and the seasonal changes. I love how the nakedness of winter lets you peek into nooks and crannies, see views that are otherwise obscured by the green of spring and summer. Mushrooms and moss, withering seed heads and plump buds ready to burst when spring arrives. There's a currawong sittng outside the window scoffing the purple privet berries. His beady yellow eyes see me as I move to get my camera and he's gone. The currawongs call all day in their dipping voices. There seem to be more of them this year, have you noticed that too? Now, cauliflower soup. Doesn't sound that appealing but oh my stars. It is so simple & crazy good. All creamy & more-ish. I know there's a pic up there of leeks because we made leek and potato soup too, but the cauliflower is much, much better.
800g cauliflower florets
600ml water, more or less deending on how thick you like it
100-200g speck or smoked bacon
1 tbsp butter
salt & pepper to taste
Place water, cauliflower and seasoning into a pot. Bring to a boil then simmer gently until the cauliflower is cooked. While the cauliflower is simmering fry up the bacon. When cauliflower is soft add the butter and bacon. Blend until smooth. Serve with a sprinkling of parmesan.
