Strawberries and Honey

Today is a beautiful day. Birds are chirping outside my kitchen window and although I have no name for the bouquet of wildflowers on my kitchen table, the purple blossoms are distractingly beautiful. I have jars of them all over my house. I say jars, because I own very few vases. Instead, glass jars of varying shapes and sizes cover nearly every surface of my house from the tiny daffodils in the bathroom to the kitchen sink with orange blossoms and Irises to the small oak table with the purple flowers that I must find a name for. The humble vases are the perfect vessels for wildflowers. They are my favorite vases--large clear pasta sauce jars, small wine bottles, green ginger ale bottles and pretty little bottles that once held yeast with the prettiest golden-brown hue, I could never bring myself to throw them out. Every time I use a jar, I'm addicted to tearing the labels off and throwing them in the dishwasher. Our cupboards are overflowing with glass jars, they practically spill out every time I go searching for a dish. Sometimes when my husband does the dishes, I'll open the dishwasher the following morning to find a glass jar on the top rack--it makes me smile, it is his quiet way of telling me he loves me.

Thanks to our chickens, the children and I had a breakfast of eggs whose yolks were so orange I felt bad for those who will never get to taste a farm-fresh egg. And considering that it is easier to keep chickens than a dog, they will always be my pet of choice. There are five of them in our little coop. I let them out every day. Right now, they are running around in the sunshine looking for worms. There are four rusty red ones and one that is burgundy. It makes me wonder who their mother's were and if their mother's were friends. The burgundy one is enormous. If she were a woman she would be wearing a muumuu. She lays the fattest eggs. I think she is my favorite.

The children played for awhile after breakfast. My son sat at the kitchen window drawing on construction paper. He decided to draw on the walls. Three-year olds make impressive wall washers if you give them a wet rag. I doubt he will ever do it again. He asked for his usual PB&J for lunch, but he settled for some toast with left over sweet potatoes. There was enough cream and brown sugar in the sweet potatoes that I doubted he would complain. Of course he didn't. I was craving some Greek yogurt. It is so thick and creamy, it is another addiction of mine. But it must be served in my favorite bowl. A little blue and white bowl that says England on the bottom. I've named it my porridge bowl because I imagine thats what it was once used for. Everything tastes better in that bowl. I sliced some strawberries and drizzled honey on top. My son watched me and asked for some. He now loves yogurt with honey.

My son and I went out to the garden. He ran around with the hose, getting his socks wet, while I picked perfectly green spinach for a salad. I noticed my green beans were popping up. Somehow, by the miracle of God, I planted dried green beans and after a few weeks of watering, little plants emerged with their heads still stuck inside the bean. They look like little bent over soldiers, trying to take their helmets off. They are my favorite vegetable. My mother-in-law is Italian. She cooks them with olive oil, red onion and fresh tomatoes. She sprinkles salt and pepper on top and when you're done with the beans, you really wish you had a straw to slurp the seasoned oil off your plate. She made them for my birthday party last week. I will request them every year.

I've decided that, today, I'm satisfied with the simple things in life: my flowers, my garden, and my children. I love my children most of all. I love that they are still in their jammies and my son's shirt is not only inside out, but also backwards. He dressed himself. My daughter smells like sunshine and baby powder though I don't know how that is possible as she hasn't gone outside today and I never use baby powder. But she smells that way everyday and I love it.