The world on my table

Olive oil, carrying riches from far away Italy. A little puddle.

Now simmering gold at the bottom of the silver pot.

The spices thrown in: turmeric, garam masala, coriander from India releasing a bouquet so rich, just enough to close the eyes and breathe the fragrant air.

Onions, local, ginger from China, garlic, local, all shredded, kissing the spices briefly before tumbling playfully around with them.

Carrots, local, holding the summer sun pressed tightly along their lengths. Cut in chunks and sent into the playground, now wearing coats of all that has gone before them.

Then the stock, lovingly made with the bones of forgotten roasts a month - maybe two - ago. 5 cups.

Simmering on the wood stove for, it doesn't matter. An hour, two.

Withdrawn then, nose hovering above, catching all these blended magnificences, unique yet now together.

Then the coconut milk. From the Caribbean. Folded in. Softly whisked.

Pureed into a red bowl.

Gently bottled up. Labelled. Dated.

Sunshine from around the world.

Asleep now.

To awaken in the short days of winter.

Can You Imagine?

Yeah, to get my mind off awful awful awful stuff in the world (another case of bombing one country into democracy and, rah-rah - freedoms, oh puhleese!), radiation ever spanning outwards from godforsaken Japan, another blasted Canadian election due to no confidence in Harper (Bush-lite) and his lackies, oceans so acidic that seals, dolphins and whales are kami-kazing on beaches everywhere, no support, study or funding by the Canadian government on alternative MS treatments (yes, I have a personal interest in that one)and our neighbour down south - I won't even go there as everybody USian is trying to go backwards into 1852 or thereabouts with ROE chipping, Union chipping, LGBT chipping, and GE, their biggest corporation with record profits paying absolutely no taxes whatsoever in 2010, I will speak of pleasant things, uplifting things, non-thinking things.

Get this. I used to sing and act in the day. Pre-emigration to Canada. Pre-marriage, pre-children. Way back. Got that?

And now on April 15th, 2011, there is a reunion of my theatre company. In Cork. A big dinner. With dancing and singing and drinking (for those who do) and tale swapping and OMG-you-haven't-changed-a-bitting. Well, we all must have. Last time we all performed together was in 1966. And quite a few of us are still vertical on this side of the daffodils.

And it was a wonderful time, those four years of intense rehearsals and the world being our oyster and how young we were and full of dreams and talent and greasepaint and flouncy costumes and breathtaking voices and youth, rosy cheeked beautiful gorgeous youth.

I can hardly wait.