The View From My Window

So all my adventures came to a grinding halt at the end of last week (not that I’ve been climbing mountains or anything) when I came down with a bad cold. I’m surprised it waited so long to rear its ugly viral head since it’s been raining and cold here every single day for two weeks. One day I went walking and was bombarded by three separate showers, each with sunny spells in between. I took refuge under a tree, under a store overhang, and (best, of course) in a coffee shop.

Whoever makes these weather forecasts should be put in jail for causing so much suffering and misery among the Floridians among us. The natives just take it in stride and offer to bring me chicken soup or whatever.

Rain on the patio, ghost in the bucket

It’s not all bad, being home bound for a few days. I have found some creative and productive ways to spend my time…starting with cooking. I’m not the greatest fan of Irish recipes, but Irish meat and produce are the best. I don’t know what they do or don’t do to their chickens here, but I think you could dip a nugget in cement and bake it in a kiln and it would still come out tender. So I’ve made chicken and broccoli casserole and also beef stroganoff (with luscious Irish sour cream) and been greatly comforted, to say the least. 

Thank you, Ursy, for serving me this AMAZING array of Irish food.

I have discovered that many Irish people have never tasted a buttermilk biscuit. Can you believe that? Never tasted a biscuit! (The word “biscuit” here means cookie, as in “If you eat your dinner, you can have a biscuit later.”) 

Of course, many Americans have never savored that Irish staple known as the scone. Southern Americans think "scone" is just a word that comes up in conversation as in, “Looks like it’S cone rain agin. I declare, beats all!”

So I’ve been making batches and letting the natives try real biscuits. The white flour here is as light as White Lily, but I haven’t found any crisco so I’m using Irish butter instead. I actually think I’ll stick with the butter from now on. And if you add a little sugar and maybe a few berries, and cut it into a triangle shape, guess what you get? Yep, a scone! Who knew?

Biscuits like Mama used to make

Paul, accordion player extraordinaire, taught me three new jigs and two new reels yesterday afternoon, so I have lots of practicing to do today. I’ve also used this indoor time to catch up on my reading. I reread Love Wins by Rob Bell, a controversial book that renews my faith each time I pick it up and assures me that God is not horrified by my questions and doubts (or my honest expressing of them), but His patience is immense and His great love for us something like “from everlasting to everlasting” which sounds like a long time. If you read this short book, I’d like to discuss it with you. Send me an email.

I bowed out of a good trad session last night due to still feeling a little puny. I snuggled under the covers with Book 10 in the Poldark series and (spoiler alert!) sighed in disgruntlement as it looks like Clowance is getting back together with that “cad”, as my mother would say. Great period romance by Graham Winston (or is it Winston Graham? I always get that confused) set in 19th century Cornwall, with beautiful descriptions of the coast (and tin mining, for those of you who have that hobby).

My room here on the second floor overlooks the street below and I have imagined the sound of cars whizzing past is actually the ocean surf pounding the beach of my Gothic hideaway. I wonder if passersby see me staring out at them from time to time and imagine I’m someone’s mad wife chained in the attic. (Did I mention I also watched a Jane Eyre DVD this weekend?)

I’m feeling better today, will be in again tonight and, hopefully, ready for the weekly craic at the Monk’s pub tomorrow night. Pray for sunshine in Ireland once again. 

Btw, I taped the street sounds from my bedroom. Listen here. Don’t you hear the surf? Of course you do!