On a recent morning, I was working in my writing room (aka my bedroom) because it was still too chilly to write outside. The windows were open, though, and as I worked on a poem, I heard the beautiful trilling call of a young cowbird perched on the magnolia outside. I slipped quietly to the open window and watched as he puffed up his wings and trilled again and again. “Welcome, spring,” he called. “Welcome.”

That night, the kids and I ate dinner outside: grilled marinated chicken, fingerling potatoes, and crisp, raw baby carrots. While we ate, we watched, and were occasionally splashed by, the house finches cleaning themselves in the bird bath on the roof patio above us. They like to stand on the edge of the roof and shake their wings, sending droplets onto the deck below. Do they know that they splash us? I like to think so.

Yesterday was stormy, wind driving the rain into the window panes and throwing tree limbs to the ground like a child angry with a favorite toy. A good baking day. I made focaccia bread … twice. I decided that the first result (is focaccia a loaf? An edible plate?)  wasn’t spongy enough so I made a second. Both tasted great but the second was definitely spongier. 

I’m still not quite satisfied but the clock said it was too late to make a third. I’ll share the recipe below in case you have an urge to try it. Because our kitchen tends to be very cold (62F is the norm during the winter), I let my bread machine do the rise but if it were summer, hand-kneading the dough and a rise on the counter would be my preference.  Also, because we like rosemary, I sprinkled the top with rosemary and a little sea salt before baking. 

Today is catch up on writing projects day … which is why I’m procrastinating by writing a blog entry. HA. I have a couple stories by critique partners to review. I also have a pre-publication book to review. It’s a YA romance and I’m super-excited to read it. I’ll share details later.

I got my first vaccine dose last week. It was a remarkable experience. There were hundreds of people at the location I used, some in line, some volunteering. After a year of sorrow and death and anxiety and isolation, the mood was joyful. People were smiling. Strangers were talking about what they’ve missed and “when I get my next shot, I’m going to ….” For me, hearing — over and over — I’m going to hug my mom, sibling, grandmother, child, friend, was the most emotional part of the experience. I really do think, if we can get the mutations under control, we’re going to have another “roaring twenties.”   However, the pandemic isn’t under control. Only 28% of the US population is vaccinated. That’s a lot of people but not nearly enough. 

Be safe. 

Keep wearing your mask. 

Don’t be John Jefferson Williams. 

Much love.

Enjoy the focaccia bread.