This has been a week of waiting. We have not heard from our funders.
No news could be good news. No news is not “No.” No news could mean she’s forwarded the file to the next level. It could mean she’s been called to do some traveling again. She could have been away part of this week – caught the flu, family issues, holidays.
The last time she had to tell us no, she told us right away. If it was no, surely we would have heard. Right now no news means “nothing yet.”
It’s been an anxious week.
Thank goodness we’ve had continuous sunshine. It makes it easy to get outside. One day, I heard the bald eagles chattering overhead. I looked up and watched them ride the updrafts, the tuck their wings and tumble down, bumping against each other, weaving together, then sweeping apart and rising again.
When I brought the garbage cans back in, I found a greeting taped to the lid:
Brady left his Christmas greeting on every garbage can lid in town.
The dogs and I went to Big Beach to discover an unusually low tide.
Without the water, the beach looked barren. Unworldly.
Kinda like Sudbury in the 60s.
After two weeks of gorgeous weather, the beach driftwood has begun to dry out, looking like the sun-bleached bones of long-extinct sea creatures.
As the sun set, it looked as though the beach bones might come back to life:
The sunset always brings me back to the moment. It clears my head.
Unless I’m distracted by someone elses’ serenity, and feel the need to take a picture:
While at the beach, I met a local who had some extra jarred salmon. Since salmon is my favourite fish, I asked if he’d sell me some of his catch and he obliged. My fridge is filling up with local fish! The salmon is so good I could just eat it right from the jar. I might just do that.
Earlier this week I got my first dozen eggs from the chicken lady up the street. At $4 a dozen, these are the cheapest, freshest free range organic eggs available.
You have not had eggs until you’ve eaten them fresh. Fresh eggs have yolks that just don’t want to break. I tried to whisk my fresh eggs and the yolks just kept spinning around in the bowl. I had to mash them down before whisking.
Yesterday, I had French toast with local eggs, bread I’d made the day before and maple syrup from the south east side of the Island. There’s such a simple, satisfying feeling attached to eating food that is fresh, which you had a hand in producing. This is how far removed I was from my food in Toronto – I rarely made anything from scratch and when I did, the ingredients came from so far away I was detached from the process. Here, eating has become an emotionally satisfying experience. I feel grounded. I feel fed.