Rust and leaves on an enamelled garden table.
In the Grove, a squirrel sits on a bare branch. It is quite still. It appears to be happy except that it is making the extraordinary noise that squirrels make. This is something between the quack of a duck and the squelch of a wellington boot half full of water, when you try to walk in it.
A soup of fresh, home-made chicken stock and wafer thin slices of vegetables - carrot, celery, spring onion, cherry tomato halves. You prepare the vegetables - nothing should be more than a millimeter across - except for the baby tomato halves, which you set aside. Bring the fragrant stock to the boil. Add the vegetables and cook for one minute. Add the tomato halves and cook for half a minute. Serve in a delicate white china bowl. Season each bowl with a squeeze of lemon juice and perhaps a sliver of fresh ginger. You have one of the prettiest, quickest, most tasty and health-giving soups, you can imagine.
4 comments:
I love the colours and the circle in your photo, the description of the squirrel's noise, and the fresh-sounding soup makes my mouth water. All such simple things...
A "delicate" china bowl, indeed. Now there's classy.
Word verification for this comment is "bousy". A hint that curry is best appreciated while the weather's cold?
Wonderful capture in words of that plaintive-sounding wail made by squirrels this time of year. But what does it mean? I've asked and asked and nobody seems to know ...
Surprising isn't it what rust can do in the way of art, M-l!
BB. I'm afraid it has to be delicate and white if the soup is to be seen at its best. It would not work in the homely earthernware bowls reserved for heartier soups, such as French onion soup.
I, too, wish I knew what the squirrels mean when they make that noise, I've watched and listened and there seems to be nothing that threatenss them or distresses them, except perhaps me watching them.
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