Life has been busy this week, in a very joyful sort of way. I’ve been doing a lot of walking and some running too. On Tuesday, after a walk-run morning, John and I had an impromptu lunch date at a favorite sushi restaurant in mid-town Knoxville. If one had been sitting nearby and listening closely, a conversation related to travel plans for the upcoming year might have been overheard. Plans that include another long van trip late summer 2024, though the details are not firm. And also maybe, a walking holiday, as we did five years ago on the Cleveland Way in England. Negotiating the walk location has been a stumbling point in recent years as our ideas for European travel are somewhat different. We may be closer to narrowing down an agreeable location now, fingers crossed for luck!
Much to my delight, we have reached that time of year where a good breeze will send downed leaves swirling in the air. Fall colours are becoming more visible on each walk we take. This area has been so dry, that I am not sure we will reach full glory. The fact that fall is arriving later and later provides a glimmer of hope that the colours will improve. This week, reds are becoming more saturated, and a bit of orange is visible here and there, but yellows seem to fade quickly, and the majority of leaves seem to move from green to brown without so much as a colour fanfare.
I did my last run for the week on Sunday morning. John and I went to a greenway along the Tennessee River, at Cherokee Farms so he could walk Katie while I ran. The sky was an interesting mix of dark grey clouds with pockets of sunny blue. Sounds of church bells from nearby steeples competed for airtime with the motors of yachts racing down river. Weekend football festivities were over, and the Vol Navy was on the move. The trip home should have been a happy one for the boats full of football revelers, the University of Tennessee beat Texas A & M in a very messy, but effective game.
On this run I was finally able to string together a few miles of running without walking. A few years ago, I would have been frustrated by this process, a little embarrassed that I had fallen into such running disrepair. But this year, as I work my way through my 71st year, the effort is a success for me and an accomplishment I celebrate!
On Thursday we joined friends Bill and Nancy for lunch at local eatery, Holly’s Gourmet Market and Cafe. John and I haven’t patronized Holly’s in a long while and were pleased with the menu selection. I had a Smoked Turkey Rueben with kimchi slaw. The sandwich was above expectation, but the slaw could have had more kick. We sat around for several hours, talking about our travels and life around our neighborhood. Conversation is never lagging with these two and it was a lively afternoon.
Nancy and I continued the day by taking a short walk around the UT Gardens to see the last of the summer flowers. The garden has changed many times over the years and right now I find it heavy on grass and light on flowers. But it is mid-October so that should be expected. I took a number of pictures and will share just a few.
Among the last of the blooming flowers at the UT Gardens, is goldenrod. I love goldenrod but have a bad relationship with its similar (but not the same) yellow flower companion, ragweed. As a child, I thought goldenrod and ragweed were the same. I have always been attracted to the colour yellow and, one fall, when I was maybe 7-8, I gathered a big, bouquet of what I thought was beautiful goldenrod to take to my mother. I proudly presented the flowers to her and patiently waited for her to thank me. You see, in my mind, as I was picking the flowers, I was sure she would heap praise on me and tell me I was such a thoughtful child. Instead of thank you, she shrieked and threw open the front door. She instructed me to take the flowers outside immediately and get rid of them.
My poor child ego. What an unexpected reaction to something I had imagined that she would be so happy to receive. Once she calmed down and wiped away any visible pollen, she explained that my father was highly allergic to ragweed and the pollen would set him off. Sure enough, that night, the moment he walked thru the front door, he started to sneeze and sneeze and sneeze.
His sneezes were not quiet, nope, they were full on achoos. His sneezes could rattle the walls, they shook his body and could propel him slightly forward. He did finally recover from that particularly nasty bout of hay fever and found humor in the story. Now days, every time I see goldenrod, that memory resurfaces and brings a smile to my face. As a child I brought home other flowering treasures I found outside but that was the first and last time I brought home ragweed.
Last week I also cooked up big pots of soup, as fall is surely soup season. And if a big steaming bowl of soup doesn’t bring on a feeling of joy, I am just not sure what does. I made both vegetable and chicken tortilla soup and had plans to make lentil stew, but the stew will have to wait.
The chicken tortilla soup is disappearing quickly so my plan to freeze leftovers for future weeks lunches is fading. The vegetable soup, on the other hand, is still around and waiting to be parceled into small containers and placed in the freezer. This is not my favorite vegetable soup recipe, but I have several cold weather months to experiment.
I also made Rosemary Focaccia Bread, a detour that spelled the end of the lentil stew. I had an ambitious cooking plan with too little energy. The fact that this was my first go at focaccia bread, should not be a surprise. While I carefully maintain a bubbling crock of sourdough starter, as I have said before, I enjoy the process of keeping the starter alive more than the process of baking the bread.
However, this bread bake did not require starter nor did not go as I hoped or expected. The bread came out more like pizza crust than the oily focaccia I buy at the Farmers Market. As it turns out, while reading about focaccia and trying to figure out what I did wrong, I discovered I did nothing wrong. Focaccia is supposed to be like pizza crust, soft on the inside, crispy and salty on the outside. So much for Farmers Market focaccia. My problem lies in the finishing process and the toppings. I have some work to do but I don’t plan on baking weekly bread. My waistline would never recover.
Next week is now this week and the month is flying by. We are still waiting to hear from the van dealership on which repairs are warranty and what is not. I expect we will drive back to Dayton, OH in a week or so to bring the van home, at least I hope so. We would like to squeeze in a short van trip or two before winter arrives. Meanwhile, we have another good week coming up with new adventures to experience.
Beverly
