Spring

I am one of the lucky ones. Four day weekend. We throw off the jackets and ride our bikes, no destination, just the pleasure of feeling sunshine on arms, legs, necks, the pleasure of warm wind, of sweat. We indulge in naps in the afternoon and leave the dishes in the sink for another day. In the evening – games with friends. Wizard. Balderdash. Taboo. Someone writes something so absurd during a game of Balderdash that we all laugh so long and so hard our cheeks ache.
Flowers. I will soon have red bunches, like fireworks, bursting in colour on my windowsill. I am surprised at how happy the thought makes me. Even more so, the realization that I've had the plant for over a year, that it thrives and lives and that I took care of it.

On Saturday we climb, shop, and spend the evening with friends. Fondu – cheese and chocolate! Oh the sinfulness, the decadence, the calories, the laughs. Like children we delight in dying some eggs. I dip mine in a vibrant blue and suddenly remember Kiev. Years ago. Brown, onion skin dyed eggs surround a fresh pass-ha, a kind of sweet raisin bread. My grandmother brews me some strong, lose lief black tea, and I eat my egg, watching the dusk settle on the city outside the large bay window of our communal kitchen.

On Sunday I spend the day on my own. Remembering the freedom it offers, I explore the city, have dinner in my favourite place, eat ice cream and lazily pick a recipe to try for dinner. This time, some deconstructed sushi from Super Natural Cooking by Heidi Swanson.