This morning I stood at the kitchen sink and ate two South Carolina peaches. (All the Texas peaches burned up long ago in the drought).
I didn't peel them (all those vitamins in the skin!) but washed, then cut pieces off the whole fruit and ate over the sink to avoid a mess.
My breakfast companion was a squirrel who ran down the bois d'arc tree beyond the window, stopped on St. Francis' head, and then bounded to the ground to pick up a piece of the fruit HE was working on. Squirrels love those things (we call them "bowdarks" in the vernacular") but one is too large for a squirrel to carry, so they are separated in to several chunks.
This morning, my friend hopped down, aware there was another squirrelly fellow coming behind him, and picked up a piece of bowdark that made me shake my head. "Buddy," I said, "that one is too big for you!"
But he grabbed it, sank in his teeth, and bounded back up the tree (via the good saint, so helpfully placed.)
And dropped it.
And he jumped down again, grabbed it, jumped up, and got a little farther...
before he dropped it.
It took both of my peaches for him to decide to split it in half and go with the smaller portion. Before he returned, the second squirrel had dashed off with that...possibly what the first was trying to prevent.
It reminded me of me, how much in a hurry I get and how I resist stopping, standing still, seeing an easier way. A slower way. Taking time to make a plan and carry it out, working ahead so my days don't end up with me getting along "by my shirt-tails."
This weekend I will be cooking, blending, and freezing a lot of food. Ken's ready to eat more often in the day and to feed himself, so things need to be prepared in advance.
You can blenderize ANYTHING.
Nom nom nom.
