It was A Lot to Ask of Soup

I knew it was a big ask, but hard times oblige us all to try harder. My spirit was lower than the barometric pressure yesterday and my ears were tired of the sound of the howling wind and the rain hurled at the windows in a fit of meteorological pique.

Soup. I thought soup was the answer--perhaps that was what the witches had in those stereotypical cauldrons simmering on the hearth. I was definitely looking for some magic in soup yesterday.

Red onions--that sounded invigorating and was pleasing to the eye as I chopped them on the board. Rich olive oil to colour them up and warm them through. Celery, perhaps in retrospect that was the weakest link. Although it is a sturdy vegetable, its pale green was not quite up to the task of the day to beat back the howling winds and the pervasive greyness. Chicken stock, fresh parsley--now that is a sturdy green that says sunshine and spring and calves dancing beside their mothers. And the aroma through the house should have done the trick.

I'm not saying it did not work. Magic always works in its own time and in its own way. When I woke this morning the winds at least were quiet and not much has come pelting out of the sky, but the greyness is there with such an obstinacy that I had to check the clock twice to be sure that it really was morning. It is an act of faith today to believe that there is a sun behind those clouds.

Nonetheless beneath that mantle of grey, I am getting on with things. A blogpal recently asked when do the holidays end (www.secondeffort.blogspot.com). In the back of my mind as I began filling in my 2012 diary I decided that was the answer. The holidays are over when we start not just looking forward in a vague way to the new year but sketching in the days of the new year.