Going home, leaving home

In Cape Town I look forward to:

My mom's smile
My dad's hug
Tipsy's voice
The wriggling, grunting happiness of two corgi dogs
The fanning tail wave of an old black lab
Driving a real car (yes, that surprised me, too)
Sitting on the patio with a drink (longing, with all my heart, that Vince was beside me, gulp, and he won't be)

Perfect coffee at Melissa's - called a flat white, which might be South African karmic humour
Buying boerewors anywhere
Cashiers in supermarkets who smile and greet you and seem to mean it
Picking flowers from the garden to put on the table
African sunshine
My mother's effortless light lunches

Seeing my old cream bedroom with the long curtains
The sound of birds in the morning
Hadedas yelling as they fly over the house
Tasting the best, red-fleshed figs
Smelling the fynbos on the mountain
Buying the first, muscat-y hanepoot grapes of season

It is a bittersweet trip. I long to share it with Vince, and we just can't this time. We spent a lot of time apart when we first met, separated by this huge continent and a border, and we have been very lucky to spend three consecutive northern winters in South Africa together. So I'll just make the most of it, which is of course not hard to do, lest I sound spoiled. Hunt some stories, take a lot of pictures, and have the pleasure of introducing a friend who has never set foot on the continent to her first taste of Africa.

2011 in 66 Square Feet

A good year for strawberries, a lean year for figs. A good year for potatoes and tomatoes, even if the latter were cut short (by me) ahead of the promised destruction by Irene, who fizzled out. 2011 saw the introduction of Clematis 'Etoile Violette' to the terrace and a currant to the roof farm. Peas did not work in April but are still working in December. The parsley keeps on trucking, and next year I will not grow oregano. I may grow more basil. For those tomatoes.

We had snow in October and summer in pre-winter. A hurricane or two. There was a small earthquake. There were photographers. It has been interesting.

 I have put the terrace to bed (though I hear it may yet see some Christmas lights).

Thank you terrace, for a good year. For sun and rain, refuge and diversion, introductions and inspiration and, always, occupation. And the braais weren't bad, either.

See you next year.

F Train commute

Going with the flow.

Broadway, Saturday afternoon

Below Canal Street.

Cherries in winter, contd.

This is the "Autumnalis" cherry in Columbus Park in Chinatown.Yesterday afternoon it had three others, also in bloom,  and about 400 Chinese men for company, crowded around tables playing cards and dominoes and a game I could not see, the crowd was that thick. Another small group sang Christmas carols in Chinese, wearing Santa hats. Fifty feet away two old men played sliding songs on erhus and a third, even older man, sang along in a cracked voice. The park was packed, as it always is, and every activity seemed communal. Two tourists were tsk'ing at the cherries, saying angrily, But they're going to die when it freezes! They left before I could explain.

Mushroom lasagna

Photo: Vincent Mounier

Happening now. Work in progress. I have always liked mushrooms, but with this year's extra mushroom hunting  - hen of the woods, meadow mushrooms, Agaricus subrufescens, chicken of the woods, oysters (of course) - I have been thinking of more ways to eat them. I'm perfectly happy to eat mushrooms on toast, and perhaps have yet to be convinced that there is a better conveyance for a buttery mushroom. 

The mushrooms for this lasagna are all store bought - buttons, portobellos, king oysters. Terrace thyme, labneh (a Middle Eastern cream cheese, like very thick yogurt), salt, pepper, and bechamel spiked with parmesan.

It's all in the oven now, smelling pretty good. On the radio The Prairie Home Companion is playing. Itzhak Perlman was perfect, with a wonderful radio voice.

Happy Saturday night.

Cherry blossom in December

Prunus subhirtella "Autumnalis" makes its annual appearance on this blog - it excites people in winter and rewards prophets of apocalypse by confirming their worst fears. The Plants Are Confused. But this is one unconfused cherry. She blooms now, and will again in early spring. This tree was in the Bronx. There's also a stunning specimen in Columbus Park in Chinatown which I saw only in the middle of the night, in profuse bloom. Perhaps I'll go back, in sunshine.