Simply Moments

Every Spring, Turkey Vultures return to southern Oregon from their Winter migration in South America, their 3-foot wingspan enabling them to soar over the mountains and drift lazily with the thermals over the valleys.  I watched one float for over 20 minutes one day without once flapping its wings.  They fly over the house to catch the heat coming up from the valley basin below, often using the driveway as their short cut between the trees. They're a strange bird: they can't make the usual bird noises like cheeps, squawks or songs, instead they grunt or hiss; they're creepy scary, with their red faces, white beaks and size; and they only eat dead stuff--which makes them Nature's clean up crew. I frankly think they're the coolest birds around.  Sitting in the backyard the other day, I watched two of them soar far above my head, their massive wings dipping as they changed direction, veering right and left, then spiraling higher before circling again to drift.....

I'm beginning to think that the quarantine is stifling my brain.  Honestly, I can't come up with much to write about these days, let alone focus on a particular train of thought.  Is it because I'm not getting out and about, or don't have much input to fuel my imagination, or the days are running together too fast and my mind can't keep up?!  I don't know, maybe all the above... However, with the help of visual aids, I'm going to post about a few things that came my way recently, using some photos I took along the way... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My neighbor is a son of Italy from a long line of la famiglia still living in the ancestral village about 30 miles outside Rome, including his twin brother.  I've spent my Italian time in the south: Naples, Sorrento, Ravello, so we often chat about all things Italian and compare notes about food, wine and coffee when we see each other.  He's also a very good cook.  A few weeks ago he brought over a p...

I will post again later in the week, but thought I would just share a little story and photo from an incident that happened this weekend... Last week was a bit hectic, even fraught at times, so on Saturday morning I made a big pot of Zuppa Toscana that would carry us through the weekend--mainly so I wouldn't have to cook for a few days and could catch up on other things.  The soup turned out delicious, as always. So, Sunday rolls around, I get the Crockpot container out of the fridge, turn it on and woo hoo, things are all ready for leftovers that night and I don't have to give dinner another thought. Two hours later.  I'm making a quick lunch and in passing, skim my hand over the outside of the Crockpot.  What?  It's stone cold, like straight out of the fridge cold. I can't figure out what has gone wrong.  Is the Crockpot suddenly broken?  Then I realize...crap, I forgot to plug it in!  I grouse and whinge a bit about my apparent lack of brain ...