Little Things mean a Lot

"When your expectations for life are reduced to zero, then everything becomes more meaningful." ~Dr. Stephen Hawking (reflecting on his terminal disease)

Why is it that most of us here in this mortal plane of existance only determine to love this life we are living when we think it's going to be taken away? What is is about us that takes everything that surrounds us for granted? Why do we lose the specialness and uniqueness of each day in the rush and "busy"ness of our lives?

I determined a long time ago that I was truly going to enjoy every moment of my life and enjoy it to the fullest. I might look like a dawdler or lazy to some as I amble along, but not to worry, it's just me stopping to smell the roses along the way.



Yesterday as I was walking down the lane, I could hear a robin trilling away high up in a tree and making a most beautiful song. Off in the distance came the distinct "Cuckoo" of the . . . cuckoo! As I walked past, the resident mourning doves that live in our trees twittered as they flew up off of the ground to a higher place, and I could hear the sound of a mower cutting grass and smell that lovely smell that you only get in the warm sunshine of newly cut grass, all mixed with the beautiful fragrances of lilac and apple blossom. There is a farm nearby, and they have cows. As I walked I could also the soft mooing of cows . . . it's such a serene sound, very homey and comforting . . . like all is right with the world. The hedgerows are full of may blossom and blooming hawthorn, while bluebells dance along their bases and are tucked in amongst the mossy floor of tall woodland trees, the ground a virtual carpet of their pretty blue delights. Indeed, as we drove along a winding side road just this past weekend, the sides of the roadways, which are full of trees and hover over us like a cool green tunnel, were also full of the lovely colour of bluebells scattered amongst them. You could almost hear them tinkling in the breeze . . .



When I close my eyes, I can take myself back to a time when my children were young and remember the smell of my son's heads nestled against my nose as I hugged them when they came in after play, all sweaty and earthy and smelling like . . . little boys. I can feel the snug hugs of children's arms tugging on my neck and holding me close and feel the wonderful feeling of a mother holding her babies close to her heart. The memory of my babies' little grunts and snuffles still makes me go all weak at the knees and my heart melt. I have beautiful memories of laughter and giggles and "I love you's" sung out in child-like voices which meant the world because . . . children don't lie about things like that.



My mind and heart are full to bursting with the memories and thoughts of lots of tender and special moments, and sights and sounds . . . the symphony of my life played out by my own unique and wonderful orchestra . . . the best thing being . . . the melody is still going, the instruments are still playing . . . the strings are still being plucked. Each day brings with it new and tender moments, the whisper of yet another treasured experience. Life is for the living and we must live it while we still have the breath to do so, and with every inch of our being. Don't waste a single moment of this precious gift we've been given . . . these special moments are only ours and may never come our way again . . . it shouldn't take the threat of loss to make us appreciate them for the treasures that they truly are.

We had a curry night the other night. Curry is not something I really ate much of before I moved over here. I can remember my first and only experience of it in Canada. I was living in Suffield, Alberta at the time, and one of our British neighbours invited us over to a party one evening. She had made her special chicken curry, which contained one full bottle of curry powder. It was lovely and delicious and tasted of what I imagined to be India and mystery and delightfully asian. It lived on in my memory for years and still does . . .

I have never really enjoyed the extremely hot curries. I prefer to go for a gentle Korma myself, not understanding the sense in eating something that's so hot that you cannot really taste what you are eating. So it was a mild korma for us the other night, along with some pilau rice, naan bread and these tasty Bombay potatoes that I threw together with some leftover boiled potatoes that I had in the refrigerator! I don't know how authentically Indian they were, I only know they were delicious!



*Bombay Potatoes*
Serves 2

This may not even really be Indian, but it sure is tasty. A great way to use up your leftover boiled potatoes. Actually you could throw all your leftover veg into the pan and it would taste lovely! A great recipe especially now when we are becoming more away of the quantities of food that we waste. This makes good use of the leftovers, kind of like an Indian hash!

14 ounces potatoes, cooked and peeled or not, as you wish
2 TBS olive oil
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1 inch fresh ginger, peeled and grated
3 good pinches of mild chili powder
1/4 tsp tumeric
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 TBS chopped fresh coriander leaves (cilantro)

Cut your potatoes into 1 inch pieces and set aside. I left the peels on as I don't mind the extra fibre, but you may of course peel them if a bit of potato skin is not to your taste.

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat and add the oil. When it begins to shimmer add the mustard seeds, ginger, chili and tumeric. Cook for a few minutes over medium heat until very fragrant, then throw in the potatoes and gently stir them to coat them with the spices. Cook them, turning them from time to time until they are well heated through and a bit crispy in places, about 10 minutes longer. Season to taste with some salt and pepper. Sprinkle the coriander over top and serve.