Posts Tagged: autumn

ghost leaves, reminding

I have always loved the way autumn leaves leave their ghostly impressions on the sidewalk after a rain. 

Today I was thinking those ghost leaves remind me of us. We put ourselves out there, hoping to leave an impression on our corners of the world.  Isn't it wonderful when we find out we do?

Think of the ghost leaves as a reminder.

 Ghost leaf 1
Ghost leaf 1 

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a lunchtime walk in autumn

Today I went for a walk at lunch, exploring the settings on a new phone camera app.  It was very blustery, and I sacrificed a good hair day in the quest of trying to capture some of the colours.

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fair-weather friend

Rainy Day, I am your fair-weather friend.  Today I am charmed by the wiles of the warm sunshine beaming over an October day in all her jewel-toned gorgeousness. 

Just before coming to my office building I find this little beacon. I think it was planted there by October, calling on me to hang out with her instead of Large Proposal jeering at me from up there in the fifth floor window.   

Redleaf
 

soul food

I love soup.  I love to make soup almost as much as I love to eat it.  There is something so satisfying about putting a bunch of things in a pot for an hour or two and having it all turn into hot delicious goodness.  In the colder months I make soup pretty much every week.  When my kids were growing up and the budget was tight, homemade soup was economical and most of the food groups were there in one pot.  Soup is an easy take along lunch and a quick heat up dinner.  Soup is one of those things you don’t mind eating for a few days in a row because it’s always better a day or two later.

With a crusty bread and salad it’s a complete meal.  It’s a healthy snack to hold you over.  It's something thin and unobtrusive to put in an upset tummy.  It’s a substantive breakfast – my Aunt Martha used to love to have the broccoli soup at a favourite diner at the Windsor Market on Saturday mornings.

Soup makes your house smell good.  There are thousands of recipes for it from all over the world – if you were so inclined you could make a different soup every single day of the year.  Soup can be hearty, light, vegetarian, meaty, calorie-sensible and decadent.  One of the favourites in our family is a quick minestrone, of which my daughters make a meatless and every bit as satisfying version.

This Labour Day weekend was cool, blustery and drizzly; it was like the calendar flipped over and shouted “AUTUMN AUTUMN AUTUMN” in giant LED.  Today I thought I would embrace that by going down to the Harbourfront and having some One Love Corn Soup.

The One Love Corn guy is a Toronto institution.  He has a stall at the Harbourfront during the summer months where you can get grilled, seasoned corn on the cob and the famous One Love Soup.  It’s said the soup has healing properties for the psyche.  If you’re feeling blue, many people say, One Love Soup can make you feel better.

Don’t go to the One Love Corn guy if you’re in a hurry.  There’s reggae music playing in his domain, and while the soup is made and sits hot in a big pot – the corn is grilled right, not fast, even when the line for it trails long all the way to Queens Quay.  When he finally determines your cob is ready he’ll saunter with it over to a table where he rubs it with lemon, brushes it with butter and sprinkles seasoning on it.  Any part of that process is probably going to be interrupted when he feels the need to dance a little.  Just watching your corn get to you takes your blood pressure down a couple of notches.  Waiting for the ten people in front of you to get their corn before you get your soup is worth it.

The weather people say summer’s coming back tomorrow, but I’m thinking soup is back in my life now.  Next week… roasted veg?

One Love Corn Soup
Recipe courtesy of Ras Iville Wright and Ikeila Wright, Leaf of Life Catering

     • 24 cup spring water
     • 2 cup yellow split peas
     • 1/2 cup coconut milk
     • 3 vegetable bouillon, cubes
     • 6 Yukon Gold or red medium potato, washed, peeled, and, quartered
     • 2 cup Jamaican pumpkin or 2 cup butternut squash
     • 2 cup frozen vegetable mix
     • 3 cobs fresh corn
     • 3 carrot, peeled, and, diced
     • 1 scotch bonnet pepper, whole
     • 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, preferably Jamaican Bird Pepper
     • 1 clove fresh garlic, finely, minced
     • seasoning salt, (Mrs. Dash), to taste
     • 1 sprig fresh Jamaican thyme

In a large pot bring the water to a rolling boil. Add split peas and cook until soft. Add coconut milk and vegetable bouillon cubes. Allow liquid to boil again. Peel and cut pumpkin into large cubes. Put potatoes, pumpkin and frozen mixed vegetables in the pot. Cut up 2 cobs of corn into wheels and shave the kernels off of the remaining cob. Add the corn and diced carrots to the pot. Simmer soup on medium heat for approximately 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add Scotch bonnet pepper, cayenne pepper, garlic, seasoning salt and thyme. Stir until seasoning is mixed through. Simmer for 5 more minutes to allow the flavour of the seasoning to be released into the soup.

My Mom’s Minute Minestrone
2 tbsp butter (I use olive oil)
1 onion chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 package Italian sausage, chopped into small pieces (hot or sweet – I buy a package of each, using half of each and freeze the other halves for next time)
2 cups chicken stock
2 cups shredded cabbage (I like to keep little bags of shredded cabbage frozen in the freezer just for soup.  Just buy a cabbage, shred it, throw it in bags and freeze them.)
1 large can kidney beans drained (I prefer navy beans)
1 large can diced tomatoes
1 carrot cut in small sticks
1 tsp salt
2-3 tbsp sugar (optional – I only add a tsp or so)
1/2 tsp dried basil (I prefer oregano)
1/4 tsp pepper
1 1/2 cups COOKED macaroni or other small pasta (I use orzo)
Approx 14 oz water to make desired broth
 
In a large saucepan, heat oil and sauté onion, garlic and sausage until sausage is lightly browned.  Add herbs and sauté for a minute.  Add all other ingredients, except pasta, and cook until vegetables are tender. 10-20 minutes.  Add pasta. Serve with grated parmesan sprinkled on top. 

new season, the enticer

I should be going to bed but I can’t move away from the breeze coming in the balcony door.  The season is changing, the air delicious; like that you might love in summer, but cooler, more substantive, lustier.

Tonight, on my walk, that breeze whips around like a playful child.  Not so much a wind – it dances rather than rips.  Energy and electricity are transported into my body; like droplets from the lake are being hurled up in grand funnels and rained down into my pores.

There are fewer people around the piers now.  Another sign of the waning season.  Vacations are finishing and families are heading home, focusing on things like school.  And the people that remain seem different too – the conversations more lively, bodies seem a little more alert.  There is less lolling in the walking – more vigour.

I walk by a group of about six sitting on a bench.  Against the lights behind them, they are silhouetted – black figures, interacting in a conversation that wafts in and out of my earshot with the wind.  The voices sound maybe Dutch or German.  Each one is engaged with the group – I think of da Vinci’s The Last Supper, the shapes of these particular people leaning into or away from each other evokes lively discourse, like that painting.

The silhouetted people are sitting near a docked sailing ship.  It must be because this particular ship is sitting north/south rather than east/west that she, unlike the other sailing ships moored along the piers, has ropes clanging a rhythmic, groovy beating against her masts.  I think of drumming circles I’ve heard and that this is just as beautiful in its repetitive chant. 

When I walk by the same spot on my way back and find the people still on the bench, still engaged in conversation, leaning into and away from one another, and the ropes still beating their clangy pace against the masts, I think that for sure it’s that sound which drew the group to that particular bench in the first place.

The wind whips my hair and my sweater.  The air is electric.  I’m glad I can’t see the colour of the clouds because I might not have enjoyed the walk as much if I’d known a storm was imminent. 

But then, without the benefit of light in the sky you know your other senses.  There's no storm – just a raucous, sexy night.  A night that seems to be leaving me and my summer dreams down here on earth where we belong.