When a friend brings you basil...

Earlier today, I made a batch of cherry-rhubarb-hibiscus jam. It's a recipe I made up last summer after creating my rhubarb-cherry-hibiscus crumble; the latter was so tasty, it seemed I simply had to try and turn it into a preserve so that its flavors could last throughout the year. It was a success, and I now have five new half-pints for my basement store. Today I used both Bing and Ranier cherries, both of which I find, when they're plump and fresh, heavenly. They're pretty, aren't they?

I then ordered new photos of the boys - on my to-do list for months!- so that I can update my frames. If you looked around our home, you'd think I had two toddlers on my hands. Though it sometimes feels that way, such is not the case. I was putzing around accomplishing other things when my dear pal, M, texted: "can I bring you some basil?"

"Um, yes!"

And by the way, I say ba-sil, not bay-sil. Both, FYI, are correct pronunciations, so even though T and Jack mock my preferred short 'ba', I'm going with it. #southern

A bouquet of fragrant, just-picked Genovese was soon mine, and after plucking the stems bare, I found I had three packed cups. Obviously, pesto. I added a half-cup of mint, about a quarter-cup of toasted pine nuts, the zest of a lemon, a half-cup of grated Parm, two cloves of garlic, salt and olive oil. Pesto is such a dynamite sauce. I too often forget about it, so standard and regular it often seems. But good pesto is an exquisite thing, and I'm thrilled to have this new batch.

Lovely morning, compost salad, dinner for the grands

El, Michele and Mom treated me to a wonderful anniversary dinner last night - shrimp risotto, seared turkey breast with sage, asparagus, lots of wine and champagne - which we capped off with that scrumptious pie. There were only 2 slivers left because I promised the boys I'd save them some. We sat outside, enjoying each other's company and laughter, and T made it home just as we were wrapping up. This morning, Mom, El and I went to Pilates and then to one of my dearest pals (a woman I met in this very Pilates class) house (with our Pilates teacher, also a great pal) for tea, treats and more fun. It is just the best to sit around laughing with a cool and beloved group of women, you know? Awesome. Then to the market and then home as I needed to get dinner ready for my sweet nonagenarians. Tonight they'll enjoy a zucchini, yogurt and beef casserole, roasted asparagus and a sweet pumpkin cheesecake for two. Doesn't this look yummy?

While it cooked, I made a good old compost salad. They never get old and I love that it enables me to clean out my crisper drawers. Oh dear, I'm about to be late to get Ol. More later.

Monday

What a nice day. I swear, y'all, the weather makes such a difference. To me, and to everyone else. People are nicer, calmer, they're smiling, bodies relaxed. I sure am, mine sure is. I had a few hours alone with each of my  little boys, a rare treat, time that is special not least because it's easier and also a bit of time for me too. A huge vat of strawberries, rhubarb and lemon is macerating now; an absolutely wonderful jam, I'll put it up tomorrow. I putzed in the garden and gleaned great joy from each and every perennial rebirth I saw. Perennials are like the Post Office in the best of times; no matter the weather, they're coming back. Perhaps slowly, perhaps even late, but steadily and consistently with little attrition. Despite the fact that everyone but me can grow both rhubarb (a perennial; so hearty it's sometimes considered a weed) and basil (an annual that I only ever hear is SO easy to grow but at which I fail most every year), I am otherwise a perennial-grower success story and cheer each plant on as if it's another of my children. The lilies have emerged like proud soldiers at attention, the marjoram and sage never really went away. The Astilbe bat their leafy eyelashes in a shy yet flirty way; the fern's fiddleheads consider unfurling. Hello, Columbine shoots, welcome back Bleeding Hearts. As if old friends have returned, another year advanced in age, experience and comfort, I welcome them all, happily envisioning the festive scene in my yard days, weeks, months from now.

T and I dined al fresco tonight, a meatless picnic dinner that was an acknowledgment of today's blogger movement against hunger in America (use what you have rather than buy new and risk waste), and, thusly, a terrific opportunity to clean out the fridge and freezer. The evening was gorgeous, the dinner perfect in its casual, tasty mien.