Lately I rejigged an old recipe I had for oatmeal bread. It always made gorgeous loaves, but I found them too salty. I thought I'd try it again and cut down on the salt, and now they are perfect -- perfect, I tell you!

So what you see there is part of my usual Wednesday effort, minus the pizza crusts I also made with the dough.

You are looking at loaves made with 100% whole wheat flour here. NO white flour. It's easy to make a well-risen loaf of bread when the dough has white flour in it. With all whole wheat flour, organic and without additives or preservatives, it's a bit more tricky. The secrets are a longer kneading time, some lemon juice to condition the flour, and using water instead of flour on your hands and table when shaping the loaves. Simple enough, right?

Everett was out sliding off a snowpile with Rebecca from next door, Emil was laying down with a hot water bottle to his ear (one of the specialist's recommendations for treating the "plugged ears" feeling Emil's had since September) and Scott was still at work in town when I sat down last night for supper. Warm buttered bread with what I call Mexican Soup.

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That's the old china plate I left at the Bessborough Hotel in Saskatoon, for Joni Mitchell. She usually stays there when she's in the city visiting her parents (her mom has just passed away; how lucky Joni is, to have had her mom live into her nineties), and I thought that since she has a soft spot in her heart for the Bess, she might be someone who would appreciate this plate. I contacted her manager's office, they asked her, she said yes indeed she would like to have it, and now she does.

The Bessborough is mentioned, though not by name, in Joni's song Facelift, which contains this ever-so-wise line, "Happiness is the best facelift."

And here is the four-month old chihuahua, Ducky, now residing at my sister Karen's home:

What a little doll he is, very quiet and calm. I didn't get a good photo of the Yorkie pup, who was all jumping-around excitement and wouldn't be still.

NP: Joni Mitchell, Wild Things Run Fast

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Is this not the happiest-looking face you've ever seen? I swear I cannot help smiling back.

"The winner of the Saidye Bronfman Award for excellence in the fine crafts was also announced. The 2007 recipient is Paul Mathieu, a native of Bouchette, Que., who lives in Vancouver.

Mathieu has had 20 solo exhibitions of his ceramics, which he describes as 'handmade, very permanent, tactile, functional and based on direct physical experience in its making and appreciation.' "

-from this webpage

***

I have always liked Hank Azaria, so when I saw he was starring in a new television series, Huff, I made sure to watch it. Huff is a psychiatrist who, in the very first episode, witnesses the suicide of a teenage client in his office. A malpractice suit is brought by the boy’s parents, so Huff’s old friend, a lawyer, is called upon. This character, played to sleazy perfection by Oliver Platt, lives a risky lifestyle centred on illicit drugs and sex with strangers, while managing his courtroom work brilliantly. Back at Huff’s home, Blythe Danner is his self-righteous mother, a bitch who lives in the guesthouse and antagonizes his wife, an upscale party planner with whom he enjoys a passionate marriage. Their 14-year-old son is too mature, respectful and well-adjusted to be true, but you can’t help loving the kid.

I’ve seen all three episodes and will be trying to remember to watch the rest. Oliver Platt’s portrayal of the full-speed-ahead lawyer should win him an Emmy Award, and Blythe Danner’s role, too, will win her accolades. She makes my teeth grind— if she was my mother-in-law, she’d be kicked off my property long ago— while Platt’s lascivious lawyer is a trainwreck waiting to happen but I can’t take my eyes off him.

NP: Colin James & the Little Big Band, 3

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There I go, talking about those cute little puppies, and then show you pictures of bird tracks, snow and granola instead. What can I say? While picking Emil up yesterday I took some pictures of the little buggers but have been working at the computer for more than five hours today and need to get out of this chair and move around. The puppies will just have to wait for another day.

Someone sent me a message via one of those greeting card sites. If it's you, let me know, as it went to an .exe file so I never got to see it.

NP: Joni Mitchell, Taming the Tiger

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Dad just returned my morning call. He’d been out at his accountant’s, dropping off his tax stuff for 2006.

“I’m still alive!” he says when I pick up the phone. I told him yesterday that I am going to get into the habit of calling him each morning so that someone is checking in with him daily now that he lives alone; just a little insurance that he’ll never spend more than 24 hours (and that would be bad enough) laying on the floor or stuck in bed without help after a stroke or something. “If I live another 20 years, that’s 7300 phone calls you’ll have to make!” he says with a chuckle.
He thought he might go golfing today. There are only hints of green grass around Kelowna, he says, and it isn’t very warm yet.

I'm told (three times) that there is a pair of twin calves out in the barn. They'll be put out in the corral tomorrow and Scott hopes to take a picture.

NP: The Beatles, 27 #1 Singles=1

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Last week my van visited the hoist at the service station to investigate the vibrating that goes on at a certain temperate speed. There is a gentleman who is always at the garage, and here he is, having been asked to observe the movement of the right front tire.

We still don't have a diagnosis.

***

"It struck you, or it struck me, that Ronda was a place that had yet to experience dental selfconsciousness. Many a perfectly moulded visage would unreservedly open out to you — revealing a bag of mixed nuts or, more typically in Andalucia, a bag of mixed nuts and raisins."

-Martin Amis in his memoir, Experience, regarding the common dental condition in Spain when he was a lad

Ah, what a real writer can do with so few words! I bow to this man's talent.

***

NP: Alison Krauss, Now That I've Found You

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There are two or three dozen deer herded up in a field every afternoon, and this one by itself I've seen twice now. Assuming it's the same one. It wouldn't let me get close, but turned and bounded up the road away from me with its white tail upright and swinging from side to side like an upside-down pendulum.

***

"One picture Vincent particularly singled out—The Bathers [by Courbet]—was certainly fleshy. The massive buttocks of the nude seen from behind obviously appealed to Vincent. When, at art school, his copy of the Venus de Milo was criticized for having the wide hips of a Flemish matron, Vincent flew into a rage and shouted at the horrified professor: 'You clearly don't know what a young woman is like, God damn it! A woman must have hips, buttocks, a pelvis in which she can carry a baby!"

-from The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gaugin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles, by Martin Gayford

NP: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas soundtrack, courtesy of Everett

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The snow has been melting so quickly that if I don't get my last winter photos up here, they'll be out of date....

***

"Rembrandt, to Vincent, was above all the master of the human face. He passionately admired the Dutch master's Jewish Bride. When he had gone to visit the museum in Amsterdam with his friend Anton Kerssemakers, he sat down in front of this picture and told his friend, 'You will find me here when you come back.' When Kerssemakers returned, Vincent looked up and declared:

'Would you believe it—and I honestly mean what I say—I should be happy to give ten years of my life if I could go on sitting here in front of this picture for a fortnight, with only a crust of dry bread for food?' "

-from The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gaugin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles, by Martin Gayford

Now playing: Sounds Like Canada on CBC Radio, interviewing a 12-year-old weather man whose voice sounds like it's 40, honest to god

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10:04 a.m.

When the road looks like this, it means spring is here. The snow is melting like crazy, and the road is soft and soupy; one has to slow down or end up in the ditch.

I plan to go from this chair to the bathtub and then to town to pick Emil up from school at noon. We are heading for Kelvington, where we will both indulge in therapeutic massage. I'll pick up a gallon of creamed honey, so I can once again mix up a huge batch of granola, which is a staple of our household.

We were then to go to Kate A's for a little visit and to pick up some groceries she's brought from the city. But her yard is muddy-scary and she's fighting a cold. We'll have to visit another day.

Water is dripdripdripping all day. On the weekend, Scott asked Everett to dig out our bikes, which had been left leaning against the barbecue in the fall. Tsk, shame on me. "You should put the bikes in the barn before winter!" Scott tells me. I am terrible for getting around to fall preparations for winter. Once it gets cold out, I'm done, and that's what happened last fall. As Scott says, winter came in September.

Anyway, Scott's nephew Alexander came over to keep Everett company and they posed for this photo, which is meant to suggest, they tell me, that Everett is an archeologist who just discovered a frozen man on a bicycle.

Later in the day Alexander was up on the roof of the house next door, which I call South Forks, with his dad and his little sister. They were shovelling snow off the roof before the weight of it could cause trouble.

I couldn't resist taking this photo of the cow because it shows how much snow (among other things) has built up in the corrals. The cow can damn near step over the fence! They've already had to deal with some flooding inside the barn, where at night they keep the cows with newborn calves.

***

My wakeup call this morning was a call from Norway. I spoke for the first time with Pat, who is a longtime member of my favourite discussion list. We had a lovely chat; Pat is cheerful— I could sense her smiling right through the phone line when we laughed as we talked. What a great way to greet the day.

***

Now playing: Sounds Like Canada on CBC Radio

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When Scott needed to go into town yesterday afternoon to do some business, Emil and I dropped him off and then went to the lodge. It was so sunny and mild that I didn’t want to sit inside and asked Grandma instead if she’d like to come for a drive.

“Where to?” she said from on top of her bed, where she was laying when I walked into her room.

“Nowhere; we’ll just drive around town, for a change of scenery.”

And that’s what we did for almost an hour, and I think she enjoyed herself. There is a lot of snow piled up beside the streets, and she remarked on it every few minutes, somewhat repetitively. When I took her back to the lodge in time for supper and we walked along the same corridor as always to get to her room, she wondered if she could find the dining hall, since “I don’t usually come in this way.”

***

"Day and night I have a shadow who grieves and silently wails. Hovers in the wings while the daily drama unfolds as it must. My heart is leaden, but head and body are smoothly running engines."
- Marian Botsford Taylor, Requiem for my Brother

***

Kate A. says she’s seen a crow!

NP: The Beatles, 27 #1 Singles=1

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