The process of shelling broad beans must be one of the most therapeutic housewifey processes there is. I stood at the kitchen bench today shelling the broad beans I had just picked in the vege garden and it was utter bliss. The repetition was soothing and the sight of the new and naked beans popping out of their shells was strangely rewarding.
I think it even made me enjoy eating them.
In other food matters of note, Mum taught me to bake the family Christmas cake today. She prefaced this with the threat of death if I ever revealed the recipe. And I'm sure she meant it.
The entire house smells like Christmas. I'm desperate to eat the cake but I'm not allowed until Christmas day, and apparently that's even a little too soon (I'm making the cake too late apparently). I've done my best impression of a 29 year old throwing a tantrum to get mum to cut her cake instead but, so far, no luck. I'll try again tomorrow. A bit of pestering might do the trick.
Remy is completely worn out after another day of new experiences. This afternoon we took some time out from all the excitement of family and the farm by lying in the shade of a fragrant climbing rose and dabbling our feet in the sunshine. Connecting with Remy in this environment is easy and joyful. I'm not sure why it's so different in the city. Maybe it's because I'm on-guard against all of the strangers?
I feel rested and relaxed. My muscles seem to have melted. It's very hard to keep my mind on the business of sewing. Thank goodness my mother is here to goad me!
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