I am grateful for my bread. It is the whole process of doing it all from scratch. I don't go as far as growing and harvesting my own wheat, nor hand-milling it. Instead, I pick up a fat five kilogram bag of whole wheat flour (please don't ask me if it's GM because I don't know and, really, Gentle Reader, I don't care!) and schlep it home on the bus. It lasts a few months. Saturday has become, among other things, bread day. It's easy to make. Three to four cups of whole wheat flour, half teaspoon salt, two teaspoons baking powder, three tablespoons brown sugar, then you mix and blend the dry ingredients together the old fashioned way, with a stirring spoon in a big bowl. Add to that one and a half cups of milk and a quarter cup sunflower oil. Mix till it all molds together. If it's sticky, add more flour, if it's too dry to combine, add a wee bit more milk. Hand shape the mass till it looks like a loaf then put it on an oiled baking sheet and bake in a pre-heated oven at 350 F for fifty minutes. Delicious, rich, earthy and hearty.
As soon as the bread was done and out of the oven I went to the local Shoppers to buy the weekend Globe and Mail, then came home and made a cheese omelette with fresh bread and peanut butter and marmalade for breakfast. I was outside by ten-thirty then took the bus over the bridge as far as Granville and Angus, in the heart of Shaughnessy Heights, or, Vancouver's premium wealthy neighbourhood.
I walked three miles south along Angus Drive, flanked by mansions and other beautiful homes and gardens, flowers and blindingly green lawns beneath towering trees bearing the first leaves of spring. There is one particular garden of tulips I look forward to every time I walk there this spring. Last fall, I saw a woman planting bulbs in the border garden by the sidewalk. She told me they were tulips and that I had something to look forward to see in the spring. She has not disappointed. They have been in full glorious bloom these last three weeks now, red, orange and purple and there are still new ones ripening for their full blossom.
The election lawn signs are the single real annoyance. This is a wealthy neighbourhood so of course they are all going to favour the right wing party already in power, the BC Liberal Party, who favour the wealthy and hate the poor. I always resist temptation to vandalize. Still with success.
The coffee shop was tranquil and very comfortable today. I sat in the comfy chair in my usual corner with a decaf Americano and giant chocolate cookie, or, the usual, while working on my current bird drawing, a Variable Sunbird from Africa:
Isn't he cute?
After an hour and a half there in the coffee shop I left, walking four miles back as far as the budget supermarket on Fourth Avenue, or, No Frills. The girl at the checkout was cheerful and good-humoured. On the bus going over the bridge I asked seven young men of around twenty years old to please make room on the courtesy seats they were hogging for a frail elderly gentleman who just boarded. They were surprisingly good about it and all went to the back of the bus but for the two remaining, who were both very gracious when I mentioned that while, at my age, I'm rather close to being in his condition myself, I also have a long memory and remember only too well what I was like when I was twenty.
I have been home now for the last hour and a half, having enjoyed a pot of cocoa made from scratch while reading the paper and writing this lovely little drivel. Nothing much to report today, Gentle Reader. It is a lovely day, I refuse to think any more about the coming election, the sun is out, the sky is blue and I am happy to be happy.
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