The Early Bird

 … gets to witness such beauty.

Sunshine!

 Yesterday, Dieppe in the snow, today Rocky in the sun, TOMORROW THE WORLD!

Well, or the office.

I’m reading a book by a Frenchman who spent months in Siberia, by lake Baïkal, in a tiny hut. He speaks of the Boreal forest, and of titmice, and I have a feeling his views are not so different from mine today…

I’ve once again bitten more than I comfortably chew. 5.2 km one way, with some steep hiking. But there’s something to be said for the view.

Exhausting, but nice. And when I say exhausting, I mean only for me. Old men were literally jogging past me on the way up.

The Man and the Squirrel

    A man retreated to the woods, far and deep, away from anything. On the edge of a large lake, he built himself a small and rudimentary shelter. He had a bow and arrows and searched the woods, but there were no animals to hunt. He fished every day and caught plenty of fish. He was completely alone. 

   One day, a movement caught his eye, and up in the trees surrounding his cabin, he saw a small black squirrel, jumping from branch to branch and eyeing him with curiosity. He got his bow and shot at the squirrel but missed. The animal vanished and he lost that arrow. He shrugged it off. There is not much meat on a squirrel anyway.

    But a few days later, the squirrel was back again, chattering away. This time the man didn’t move. If he could tame the squirrel, it would be much easier to shoot it, should the man ever need the meat.

    And so it began, the strange friendship. The squirrel came regularly, always curious, always chattering. And so deep is the human need for connection, that the man started to look forward to the visits, and started to bond with this little companion, the only other living creature on the lake shore. They would spend about an hour in each other’s company, the squirrel chatting away, quick and agile, while the man did his chores or simply relaxed by his fire. Then the squirrel would vanish into the trees again. Sometimes, the man wished it would stay longer.

    The warm days passed. Fall came and went. Winter started. The air grew very cold, the snow fell and eventually, the lake froze. When it did, the fish seem to move away. The man caught fewer, then none at all. He opened many holes in the ice, to no avail. The fish were gone. The man grew hungry. Then he grew weak. He faced starvation.

    Eventually, he got his bow and shot the black squirrel. It was easy, for the animal was no longer afraid of him. He ate him. And then he cried. He felt terribly guilty. He had earned the trust of the small creature only to betray it in the worst way possible: to kill him and eat him. He regretted what he had done. He missed his little friend.

    He looked up at the bare trees, longing to see the little back shape, jumping from branch to branch, greeting him with chirps. But the trees were empty and silent. He was completely alone.

 Photo credit unknown

Dreaming of Spring

This morning, 8h30, it is snowing and cold. I want WARMTH and SUNSHINE! So only one thing to do: bite the bullet.

Destination: Dieppe. The snow is not deep enough to protect from the ice underneath so the going is rather slow. If I cover my nose with my neck warmer, my glasses fog completely and I can’t see shit. If I don’t, my cheeks are freezing in the wind. Decisions, decisions.

I haven’t been to Dieppe in ages and don’t know the way by heart, like the Pain de sucre. Especially in the snow. This early, only one pair of footsteps, which I follow. He passes me on his way back. Of course, he’s running. Heh. I’m breathing like… what? A seal? No, a novice diver who sights his first ever shark, only two feet from him. That gives me an idea for a drawing… to come later. Climbing is like meditation. At one point, you find your thoughts have drifted way away. I leave the blue waters of the Bahamas to come back to the cold, snowy woods. Another young man passes me, we exchange greetings. He adds: “Ça va bien?” I entertain myself for the next 200 meters by thinking of possible replies.

“Oh yes, this is my natural way of breathing!”

“Peachy! Pleasant little breeze isn’t it?”

“You come here often?” or even

“Vous ne trouvez pas que le fond de l’air est ambient?” (Vincent, nos classiques??)

Some parts are quite steep and I can’t help wondering what percentage of the descent will be done on my ass. But leave the worries of the descent to the descent and concentrate on the present: climbing.

Am I enjoying myself? I’m not sure. But the call of the summit is so very real. Once I start, my mind becomes single-mindedly focused: Get to the top. 

Even on a little hill like Dieppe. Imagine on the Everest!! The ones who turn around during a summit push are truly superior beings.

Eventually, here it is.

Up here, the wind is merciless and I head back down immediately. I only slip once and laying down in the snow is much pleasanter than in the mud, I must say. My nose is an open faucet, I’ve given up on my glasses which are now in my pocket so my vision is clear, albeit not sharp. There is a much longer joggable portion of the return with Dieppe than Pain de sucre, and now that my heart has reintegrated my chest, the shuffle in the snow in the empty woods becomes almost pleasant.

1h40 from start to finish, it is now 10 am. I don’t always love les Québécois, but I’ve got to give it to them: it’s easy enough to swarm the mountain at the first sign of sunshine and a beautiful day. But on this Saturday morning, at 10 am, in the middle of a snowstorm and -12C, the left parking is full and the right starting to fill up. At least we are the real deal.

The state of things:

Well, mission accomplished! Now home and cooking. My life is so thrilling. The shaved cat has missed me! Will you look at those eyebrows!

How to make a vegetable lasagna

 First you need some principles. Strong principles. As in, when you eat healthy, you don’t just go and buy any marinara sauce from the store, you make it from scratch. Of course you do.

First, peel, deseed and cube ten fresh tomatoes. If you have never tried that sport, let’s be frank, you haven’t lived. And YET! And yet there is something even more fun than peeling, deseeding and cubing tomatoes! It’s the half hour you spend afterwards cleaning chunks of tomatoes and spots of tomato juice from the floor, the table, the walls, the garbage, your apron, your utensils and your hair respectively. Messiest activity I ever tried in my life!

Then, slice onions, shred garlic and cook the whole thing. Your kitchen is like Vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, prepare the lasagna. You know how you take a handful of spaghetti, plunge it in boiling water and fold it on itself? Well, it doesn’t work with lasagna. At least not my rice pasta lasagna. It’s stiff as a board, and five minutes later, the top half of the pasta is still perfectly dry. Follows a lot of skillful manipulations. You don’t want your lasagna to break, but you do want it to cook!

Meanwhile, wash, then start chopping your vegetables: mushrooms, bell pepper, more onion and zucchinis. Spread on a baking sheet, sprinkle with olive oil and in the oven they go.

Oops, the pasta is ready! Drain, rinse, add the tiniest bit of olive oil so it doesn’t stick together and set aside.

Grab the marinara sauce that was cooling outside and pulverize in the blender because you don’t like big chunks of tomatoes. Your kitchen is like vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, it’s time to start preparing the ricotta mixture. I don’t like it too runny, so I know to add an egg to it, to solidify it a bit. Problem is, my eggs are pretty old. Bah, eggs last forever don’t they? Now let me teach you the most useful trick: if unsure whether your eggs are still good, fill a tall glass with water, and put the egg in it. If it sinks to the bottom, it’s fine for consumption. I try it. My eight eggs are joyfully bobbing like cork. Darn. Ok, my ricotta won’t have an egg today.

Take the veggies out of the oven. 

Now it’s finally time to assemble the whole shenanigan. One layer of sauce, one layer of pasta. Darn it, the oil didn’t do its job and the lasagna is completely stuck together. Detangle delicately, then carefully place the pitifully torn pieces over the sauce. Spread a layer of egg-free ricotta. Cover with baby spinach. Sprinkle half the vegetables. Repeat until everything is now sitting in your baking dish. Cover with shredded mozzarella. Return to the oven.

Your kitchen looks like Vietnam. Once the kitchen is clean again, it’s time to take your lasagna out. You’re done! You place it on the counter to cool a bit and, eyeing it balefully, you fall on your couch, exhausted, and swear you will never again spend 3 hours and 4 sink-fulls of dishes making homemade vegetable lasagna.