Wednesday: FAILED AND FOILED AGAIN

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From the balcony at Joan’s condo in Kelowna. My camera isn’t showing the brilliance and clarity of all the colours. It was something to see!

There was a new granola bar recipe to try; it was to be uncooked, just refrigerated. The recipe called for microwaving peanut butter for 30 seconds to soften it up before adding the remaining ingredients. I went over to my mother-in-law’s to use her microwave – figured after all the failures I’ve had at making a granola bar that actually holds together, I’d go by the book with a first-time recipe – and had a good jaw with her.

The granola bars, however, fell apart when I cut into them after chilling the pan for at least an hour. As they usually do, except for the last time I made them with a different recipe. Then they had to be chiseled out of the pan, but they held together, by cracky! I’ll go back to that recipe, since I’ve purchased pricey parchment paper to avoid the chiseling. One of these days I’ll get it right. Meanwhile, what to do with all this delicious oatmeal/seeds/nuts/honey crumble … save it to top ice cream? Emil will be here this weekend; he’ll eat it with a spoon, ice cream or no.

If you have a healthy granola bar recipe that actually succeeds, please do send it to me.

It was a hot day but starting to cool down by 7:30, so after getting home and doing a bit of writing, I went for what I call my “medicine” walk, because it’s good for my heart health. The mosquitoes were rabidly hungry and the sun could still draw a sweat out of me as I strode briskly down the gravel road. Made more than a mile, but that’s less than half the distance my heart needs. Better than nothing, though, and I have to smarten up and get back to a walking routine.

In this weather, it would be wiser to exit the house at 7:30 a.m. and walk an hour before it gets too warm. Maybe after early-enough nights I could get into that habit … but oh how I do love to sit and sip slowly on a big mug of coffee when first I wake. Especially when the morning’s warm enough to let me lounge in the Adirondack chair on the step and watch the swallows and robins and catbirds and crows and blackbirds and song sparrows and goldfinches and ducks and magpies and woodpeckers flit past. And listen to them call-in the day.

And look at the sky. I’m in my heaven, here. I can’t imagine that Heaven, if there is such a place, could possibly be better than first thing on a summer morning on my back step.

 

 

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