throw off the covers
how to greet the day + (be)deviled eggs ++ poems
Bonjour-Bonjour,
When my eyes open from sleep, first thing, I look to the edges of the curtains. If I find light I think, “Yay! It’s morning!” This has been true of me since I was a small girl. I don’t think this feeling was self-invented. I think I came into the world preloaded with a “Yay! It’s morning!” attitude.
And, if it is still night, I feel a little blue because now it’s a race to get back to sleep before I’m consumed by thoughts of the world and my personal failings in it.
Maybe the “Yay! It’s morning!” vibe is the start again feeling:
My first job downstairs is to open the back door and get a big breath of fresh air – rain or shine, winter or summer – I just copy the cats and dog, that’s what they do – that’s how the ‘read’ the day, nose up, what’s in the air? What smells different? Clear out the night-lungs. Start again. ~Jeanette Winterson
Maybe it is my love of possibility.
Maybe I am not as susceptible (at least not currently, and never for extended periods in my life) to the Groundhog Day feelings of slogging along the same path:
Maybe this is why New Morning is my favorite Dylan song:
Can’t you hear that rooster crowing?
Rabbit running down across the road
Underneath the bridge where the water flowed through
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you
Maybe, and who am I trying to kid here, it’s my love of coffee. Really, coffee in bed, writing in my notebook, is the best part of my day. I suppose if you hold onto that thought for too long, it’s pretty sad.
How does your day start?
read:
It’s still April. Which means it’s still National Poetry Month. I have two poems for you. Both about surprising moments. The first is about a singular moment with a side glance at morning, from Kelli Russell Agodon, a true friend of the newsletter.
Kelli’s new poetry collection, ACCIDENTAL DEVOTIONS, will be released on 12 May. Which means now is the time to do her a solid and pre-order. I imagine you’ll forget all about it and then the book will appear with your mail and you will be surprised and delighted! Also, Kelli will be joining our zoom book group on Sunday, 21 June, to talk about her collection. She is a joy bomb! Take for example her recent exposé: reality vs. instagram:
I hope you will join us! The book group is a benefit for paid subscribers.
…
Another poem, this one from Ellen Bass. If you’re not familiar with her poetry, I suggest you start here, or here. This poem not about a morning, but about the small gift of a singular moment.
Wildlife by Ellen Bass
The poem ends like this:
The iguana was still as a monk in prayer, all that moved were his ruched eyelids which opened and closed over his orange eyes. His chest filled and emptied with the dry hot air we shared. I thought to myself, even this is something.
Opportunities to engage in the r.w.e. community:
Mentor Book Group— in which we read memoirs, personal growth books and discuss what we might like to adopt in our own “work-in-progress” lives. HYMN TO LIFE, by Gisèle Pelicot, will be our April book, meeting on 26 April at 9a pacific time. Love to have you join us.
r.w.e. Book Group— Our May selection will be THIS IS NOT ABOUT US, by Allegra Goodman. We will meet Sunday, 17 May, at 9a pacific time on zoom.
I’ve made a read.write.eat. Bookshop where you will find many of the books I’ve recommended. Buying books from my shop is another way you can support my newsletter.
write:
What if we started our day fifteen minutes earlier than normal? What if, in that fifteen minutes we enjoyed our fav hot beverage of choice, and also jotted down the most surprising and mildly (or hugely) splendid thing that happened yesterday? What if we made a habit? Would we prime our brains to seek surprise and splendor? Would we preload our day for small delights?
Here’s a sample from the writer and cook, Tamar Adler. Whose book, FEAST ON YOUR LIFE, is a continuing delight.
At 7:30 this morning, we lit candles, sang, and ate ice cream cake for breakfast to celebrate Nena’s birthday with what was left of the cake from Pete’s fortieth. We watched the children send a monster truck flying down a picnic table and flipping off a ramp. We drank black coffee and laughed at their delighted screams. I’m please to report that an ice cream cake, given ten minutes to thaw, eaten on the very cusp of a hot summer day, is a form of splendor.
I’m in! How about you?
…
While in Paris last February I purchased three small and special notebooks at L’Ecritorire, on Le Passage Molière.
As a gift for an annual subscription to this newsletter, and to inspire your new JDS, (journal of daily surprise), I would love to send them off into the world. I only have three! If you’ve been dawdling about an upgrade to support my newsletter, wish to join our thriving book groups, and to receive the brief Sunday Jewel for You, which is now a benefit for paid subscribers, this is the moment!
To the first three I will hit you up for your address and send the notebooks off to you.
eat:
In France, Oeufs Mayo is a thing on many menus. Believe me, I indulged! Some were meh. In fact, many were meh, but I was in France and even mediocre things taste better.
Invited to a potluck, I decided to bring deviled eggs and let me tell you, these, adapted from Deb Perlman, were delicious! (Of course I forgot to take a photo…sheesh. Trust me, they were pretty!)
Caesar’s Eggs
8 large eggs
16 little gem lettuce leaves
3 T mayo, or if you are really ambitious, make your own aioli
2-3 t Dijon mustard
1/2 t Worcestershire sauce
1 t lemon juice
2 T chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 T olive oil
1 anchovy fillet, minced
1 small clove garlic, minced
1/2 t grated lemon zest
1/3 c bread crumbs - (I had a fresh loaf of compagnon bread from which I cut
a slim tranche. I then cut to miniscule cubes. ALSO, if you are gluten free, substitute with diced walnuts.)
3 T freshly grated Parmesan cheese or more to taste
1 T capers
Place the eggs in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat. Once water begins to boil, reduce it to medium-low and simmer eggs for exactly 10 minutes. Drain eggs and cover with cold water. (Or, better yet, use my new strategy of placing them in a steamer basket over rapidly boiling water and steam for 11 minutes. Then, lift out the basket eggs and all and place it in the fridge until you’re ready to use. Giving your eggs time to chill in the fridge makes the shell slip off more easily. Who doesn’t peel more easily if we’ve had time to rest?)
Arrange 16 small lettuce leaves on your prettiest serving platter.
Peel the eggs and cut in half lengthwise. Remove the yolks and place them in a small bowl. Arrange the whites on leaves, one half per leaf.
Mash the yolks with the mayo, Dijon, Worcestershire, lemon juice and 1 tablespoon of the parsley until smooth. Season generously with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Set the filling aside in the fridge.
In a small skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the anchovy and garlic and cook, stirring, until the anchovy begins to dissolve into the oil, about 1 minute. Add the lemon zest and capers. Cook until the capers pop. Next, the bread crumbs. Sauté until golden, about 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in Parmesan and set crumb mixture aside.
Spoon the yolk mixture into the cavities of the egg whites, mounding it slightly in the center. Sprinkle each egg with some of the crumb mixture, allowing some to elegantly spill onto the lettuce cups, like a woman who’s dropped her scarf. Garnish with remaining chopped parsley and serve.
Try not to eat them before you get to the party!
Stanley! Please, toss this toy for him…
If you find yourself regularly reading and enjoying my work and you’d like to show some thanks, you can do so with this charming button:
If you aren’t ready to hop on, yet you wish to send a little love my way:
…
Thanks for being here with me.
Tell your people you love them, and take care of your skin!
PS:
In case you missed it, here are a few missives.
This time of year, when it is light, I wake up, look out the window behind my head and say "good morning Kerria" to the many little gilded suns blooming outside my window (Kerria Japonica; such a wonderful plant!) Then I sit up and look out the other window at the pond, watch the wood ducks, mallards and mergasers for a few minutes, say "good morning pond" and "good morning ducks" -- and then rise and pad into the bathroom.
I go to bed around 1 a.m. If I wake and it's dark (which usually I do at about 4:30 a.m.) I just pad into the bathroom to pee and drink more water, holding my dream -- and then pad back into bed. No lights on, so I can slide back into sleep and dreaming.
Love this and your positivity!