Not saying good bye
I woke up this morning in a bit of a funk. I'm not sure what it is. The Husband's taking a while to recover from this lurgy, and is, I'm afraid, behaving like a 2 year old. I'm trying not to treat him like a 2 year old.
That was my "meditation" as I lay in the bath, by candlelight, this morning.
In the winter, it's a candlelit contemplation of the "broken heart" made from abelone shell that hangs the wall my behind the potions.
The funk didn't lift; it got heavier.
I went to see my friend who's packing up. Finally. It's been a long journey since Paul died in October 2020.
It was, and will continue to be, bittersweet having some of his bowls for sale on my market stall each Saturday. I will also have a stock of Nina's book, All Fired Up. I thought I'd done a proper review after it was launched and all I've done is poorly reference it here. I shall have to remedy that. Especially as I have a signed copy and use it often.
She been gone from the village for more than a year, contemplating her future. She's made big decisions, sold the pottery and is starting a new journey in Johannesburg. I'm sadder than I thought I'd be. The twice I've been to the pottery since she's been back, it's felt awful: the chaos of moving, ruthless throwing out and resigned grief that will never end. And a lot more.
I have pots I'm giving away. I can't take them and I don't have the heart to throw them out. Please choose some?
I chose a fifth to turn our quadruplet of little white bowls into quintuplets; I often use them.
This one chose me.
Although this is not one of Paul's pots, it was wood fired at the pottery - he often collected wood from our plot. Nina and I have often talked of, and shared, food and preserving conversations. A couple of years ago, she tried to make kimchi. It was, in her words, an interesting experience. We stood one day, chatting and munching our way through tasters of the immature product....
I've been toying with fermenting vegetables and just never seemed to find the right receptacle. And there it was, on the floor, covered in dust, waiting for me. When I said what I thought I'd like to use it for, she said:
You'll just need weights. I just threw some out.
We nattered, took the bits to the car and then she said
Oh, wait. The weights.
They are Paul pieces. I haven't decided what the first ferment will be. I do know that from that first effort, and when I look at that pot, I shall think of them both.
When I left, I said -
I'm not saying good bye...
We agreed: it's not good bye. I am much sadder than I thought I'd be.
Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:
- re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine....?
- and "re-capturing" nearly two years' worth of posts.
- From Wordpress, I use the Exxp Wordpress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.
- Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers' community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink
- lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs, images available freely available on @hive.blog and Canva.
This is a good one thanks for sharing
Oh, Fiona, I'm sorry you have to say farewell to your friend. Life takes us down unexpected paths, so let's hope that one of those will lead you to meet your friend Nina at some point again. And I'm sorry that your husband is not fully recovered.
As for the ferments, it will be interesting to see your experiments. I'll keep an eye out for them. A few years ago, my son tried to went vegan and tried to make kimchi without success, as well as kombucha. I hope yours go well. :)
Nina and I shall stay connected. I'm confident of that. I didn't realise how much I missed her presence in the village until she came back. Sometimes - when there's a lot of change, it's hard to embrace it. Especially when it goes with grief.
On the fermentation, my friend, Janet reminded me of an Asian cookery book we both have - a gift from a mutual friend - and which has a few recipes for fermented vegetables in it. I'll check that out. I've got to report back to Nina, too!!
Yes, change when it comes with grief is hard to accept. But in the end, we get used to it sooner or later. And you will miss her, but now you have an excuse to plan a visit sometime.
I'll keep an eye on your progress with the fermentation.😊
Bittersweet indeed Fiona, life really can be a bummer at times. My niece's son cried all the way home after a previous visit saying to his mom & dad 'why do you give me people & then take them away from me'.
(He has Aspergers)
I often feel that way!
I do hope you're feeling better, I think all that hard work with your makietie market & the cold weather, is taking its' toll!
This is the eternal question about death, isn't it? And loss. Funny how it takes
ageyears for one to recognise loss when it happens. Funny, too, how often one doesn't recognise what one has until one loses it.I'm beginning to feel a little more "normal". I want an ordinary week and a husband who's back to normal, too. He's a lot better, thank you to you and @coquicoin for asking. He's very fatigued which, even though he didn't lose his taste or have a very sore throat, makes me think that he's either had a nasty flu or even that other virus. He's determined to braai tonight. He's recovered his interest - and appetite - for food. That makes me happy!
I'm glad your hubby is recovering, Fiona. If he has a good appetite is a very good sign.
Let's hope for a good week for all of us, the next one.
Have a lovely Sunday :) 🤗
And to you. Next week will be better!
😄😊🤗