A Pleasant Evening

Emily and Wade are a special couple. I met them in California. We were serving as full-time LDS missionaries in Carlsbad, near San Diego. 

We enjoyed an evening at the symphony last night...

and tonight we had them over for dinner. Like we've mentioned before, Aksel and I LOVE cooking, especially when we can share our tastes with people we love.

For us, cooking time is bonding time. We talk, we laugh, we taste-test things together.

Tonight we made our "go-to" recipes. They are some of our favorite combinations of flavors.

Our favorite appetizer is lemoned apples and Brie. I have loved them together since I was a teen.

We slow-cooked pork tenderloin in blackberry jam, fresh local honey, and pure cranberry juice with sage, rosemary, salt and pepper. We also made a sauce with fresh blackberries.

Aksel mashed the potatoes while I roasted the brussel sprouts (my favorite vegetables).

And then we enjoyed our first-ever flourless chocolate cake with lots and lots of cream (creme fraiche with heavy cream)

This is Aksel relaxing before our guests arrived.

We had a night of good conversation and memories. It was a wonderful sabbath indeed. I hope your Sunday was equally peaceful and enjoyable :)

Shrink

Sometimes flowers shrink a little. The petals droop, the dirt is dry. And all the big trees will not understand. Yet.

One day, they will die too. But the flower knows the timing of the stem is right and it sways, in acceptance.

I cannot show a sorry girl. My sharp voice quickens my labors - efficiently is key in a busy kitchen. When crowds gather, a cheery laugh floats across the thick smell of bacon and burnt toast. Oh yes, the laugh must be mine. And I always mean it too.

But driving alone, the sun rolls down the sky almost as fast as the glass tear on my face. "Why is this happening? I am a happy girl. I have a warm husband and a lovely apartment." And I am happy - I mean it too.

But flowers are shrinking around me. And I am the tree. I am angry at the mountain, it never changes. But why did these friends come as flowers, and why must they go so fast? You take their elegance, their lovely faces that have brightened this Indian summer of life. "What about their pollen and their seeds?"

But all the big trees will never understand. The flower still sways, in acceptance. And the blue mountain watches over us all, until the heart of the earth swallows its greens and takes us home.

But I still mourn the flowers.