Planting seeds...and what they ultimately grow up to be.

I'm down to my last bottle of homemade hot sauce from the fall. My cayenne peppers did so well in the front garden last year that I harvested several of the seeds and sprouted them in early March. I told myself I would have been thrilled with four or even six sprouts. Last year, I harvested hundreds of beautiful red cayennes from only eight plants, and I want to do twice as many this year.

When no fewer than 30 peppers sprouted (fuelling my optimism!) I transplanted them to larger soil containers. They spent their first day outdoors yesterday, enjoying the sunshine. This particular Victoria Day weekend is going to be perfect. Sunny, warm, dry - ideal for planting... and I can't wait.

 I sometimes think briefly about putting some flowers out front, but why grow something you can't eat? And can you possibly beat those red, spicy, flavourful morsels for everything from breakfast to a midnight snack.

Every so often, events in life push you back to time frames which surprise you. My involvement with alumni reunions mean that I spend the better part of my fall in a time warp. I watch our students graduate in June, new students on their first day of first year law in September and then get to join the party of every reunion class in between. And even those celebrating their 40th reunion feel like day one of law school was just yesterday.

 I have spent several heady days in the 80s this week. From the fuschia, turquoise and neon yellow colours everywhere, to the plaid shorts and sparkly shoes - seems that a 22 year fashion cycle has again ressurected. All we're missing is the big hair and rubber bangle bracelets. And my not-so-18 year old self having a nostalgic look back.

 I had a friend when I was 18 who went to chef school. He made the best hollandaise I have ever had one weekend in 1988. I remember thinking that the hours of a chef must be so draining - to have to work weekends, evenings, every single holiday. How much of a sacrifice that must be. How hard life would be to "have to" be a chef. My wanna-be lawyer brain thought that unequivocally. I couldn't imagine giving up so much.

I subsequently learned that as a lawyer, I was also giving over every weekend, every evening, every weekend - not to food, but to paper. And now I am certain that paper will NEVER trump food. Although I wouldn't have appreciated it then, I sure as heck am certain of it now.

Working with edible items, preparing them with care, seasoning them with the right balance of confidence and risk, all the while making it look beautiful, real and tasty are just the very best way to nourish my own soul. And now that I actually have the brain of a lawyer, all it really wants to do is cook, and wait for the sounds of enjoyment from the people I love.

And I get to do it every day - weekends, evenings, and every single holiday!

In the words of Elton John, from the Sleeping with the Past album from 1989...


 It's no sacrifice at all.