A little while back I wrote about pancakes. Here’s the photo evidence, and another urging – I think we’ve made this recipe five times in a month and a half. M. has learned the word “syrup” because of it (and, for that matter, the word “jam” (which is slightly more tricky to pronounce in Norwegian, syltetøy)).

Spring still seems a while away even though the snow is mostly gone – the ground is still frozen and most mornings we’ve had a grey, damp chill that goes straight through to the bones. But yesterday I ordered seeds! Camilla Plum (who certainly has the right name for it), a Danish cook and gardening writer, also sells seeds (among other things). I ordered mostly heirloom varieties – a courgette called “Black Milan Black Beauty”, a pumpkin called “Sweet Dumpling”, and an  aubergine called “Imperial Black Beauty”, and several more with only slightly less impressive names. Last year I never got around to sowing anything in early spring, but this year I think I might have to – just to see some green. I’ll be back with more garden plans – and this year K. is on board!

Trying to find happiness in small things is a very good exercise. However, sometimes it’s just a lot better with a larger slice. Like taking the train in the other direction and going to Elsinore (yes! Of Shakespearean fame!), where I for no good reason haven’t really been since I moved here ten years ago. I met up with an old friend, lovely E., who I hadn’t seen for ages, and we found a sweet café which was also a record shop and had great baked goods (and reasonably priced, too). The sun was shining so much more brightly there (Elsinore is right by the sea) and I didn’t even notice how happy all this made me until I came home and felt like I could do anything and all at once – cook dinner, make a pair of pants for M. and do the laundry and order seeds for the kitchen garden and chat with both my boys who came home just then.
I think this is what they call energy. I’ve heard people talk about it. This spring thing looks like it’s everything we’ve been looking for (also, vitamin D. In every form possible). You know, when you feel happy looking down into the cutlery drawer, it’s the real thing.
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Trying to find the link for the café I also discovered that Paul Auster and Siri Hustvedt’s Danish publishers have their offices in Elsinore. I just read Siri Hustvedt’s latest book and I’ve been thinking about it since – a nice coincidence, isn’t it?

It is raining today and a predicted streak of above-zero temperatures this week might actually put an end to the snow-covered world we’ve been living in for two months now. I’ve been tired of the cold lately, but I still think I’ll miss the snow.
I have a lot of work to do – in my job there always seems to be a new deadline looming. There are photos in my camera (but hardly any of the snow – I wonder why? Maybe I thought it would last forever? Or was afraid the cold would damage my camera?), but not in the computer. I signed up for the knitting olympics, but have failed miserably (9 cms of cardigan body knitted at this point). Oh well. Sometimes participation is something, too. All in all, it sums up as an underlying feeling of change and mild chaos. I don’t know exactly what I need. I think I’ll start with a cup of tea. And putting in some work hours.

And there goes the illness gong again – M. has what’s most likely pneumonia and I’m hovering on the edge of I don’t quite know what. We really are looking forward to spring now. We’re not tired of the snow – it’s still there, huge, improbable mounds of it – but of the cold and the dark. Some sunlight, please. And when the snow melts, crocuses and snowdrops. I didn’t go outside all weekend because of M’s fever but today, on my way to work (cursing the train for being late so I missed my bus and had to walk from the station, carrying impractical, heavy bags; cursing the woman who bumped my elbow and spilled hot coffee all over my hand and sleeve and didn’t even turn around to say sorry (”#%&!); cursing the general coldness and icy slipperyness) I heard a woodpecker. Weakly, but it was a woodpecker. And then I looked down just in time to see an ermine rush across the path and into the field. An ermine! All white with the black paintbrush tail-tip. I’ve never seen an ermine before, not in winter coat. So lovely. And sitting down by the computer tonight I felt that glimpse of happiness again. Maybe spring will come soon after all.

We’re on the other side of two. Incredible. M. enjoyed his birthday party so much – playing with his cousin, blowing out the candles on his cake (twice!) and opening gifts like he’d been practising it (well… Christmas?). We enjoyed it too – and most of all we enjoyed his actual birthday which we spent at home, all three of us – playing with legos and the new tricycle and eating pancakes and lasagna.
We have a lot of snow, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow in Denmark, and I’ve lived here for more than ten years now. Yesterday M and I played in the snow and it was like time travel; I went straight back to my own childhood. Lying in a snowdrift. I’d forgotten how good it feels.
I’m also on the other side of last week. I have to recommend doing courageous things. It does wonders for the confidence. Almost like swimming in an 11-degree (Celsius) Arctic ocean (not that that’s what I did last week, it’s a few years back). My photos are still in the camera, but instead I’ll leave you with a link to the best pancakes ever – and the oatmeal makes them more like food. So good. Thank you Orangette – they’re our staple pancakes now! I didn’t have any buttermilk and made them with half yoghurt and half milk instead, and that was fine. Seriously, try them. They’re easy to make, too.

Just after writing the headline of this post I look up and there’s a huge, fluffy pigeon sitting right outside my window. Now normally I dislike pigeons. In the city they disturbed my sleep and here in the suburbs they eat my seedlings. But this one (it’s still sitting there) kind of seems like it’s a representative of everything that’s nice and normal and boring. Boring in the good sense, you know. If I lean forward and look out the window I can see the yellow light of the sun setting reflected in the windows. It’s one of those Mondays which are really just a deep breath taken in before a week that you know will come after you like a pack of wild dogs (it really puts the eek in week!). I have a lot of things to do, some tedious, some joyful (M. turns two this week! Can you believe it? I hardly can!) and some intimidating. I think I need some extra courage. Or cookies. Or something.

Somehow the year has changed without me really taking it in. Last year and the year before that I was off work because of the baby (very very pregnant first and then ending my leave) in January. This year I’m plunging into work – doubling the hours I did before christmas and now doing more than full time (to make up for the long school holidays). It’s intense and stressful and I can’t really find the peace and quiet I’m used to feeling at this time of year. January is always bleak and uneventful in the very best sense, a stretch of days much like the way the sun shines flatly like a paper disc through the pale winter clouds; the year stretching and yawning before tentatively entering spring. Not this time. I can’t wait for spring. Or my winter holidays.

I feel slightly homesick, too. I wish I could do away with geographical distance. I hope we’ll be able to go North again this year. Fortunately, we have had a long cold spell and several days of snow. M loves it and I do, too. I can brag about my Northerner skills (expert snow shoveller and car scraper) and be quietly happy when the snow squeaks under my boots in the morning. I think I might start taking a thermos of coffee on my train commute in the mornings – I always have at least eight minutes to wait when I change trains and the platform is so cold, I can’t wear enough layers. We have several very small resolutions this year. One is to finish building the greenhouse. K has promised to get on board the gardening thing, and we’ve (well, I’ve) been talking about only spending our time growing stuff we can eat. He gave me John Seymour’s self sufficiency book for christmas and I was so happy about that. Another one which is mine is taking a packed lunch to work. The food in the cafeteria is not very good and expensive as well. So I bought a lunch box and carry raisins and rye bread and salami sandwiches in it. I feel very frugal. In the nicest way.

I’m in the shower and I’m thinking of going into the city with my family for hot chocolate when I notice how the sunshine hits my wedding ring, loose on my finger.

If anyone else is suffering from holiday stress, try looking at this photograph for a while. It’s taken by molly w. and is from this habit post, but needs to be viewed in that larger size.
Now I’m going to step away from the computer and go clean the kitchen. There are two days and a whole lot of knitting left before Christmas.

Kale. Kale is quite the trendy vegetable right now, there are recipes for it everywhere on the internet – mostly because it’s hardy and extremely good for you, but also because it actually tastes very good. It doesn’t look it, for sure. It looks like curly parsley on growth hormones, and when it’s cooked it’s lanky and almost black. But try it. And you’ll slowly realised that they’re onto something, the kale lovers.
We’re been getting a fair amount of kale this autumn, always in huge bags in our csa box, and to tell you the truth I’ve been having a hard time using it all up. I’ve started adding it to more and more dishes. I think my current favourites are these two: Miso soup with noodles and kale and Kale, broccoli and jerusalem artichoke soup. The last one we made today, and we fried an onion in oil and added water, potatoes, a couple of chokes, half a head of broccoli and a good bit of chopped kale. When the potatoes were tender I blended it all and added cream. And half an organic vegetable stock cube + salt and pepper of course.
It was really good. And bright green. We suddenly felt very healthy in the middle of December.

(You know what? We have snow. It’s beautiful.)