Shelving 2012 - with Thanks...

I found this corny quote yesterday, on one of my social sites: “Tomorrow, is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.” (Brad Paisley)

And since it’s time for my year end blog, of course it caught my eye. But then, after pondering upon it with snarky superiority, I thought: you know, he’s right! We have this blank canvas in front of us - what are we going to do with it?! Before you yawn at the platitude of that question, bear with me: do we even think about it this way – preemptively? Do we ever think: “Man, I will make good decisions every day of my life, just so I have something to talk about at the end of it”?! Not as a routine, I am sure.

Most times, we’re in the business in taking the “now” and the “here” for granted, and then crying over spilt milk, like good humans do, right?!

I was thinking: I know people who cried about, and prepared for and really believed in the End of the World that was to come last month. And when it didn’t happen – what did they do to thank (whoever?!) or celebrate the surviving?! Not much, if anything at all … How do we really celebrate or thank the universe for the simple gift that is a blank 24 hours, much less a blank 365 days?!

But this “future” business, as well as this gratitude one, is all relative, circumstantial and personal, isn’t it?! What is not relative is what did happen. And what did happen yesterday for me and the rest of the world was another year!

I have been so mad at 2012, I cannot even write about it. It has not been the happiest year of my 37 years, I would say, overall – and I have always found at least some things to be hopeful about. Maybe I am growing old and my optimism has worn off?! Who knows?! Or maybe my expectations are entirely too high, and after all I am admitting to it?! Or maybe I am just ungrateful?! Could very well be.

My sweet husband reminded me, also yesterday, however, that there are so many other tens of hundreds of things that I should be happy (not to mention grateful) about in the past year! Things like togetherness (what’s left of it), family, jobs, health (again, what’s left of it), good food, good music, and soft kitties! Things like having two eyes to see and two arms to hug small nephews. Things like skype, phones, and emails to keep us connected to the ones we love, even afar. Things like each other, and being goofy or loving to one another when life renders us sad. Just little things, you know … But all of them so worth being grateful for, as the world would be even darker without them.

The “bad” that happened in 2012 was just, for the most part, the natural course of life, I suppose. We can’t stand in its way. The trick is not to try to stop the “normal” bad, I guess, but to find enough good to able to withstand it. And the trick is indeed to find that good - to acknowledge it, rather. It’s always there.

Here’s 2012 in pictures, from Mr. Aa. Babe, you are the true gift and one of the brightest lights of last year. Thank you for finding the love and hope I could not find within myself, to string our memories together:

As for me, and for the rest of you: let’s start writing that book!

Happy New Year!

A Time to Eat ...

The sausages were the last ones. Not sure why, but mom and dad always made sausages at the very end of the cooking day. We lived in this 3 bedroom, maybe 1000 sqf apartment, on the 3^rd floor of this high rise, with stores at the ground level – it’s what’s common back in Eastern Europe, I guess, for city living. And they would cook, every day, 365 days a year. Even when we went on vacation – it had to be somewhere with a kitchen.

Around Christmas, they would buy a whole pig, or maybe just half, whatever they could afford that year. And the animal came with everything – guts and feet and all. About two weeks before Christmas or so, they would stuff the intestines with ground meat and spices. And we, kids, helped. Mom and dad would spin the handle on the sausage making machine and my sister and I would form them, and twist the intestine at equal intervals. I remember this was always done at night. I think it might have been because it was such a messy job, the kitchen was unusable after this! But I could be wrong!

Then, we would dry the sausages in the cold winter air, on a laundry line, in our balcony, till right at Christmas, when we would fry them. But this is how the Christmas cooking marathon began!

Nowadays, although I shortened the cooking time, and I made a lot of adjustments to eat a bit lighter,  I still make what by American standards is considered a lot of food around The Holidays. I don’t buy a whole pig, or even half. Matter of fact, except for the HoneyBaked Ham, I don’t have any pig at all! But I still cook till the fridge looks lopsided. Mom and dad, however, are hardly impressed with my amounts! They have three fridges and a freezer, and they stuff them full around this time. They might make anywhere between 20 to 45 courses of food, for the whole week between Christmas and New Years – depending on how many people are announced to show up.

My “minimarathon” of cooking lasts for about 2-3 days, compared to their “weeks”. And this makes me feel lazy!

Following a suggestion of a dear friend (also Eastern European buddy who knows what I am talking about – maybe?!), I have written this post, to summarize at least my Christmas menu this year. There is a new one for New Year’s but let’s eat Christmas first!

It started on Saturday morning, on the 22. From back in the day of my single life, I have always had a get together for my friends the week before Christmas or so. I have no family around, usually, and I know everyone does, so I try to "see" them before their family obligations kidnap them "the day of". 

For this pre-Christmas gathering, I do try to make mostly "American friendly" foods. No pig's feet or guts in the menu. This time, it was not all homemade foods, either: I did get some help from the store, in the form of some mini-quiches that you just bake for 15 minutes or so to warm up! Those things are the best! Any store might have them, but I get the party size boxes, at Costco. 

Let's call this "semi-homemade" (sorry, Sandra Lee!): these are turkey smokies wrapped in turkey bacon. Yes, you can tell the difference, but they are delicious nonetheless! Took maybe 20 minutes to wrap these and another 20 to cook, maybe?!

A Christmas tradition: HoneyBaked Ham sandwiches, this time in croissants.
Need I say more?!  I believe that mustard, mayo or other condiments ruin this sandwich, so I serve it naked! You spoil at your own risk if you use all this other "stuff". 

Fingerling potatoes medley, with herbs, garlic, green onions and (turkey) bacon. All you do is wash the potatoes, cube them, toss them on a cookie sheet with the above ingredients and olive oil, salt and pepper, and roast them in the oven till the potatoes are soft. This was the side for the ham sammies. 

I had two pots of soup, too. They were both hearty, but very different: the first one was a Southern potato and bacon soup, which was passed on to me by my lovely Virginia best friend. She knows her recipes of slow cooking onions and bacon in the Dutch oven, let me tell you. This soup is a winner if you want sometime rich, starchy and comforting! It cures whatever ails you!
 The second one came from a former NC co-worker, and it was an Indian chili - almost at the other end of the spectrum from the potato soup: several kinds of beans, corn, ground meat, peppers and onions spiced up in tabasco sauce. So good for cold winters! 

The meal was complete with my husband's shortbread cookies, which, no matter what he says, they are delicious! No pictures of those ... but trust you me - they are insane! Also, what's a Christmas party without the eggnog?! It was delicious, if I say so myself. 

I seem to be copying recipes from everyone I know, and I make the eggnog somewhat similar to one of my NJ friends: I pour it in  a bowl and I mix in vanilla ice-cream and lots of nutmeg! I don't whip it, or anything - I just let the vanilla scoops float till they melt. Then, I add the rum right when I am getting ready to drink it, right in my glass! This way, the rum doesn't "evaporate". The richness of the ice-cream (like you needed more richness, right?!) makes it so smooth and warming ... just coats you inside. 

I have never seen this brand of eggnog till this year - but it is delicious. And no, you absolutely cannot tell it is low fat! No way! Absolutely recommend it! 

I took a break on Sunday, but then the cooking extravaganza continued on Monday, the 24th. A couple of people at work asked me whether I do Christmas breakfast or Christmas dinner. Well – I do both, and Christmas Eve dinner, too! But, again, this is nothing compared to how I grew up! Christmas is 3 full days back home, plus the Eve! So, we do three breakfasts and 4 dinners for Christmas, with some lunches thrown in between. Somewhat the same thing for New Years!

But let’s not digress!

So, on Monday (Christmas Eve, for those of you following), I cooked for “us” – meaning for my and my husband's Christmas Eve, Christmas breakfast and dinner. I'll have to warn you, though, this time things would get more adventuresome. I did squeeze in at least one Romanian mainstay or two! 

The day started with prepping for my Christmas breakfast casserole. This year, I made my bread - ground turkey - salsa - egg - and - cheese casserole. I always mix everything together the day before, and refrigerate it till before I put it in the oven. I always use my magic ingredient (coriander) for sauteing all my ground meats! 

This is the finished product, alongside a tomato and cucumber salad. It's a very, very simple recipe, but the salsa gives it the intricacies you'd least be expecting. 

One of the sides I made for the ham was my Romanian peas. The peas are fresh or frozen, and they saute in onion, olive oil and dill for a while. Then, I add tomato sauce and let them get soft. At the very end, I add crushed garlic and let them be, till they're ready to eat. They are very similar to Greek green beans, if you ever had those. 

This is the one dish I was craving painfully this year: turkey in aspic! I don't think there is one holiday, one birthday, one funeral, whatever ... in Romania without aspic on the table! This is just the turkey carcass boiling. The pot is full of water in the beginning. By the end of it all, it's about a third of the pot, and the meat comes easily off the bones. 

At the end of it all, you add a whole (peeled) onion and some chopped carrots to the pot, along with some extra non-flavored gelatin. You strain the soup through a colander in a Pyrex dish, and you pick just the meat and carrots from the pot, and add them to the soup. Put in the fridge (not freezer!) and in a couple of hours it looks like this. I forgot to say: at the very end of the cooking process you a add lot, and I repeat, an insane amount, of crushed up garlic to the mix! It needs to be supergarlicy - as garlicy as you can handle! 

I have this jar of crushed garlic in salty water on hand at all times in my fridge, because virtually every Romanian food except sugar cookies ask for garlic - I added about half of it to that third pot of turkey "soup". 

I try to make "something new" every year, and this was my new recipe, courtesy of Alton Brown, on Food Network: a "throw away" cheese dip. You look in your fridge for ANY kind of old cheeses. It could be aged, or fresh - it won't matter. Cut the rinds and old parts off the aged cheeses, and cube the good parts. Add any cheese, really (cream cheese, fresh goat cheese was OK for us!) and add butter, a clove of garlic, some fresh herbs if you have them and half of a cup (or whatever you think is right) glass of white wine. Mix everything in a food processor for about 2 whole minutes (needs to be really creamy!). Spread this on crackers and pass out! Let me tell you - Alton knows his stuff! 

Another tradition I copied from my NJ friends is mimosas on Christmas morning. We just cannot open presents without them! And really, with all this food and presents for excitement, no one will ever know how much you spent on that champagne! 

And what would Christmas, and any holiday, dinner or meal for that matter be without ... mashed potatoes! I can promise you, unless I have Alzheimer's, I will make these forever and again, right next to any meat, fake meat, non meat you can think of. This is an oath!  

After writing all these, I can tell you one thing: almost every person that has touched my life in any significant way, has left a food print in my kitchen! If you recognized yourself in any of these dishes it's because we shared a special time, and you will be with me, no matter how far I'll travel and no matter how long it'll be till you hear from me. 

Because of my family and their heritage of making not only food, but cooking such an intrinsic part of living, my heart will always be connected to those I love and those that love me back through the foods we share, on special times like Christmas.  

I hope you find some traditions of your own, in your immediate family, or even among your closest pals that you can enjoy, and share forward with those you love! 

Happy Eating Season, everyone. I hope everyone had a bountiful, flavorful weekend, and here's for more good food and good people, in the New Year, too! 

A Multicultural Week

It started with Monday. As any new week would.

We had reservations for a food-and-wine pairing, at The Communal Restaurant   in downtown Provo. The winery that was featured was from Napa Valley, our favorite, and its name was Judd’s Hill . The wine maker was there, and it was a ton of fun to hear him energized about his juices! He should have been excited, too: they had indeed the first chardonnay that I didn’t hate, and that says something. Their reds were a bit way dry for me, however. But it is me, not them!  

The menu from our food and wine pairing

You’ll have to know a bit about the Communal. It’s this little, maybe 500 sqf place in downtown Provo, and all it has is three tables. Three huge tables, that accommodate oh, I don’t know between 10 and 20 people each. And you sit down right across and next to strangers and you feel just like you feel when you’re on a plane: stuck, that is: you’ve got a stranger; and some food, and two hours to spare. What are you going to do?! Ignore? Or participate?! 

  

The rabbit, cooked three ways, and the beef and beet dish. I had a hard time eating something as pretty as this!

We participated! We met some cool out-of-towners, in town for business, and some “neighbors” from Springville. Amazing that people who grew up around here would entertain the beautiful decadence of wine-and-good-food pairings. Thou shalt not judge.   

The food came in small portions, but it was so delicious. My favorite was the rabbit. Especially the roasted one. It reminded me of this rabbit onion stew mom used to make every fall when my dad’s uncle would bring us his hunted rabbits. So yum!

The beef was a bit … bloody for me, but then again, I am no good judge – I never eat it. The whole night was an experience – the food was gourmet and unusually delicious, not something you can get at any ol’ restaurant every day, and the wine was well paired and complemented it well. It felt like a trip to Europe for sure: good food, small portions, good wine and close encounters. Definitely not recommended if stepping out of your comfort zone is not your thing.

And then, there was Friday. We went out for my work team outing, to Texas Roadhouse. If there is such a thing as going to hell for killing beef, these people have the expressway ticket, let me tell you!

I know that for most Americans this is not a cultural experience, but it is for me. I have never seen this much steak on one table in my whole life! From our table top of 8 people, 6 got some form of steak, one got a form of burger, and I got the shrimp. I have no idea how people can eat enormous amounts of steak! I would want to look like Mr. Universe and demand my money back if it didn’t happen after so much red meat!

After the dinner, we went to the newest James Bond Movie, Skyfall. So, the evening ended nicely, with us being teleported from Texas, back to the Motherland, in England. It was one of the best Bond movies yet, according to the aficionados in the audience and … to my husband, too. It was really a lovely evening.

On Saturday, we first went to a traditional Italian pizzeria, Settebello in Salt Late City. I loved the pizza! I have never been to Italy, but it reminded me of Amsterdam Italian pizza – just thin crust and healthy tasting – chockfull of fresh cheese and tomatoes, with an aftertaste of burnt wood, from the real brick oven it just came out of . None of the goopiness and plasticness of the American pizzas. Mine was loaded with garlic. So much so that I had to chew some peppermint gum after it, so I won’t offend my concert neighbors! Pair that up with a nice, smoother than silk Italian pino grigio, and the dinner was amazing!

After dinner, we had tickets for the Utah Symphony, in Salt Lake City. I have not been to The Symphony for many, many, oh, too … many years. I enjoyed it like the fasting son enjoys the first sign of water after fasting for a long time in the desert! We watched a Debussy and Ravel concert, and it was amazing! I loved the fact that for two hours there were no violations by technology in the space of the elegant Abravanel Hall! No electronic instruments, not even the sight of an electronic panel monitoring the sound or the lights! Just pure music, old fashionedly played instruments and beautiful, masterful sounds. Just the way they have been doing it since … the invention of music, I guess! The piano player from France, played an entire piano and orchestra concerto from memory. No paper reminders! It was a beautiful and humbling escape. 

The gorgeous glass sculpture in the lobby of Abravanel Hall

 

Temple Square and the surrounding streets, as seen from inside Abravanel Hall

 

Waiting for the concert to start. 

When we got out, the city was wearing the winter coat. Snow, sleet and ice was frosting every corner of it! The usual 45 minute drive home expanded to 2 hours on Saturday night! The roads were slick and the traffic thick. (Rhyme not intended.) But laying down in bed, and looking back, we have no complaints. 

Welcome to Winter, and Happy Holidays, too, from SLC, UT!

I feel like I have traveled between California to France, and then England, back to Texas and yet back to Italy and France in the span of five days without moving so much more than 40 miles from where we live.

I love America. And the one thing I love her the most for is … that it allows for all of us, immigrants, to bring home to us, instead of make us travel to it. All this, while letting us explore what it has to generously offer on its own, too.  

The Hardest Trip

“When you go through hell, keep going”. (Churchill)

14 years. I have been through losing a home, and gaining several others, marriage, and divorce, long relationships and short, loss of a job, another marriage, losing relatives I adored, watching my friend die of cancer, having two nephews, happiness beyond belief and sadness beyond words, too … But the one single thing that ripped my chest open, yanked my heart out, and threw it against the ground, reducing me to a big pile of nothing had to be a 5 pound cat.

But this is not about me and my grief. It is about the most loved and adored cat there was – my buddy cat, Fero.

I adopted him when he was 3 months old, when my former husband wanted a cat that behaves more like a dog. My husband was adamant about an Abyssinian. I didn’t care. I just wanted a cat. And a dog Fero was. But he was also a human, and a cat. And so much more. An angel, a total pig when it came to eating, and a motorboat, too.

Fero died this morning, after a long time of fighting whatever reduced him to 5 lbs (from 14) and about a month of fighting kidney failure. The way out was not his choice entirely, and I hope that one day I can forgive myself for making that choice. And I really wish dearly that people would stop telling me that I did the right thing!

I don’t think there ever was a person that ever, in 14 years, met him, even for one minute, that doesn’t remember him! His favorite thing in the whole world besides food was the doorbell. He loved to greet everyone when there was ever any movement at the door, and that included us, and the plumber, too. He talked to everyone. He asked them how they were, in his sweet growl and told them about his day, in his soft voice too. Someone who would only see him once, like an electrician or a contractor, would say, over years “oh, you have that cool cat”. They would not remember his name, or my name for that matter, but they would remember “that cool cat”. I have a coworker who only saw him once, but his son  picked him up and could not believe the friendliness. He calls him “the purple cat”, although he was not purple. But he was that unique.

Even when he was sicker than sick, the nurses would greet me at the door with “Oh, Ms. Wilson, he has been a chatter box. He has told us all about his life, and about how much he hates that IV, and he’s asking us about our days, too. He must be feeling better”. Yes, he was that friendly!

He had ticked brown hair, beautiful, clear, almond shaped eyes, gorgeous to the very end. He had a smile on his face and a happy outlook about him. A louder than loud purr, and a beautiful, kingly allure. He was royal, and he was what you call “a presence”. You were never not aware that Fero was in the room. He brightened it up and was the center of the conversation. He made sure of it. And he was so worth it! He would not live to be a bore.

Whoever said cats have no personality has never truly met a cat. And whoever said that cats are selfish creatures, independent and wanna be left alone has never met Fero! He was completely selfless. He was more in your business than he was in his. He was at the door when you walked in, next to your lap, when you were on the couch, on the spare dining room chair, at the dinner table, and right next to your pillow, when you laid down for a nap. 

 

This just in August - with my nephews, joining us for dinner and a movie, later. Always present. 

His biggest passion was food. He loved everything, or at least he thought he did. He begged for anything that came out of the fridge, and everything on the counter, or on your plate. He asked politely, with a tilt of the head, in a questioning growl that I will miss soooo much, if he could try anything you were having. Anything. He was always, and I mean always on the island stools when I prepped for cooking, just watching me carefully. He was always on the same chair as me, when I was having my breakfast. Even when he was sick last week, he carefully watched my husband mix the batter for the Thanksgiving pie. His favorite foods, beside any brand of cat canned food were ham, white chicken meat, popcorn and potato chips.

He was not ever a lap kitty. He was too much on alert for the doorbell for that. But he loved to cuddle. His favorite was to breathe hard in your ear while purring, or in the root of your hair. And he loved, loved, loved to have his tummy rubbed. My favorite mornings, here in Utah, were when I would find him in front of the hot vent in the winters, all stretched out asking for me to rub his tummy. He purred, forever and he would never get enough …

He always jumped and was present in the kitchen every single time the fridge opened, or the pantry door. He was so incredibly smart. They tell you that Abyssinians will learn words, just like dogs, and will respond to commands. I don’t like training pets to do things on command much, so I never took the time to train him. But he definitely learned the word “treats” on his very own!

He learned the Windows shutdown song, on my Dell laptop. Every time the song would come on (and he of course was right next to my wrist as I was typing), he jumped in the middle of the room, and headed for the kitchen. He knew it was time for a bedtime snack. And I mean, every single one time, in 14 years! Lately, I muted my laptop, in the hope that he would just chill. It took him probably about a month flat to figure out that the sound was gone, and he was now sitting perched over my shoulder on the back of the couch, just so he could watch my screen. When the screen would turn blue,  I was not even closing the lid, but when I pressed the shut down button and the pictures would disappear – he knew!

He loved to redecorate my house with his toys. I have a some cat toys, small, furry things I bought over the years, and people have given me, as gifts for all my cats, and I keep them in a plastic basket, out of the way. He would meticulously pull each one out, and spread them all over the dining room floor, where they would get premium visibility. I listened to him, and only put them away when I had guests.

I’ll miss his wet nose in my ears. And his jumping in the middle of the kitchen every time the laptop shuts off. And his bony fingers mashing and webbing into mine. I’ll miss the smell of his feet, and of his breath. I’ll miss sharing my meals with him, and especially the popcorn and my breakfast bar in the morning. I’ll miss his nose glued to my bedroom door in the morning and to my entrance door when I come home from work.

14 years. We have watched each other at our worst and our best. I have cradled him to sleep as a baby  and as an old sick kitty, and he has cradled me, through my many disappointments. At the end of the hardest day in my life, there was always his reassuring paw on my forearm, and his soft talk, and his deep, brown eyes, and his friendly tilt of his bony, earful head. He’s made me love cats more than I thought possible before, and he’s made me hate people more. I just hope I gave him at least an ounce of what he has given me.

When I adopted him 14 years ago, I signed a piece of paper that made me promise I would care for him, that I would not declaw him, and I would not allow flees, worms or any kind of parasites to live in or on his body. That I would not hurt him, or adopt him further to other people. I kept that promise religiously for every single day of every single one of those 14 years. Except … for the past months, where he’s been sick. I could not shield him from this one. The Big one! I could not. I did not know how. And I will never forgive myself for it, either!

Even skinny, he was still joyful, happy and communicative – till the kidney failure set in. And then, a week ago, he stopped eating. I knew he was near the end when my baby stopped eating. Stopped begging for food, and stopped jumping in the kitchen every time the silverware drawer would open. Then, two days ago, he stopped drinking. And then moving on his own.

I am not running through this to give myself absolution. This was also part of his life. The very sad, but fortunately, very short, part of his life. He trusted me blindly. I moved him across the country and I would crate him every single day in the car ride, and he never fought it. He talked and talked in the car, but I think he was asking for explanations. Oh, how I wish I could give those to him!

I am not quite sure how I’ll move on from here, but like Churchill said … I’ll have to just keep going. Blindly, and hurt, and down, I will keep crawling, and praying that my Fero is well and we shall meet again, on a sunny, beautiful pasture, somewhere.

They say kitties go to kitty heaven when they die, but I swear Fero would love a people heaven. Full of good hearted people that would listen to his stories and would feed him whatever they could spare.

Wherever he is now, I hope he’s free of pain, and there is plenty of foods and toys for him to enjoy. I hope it’s warm, and there is a vent he can purr by. I also hope they have a Windows, not a Mac, computer with a Windows XP song.

There is no way I could ever, in a million words, even begin to do justice to this amazing cat! I am just trying to leave a mark in time about his beautiful givings to us, and I am just trying to get this out of my chest, as it smothers me. As it should!

I am forever humbled that this unbelievable creature has spent most of his short life with me. I will never be the same because of his passing, but mostly because of his life and what he has taught me. Egyptians worshiped cats, and now I know why.

Rest in peace, little buddy. Until we shall meet again, momma loves you forever and always just the same.

 

June 1, 1998 - November 26, 2012 

A Quiet Weekend under the First Snow

“It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

 

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain, --
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.” (Emily Dickinson – The Snow)

Yes. It’s here. We did have a couple of flakes … sometime in October, I think – but the first true “dump” happened this weekend. The last tomatoes got chopped up and frozen for the winter, so, I guess fall is officially over.

We did miss putting all the patio furniture away yet. Our patio set and the grill are now sitting, desperately in awe, under a foot of snow, on the new patio. The last blooming roses are confused, too – and shivering. Oops! I guess it was unexpected. 

 Our laden with snow back patio

We were scheduled to go to an outdoor wedding this weekend, and we decided that would not be the right thing to do. Especially with Aa. still fighting a cold. Plus, the roads looked iffy on Saturday, still. 

One of my scared roses

Instead, we stayed in, watched the snow piling up after Friday dinner, and behaved like total pensioners: read, surfed, watched bad, way too early Christmas movies on TV, wrote, archived pictures, and ate creamy white, spicy sausage and corn soup with garlic toast. We are craving apple pie, too! We’ve been eating way too much. But I guess it’s just the body’s natural response to winter: we need to build up fat, for hibernation, right?! Right! 

 

Spicy sausage and corn soup with garlic toast.

Some people say this is too early. After all, my Canada sister has not seen snow this season yet! Neither has my Romania family. But it feels and looks fairy-like and gorgeous all around. 

 

A close up view of The Valley, from our dining room window

 

It feels like Christmas, without the tree. It really does. It’s a coziness and a familiarity in the air that we have craved for, all (crazy busy) year long! So, we’re enjoying it – even before its time.

And early or not, cold or not, one thing is for sure: it looks so beautiful! 

 

Our back door view: Mount Timpanogos