APPRECIATING THE MOMENT

May Day! I’m reminded of Paris with the strikes and huge “manifs” that often happen in the month of May, the streets full of people and banners. There’s usually very little of that here in Canada (though this year we’ve just had a serious federal election, as we face threats from our neighbour to the south).

What we do have at last here in Toronto is full springtime. It’s thrilling.

forsythia in bloom today in the Annex

I love the subtle intricate flowers on deciduous trees: maples with acid green tufts or deep red florets; birches with their tender catkins undulating in the breeze. Then there are the more showy flowers: magnolia trees with long smooth pale pods in the morning that later in the day transform into open show-offy blooms; hedges of brilliant yellow forsythia; whiter-than-white fine blossom dotted up the branches of my neighbour’s plum tree.

And now at last there are flower buds and fine tender green leaves on the large, aged crabapple tree in front of my house.

crabapple coming into bloom

This bursting out of life buoyed me up, carried me forward, during a difficult week of days at the hospital with a dear one. Lifting my gaze whenever I was outside to see, really see, the brilliance of a freshly greening tree or the delicate beauty of cherry blossoms helped kick me out of my anxious thoughts, if only briefly.

cherry blossom today by Robarts Library

The sages remind us to live in the moment. The future isn’t here yet. The moment is what we have, followed by the next one, and so on. Staying present to that can be life-giving.

The other assist this week was a different sense of wonder: at the remarkable equilibrium, steady patience, and general kindliness of the nurses, physios, porters, and other hospital staff. I found their stamina astonishing. Like teachers, they are “on” almost every moment of their twelve-hour shifts, with endless tasks and constant calls on their attention. A hospital is filled with needy people. How do the staff manage it? The guy who shouts out for a nurse, the confused older woman muttering to herself as she wanders into other people’s rooms, the visitor who has endless questions: all of this is loaded on top of getting their daily list of tasks done. I am so grateful to them.

Tuesday, the day of discharge from the hospital, was soft and warm, real air and light after a long week of being shut indoors. What a gift.

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS

On the Sunday evening I had left the hospital early because a dear friend was coming over for supper. The chance to cook for someone was as energising as springtime.

The meal was simple and quickly made. My friend stripped the peels off potatoes I had boiled earlier, and then they went into a bowl coarsely chopped. I dressed them with EVOO, cider vinegar, salt, and chopped sorrel leaves from the garden. I quickly wilted spinach then splashed on a little of my usual combo: sesame oil, soy sauce, and lemon juice. Leeks, chopped, rinsed over and over, simmered gently in olive oil flavoured with mustard seed, fennel seed, and minced ginger, and seasoned with a splash of fish sauce, became a delectably unctuous pale green clump. Finally, a lake trout fillet cooked quickly in a lightly oiled cast-iron skillet, with the lid on, after being seasoned with a smear of shio koji and lightly sprinkled with sumac.

I relaxed into our conversation as we ate.

lake trout, potato salad, and a scatter of tender leek

This return to the kitchen to cook simple food for a friend was incredibly restorative. It was like a promise of the release from hospital that came 36 hours later, back into life and hope.