Soup. That was the first thought on my mind when I woke up this morning. My eyes were still closed. The rain was falling hard. I love the sound of rain on the roof. I love the sound of rain. I love the smell of rain. Winter. Warmth. Hmmm …
I didn’t even know what I was going to put in the soup. I wasn’t going to leave the house to get ingredients for something specific. It was going to have to be whatever is in the house and it better be tasting like comfort. A chunky, hearty, loaded kinda soup.
Soup somehow made me longing for more. More comfort. More connection. The need to feel like I can exhale and just be me more. Winter’s effect on me. A place of warmth that I created. Coziness. A safe haven. Where I can just be. Have my thoughts and things and conversations. Laugh and love. Think and write. Work and worship. Just be me. I think these feelings come with seasons. The feeling of something lacking.
My oven didn’t want to heat up when I put it on the fan setting. Sigh. Since when. It heated on the Eco setting though. Roasted some Romanesco broccoli florets with olive oil, salt, black pepper and paprika. Lovely. New things. The oven remains at the back of my head. It has to be looked at. And the dishwasher. And so my brain runs like a runaway train …
I loved the day though. Grey. Rainy. Winter. Comfort. Warm things. I miss hugs. Real ones. Meant ones. All encompassing ones. Love surrounding me ones. Truth ones. Heart connect ones. Intimate ones. Safe ones. I’m running on empty. Covid.
Warm, hearty, chunky soup is a food hug. It helps. I need to buy split peas and soup mix.
Soup season is here!!!