Lemon Cornmeal Cake with Candied Lemons

Currently: a slice of this darling cake (the very last!), lush trees,  lilac bushes blowing in a looming spring storm, and a thick-rimmed glass of iced coffee. I absolutely relish the month of May!

Rain makes its own night, long mornings with the lamp left
on.
Lean bean grass sticks to the floor near your shoes,
last summer’s pollen rises from damp metal screens.

This is order, this clutter that fills clearings between us,
clothes clinging to chairs, your shoes in a muddy grip.

The hard rain smells like it comes from the earth.
the human light in our windows, the orange stillness
of rooms seen from outside. The place we fall to alone,
falling to sleep. Surrounded by a forest’s green assurance,
the iron gauze of sky and sea,
while night, the rain, pulls itself down through the trees.


                            ~ Anne Michaels, in The Weight of Oranges

Clementine Olive Oil Cake

I love the feeling of sunlight on wrinkled morning sheets. My late April mornings are crisp and cold, but thanks to a gentle early sunrise, their edges have softened, significantly. And whilst winter is still trying to make itself heard, his windy voice is now a hollow echo - we're no longer bumping into each other with awkward elbows and disgruntled sighs.

This morning's sunbath was particularly difficult to depart from. My pillow was perfectly cool, and the sheets had the inviting warmth that comes from being slept on all night. Why is it that a bed reaches it's peak comfort level as soon as the alarm goes off? After several minutes of basking and stretching and hitting the snooze button, I remembered the bundt cake sitting on my kitchen table. Nothing awakens the body and mind quite like the promise of cake, and strong, creamy coffee.

Lemon & Thyme, Olive Oil Cookies

Last summer's sultry, tropical heat unearthed a lost respect for the lazy ease of flip-flops, as well as a Pandora's box of otherworldly insects.  I think it was either July or early August that I had an uninvited, eight-legged visitor in my late night shower. Even though I have an intense fear of them, I try to respect spiders. But the creature clinging to my shower curtain (the very curtain I'd just drawn back with my hand!), was no ordinary spider. It was the colour of creamy coffee and instead of having nice, evenly-spaced legs, the four front legs were spread above it's head, whilst the back legs stretched out below it's torso, leaving a creepy space in the center. Plus it was the size of a small gerbil (maybe). In a moment of sheer panic, I washed it down the thankfully-wide drain and proceeded to take the fastest shower in the history of showers (because I think we've all seen Arachnophobia!).

Apparently the incident left a mental scar because I recently had a nightmare about a pulsating nest growing in the cellar. And just like real life, Niles, my 20lb cat, was completely useless when it came to catching anything. After one of the dream spiders ran across his tail, all he did was clean one of his front paws, yawn, stretch, and then go back to sleep.

After the leggy nightmare, I needed something to calm down. And nothing calms me down quite like baking and cookie eating. Especially when my beloved lemons are involved.