The Wall

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“What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. . . . It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 6 (1889)

Today I Am Eating . . .

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I sure do enjoy my eggs in the morning but am feeling "soup"-ish today.
Oh, how about Green Chili Stew with a flour tortilla . . . I need a napkin just thinking about it.

Enjoy this quote from a book I'm reading:

credit: I Am New Mexico
"[The waitress] serves a stack of unheated flour tortillas, butter, and a bowl of green, watery fire that would have put a light in the eyes of Quetzalcoatl. Texans can talk, but nowhere is there an American chili hot sauce, green or red, like the New Mexican versions, with no two recipes the same except for the pyrotechnic display they blow off under the nose. New Mexican salsas are mouth-watering, eye-watering, nose-watering; they clean the pipes, ducts, tracts, tubes; and like spider venom, they can turn innards to liquid. I'd finished the tortillas when she set down the huevos rancheros with chopped nopales (prickly pear), rice, and a gringo glass of milk to extinguish the combustibles." 

 (Heat-Moon, William Least. Blue Highways: A Journey Into America. New York: Back Bay Books, 1999, p. 154)

 I miss New Mexico . . .

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