Rhubarb pie

Some days ago I had to stay at home because of a poor little ewe that had fallen ill. My mother was also at home and the others went to Stockholm to the meeting I was supposed to go to. It was a beautiful weekend and I managed to make progress with my new paddock for the sheep.

My old Ajax takes a rest while I am working.

But then I decided to make a rhubarb pie the next morning to have after lunch the same day. It is such a privilege to step out in the garden with just birdsong around me, pick some rhubarb stalks and then in peace make a pie for just us two.

Pie in progress. I love this French pie plate, both beautiful and practical.

While sitting there with my mother during lunch I realised more concretely how lovely it is to have lived with her for so long, to really get to know her, to be inspired by her, to build on what she has started and just to grow in friendship. I realised too how much can be achieved in a relationship with simplicity and humility; to really see her.

And the rhubarb pie? It was delicious.

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