Mountain Storms and Western Suns

It was a rainy night in the middle of the Ozarks when the wind came rolling over the hills. Nestled in their bed the husband and wife slept soundly while their dog stood alert, a sense in her canine bones that something just wasn't right. A flash of lightning lit up the night sky, illuminating the room and its inhabitants. Then, as if a loud gong was struck in the heavens, a thunderclap shook the house and reverberated across the mountain, setting the cur to scramble quickly under the bed.

If our weekend were to be set to a novella, this is how it would begin. A rainy weekend, hunkered down in the house, watching old movies, eating lots of food, and hoping that we only had to contend with the thunderstorms and not the potential tornadoes that were forecasted.

While Sabrina is not the biggest fan of thunderstorms - as noted by her disappearing act under the bed - she doesn't mind a nice, lazy weekend in the house. There were a few breaks in the bad weather to take her out for at least one walk on Saturday and Sunday. Otherwise, she was content to just laze about the house enjoying the time with her people.

As I mentioned earlier, we spent most of the weekend eating and watching old movies. Particularly enjoyable was our Saturday evening "Dinner and a Movie" - Pork Pizzaoila and "Clue" (the 1985 cinematic version of the beloved Hasbro board-game).  There's nothing quite as good as watching a movie that you recall with fond memories from your childhood, along with feel good food.

Today, again relegated to staying inside the house due to the bad weather, we decided to do brunch: Spinach and Gruyere Quiche, Mixed Greens with Toasted Pecans and Pears in a Maple Honey Vinaigrette, Coffee and Wine. It took us a few hours, and I have to give props to my wonderful husband who made the quiche (all from scratch, thanks to Martha Stewart) to impeccable standards. Matt has officially become the "Brunch-master," while I maintain my Executive Chef status Monday thru Saturday and for Sunday evening meals.

This evening, sated from all the food and cuddled up on the couch, Matt and I looked out our front window to see that the sky had gone from gray to gold. 

 

The dog resumed her rounds of the house. She returned to the living room where her people sat and surveyed the area. Outside a coyote howled, and in the nearby meadow a cow plaintively lowed. There would be no rain tonight, no flashes of lightning, no loud claps of thunder. Resigned that all was right and well, that there would be no cause to scamper for the underside of the bed this evening, she lowered herself to the floor and curled up in a snug ball. As her eyes closed she felt secure and warm, bathed in the fading glow of the setting sun.