Chef Jose Andres

     In the iPhone photo above, I show a modified version of Chef Andres' tapa recipe, Garlic Shrimp and Catalan Spinach. I cherish eating locally grown foods, the spinach here, grown by Denny. 

And here is the recipe published by the Wall Street Journal in their Eating & Drinking section, Saturday/Sunday, 16-17 March, 2013:

6 T olive oil, plus extra for brushing bread

1 Golden Delicious apple, cut into 1/4-inch dice

4 T pine nuts

4 T seedless raisins

10 ounces of baby spinach

Salt, to taste

4 cloves of garlic

5 chiles de arbol, crumbled

1 pound of shrimp, peeled and deveined

5 T brandy

5 T lemon juice, plus 4 lemon wedges for garnish

4 slices of country bread, 3/4-inch thick

What to do:

1. Preheat broiler. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil to a large sauté pan over high heat. Once hot, add apples and cook until caramelized on all sides, 2-3 minutes.

2. Add nuts and stir until lightly toasted, about 30 seconds. Add raisins and continue stirring until heated through, about 30 seconds.

3. Add spinach and toss until just wilted, 1-2 minutes. Remove pan form heat and season with salt.

4. Set a medium saute pan with 1/4 cup oil over medium heat. Add garlic and cook until it sizzles, about 30 seconds. Add chiles and cook1 minute, making sure garlic does not burn. Turn heat to high and add shrimp. 

5. Cook shrimp until they start to color, about 30 seconds. Add brandy and lemon juice to pan. Flip shrimp and continue to cook until they just curl, about 1 minute more. Remove pan from heat and season shrimp with salt.

6 While shrimp cook, brush bread with oil and place slices under broiler. Toast both sides until golden, about 1 minute per side.

7. Serve shrimp and spinach with toasted bread and lemon wedge.

Clouds Again Over My Plane

      

        I flew for the second time a complex aircraft, and my mind felt overloaded a bit, but I know enough to take three deep breaths and persevere. MyNiceInstructor from Cobra Kai is sharp as a tack, and intelligent, with years of experience in flying behind him. It shows in the way he speaks during his lessons about flying. I have, sometimes, difficulty keeping up with him, but he remains patient with me, which encourages my passion to learn more about flying; and he makes the hardship of learning feel fun, the way it should be. 

        Here he is on television: Flight School Takes Off  (In the footage, that is the nose of my Zizortail they show.)

        

Volunteers in My Garden: Sunflower

When birds messily spill seeds on the ground and forget to retrieve them, 

life emerges, beautifully.

Rose Prickly Poppy

Note: Posted this image a month late. Lone rose prickly poppy in Archer County.

Mucky Weather and My Nephew

     The weather may prevent me from flying my little airplane to visit my nephew and watch him graduate from Texas A & M. When we do not have wings, we have wheels! With wings or on wheels, I will journey to see my nephew and the rest of my remarkable family.

A Ka-ching Birding Day (After Penny's Day)

      I follow devotedly Penny's birding blog. From her birding last week, I borrow her title, "Ka-Ching," because I felt that way today about my own birding experience. Not as amazing as her own in reference to spotting unique birds, I did see some new species that I see only during their migration and only when I'm lucky.
      MyMrMallory said, "Let's walk over to that pond. There may be some birds over there."
      Any time a non-birder says, "We might see birds," my ears perk up. Thanks to MyMrMallory, my birding list today includes:

American Avocet (3)
Ruddy Duck (1)
Green-winged Teals (3)
Long-billed Dowitcher (6)
Wilson's Phalarope (5-7)

       Interestingly, one of the phalaropes swam quickly in circles, creating a whirlpool that would attract food. Occasionally, the phalarope poked his beak in the water as it swam around and around. All I spotted were males, and no females.

       Before departing our home, I saw a Hermit Thrush in the garden. What a ka-ching day, indeed!

A Lark sparrow. 

A nesting Barn owl. She incubates two eggs. 

Where Thelesperma Grows

Prolific this year. 

Wilson's Phalarope

      Just to continue nature's characteristic variety, the female Wilson's phalarope wears all the color and stylishness. The males are gorgeous, too, but wear different tones of grays. The males incubate the eggs and raise the young. In the meantime, the females have begun their migration south. 

      I read about the behavior that the phalarope displayed as I watched, at first with concern. They will swim rapidly in a circle to create a whirlpool that will bring in foodstuffs. The phalarope I watched swam in a circle for a long while, then move on. 

      My source: Wikipedia Accessed 8:05 p.m., 6 May 2013.

M Kite in Tree

      I spotted my first Mississippi Kite a couple of weeks ago. This one sat on a tree, unconcerned about me as I composed for an image of her from below.

Bulls Kicking Dirt at MissusParkey'sHouse

      Happily I composed for the three doors below at MissusParkey'sHouse. 

   

       Beyond the walls that surround the house, bulls came close, curious creatures of God as they are, to sniff us. Perhaps we might have some of those tasty and nutritious cubes. Alas, all we had were cameras and curious looks ourselves. The bulls soon lost interest in us, and developed an interest in the dry soil upon which they stood. I ought to kick up some dust myself to see what it's all about. 

Older bull.

Yearling bull.

Chicory

Only one, all by herself, in the countryside, 

surrounded by her friends, Thelesperma, Indian Blanket, and many others. 

A Rose Named Jeanne D'Arc

A garden delight, fragrant and beautiful.

Clouds to My Right, Middle, and Left

Blooming Prickly Pear

Immobile Barn Owl

     
       Maybe she thought that if she remained perfectly still, then roofer Carl and I would not spot her. With her camouflage coloring, developed over time by her species, she knew she would blend right in with her background, were that background tree and leaves. The walls of an old abandoned house provided the background for her this time, and the closet, the door upon which she roosted, her nest. She remained still, quite still except for a micro-movement of her left eyelid, and a barely perceptible turn of her head as she followed every one of our movements.
     

Swapping Ol' Trucks

      For a year or so, our plan evolved into various stages before we spontaneously jumped into the truck, accepting that come what may come, we would figure things out, and return home by sunset.

      Our task: To deliver a fifteen-year old truck in Pampa, and to return home with a twenty-year old truck.  

      It was the day of the year when the winds at Perry Lefors Field in Pampa did not howl at thirty knots; the kind of day you choose to fly there in your little airplane to land with winds at ten knots. Oh, well. 

      The sky had just enough clouds to embellish the photographs I took along the way. I lugged a Nikon D3 that Ben Jacobi had just assisted me in converting to an infrared camera. My first time with it, and all the images grabbed from the passeger seat as we sped by, I give thanks to Nik's plug-ins in Photoshop, for I managed to find some shots pleasing to my eye. 

      I love the Panhandle Plains, and I love making images of every corner of them. The infrared images make the plains all the more fascinating to me. 

Foliage is still turning green along the way. 

Cattle munch on the native grasses.

An old windmill still brings water to the well.

A butte in a cotton field.

Cotton stalks after the harvest. 

Uh oh. Fire in a wheat field. To the right, an oil drilling unit. 

Silos.

A widening road cut through a barn in Quanah.

Perry Lefors Field old hangars.

The dash of a '92 Chevrolet Cheyenne covered in layers of dust and dirt.

     We found the old truck in the hangar. MyMrMallory connected the battery, gave the engine a good look, declared it safe to start, and then turned the key. The motor started right away, shaking the entire truck, and with a cloud of dust blowing out of its exhaust pipe. 

     Inside the truck, twenty-years of North Texas dust and dirt cover the dash. I pulled the lever and opened the passenger door, tossed my bag on the bench seat, and sat down, testing the air with my nostrils. Would I breathe in the dust and suffer a spasm of asthma, or would I survive? I could always hold my breath for the three-hour drive home. I looked for the button to roll down the window, discovering that it had none, and that the reason we say "roll down the window," is because back in the old days, vehicles had levers that people grasped and turned in order to open the window. I carefully cranked the lever to roll down the window. It came down nicely, and let fresh country air into the cabin. I breathed in deeply. 

     Someone years before had covered the back and driver's side glass with a dark plastic that now bubbled in the middle and pealed along the edges. A crack struck through the windshield on the passenger side, reminding me of the way lightning looks in pictures. Along the driver's door, smears of brown oil colored the gray panel. I looked at my door, and noted that no oil field worker or cowboy had smeared the passenger side. 

     The bed of the truck had no tailgate. In it, a roll of barbed wire and a shovel lay on a thick rubber mat long enough that it hung out of the bed, where once it had its tailgate. Placed over the bed, against the cabin, sat a long, white, scratched, and dented toolbox. I reached up to unlatch it, and the cover bolted upwards, startling me, making me jump backwards a couple of feet. I held my nose and peered in. The toolbox contained a large wrench, a hammer, paper towels, and several cans of WD-40, all of them covered in a layer of dust. 

     The truck we delivered in Pampa has not endured the hard life the old truck did. It runs well and reliably, and the reason we wanted to swap them. Back at home, I asked one of my favorite mechanics about the old truck:   

     Me: "Well, I'd like to keep this ol' truck to run errands in."

     MyMrMallory: "Ha, if you can get Paul to look at it!"     

     Me: "Paul, would you look at this old truck to make sure it'll keep running?"

     Paul: "As long as there's no cow poop, yes, I will."

Ye Ol' Barn

Stumbled upon an old barn in Wise County. It sat surrounded by flowers, which were the focus of my attention, and which led me to the barn, unbeknownst, as I traipsed in the countryside from bloom to bloom, until I looked up. 

Zig-zag and Wavy

Wheel of a helicopter trailer. 

Oil cooler of a helicopter. 

Gardenia in a Cup of Water

        A gardenia floats in water in a cup.

Weeds and Wasps