"Imagination is more important than knowledge...."
.....Einstein told us,
staring postered on our schoolroom's blue gingham papered wall. My teacher stuck it there. My teacher, who just also happened to be my mother. The only other student in the room? My sister. I remember sassing in my head "well, if it's so much more important, why do I have to sit here in front of long division?" But, I kept my mouth shut. Well, for the most part I did.
This more important thing - imagination - this, my mother gave me. This, she taught me. Imagination is the fighter yelling in my ear: there are always possibilities...there is always something. There is always that possibility that when you kiss a frog, you'll get a prince. (Yes, I'll admit it, I kissed frogs as a kid....just to see...). There is always that possibility that if you imagine yourself with the strength of a man, you'll pull out the sword in the stone. There is always that possibility that the ugly duckling will turn into a swan. And always the possibility that the egg will hatch. There is the possibility that for just one day I will be a man and be able to have one of their beards I am jealous of...only for a day, mind you...only for a day. There is always that possibility I will outgrow my love of flannel shirts (very, very low possibility). And there is always that possibility that on the worst of the worst weather days, a fish will bite...
My mom imagines the possibilities. As I wrote a year ago, she dwells in the possible. I, however, usually dwell in the 'im.' My imagination is just imagining. Isn't it? Silly me. But yet...
....I still do. I still dream and imagine...
.....I try to live in the possible.
This year though, I forgot about Mother's Day. I utterly forgot. I guess I could say I was too busy imagining things. My mom is a good teacher.....
So right now, I'll imagine that I made these crêpes for her. She is in Nebraska. I am in Colorado. I will call her later today and we will talk. But right now? I will write. I'll imagine that we are sitting together at my kitchen table in early morning light, shadowing dark coffee, sipping the silence. We look up the mountainside for visitors. I'll imagine that we see a doe and her yearling. They graze on spring, on possibilities, just like us. I imagine that I tell my mom how much I want to be like her when I grow up. How much I admire her character, her laugh and her hazel eyes that I have oftentimes made cry. How much I admire her strength and toughness. How much I am thankful for her wisdom and advice and ability to bugger on. How thankful I am she told me to explore this Thread in life. It's ok, child, she said softly. Explore. Dream. Imagine. It's possible. I tell her how much I love her, and suddenly she is right here, eating with me. We wave our forks in the air...in circles...this is good.....
You never know...it's always possible.
~ Buckwheat Crêpes ~
1 1/2 cups milk
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1/4 cup gluten free flour blend (I used Pure Pantry)
1 1/2 Tbs. butter
Combine all ingredients and let sit for 15-20 minutes. Lightly butter a cast iron pan and put about 1/4 cup batter in, pouring into the middle and then swirling the pan until the batter thinly covers the entire surface of the frying pan.
~ Rhubarb Strawberry Sauce ~
Bring to a boil and then simmer 'til syrupy.
Top with Greek yogurt.