BEAUTIFUL PLANTS AND FLOWERS

February

February is Lisa Moore’s heart-stopping follow-up to her debut novel, Alligator, winner of the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for the Caribbean and Canadian region. Propelled by a local tragedy, in which an oil rig sinks in a violent storm off the coast of Newfoundland, February follows the life of Helen O’Mara, widowed by the accident, as she continuously spirals from the present day back to that devastating and transformative winter.

After overcoming the hardships of raising four children as a single parent, Helen’s strength and calculated positivity fool everyone into believing that she’s pushed through the paralyzing grief of losing her spouse. But in private, Helen has obsessively maintained a powerful connection to her deceased husband. When Helen’s son unexpectedly returns home with life-changing news, her secret world is irrevocably shaken, and Helen is quickly forced to come to terms with her inability to lay the past to rest.

An unforgettable glimpse into the complex love and cauterizing grief that run through all of our lives, February tenderly investigates how memory knits together the past and present, and pinpoints the very human need to always imagine a future, no matter how fragile.

February bounds to life with yellow forsythias, cheery daffodils and the short and sturdy “early” tulips that push up through the cold soil. If you keep your eyes to the ground you might see the beautiful sunny center of the snow crocus.

Paper fine ranunculus symbolize new beginnings as this is the time of the new year for many cultures. Bamboo shoots peek through the garden floor. Wild yellow dandelions put on a happy face.

Certain golden marigolds spring up to offer chickens richer egg yolks, garnishes for salads and as an ointment for diaper rash, eczema and cradle cap.

Also ushering in pre-spring are the season’s first bright lettuces and endives with light yellow caps. Overwintered, you will be eating the last of the butternut squash in its mustard yellow pajamas waiting to warm you when roasted with brown sugar. A gentle reminder that "ah, ah, ah" spring is not here yet.

For us it’s a circus of oranges and lemons gleaned from trees along with wild salad with crisp lemony tanginess. Homemade yogurt, buttermilk, creme fraiche and whisked mayonnaise line the shelves in various hues of ecru, just a hint of pale yellow in its palate.

February in my minds eye is yellow, that first flash of life in a sunny yolk, and dreams of fluffy baby chicks. Yellow is joy and hope.

Yellow makes me think of many things edible and soul soothing, our bodies defrosting drip by drip like melted butter over sourdough pancakes or a sunny Sunday morning with steam rising from the pile of freshly made crepes, or a wonderful gooey flan for dessert that you had to wait 24 hours to eat. Pale yellow is the color of honey sourdough bread and of golden waffles, of therapeutic chamomile tea and of freshly hanging cut pasta in a month that is filled with love and a happy glow.

What is that smell? The tiny yellow mimosa flowers freshly cut on the table. Oh, it’s sour dough baking! Or its the tempting aroma of essential oils melding with beeswax to make homemade lotions and lipbalms for winter weathered features. February finds me with some flour, eggs and not much else to live on, except homemade Limoncello so its all worth it.

February bounds to life with garish forsythias who all but dare to break the quiet spell of white winter. This month means life to me, Amaya was born; my life began as well as her's. We are entwined with nature: buds, flowers, blooms of life take hold.

Cheery daffodils and the short and sturdy early tulips push up through the cold soil. If you keep your eyes to the ground you might see the beautiful sunny center of the snow crocus. Paper fine ranunculus symbolizes new beginnings. Certain golden marigolds spring up to offer chickens richer egg yolks, garnishes for salads and as an ointment for diaper rash, eczema and cradle cap. Also ushering in spring are the season’s first bright lettuces and endives with light yellow tips. You will still find butternut squash in its mustard yellow pajamas waiting to warm you when roasted with brown sugar. February in my minds eye is a pale yellow, that first flash of life in a sunny yolk.

Pale yellow makes me think of many things edible and soul soothing, our bodies defrosting drip by drip like melted butter over cornmeal pancakes or a sunny Sunday morning with steam rising from the plate of freshly made crepes, or a wonderful gooey flan for dessert that you had to wait 24 hours to eat. Pale yellow is the color of honey sourdough bread and of golden waffles, of therapeutic chamomile tea and of freshly hanging cut pasta in a month that is filled with love and a happy glow.

A fast-moving twelve-volume crime thriller series from a bestselling Australian author. On New Year's Eve, Callum Ormond is chased down the street by a crazed man with a deadly warning: They killed your father. They'll kill you. You must survive the next 365 days! Now he's on the run. The people who killed his father want him dead, and the police are chasing him for a crime he didn't commit. A month has gone by and he's still no nearer to solving the Ormond Riddle, the family secret that has turned his life into a nightmare. Can he trust the mysterious Winter Frey, or will she lead him further into danger? He has 334 days. The clock is ticking...

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