Grace, pelargoniums and more of life’s impossibilities

Golden morning, light before 5am, a hot golden light suffusing  all the rooms and the garden.

Very quiet morning, hoping there will be a break from protests.The housemate getting happy birthday calls from friends and colleagues, very exuberant and  in a party mood. I baked her some of the  special chocolate biscuits she loves, broke pieces of Belgian chocolate into the dough, and they are delicate, a little too crumbly but intensely chocolatey. A happy day. She had a nightmare though,  woke shaking in the middle of the night, said she was driving on a steep mountain road and  her steering wheel twisted and stuck, she  swerved and  rolled off the  cliff, crashing  in slow motion. ‘Horrible to die in slow motion,’ she said, her mouth full of chocolate crumbs.
Advent nearly here and  I find myself dreading the festive season, as I always do.  Reading a review of  Rowan Williams’ latest book Christ the Stranger, I feel obscurely comforted by  Williams’ wrestling  with doubt and  lack of faith, the elusiveness of the Divine. The same way I used to read the bleaker  passages from Simone Weil and  know others had  struggled and managed to live between doubt and  the desire to believe in the transcendent. How does a former Archbishop of Canterbury admit to  times of unbelief and  darkness? “Where moral reasoning tries to evade the tragic dimension, where it posits an unambiguous good, [...] it becomes an exercise in fantasy and a failure to accept that God’s grace is at work in the real, damaged world of human experience.”
One of my favourite pelargoniums is blooming, clusters of flowers that  look like miniature red roses, so pretty. And my scented pelagoniums — nutmeg, lemon, mint, rose — are loving the heat.
Back to the writing again today, a birthday supper tonight and guests, our neighbours have left for a fortnight in a game reserve in the Eastern Cape, they love watching elephants. Well, who doesn’t enjoy watching elephants?
Decided yesterday that I shall make a tomato tarte tatin with basil oil  for  Christmas Eve supper. Each year I  plan a different dish, usually vegetarian and light, because it is so hot by late December. My watermelon, feta, black olive and  basil salad (via Nigella)  has been a great success and last year I did a  colourful Moroccan carrot salad  with harissa. In the African heat, we usually opt for  very  light meals of seafood and  salad, fruit, vegetarian classics. Although I  often find myself on the 24th December  watching Gordon Ramsey or  Nigella roasting a turkey or  steaming a plum pudding on TV, and absurdly yearn for a traditional northern Christmas feast. Holly, twinkly lights and a rotund Dickensian Santa Claus shouting ‘Ho, ho ho!’