I am woken now each morning by a brilliant beam of sunlight reflecting on a glass-facaded building near mine. It beams into my window like a laser, warming my heart as I wake in the realization that the days are getting longer. I'm in a frenzy of salad eating, willing spring to come. The fridge is full of different sort of nummy things that can all go into a salad, and, whereas I generally don't like to mix tomatoes in with my greens, I'm craving them now... so I do.
Each mouthful is a little different, with droplets of greeny gold olive oil, the occasional burst of a baby tomato or a pomegranate seed, the crunch of a slivered almond, the salty creaminess of a shaving of cheese, or the warm nuttiness of a piece of pecan or walnut. I HEART SALADS.