Ruby Falls ~ Chattanooga, TN

The walls of the cave are covered in the coolest formations I had ever seen!

Rainy Day Food that Warms You Up from the Inside Out

Soba Noodle Bowls

Makes 2 huge servings.  :)

While your water heats to a boil for the noodles, sautee 1 cut up chicken breast in a teaspoon of sesame oil.

When the chicken is almost done, add 2 cloves of minced garlic and about 2 cups of veggies of your choice.  I used asparagus, carrots and mushrooms, then added some napa and mung sprouts right before serving.

Add soy sauce to taste.  Cover the chicken and veggies in 4 cups chicken broth and bring to a boil.

Add your choice of noodle and boil according to instructions.  I like ramen or whole wheat soba, both of which take about 4 minutes.

Drain the cooked noodles.  Put a serving in the bottom of the bowl, and add the soup over the noodles.  Sprinkle the top with a yummy crunchy soba topping (below).

Soba Topping:
1 tsp chile powder
A pinch of cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp coriander
1 tsp toasted sesame seeds
A pinch of crushed red pepper

The Bluebell Woods of Ireland

A friend of mine told me about these beautiful carpeted forests of bluebells in Ireland, a favorite place of hers to visit.  The pictures are amazing, such as the one I have attached here, but the story behind them inspiring the romantic poets of the 19th century, is equally as cool.  

Gerard Manley Hopkins, a European poet, made this entry in his journal dated May 9, 1871:

"In the little wood opposite the light they stood in blackish spreads or sheddings like spots on a snake. The heads are then like thongs and solemn in grain and grape-colour. But in the clough through the light they come in falls of sky-colour washing the brows and slacks of the ground with vein-blue, thickening at the double, vertical themselves and the young grass and brake-fern combed vertical, but the brake struck the upright of all this with winged transomes. It was a lovely sight. - The bluebells in your hand baffle you with their inscape, made to every sense. If you draw your fingers through them they are lodged and struggle with a shock of wet heads; the long stalks rub and click and flatten to a fan on one another like your fingers themselves would when you passed the palms hard across one another, making a brittle rub and jostle like the noise of a hurdle strained by leaning against; then there is the faint honey smell and in the mouth the sweet gum when you bite them."