Strawberry Rhubarb Quinoa Porridge

“Presently we saw a curious thing: There were no clouds, the sun was going down in a limpid, gold-washed sky. Just as the lower edge of the red disc rested on the high fields against the horizon, a great black figure suddenly appeared on the face of the sun… the handles, the tongue, the share—black against the molten red. The fields below us were dark, and the sky was growing pale, and that forgotten plough had sunk back to its own littleness somewhere on the prairie.” — Willa Cather (My Antonia, 1918)