oh JOY,

there's snow underfoot!!

*sparkle* 
and squeak!

B-b-b-bitter.

Is there anything I care to say today, this wickedly cold winter's day?

Doubtful.

So far it's been such a mildly fucked up winter here that I haven't had to worry all that much about how my flowers might be holding up out there...all those lovely life-filled bulbs I planted in the warmth of the Fall, with sweet anticipation of a long-awaited Spring... I'm a little worried now that I might not have buried them deep enough to withstand the cold with no protection, but I imagine they're doing just fine, and the winter's passing quickly, without the grace of snow.... It hardly feels right, but without a pair of skis on her feet, or a snowflake in her eye, what's a woman to do?  Get out the seed catalogs and paint the living room, that's what.  Warm dirty days will be here soon enough.  Best be getting ready.

Fire something up and keep those f-f-f-fingers warm, friends.

Winter Pick Up

Salad of:
Romaine, leaves and hearts
Grapefruit, pink or red and sweet
Bleu cheese (MN or WI)
Beets, pickled, or simply cooked
Pistachios, shelled and split 

Dressed with:
Stoneground brown mustard
Sweet white miso
Virgin olive oil
Basalmic vinegar
Agave syrup (optional) 

Followed by:
Sage mead 

& then:
Savory meatloaf, cool and thick
Wild rice, simmered in vegetable bouillon and tossed with squash seeds roasted in olive oil, dried currants, chopped walnuts, mild celery, goji berries, yellow onion, white pepper, salt, dried nettles and thyme. 

Dessert being:
Werthers & Surly Bender

Endless variations...

To the New Year

We stopped...listening.
Seven sisters chasing the moon, the ox close behind;
Orion's following, arrows slung.

A thousand dragons envisioned tonight, 
and the moment I saw would be tattooed on my face: 
a tiny red star, above the left brow.

Taurus' horns never shone so bright. 

I'll follow your lead, he said, yet
it was he who led, and glanced over our shoulders as we crossed.
In one year he'll leave the army.

Congratulations to that, said I.
Of course there's no going back; we turn, and make our way,
in love, for the snows to come.

Namaste, miigwich, and peace.

I'll be a cloud, and you the moon

These words caught me today, gracing the corner of a packet of green jasmine tea.  Of course, it is I who will be the moon and you the cloud, but come that as it may; nonetheless, we shall illuminate each other. Could it have been that only two days ago every window in my house was cast open, letting warm blue moonlight spill freely upon the soft, rosy satin of my oaken floors?  Ah, it was only then, indeed.  And what other sweetnesses have I known...

It's cold tonight, there's no denying.  After the heat of the past weekend--the last of summer--it's a slightly somber change...the chill not just of autumn, but of winter, in the air... Inside the newly painted kitchen, huddled on around and under the table, sit all my freshly potted houseplants--ivy, jade, spider, the sapphire tower and others--among their outdoor cousins--hibiscus, impatiens, passionflower, lemongrass, more...the house has become heavy with the fragrance of datura blossoms, and quiet.  No wind whistling through the screen, no August crickets standing by to hum the night away.  Outside the back door, a small banana tree and two twining mandevillas have taken shelter under a rainfly, draped in batiks... It's cold tonight, but we'll get through this one, and the one after, with a little hope, some good luck and a light breeze.  We're not there just yet.  More to come...

On Second Thought

I think I will make a little jam, instead, if we don't eat them all over ice cream first.

Comes Summer

Ah, today.

This morning began with a taste of my first peach, freshly plucked from the tree that grows outside my kitchen window.  It was a tad over-ripe, but it was still a small wonder, and a delight.  This evening I picked the rest of them, and tomorrow I shall make a pie (I'd have eaten them all out of hand if they weren't quite so soft, but I'm afraid there won't be time for that now...).  A glorious, summery pie.  Peaches, in Minnesota.  How sweet, how soft, how fragrant, how amazing.

This afternoon rolled on by, fueled by the leftovers of last night's chard casserole, a standby summer dish of mine that's based on a recipe I learned from my mother, in her wisdom (or Joy of Cooking?): a pound or so of fresh chopped chard, a half-cup or so of diced yellow onion, a clove or two of minced garlic, a can of diced tomatoes or chopped fresh equivalent, a couple teaspoons of horseradish, a few good fat squirts of ketchup (yes), a cup or so of bread crumbs, a cup or so of grated cheddar cheese, a quarter cup-ish of grated parmesan, some salt and a lot of freshly ground pepper, all stirred together and baked until...done.  It is magically delicious, nutritious, and also freezes well.

This evening I dined on--or, rather, devoured--two ears of fresh sweet corn from the garden up north, each mouthful another tiny explosion of pure joy and goodness.  Makes you say mmmm, hmmm.  I over-steamed them just a bit, while my attention was turned to slicing up cucumbers for salad and throwing together a quick stir fry from some of the other goods from the garden--snap peas and patty-pans, with broccoli and Siam Queen basil from my backyard--but there are two more in the fridge, just waiting to be cooked to perfection...

The windows are open tonight, to the whirrr and chirps of crickets outside, bikers speeding off the Greenway and past my front step, a passing conversation in the oh-so-quiet street.  Out back, above the gate, a tiny wolf mother has returned to weave her nightly web, spinning threads through the thin air under the waning moon.  Another leaf of the banana tree is unwinding, and a package arrived at my doorstep today--not unexpected, just a forgotten surprise...It's been so peaceful here, lately, that I feel just tremendously, wonderfully blessed.  

Say mmmm, hmmm.