Digging In

Special Delivery

2012-02-01T21:01:00.002-06:00

A package on the doorstep today, not unexpected but having arrived, happily, sooner than anticipated, full of good herbs from which to craft a potion for to heal broken connections, of my own and of those I love... Solomon's Seal, Teasel, Horsetail, Blue Vervain, Goldenseal, St. John's Wort, waiting to join forces with Black Cohosh, my home-gathered and tinctured Mullein, perhaps others...Formulas to treat the misaligned spine, strained muscles and damaged joints, worn cartilage and injured nerves, to ease the tension and set things right. I'll keep you all posted on my this, my next experiment in Good Medicine, as I am informed. Be well--remedies abound!

A little bit of feelgood goes a long way...

2012-01-31T20:31:00.000-06:00

Not knowing what I where I was headed when I started this, I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly it all came together (40 min?) and how very nicely it turned out. Here we have a low-fat, high protein, good-for-you-in-practically-every-way kind of dish, a simple dinner and/or lunch that will make your life easier, and possibly better. Try it, you’ll like it!

Um Yum Salad

Boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Lime, Shoyu, Sugar, Sriracha sauce
Sesame oil, Peanut oil
Salt, Pepper, Garlic, Ginger
Quinoa
Red cabbage, Celery, Carrot, Onion
Water chestnuts
Sesame seeds
Cilantro

Pre-heat the oven to the standard 375 or so. Into a measuring cup or small bowl, juice half a lime. A nifty hinged citrus press which is a perfect match to your bright green tiny casserole cum garlic keeper (thank you very much… Love it!) will do the job quite nicely, or just squeeze it through your hand or whatever method you normally use. Being fortunate enough to live within walking distance of all kinds of organic produce, and having acquired a taste for the real thing, and also rarely if ever having used an entire bottle before it went ‘sour’, I no longer opt for citrus juice concentrates, but do so if you must… Add 2 tbsp of shoyu, a tsp or two of agave syrup or sugar, and a good squirt of sriracha sauce. Stir, taste, set aside.

Pour a bit of sesame oil in a mid-sized oven-safe skillet, along with a good douse of peanut (or canola) oil. Heat the oil and then throw in two chicken breasts, and sear them over high heat, with a good turn of salt and white pepper (or black) on each side. A note of caution here: I would strongly recommend NOT using your new “highly heat resistant” plastic spatula to flip them (with all due respect and gratitude to The Giver, this is one reason why I eschew plastic cookware… user error, perhaps, but still. High heat does seem to imply cooking.). Once the breasts have browned nicely, stir a generous tbsp each of minced ginger and garlic into the oil, and cook for a minute or two, just enough to bring out some flavor. Add the sauce, cover, and put in the oven to finish cooking. (Or you could reduce the heat to low and leave on the stovetop, just be careful not to burn.)

Rinse a cup of quinoa and put it in a small saucepan with 2 cups of water. Bring this to a low boil. Meanwhile, slice up the following into bite-size pieces of your desired dimensions and place in large mixing bowl: 2 cups red cabbage, 1 stalk celery, 1 cup carrot (been really loving those Nantes from the co-op this winter, so light and sweet), the better part of a can of water chestnuts (or just eat a few and put all the rest in there), a tbsp or two of finely sliced red onion (scallions would probably be a better choice if you have some but, you know, use whatever you have), and a tbsp of skillet-toasted sesame seeds (I used black, for color and texture, but the regular unhulled variety would be just fine. Not sure I’ve ever toasted the hulled whitish kind, but I suppose you can…?). Stir this up.

Check the quinoa; it should be about done by now. So should the chicken. Mine wasn’t completely thawed to begin with, but it was easily done in the time it took to chop veg, and quite juicy. I didn’t have a plan for the liquid, so decided to dice the chicken in its pan and let the chunks soak in the sauce for a couple minutes while the quinoa finished cooking; it was a good idea, so do that. When the quinoa’s done, dump it onto the veg, add the chicken and sauce and stir it all together. The heat will par-cook the vegetables ever-so-slightly—just right. Let that sit while you cut a good handful of fresh cilantro, 2 or 3 tbsp—some stems are welcome and thinly sliced is nice, no need to chop it up too much (incidentally, a kick-ass Kyocera ceramic knife, also a lovely gift, will take care of that with ease). Toss, taste, adjust seasonings (shoyu, lime?) as necessary (not). Serve at room temp.

Reboiled refined

2012-01-30T20:47:00.001-06:00

Here’s a recipe my younger sister shared with me recently, one of my new faves. It’s a perfect way to bulk up on greens and satisfy your winter carb cravings at the same time—with a little protein thrown in, for good measure: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/ribollita-reboiled-italian-cabbage-soup/detail.aspx

I made a smaller (1/3), ‘shorthand’ version of this the other night using canned beans because I didn’t have any dry ones on hand, or the hours to cook them. It only took around an hour, and worked out splendidly:

Start with the mirepoix, sauté for 2 mins, add a bit of salt and saute 2-3 mins more. Add the garlic and cabbage, sauté for 5 mins, followed by the kale and chard (I used collards because like them better, and that’s what I had in the fridge) along with fresh minced sage (it's amazing how long sage will last, frozen in your winter herb garden). Stir as needed until the greens start to cook down—no need to overcook them.

(At this point I added a whole lot of freshly ground white pepper before I saw what I was doing and remembered that the black pepper is now in my new mill, so I followed that up with a bunch of black pepper and what seemed at the time like possibly way too much salt.) Season generously with pepper and salt.

Add the chicken broth and tomatoes (for my 1/3 version, I used a pint each of homemade broth and frozen Hillbillys, both relatively un-salty—something to keep in mind if using canned), along with the potatoes and bay leaf. Stir, cover and let the whole thing simmer over medium heat until the potatoes are just tender, then stir in the canned beans and simmer for 5-10 minutes longer, until the potatoes are just done.

Although it’s pretty good without them, the bread and cheese really do make this soup. I just happened to have half a New French baguette in the freezer, so I warmed it in the oven, sliced and tore it into 1-inch or smaller hunks, stirred them into the soup and let it sit overnight. It turned out perfectly; the chewy crumb and extra crust held the soggy bread together nicely and added a pleasant, almost satiny body to the soup, now more of a stew. Be sure to use good shredded (not grated) parmesan, and let your bowl cool for a bit before you stir it in. Red wine and dark chocolate are nice accompaniments.

(Incidentally, at no point did I actually re-boil the soup, but if you were going to serve it as a meal rather than a workweek of leftovers, you'd probably want to do that. Otherwise, expect it to keep in the fridge and reheat well in the microwave for about 3-4 days.)

Simple and sumptuous…   Buon appetito!

oh JOY,

2012-01-20T22:46:00.000-06:00

there's snow underfoot!!

*sparkle*
and squeak!

B-b-b-bitter.

2012-01-19T20:37:00.001-06:00

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

2012-01-05T23:12:00.001-06:00

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

2012-01-04T22:47:00.001-06:00

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

2011-09-14T23:17:00.001-05:00

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

2011-08-19T19:07:00.001-05:00

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

Comes Summer

2011-08-18T19:13:00.000-05:00

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.

Charmed, I'm Sure

2011-08-02T23:37:00.003-05:00

Dear friends...loved ones...strangers, all:

I hope this post finds you well. It's been a while.

The past several weeks have come and gone, bringing with them many days of searing heat and drenching rains, along with many long hours of over- (and under-) time... I've had very little time and even less energy to write about the goings on here, in my humble dwelling. We have some catching up to do.

Among other things, the weather this year has presented a challenge to my best intentions. I had grand plans to fill in my gardens this Spring, but between the frequent rains, an insanely demanding workload and a not a small amount of physical and emotional turmoil, I have so far been unable to fulfill many--or any--of those visions this season. Nonetheless, my modest gardens are thriving, if running a little wild...but that's okay. I kind of like them that way.

In April I enjoyed the first tender spears of asparagus from my garden, and within the passage of a couple weeks they quickly surpassed me in height and promptly flopped over onto the sidewalk. It looks like I'll have to move them to a slightly larger space with more forgiving parameters, perhaps somewhere in the vegetable-garden-to-be over on the sunny side of the walk. Likewise, the strawberries which I rather short-sightedly planted in the patio garden have more or less taken over the entire space, sending long runners out over the concrete and into the yard... I enjoyed a sweet crop of them in June, and a couple of the pink-blossomed Fragoo variety more recently, despite the best efforts of the birds, rabbits, squirrels, toads and/or what-not. Actually, I have yet to see a toad in my yard this year, but that may be only because I've spent so little time out in it. Days go by without my attention being turned to what's happening outside my window, and then I'll wander out and encounter another little miracle, like the Cardinal Flowers (which I was not at all sure were still there) in bloom today, or my squat Hydrangea sending up clusters of bright green blossoms, or the Witch Alder (to which, as you might recall, I paid my last respects last Fall) freely leafing from its once-dry branches. There have been many other happy miracles, too many to remember, or to name. In spite of the fact that I have barely had the time, energy or where-withall to tend my gardens this year, the plants have--as they so often will--exceeded all expectation. Not least of these, my gorgeous Peach--the Apple of My Eye--stands a good eleven feet tall, outside my kitchen window, holding among its generously spreading branches not less than two dozen little fuzzy, blushing peaches...The squirrels, it seems, are not interested in these beauties, and I do not mourn their loss in the least. Out back, where the vegetables--tomatoes, cabbages, peppers, basil, mints, shiso, leeks, broccolis, eggplants, tomatillos, potatoes--now grow, a handful of volunteer pumpkins have practically covered the entire garden, as well as a good twenty feet of the sidewalk, with vines that seem to grow by the minute, climbing up and over, out and around just about anything they can get their little tendrils on. I probably should have pulled them, but they grew with such vigor and bright blossoming beauty that I just couldn't really see enjoying the Summer without them. And except for the one that decided to transcend the asparagus, they don't seem to have interefered too much with their neighbors, plus there are now at least couple good-size jack-o-lanterns in the making. Let go, and let grow, I say. (Or at least that's what I'm going with until I get my act together and dig the living daylights out of this place...)

I've also gussied up the patio a bit, with some help and inspiration from a good friend who also made the kind loan of a number of pretty pots and dainty stands and hooks...After a several hours of hot and heavy shopping/gathering, and a couple sweaty dirty hours of potting/placing, we transformed the space with a few bright flowers, a trellis here and there, a sunny orange hibiscus, a rapidly unfurling banana tree, a couple clumps of lemongrass and a few other random selections. That hellishly hot weekend we also picked up a couple nice cheap lengths of reed fence, with the intent of establishing a minimal barrier between my yard and cat lady's, although I have yet to put it up, having not yet had or taken the opportunity to broach the subject with her--perhaps this weekend. Also, after running my little electric mower around and under the fallen lilac for weeks on end, I finally got around to trimming it back--a task which was made enormously easier with the help of a friend's saw's awl--and I managed to retain the better part of its old arching grace, even though it ended up bearing a strange resemblance to one of those kind of awkward eighties haircuts (a la Molly Ringwald)...but it looks a lot better--pretty good, even. I've got some Blue Lake bush beans coming along, and am planning on planting a few more short-season veggies, in the next few days... lettuces, kale, perhaps some peas. All in all, things are changing shape...not into what I had in mind, exactly, but that's just how it goes, of course.

There have been changes inside, too. It took me a hell of a long time, but I finally finished painting my bedroom and moved in a couple of months ago, although it seems like forever ago now... I've still got some work to do--electrical, mainly--but having a proper closet and a lot of extra floor space upon which to throw all the laundry and dance around has been a happy improvement over the tight quarters I previously occupied, which are currently evolving into an excellent little work (out) room. A few serendipitous finds on craigslist transformed the piano and living room, adding artful/utilitarian storage and dramatic lighting, and just as soon as it stops being stupefyingly humid out I'm gonna get some paint on those walls, too, and in all modesty I think it's going to be spectacular. After more than a year and a half here, I guess I'm finally getting settled in, and it feels pretty damn good.

So yesterday was National Night Out. I got a notice about it in the mail last week, and even though it told me that the event would be taking place basically right outside my house, I couldn't help thinking about ways to avoid going. I left work yesterday, after having to cancel an evening appointment, and headed off to the Midwest's best-loved big box store to pick up a certain ottoman which I'd recently decided I must have, despite my strong and possibly genetic disdain for shoddily built furniture. Turned out that it wasn't in stock and was apparently being discontinued, so I went home. When I pulled into the driveway, my neighbor to the south was coming out of his garage with a camp-chair in hand, and asked me (while I was still not out the door of my car) whether I was coming out to the meet-and-greet. Yeah, I said, I had a few things to take care of but I'll probably make it for a while. I went in, spent a truly stupid amount of time on hold waiting for the mostly worthless staff at aforementioned store to tell me whether or not they actually physically had what I was looking for, and finally got confirmation from an actually helpful young man that yes, they did indeed have one, and it was mine for the next 24 hours. Success. With that, I went out to meet my neighbors.

I didn't really know what to expect, but what I found was quite a pleasant surprise. There were about 20 people, loosely gathered around a small table spread with various home-made treats, fruits, smoked salmon, veggies, breads and chips and dips, with a cooler of good beer beside it. On another little table was a vase of garden blooms and a few hand-thrown ceramic vessels, among the other door prizes. I was greeted by a couple from two houses down, who I'd met briefly last summer, and soon found myself in conversation with a whole bunch of kind Minneapolitan spirits... Among them was a guy whose "favorite" interstate exit just happened to be the one for my childhood hometown (population in the hundreds, mind you)--he always liked to say the name as he drove by (which you'd appreciate if you knew it) and even recalled the number, which I did not, although I'd probably have been able to pick it out of a lineup. There were several other similarly peculiar coincidences, if you might call them that, and I also learned that my next-door neighbor to the South is basically the Don of the neighborhood, you might say. He's been here for thirty years, even though he can't be very close to 50, and at one time he and his mother and grandmother all lived in different houses, all on our side of the street. It's funny to meet people who have known the inside of your house longer than you have...At some point he remarked that you'd pretty much have to be a gardener, cook, some kind of artist, eccentric or maybe a tree hugger to live in our neighborhood, and I suppose that's not all that surprising, but it was still nice to find out. I ended up staying until close to an hour after the scheduled end time, and went home with the gift of a small bag of delicious scones, a sweet favor from the brighter-eyed of the gay couple down the street, along with a new sense of fondness, and gratitude, for my welcoming home.

Speaking of which, I made it up north for a visit last weekend, after not having been there for quite some time. The gardens--especially the front one, which I'd worked with CM for so long--was arrestingly beautiful, changed but familiar. The deep rains and soaking sun of this Summer have done wonders, as have my parents' labor and commitment. We enjoyed some time together on and in the lake, and reveled in the passage of gentle storm which was followed by some of the most captivating skies any of us have seen, in recent memory. It was good to be there, especially after working until well past dawn the night prior, and when I arrived back home I felt tremendously restored. I'll have to chalk a little of that up to my recent reacquaintance with that magical herb--just one of so many--Yerba Mate, as well...I don't know exactly what it is about that plant, but it's truly remarkable to me, the way it can simply lift one out from under the heaviest, gnarliest, and toothiest of burdens...Goodness.

This evening I put up a new hammock in the stand that I'd been given as a housewarming gift by my sister and her husband last year, a hand-me-down from an acquaintance who has since relocated to Maui. It's both pleasantly stripey and damn comfy, and as I was resting in it tonight I couldn't help but wonder, again, at how I came to be so lucky...The sky above my place affords a perfect view of sun and stars, with just enough tall trees around to capture the wind and bring it down to Earth. Everything I've needed has come to me, in the most amazing ways. And after the past few months of being run down to practically nothing, I am quite suddenly enjoying a wave of peace and well-being... It will be fleeting, no doubt, but for now there is nothing to enjoy it.

Hello World

2011-05-29T01:19:00.000-05:00

close call

2011-05-05T21:19:00.001-05:00

Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head... took a quick shower, called in for a short meeting, decided to check messages before I left for work (yes, I still have land line.)... I hadn't checked them in a couple days, me being too tired to care about it Tuesday evening and it having been too late to think about it when I got home Wednesday night, just before midnight. Someone had called early this morning, while I was still dreaming, and I figured it was either a wrong number or something important, so thought I should probably find out what was up. I was scurrying around, finishing up my coffee, packing up the pieces for the day, listening to the friendly robo-voice of the City of Mpls saying something about parking...and all at once, just as the words "towed and ticketed" made their way to my ear, I realized that A) I was parked in the street (as I've been doing for the past couple weeks, just to avoid the tedious garage door routine I've had to undertake recently because the human door is still getting hung up on the rain-swollen concrete and I only just located the clicker a couple days ago (what it was doing in the basement instead of on the kitchen counter where I was sure I'd left it before my trip, I do not know)) and also, and (rather) perhaps more importantly, B) the other sound I'd been hearing was the running engine of a large truck in the street outside my house. Suddenly, in a moment of perfect understanding, I dashed to and through the front door and there--sure enough--was my car, chained to the flat bed of a tow truck, whose driver was sitting in the cab. Phone still in hand (and glad I was dressed) I ran out into the street, in front of the truck, around to the open door where the driver was just finishing writing up my ticket. With a certain degree of panic in my voice and/or demeanor, I told him I'd been away and just got the message--see? phone in hand?--followed by something I don't quite recall but to the effect of "there is no way. I cannot be without my car today" and the phrase "this is going to fuck me so hard", among a couple other things. Yes, I actually said that. He did not bat an eye and simply replied that it would cost me five dollars. Five dollars?? I don't know if I have any cash. Well, he's got other cars to tow... Okay, ok, I know I don't have any cash in the house, because I a) I never do and b) I had to borrow twenty bucks the day before to pick up my take out, but okay, ok, I am thinking... I'll be right back. Wallet, wallet: two dollars... junk drawer: six quarters, five dimes, four more dimes and two nickels, thank you.......dresser: oh, dresser, seriously...no, seriously, two quarters! This was, apparently and literally, all the U.S. currency in my house, with the exception of what looks to be about twelve pennies. (I'll admit it didn't really occur to me until somewhat later that he was just looking for enough to pick up a little bit of this or that, so screw him. Anyway.) A few minutes later, my car rolled off the ramp, I put my key in the lock, and the man said: "you're free". And so I was. So I was.

case WHEN

2011-05-02T21:31:00.000-05:00

IF I had not spent eleven hours of my Saturday at work, on top of having put in nine hours of overtime already last week, and IF I had gotten more than five hours' sleep on Saturday night, and IF I had not been busy all day Sunday, taking part in the May Day celebration and spending the afternoon with a good friend, followed by four hours of work on my never-ending bedroom project and rounding out the day with a late phone conversation which kept me up until after two a.m. last night, and IF the batteries in my teensy little alarm clock hadn't burned out, and IF I'd gotten my ass in gear this morning before the timer on the stove went off instead of going back to bed and sleeping for three straight hours, THEN I would not have had the dream I had, during which I was granted a glimpse of the most beautiful thing I have ever seen...

Or, at least the most beautiful thing I have seen since my trip to Hawaii. Life works in such mysterious and magical ways...

Sure, I might rather be spending these precious hours of Spring getting moved into my new room, or playing my piano, or cleaning out the basement, or planning my gardens in anticipation of the Friend's School Plant Sale this weekend, or going for a walk or even a run, or accepting an invitation to go climbing, or having a nice long salt-water soak and a sauna, or thrift-shopping for a new pair of work pants, or doing yoga, or posting pics from May Day, or napping perhaps, or any number of things other than working through case upon nested case upon if upon then upon where upon else in an attempt to make sense and use of twelve years' worth of accumulated data, while simultaneously translating it and working around not only every conceivable exception but also the lack of reason, effort and support offered by certain colleagues who apparently have neither the intention nor the know-how to facilitate this monster project in any sensible or polite way. Sure, there are other things I could be doing. But if I do not do this...well, firstly, it won't get done, which probably isn't really my problem but sure seems to be lately. And secondly...actually, I don't know, exactly... Is this the culmination of my life's work thus far? God I really hope not. Am I trying to prove something? Possibly. More likely, it's just my extraordinary work ethic, fueled by the boundless energy of my coming-up-on-three-years-from-four-decades-old being.

The Universe has been better than good to me, always and especially lately, and I have much to share here of Spring, of my recent and wonderful trip to Maui, and of projects and thoughts, both little and grand. I will be getting to all that just as soon as I can, and I can hardly wait... For now, I still have to put in a couple more hours for The Man tonight, but I've got spring rolls, cold lager, and a Spring-loaded, ocean-sized, sun-kissed new outlook on life to keep me going... Mahalo, and aloha. I'll be back soon.

Under the smiling moon...

2011-04-07T23:03:00.000-05:00

Step outside tonight, and listen for a moment. The earthworms have risen! Blessed be.

News from up north tells of the first frog, singing solo at the end of a long driveway. I can't wait to go back home for Easter, and hear the whole chorus... Until then, I have to power through one more unrelenting day at work--I knew this week was going to be busy, but that doesn't even begin to describe the past four days--and a weekend of put-off chores, before boarding a plane on Monday and taking off for brighter shores...I'm headed to Hawaii, to spend a week in the company of good friends, some of whom I have not shared a moment with in many years, and some I've yet to meet. I doubt there's any sense in which I could need this trip more, right now.

I'd hoped to post some thoughts here before winter had passed, if only to share a few images and impressions, but time, as it will, has had its way with me...and so I find that Spring has now sprung. The ground is nearly bare, there's water in basement and the rhubarb is poking its pointy head up to take a peek at the lilies under the back fence. No signs of asparagus yet, but already the hyacinths have made themselves known and the maples have recently made their move from red bud to full flower. I'm looking forward to the energy of the season this year, and to welcoming the change it brings, tumultuous and vivid as it might be.

Step outside tonight, and listen for a moment. There's a rustling at your feet, and it is life. Blessed be.

The Earth Is Brown

2011-03-23T02:02:00.000-05:00

I love the comfort that snow brings, even in these early days of Spring.

I have so much to catch up on, here. Where can I possibly begin?

I miss you, JB. And to all others, I thank you for being here. I will be coming back, soon.

And So It Goes

2011-03-09T01:31:00.001-06:00

Soup du semaine

2011-03-02T20:24:00.001-06:00

One month ago today my mom left for me a small jar of soup, which became my lunch the following day and which I found myself craving again not too long ago, so I decided to take a shot at recreating it. I don't know why I didn't just call her and get the recipe, but here is (approximately) what I came up with, based on her concoction and some similar recipes I found online. It turned out pretty darn tasty. It's also full of stuff that's good for your guts, your immune system, your circulation, your kidneys and liver, and your general sense of well-being. It's a warming, stimulating and cleansing soup, good for these waning (and sometimes sluggish) days of winter. It's hearty but still light, slightly sweet with a twinge of acid and a bit of bite... Even if you're not a big fan of cabbage, or tofu, or anything else, you'll probably like this.

Hot and Sour Cabbage Soup

1 tsp toasted sesame oil
1 tsp canola or peanut oil
2 c onions, diced or sliced
1 thumb-sized piece of ginger, in tiny matchsticks
1 serrano chile, sliced (seeds and all. any hot pepper will do and 2-3 of them would be better.)
2 c shiitake mushrooms, de-stemmed and sliced (cremini or white are an acceptable if less nourishing and yummy substitute. also do save stems for stock, or stir-fry sauce.)
2 med carrots, sliced, or halved and sliced, or diced, or whatever
1/2 med head of green cabbage, sliced to 1/4" and chopped in 1-2" lengths
1 15 oz. can diced or crushed tomatoes
3-4 c chicken or vegetable stock
2-3 c water, or as desired
1/4 tsp cayenne, or to taste
3 tbsp shoyu
1/4 c rice vinegar
1 tbsp fish sauce (optional)
10 oz. super firm tofu, cubed (I like Wildwood sprouted)
freshly ground black pepper, a lot of it (maybe 1/4 tsp?)
2 tbsp black sesame seeds (they're pretty and they're good for you. go to the Asian grocery; it's fun!)
1/4 lime, squeezed (2 tsp?)
sriracha sauce, to taste (or add more chiles/cayenne, above)

Heat the oil in a good-sized soup pot. Saute the onions until they begin to golden, then toss in the ginger, chile and mushrooms and saute for a minute or two more. Add the carrots and cabbage and give everything a good stir before adding the tomatoes, stock, cayenne, shoyu, and vinegar (and fish sauce, if used...I think I added some, not sure...). Add the tofu and water, to the desired consistency, followed by a generous amount of freshly ground black pepper. Stir well, cover and bring to a boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for another fifteen minutes or so, until the carrots and cabbage are tender. Throw in a handful or two of black sesame seeds and finish with a squeeze of fresh lime juice.

Another Sunday

2011-02-20T11:08:00.346-06:00

Apples, cheese, peanut butter, coffee. Mail and catalogs on the kitchen table. The snow started coming down about an hour ago and has already neatly covered the dark strip along the edge of my walk, the familiar soils of my garden that were revealed by the warm midwinter sun last week.

A Robin has more than once visited the crabapple in my front yard during these past two weeks, even in the midst of the last cold snap; odd, to see that red-breasted fellow out so far ahead of the Spring. The temperature rose more than fifty degrees in just one week, melting away much of this winter's accumulation and giving all of us a welcome lift. High winds blew in with the full moon on Thursday night--oh it was wicked-bright! white and azure and magenta, ringed in rainbows--while smoke-blue clouds chased each other eastward, faster than imagination...The winds remained strong while the moon traveled through Friday, carrying along with them a rush of cold, another drop. Yesterday was breezy, with veils of grey that came and went, opening and closing with clear amber light. Today comes more, more, more snow.

It's hard to believe that another moon has come and gone already. The past two weeks have been full of change, separation, reunion... Time spent with dear friends--many old and some new, all bearing gifts of one kind or another--has set my mind both back and forward, rekindling fires of memory, sending up smoke signals to my future self. What will I do with the rest of my life, and with whom will I share the time I have?

I took a short walk yesterday, leaving my camera behind, and happened across something new to me. On the sidewalk were scattered a number of seedpods, oval in shape, dark brown in color, and about twice the size of a fava bean. I cracked one with my boot and stooped to take a closer look, when I saw one of its much larger sisters lying closeby. It was about half the size of my palm, leathery-brown and mostly flat with a slightly bulbous middle. I gave it a shake and it rattled gently. I pressed to crack it open, and was surprised to find the interior coated with bright green hairs of jelly which had a pleasant, fruity scent. A rounded, dark seed about the size of a hazelnut was tethered inside. I brought a couple home:

What is it? I want to know...

I'm tempted to go out for a ski on the freshly falling snow, but I believe I'd rather wait until the wind stops blowing. The chores of the day ask little of me, only to move about and take care of things, although with my neck in a state even the smallest of doings can be a pain...Ah, so. To work, then: paint today, change tomorrow. White falls quietly and the silence begs an answer, to which I can only reply: What are you? Then I'll turn on the radio.

Sunday

2011-02-06T15:43:00.000-06:00

I'd like to share a few thoughts today, as my last post seems to me now as though it is miles away, written by a stranger.

JB was a friend to many; I have known maybe no other person who has had such a positive influence in the lives of so many people. We had been friends for many years, since our college days, and he was a very big part of my life with CM, from the time we all met. I am without words to express my gratitude for the loving support that JB and his partner gave me during the past year and a half, during what has been the most lonely and difficult period of my life, while they were in the midst of what would be the last year of their lives together and dealing, daily, with cancer, both as survivor and as caretaker, and as partners. I would not have gotten along without them. JB in particular was one of a few people who really acknowledged my existence, emotionally and spiritually, and helped to keep me present in this world, when I began to drift out. His love, his open arms and open mind, his bright eyes and sweet kisses were a joy to me. I can only imagine the loss his partner is feeling right now, and it is heartbreaking.

Yes, we carry his bright spirit with us, forward into our lives, but his close presence will be very much missed.

I'm going out now, to take the ski run that I missed last Sunday, and to breathe in the prairie for a while, on this warm and grey day. Perhaps I will find some words written in the snow. Peace to you all.

Clearing The Path

2011-02-03T22:22:00.003-06:00

Yesterday marked the appearance of the New Moon and the beginning of this Lunar New Year, as well as the passage of another Groundhog's Day, which has in Other Times been known as Imbolc, or Saint Brighid's Day, and some time later as Candelmas.

I'd never thought much of this old holiday until quite recently; it was only this past Sunday afternoon, in fact, when fate intervened to bring it to the forefront of my attention. I'd intended to ski but found I was without my boots, so I opted for brisk walk, fully expecting to be disappointed by the crowded filth of the city. Instead I found myself pleasantly greeted by friendly neighbors (in shorts, even!) and the native flora of the prairie I'd hoped to see, which set me to thinking about the warm months ahead (though I'm still dearly in love with the snow, and not done just yet) and quite suddenly I became rather excited about all the many flowers, vines, grasses, shrubs and trees I shall plant soon. It seemed somehow that Winter had reached a turning point, and in fact, it had. It is at this time, in early February, that we reach the half-way point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. This I had known, but I knew little of its significance, nor had I ever experienced it quite so tangibly before. The past year, for me, has brought a new acquaintance with each Season, each turning of the moon, and so it is only natural that I should come to know this one as well, I suppose, but I learned a few things I might not have expected in my brief reading about this holiday, just this afternoon. You might find them interesting, as well.

Also, yesterday, and the day prior, there occurred a very large convergence of crows over the city, just after sunset. Today I left my place of work sometime earlier, while the sun was still in the sky; the crows had gone, but in the clear blue above there soared a hawk, its white wings illuminated in golden light...

This morning marked the passing of a rare soul, and a dear friend, lover, guru, guide and inspiration to many, many young and old and aspiring human beings. Our friend JB, who had for the past three years borne the heavy burden of cancer--which he and his loving partner carried for so long with a grace and strength that were truly amazing--left this world today, in peace.

I was blessed to have shared his presence, last night, and in the days prior, surrounded by family and loved ones. Although he suffered, his bright spirit was still very much present, and to those of you who were unable to be at his side these past few days, take heart in knowing that he was at home, where he wanted to be. Some souls pass into their own shadow, but JB would not be scared back into his hole by any such thing; he was a gymnast! a dancer! a laughing, wise and willful imp, ready to be part of whatever was happening next (and make you be part of it, too.)...So into the new life of a coming Spring, he has gone. And he will be missed. But it is difficult to mourn the death of a life lived so beautifully, so openly, so courageously, so lovingly... I have shed tears today, but more of joy than pain, to have had the honor of being the friend of such a man, and to know that he will no longer suffer.

This evening I made a few calls, then put on my snowpants and went out to shovel. There have been two snowfalls since I last cleared the walk, and I knew I must do so tonight so that I might be able to focus my energy on the days ahead. The snow, though packed down tightly in the places where many feet have tread, broke easily and flew lightly as I thought upon these days, and upon the life of a man I've loved. I've learned so many things from him, even today, and have so many yet to learn...

It takes time to be in this world, to come into it and to leave it. I so wish to build a fire tonight, and circle round. Where you are, throw another log upon the flames, or set a candle on your windowsill...say a few words out loud, or pray. Hold each other close, and give your love. I send you mine.

JB, we will remember, smiling.

Some days call for blankets

2011-01-28T23:51:00.005-06:00

The things that soothe the tactile soul...

For the Perennially Hungry

2011-01-26T22:13:00.001-06:00

I got home toward late tonight, after working until the eleventh hour to try to pick up some slack, with the aim of making soup for dinner. I came up with this soup du jour, a rather unassuming one-pot meal which seems to have a sort of snowball effect. (It seems to finally be rounding off now, after about six bowls.) If you find yourself feeling the need for a little mid-winter pick-me-up, this might be just the thing:

Wild rice soup with mushrooms, squash and nettles

1+ tbsp butter
1 c yellow onion, diced
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
2 stalks celery, sliced
1/2 lb crimini mushrooms, sliced, about 4 c
1 small butternut or other winter squash, cubed, about 5 c
1 c wild rice, rinsed well
1 1/2 quarts water, or so
1 tbsp Better Than Bouillon mushroom soup base (or sub veg or chicken bouillon or broth)
1/4 tsp sea salt
black pepper
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1/8 tsp ground sage
1 bay leaf
3 tbsp sour cream
1 tbsp chevre (blue fuzzy parts removed)
2/3 c or one healthy handful of dried nettles, slightly crushed (if you don't have nettles I wouldn't sub other greens here; dried nettles have a magical way of not exerting a heavy "green" flavor, while still contributing all their leafy mineral-rich goodness.)

Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed soup pot, and throw in the onions, followed by the garlic. Saute over med heat for a minute or two and salt generously. Add the celery, saute for a couple minutes more and then add the mushrooms, a few hearty shakes of salt and freshly ground pepper. Cook until the mushrooms have just begun to release their juices, then add the thyme and sage, along with the the water, bay leaf and bouillon. Add the rice, stir well, cover and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat and let simmer for 15 min, or until rice is half-cooked (time will vary depending on where your rice came from...'round here the White Earth variety is fine-grained and tender-hulled, so cooks quickly). Add the squash and cook for another 5-10 min, until tender. Stir in the sour cream and chevre, along with the nettles, cover and let stand for 5 min before serving.

Brrr.

2011-01-21T23:09:00.000-06:00

Oh, it's really cold today, no way around it. First deep freeze of the season. On the way home tonight a local radio show was talking to a fellow in Fresno, where as the host pointed out the temp was ninety--that's 90--degrees warmer than it was here today. That's like my entire body almost. Even indoors, with the thermostats high, the chill has been entirely unshakable and I really have to wonder how all the birds and other drifters are getting along out there, and how our hearts keep us warm. Hope you're all tucked in and snuggled down tonight, wherever you might be.

Cold Morning

2011-01-19T08:45:00.002-06:00

It should be Sunday. There should be funnies, and eggs. I am new, wrapped in warm morning thoughts. Then I begin to remember, and after a while again to forget. I miss the things I used to love, and I don't know where they've gone. I think about running, how I never remember what it feels like until I go. I suppose it can be the same with singing, or with anything, but I feel as though some part of my soul has been erased. I missed the recycling again. Absence of possibility. Three words might create a positive space but not today. Today I must go to work, set myself to something I can't truly respect. Another dime, a dozen. I'll buy something today, another tiny fixture for this doll's house of mine. Last snooze. I roll over, pull myself up and despite the nervy twinges all over I am happy to be in my body, glad for my arms and legs and my bare feet on the floor. Grapefruit juice. There is a peachy light on the snow in the backyard, and I walk to the front door and press my nose to the small window, to see the glow of the sun between the houses across the street. I'll settle for coffee with milk, and a spoonful of something sweet. Nothing fell on my head this morning. Time to get dressed.

On Course

2011-01-11T22:01:00.008-06:00

I left the house at sunset, after taking longer than I might have to get moving. With the light fading quickly I drove Northeast, following a tip from a colleague that there was some good skiing to be found on a golf course over that way. I knew the place, having lived close to that neck of the woods in years past, and having passed it many times, en route to my favorite thrift store during those days. There's a pleasant parkway that meanders through the course, passing under a railroad bridge...rolling hills, thick stands of trees, a couple ponds, few lights... I figured I'd find a trailhead at any of the parking lots, but after I pulled into the first one, I wasn't so sure. I hopped out to take a look, but of course there were no signs, just random tracks in the white, barely visible. Where were the other skiiers? On to the next lot, a few hundred yards down...no, no, just giant golf fence and dog-walkers... Out and back in. Next lot, half-way round about, past the sledding hill where a man and child were still making runs in the dimming light, a small wooden sign suggested "ski trail center" or something like that but there was only one car, no lights...really? Was that on the map? Where is the map? Out and back in, on to the main and also empty lot next to the big creepy empty old golf course building with one lit window...nnnnnmmmm, no. Circling back again, all the way round, looking out at the terrain and wondering if it's big enough, or dark enough, that I might get lost out there... nnnnnmmmmm, whatever. On a golf course? How lost can you get?

So I made my way back to the lot near the sledding hill and switched boots. After traipsing around this way and that, cutting tracks in the fresh snow and thinking once or twice about the fact that no one on this planet had any idea where I was, I followed an unrolled "trail" up a hill, through some trees and a short way down the railroad tracks, before coming to a not unpredictable stopping point, where whoever had the dim-witted idea of going that way realized, at the top of a steepish drop through the shrubbery, that it was not passable. In spite of having to backtrack--I'd so much rather not, if it can be avoided--I was already rather enjoying myself, and determined to find the actual trail (the one that most people follow, anyway), which I did a few minutes later. Not surprisingly, it was somewhere approximately right next to the little wooden sign that said "ski trail" something or whatever. Haha.

I headed out past the sledders ("look at that, dad!" she said, which I thought was sorta cute) and went on past both of the other two lots, with all of that now making a lot more sense than it did when I was car-bound... As it turned out, skiing through fresh snow on a darkening golf course in the orange and purple light that seeps in after an overcast sunset, with no one else around (except the odd pedestrian or two, in the distance, and the hazy moon above), was quite pleasant and peaceful, or at least it was up until the point that the fumes from the nearby trainyard began to drift in... Ah, comes with the territory, I guess. Anyway, it was a pleasant discovery, to find such solitude in the city and to know it can be found.

Today I got a bit earlier start and had a somewhat better idea of where I was going, but managed once again to take the long way round to reach my destination, this time a big old park and course on the North side. Again I set out at dusk, but tonight the skies were clear and blue, the moon a bright crescent, the skyline and the sunset glowing faintly pink on the horizon... I shared the trail with a handful of others, skiiers with lights and without, dark walkers through the trees, gentle voices...stopping for a sip of water and watching a pair of bikers wind their slow and quiet way through the snowy woods, by headlights and lamps in the deepening twilight, was a slightly magical experience. (It also looked like some kind of fun...) From the top of a ridge I looked down over a small lake ringed with houses still decked out in lights, and after giving a moment's consideration to just how much more I love my snowboard than I do my skis, and with deep appreciation for those particular curving climbing trails and many others, I realized that I'm pretty darn glad to live here, alongside a bunch of winter-loving Minnesotans who aren't afraid of the dark. Winter's still young--and snow abounds! Here's hoping it'll last 'til Spring...

Resolution: Radical Slowness

2011-01-05T21:20:00.000-06:00

Take time to eat, taste, drink deeply. Take time to bend. Time to lose yourself in a sound, a thought, any moment that grabs you, passes through you. Time to sleep, time to wake. Take time to do what moves you, to follow your bliss, to dance a little now and then, to hear the song in your head and to let it out. Take the time to know your own hands, to teach yourself some new tricks. Take time for poetry and flowers, to contemplate death. Time for eskimo kisses, time for snow and other angelic geometry, time to tell each person who loves you something beautiful they've never heard before. Take time for sorrow, for grieving, to bear witness. Time to learn, time to trust, time to make peace, time to follow through. Take time to fold the laundry, time to stir the pot, time to read out loud, time to come bearing gifts. Take time to watch the sky, to fall in love with a new constellation. Take the time to see a leaf uncurl, a frog yawn. Take time to hear the wind whisper and howl, to stand in the rain and in the sun. Take time for water. Take time for clouds, and baby teeth, and leaky ceilings, and upside-down cake, and the moon, and fenceposts, and your tongue, and running wildly, and good fats, and holding hands, and puzzles, and the train, and new recipes, and other languages, and long-lost stories, and dreams, and dreaming. Take time to do your work. Take time to make it sacred. Take your own damn time, people. It's all you'll ever have.

following tracks in the snow

2011-01-03T11:39:00.000-06:00

Here's a little story which one commenter described as "far out an fart reaching!", but I just thought was kinda nice.

tracks in the snow

2011-01-02T06:14:00.001-06:00

Git yer boots on...

2011-01-01T00:00:00.002-06:00

No, I mean seriously.

In the Ol' Icebox

2010-12-30T19:59:00.005-06:00

This is yummier than you can guess, and quite easily doubled.

Easy Green Curry (Variation on a Theme of Collards):

1 tsp canola oil, or coconut oil
1/2 lb chicken breast, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 c green pepper, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1 c broccoli stems, trimmed as needed and cut into 1/4 rounds
1 thumb-sized piece of ginger, cut into small thin lengths
a few cloves of garlic, sliced thinly crosswise
3 large collard leaves, with stems, cut into 1-inch squares
3 large or 5 small scallions, cut into 1-inch pieces
1/2 can coconut milk
1/2 cup water
1-2 tbsp green curry paste
1/2 tsp agave syrup or sugar, to taste (optional)
1/2 tsp fish sauce, or to taste (optional)
a squirt or two of Sriracha sauce

Heat oil in a skillet or saucepan and add chicken; cook until just done and slightly browned, turning loosely. Throw in the green pepper, broccoli, ginger and garlic, collard greens, and the fleshy parts of the scallions, and saute over high-ish heat for a couple minutes, until the collards have begun to cook down. Add the coconut milk, water, curry paste, sugar and fish sauce (if used), the Sriracha, and bring to a low boil. Turn the heat down and let simmer for 5-10 minutes, stirring from time to time, adding the green ends of the scallions after a few minutes, when the flavors begin to meld. Eat from a bowl, with a spoon. Over wild rice is darn good, too.

Sugar Rush

2010-12-29T22:14:00.026-06:00

I opened the cupboard to reach for coffee, and WHAM--there was crash, and a thud, and suddenly I found myself covered in something sticky and sweet...

All up and down my arm, across my chest, stuck upon my hair and into my ear...

What the hell happened?

Some boobytrap, set by the bad gnomes maybe, or perhaps it was only Fate.

It took me a minute to ascertain what had transpired, and it was this: a quart of maple syrup, which had heretofore been situated quite (seemingly) calmly upon the top shelf, decided to take or was somehow compelled into taking a small leap forward, only to fall heavily down upon and into my unexpecting morning. It landed upright--a small concession, on its part--but the force of the impact blew its plastic lid full open, spewing its sappy, sticky, burned-gold sweetness all over the friggin' place...on my shirt, my pants, the floor, the counter, the other side of the room...

What gives? I mean seriously, what kind of nonsense makes a good couple pounds of sugar take a dive like that? Come on now...it's only Wednesday.

Frigging gnomes, I swear.

Fa la la la laaaa, la laa laa laa

2010-12-28T21:59:00.000-06:00

And so it goes, with the passing of another Christmas... It's been a busy, lazy last few weeks here at my homestead in the city, and despite all the deliciously sticky sugarplums that have been dancing in my head, I've not had time to put down my thoughts on the rare Solstice, the beautiful snows, or the holly and the ivy, much less the divine mystery of trinity... I hope to resume some more focused writing here, after the New Year, and in the meantime I'll be posting some pics over at the Old Time Picture Show, by way of a virtual cookie exchange... I hope you are safe and warm, reveling in the spirit of the season, enjoying life's multitudes of gifts and resting sweetly in Winter's soft embrace. Much love to you all.

You Have To Try This

2010-12-14T21:54:00.000-06:00

Here's a little recipe which my mother sent my way and which I found to be not only more than the sum of its parts but also tremendously satisfying (unless that's supposed to imply that you can stop eating it). I made mine with a double load of collard greens and stems and it was downright delish. You could serve this over rice, or soba noodles, but I loved it all on its own. Super easy yum, hits many spots at once...

Hawaiian Ginger-Chicken Stew

From EatingWell: March/April 2009

This chicken stew has a bold ginger-flavored broth and provides a whole serving of dark leafy greens in each bowl. We tried it with frozen chopped mustard greens (available in large supermarkets) and it was even quicker to prepare and just as delicious. Serve with brown rice.

4 servings, about 1 cup each | Active Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes [Timing's about right but I don't know how they figure four one-cup servings...bit more than that.]

Ingredients

1 tablespoon sesame oil, or canola oil [toasted sesame, for sure.]
1 pound chicken tenders, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and cut into matchsticks or minced
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 cup dry sherry, (see Tip)
1 14-ounce can reduced-sodium chicken broth [I used veggie Better Than Bouillon, nothing lost]
1 1/2 cups water
2 tablespoons reduced-sodium soy sauce
1 teaspoon Asian red chile sauce, such as sriracha, or to taste
1 bunch mustard greens, or chard, stemmed and chopped (6-7 cups), or 2 cups frozen chopped mustard greens [Use whatever greens you like best--mustard, collards, spinach, kale, chard, a mix--and then try something new the next time. Also, frozen might be fine but fresh is fantastic.]

Preparation

Heat oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook, stirring occasionally, until just cooked through, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a plate with tongs. [or with your Kitchamajig.]
Add ginger and garlic to the pot and cook until fragrant, about 10 seconds. Add sherry and cook until mostly evaporated, scraping up any browned bits, 1 1/2 to 3 minutes. Add broth and water, increase heat to high and bring to a boil. Boil for 5 minutes. Add soy sauce, chile sauce and mustard greens (or chard) and cook until the greens are tender, about 3 minutes. Return the chicken and any accumulated juices to the pot and cook until heated through, 1 to 2 minutes.

Nutrition

Per serving : 201 Calories; 4 g Fat; 1 g Sat; 1 g Mono; 69 mg Cholesterol; 7 g Carbohydrates; 31 g Protein; 3 g Fiber; 346 mg Sodium; 369 mg Potassium

1/2 Carbohydrate Serving

Exchanges: 1 vegetable, 3 1/2 lean meat

Tips & Notes

Tip: “Cooking sherry” can be high in sodium. Instead, look for dry sherry with other fortified wines in your wine or liquor store. [As a general rule, I wouldn't use "cooking" anything for cooking anything. If someone has to tell you to cook with it you probably shouldn't be eating it (Crisco???), UNLESS they're talking about green vegetables, which you'd have to work pretty hard at to get more than is good for you.]

I Have Moved Mountains

2010-12-11T23:51:00.002-06:00

Okay. First, let me just say, YAY! I'm almost done shoveling now, so it's a little difficult to recall, but I believe the phrase of the moment was "holy buttmunchers, this is a fuckload of snow!"

Second: silk, wool, sheepskin, down, Gore-Tex, polyester and last, but not least, goofily-blue stretchy waterproof bibbs!

this day in December

2010-12-10T22:11:00.047-06:00

A Christmas tree was a magical thing, when I was growing up. We cut our own, not at a lot or a farm but on the land where we lived, and the "ritual"--not some obligatory bullshit or overly done-up reverence or laborious nonsense--of bringing it into the house was one which--though always a little late, a bit complicated and perhaps just a tad contentious--was always one of significance, of joy and anticipation, the culmination and recognition of the passage of another year, from darkness to light...We spent hours, as a family, listening to music--Tchaikovsky, maybe, or Handel or various others...jazz musicians or just plain old folks on vinyl, not only of the season--and carefully unpacking each ornament, jointly considering its best placement and most beautiful attributes, so as best to fill each void, or catch the light, or be most pleasing to the eye and heart.

The collection of ornaments was rare, artful, breakable. There were many in glass, figures and creatures and bubbles of all sizes, sculptures of metal and clay and wood. This might seem less than notable, these days, but in the late 70's and until much later--perhaps not until well into the 90's, with the general acceptance of consumerism as a way of life--such things were not so commonplace, and even yet I have rarely glimpsed so many lovely, thoughtful graces on a single tree. We had gnomes with pipes and mates and children, a blown-glass dragon (or was it really a chicken?), wild reindeer and wonderful birds...bulbs which had rounded out decades...trumpets and french horns and trombones and flutes, drums, disco balls...jesters and wizards and pickles and starbursts...angels (though not of the white-winged variety) and saints (though not of the biblical sort). There were no Precious Moments but the Imaginary Ones. Lights of all colors, reflected in every direction, casting rainbowed shadow branches onto the ceiling...things heavy, things hidden, things coming alive among the flashes of light, the falling needles, the fragrant sap... Each year, everyone received a new decoration to add to the tree. In this way, we composed our space inside a winter's night.

Outside, stars pierced the sky, making of it a sieve through which we might receive the finer parts of the light beyond. The slivered, silvered moon danced a million smiling dances with each snowflake, while the coyotes caroled their way along the fence, out past the Oak Grove. In the distance, the Big Hill rose in pregnant silence against the horizon, to carry on an unspoken dialogue with the wrinkled eaves of the old barn roof. Close by, in the still crisp air under the pole light, the ginalla whispered gently to the weeping willow, remembering a distant Spring...Paw prints in the snow and puppies at the window reminded us to open the door, return to the fire...

A night went by, and morning came. Presents were something; we had lots some years, and good ones...but the Presence--and let's be clear on this: I mean not of Christ but of Love, itself--was all that shaped the day. Sweet music, nourishing food, a challenging puzzle perhaps, something new to build, an invigorating ski trek over fields and through woods to the beaver dam and back....these are my memories of this time of year, when gravity draws us toward our dark Solstice and with some ancient strength hurls us past it into the open arms of the next bright season. I'm thinking of this tonight, partly in giddy anticipation of the snows (okay already: blizzard!!!) tomorrow, and also with gratitude for the birth and life of my mother, and all that she has known, and learned to share, and taught us all. It's her birthday tomorrow. Send her some love.

YIPPPEEE!!!

2010-12-03T23:55:00.002-06:00

Oh frabjous day, calloo, callay! Tomorrow I shall ski!!!

to sleep on

2010-12-02T00:27:00.000-06:00

a layer of sparkling snow holds the rabbit tracks between my boot steps

At The End Of The Day

2010-11-28T23:50:00.000-06:00

One way or another, they're gonna getcha...

2010-11-24T08:15:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking lately. With a certain feeling of impending paradigm shift I wonder: should I pull out of my 401K and pay down my mortgage instead, before the market really crashes and turns my supposed retirement savings into so much oatmeal? Or should I just leave all that be and bide my time in anticipation of drastic inflation, when I'll be able to pay down the "real" value of my mortgage in surreal amounts (assuming I still have a job)? Or should I cash out all accounts and relocate to an island nation, or add on to my house, or get a boob job, or install a few solar panels, or adopt a child, or play the Powerball with abandon, or take up hangliding, or start farming medicinal plants, or purchase a home entertainment system, or donate a few truckloads of canned soup to the hungry, or spend a decadent weekend in Monaco, or find a roommate, or get a Hummer, or build a greenhouse, or invest in bricks of gold, or buy a lifetime supply of toilet paper and chocolate and light bulbs, or just make due? So many things for a working woman to consider.

In the meantime I need to get those damned mealybugs off of my African Violets and cook up some red lentil and coconut stew, among other things. I've got a couple days off ahead, for which I am more than grateful, and I'm quite sure the economy will get along just fine without me...

Without a Doubt

2010-11-22T21:40:00.000-06:00

Within the past week a small miracle has transpired: two pair of bright tiny green leaves sprang forth from my naked fig tree! I suppose if you'd never seen its beautifully proportioned trunk and sueded branches covered by the deep curves of five-fingered sheltering leaves and tender wrinkled blushing fruits, and then watched it drop every last one to stand completely bare for months, you might not find this tremendously exciting, but to me it's a pretty big deal--and a sweet way to be welcomed home, after some time away. Life changes so quickly... doesn't it?

Snow!!!

2010-11-13T23:35:00.000-06:00

First real snowfall this morning...heavy, wet and sloppy, but who's complaining?

I took it pretty well, but it came down pretty hard on my lilac...

At least she cleared the sidewalk.

Doin' that stuff that you do

2010-11-11T21:46:00.002-06:00

So good to be up early and at home today. This afternoon I took care of a number of small chores to get the place ready for winter, what with snows coming soon... I untied and unstaked the eggplant, tomatoes and peppers, and carried what remained to the compost heap. A couple of the eggplants were so huge--like an inch in diameter and seriously 5 feet tall!--and so firmly rooted that I actually had to fork them out of the ground...crazy. There's still a bit of broccoli to be had and a couple little side cabbages heading up, enough for a small stir-fry or so. I raked a few leaves around, not really into it, but got them pushed over onto the gardens and empty spaces and what-not. Secured a few loose cables that had come loose in one of the recent windstorms, coiled my inflexible but lead-free hose, cleaned out one of the clogged gutters (turns out that a five-foot person can actually do this with a six-foot step ladder, you just have to get up onto the step that says "Do Not Stand" or "Danger" or whatever), tidied up the walks, pulled a bunch of dead things (leaving a choice few for winter architecture) and migrated a number of sun-loving planter-bound annuals who have been hanging on, through this unseasonable warmth, into the house. (If I can keep them alive until next Spring, I might feel a little better about having killed both of my two year olds--my lovely rosemary and bay laurel--but probably not). I also decided, finally, to dig a hole in the northern fencerow for my witch alder, an enchanting little shrub of magnificent blossom, attractive geometry and remarkable hue, who I was lucky enough to get at half-price and spent a good time picking out from the crowd, but far too long a time deciding where to put in the ground... I must tell you, there's something truly poignant about placing a once-cared-for and now-dried-up tree into a cold damp hole on a warm winter day, as the sun is going down, while your radiohead out of nowhere starts playing "Love Me Tender". It really did bring a tear to mine eye. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to get another one next year, but the fact remains that I starved that little beauty, a real vibrant life of a few years, and yes I know it's not like I put a bullet through its head but really, where's the respect? Where is the love? I don't know. I can only hope that there's some life left in it, yet. And apparently my inner voice isn't all that worried about it, seeing as only few minutes later I'd already moved on, to knockin' me out wich ya voodoo. (Huh. I wonder if I still have that.)

Could There Be

2010-11-09T20:42:00.000-06:00

Best Seats In The House

2010-11-02T23:11:00.004-05:00

Well, this year's show was a little strange... The story was rather loosely strung together--a bit of a stretch, you might say--and having not read the synopsis beforehand, I found myself genuinely perplexed about who and what was going on, much of the time. While there were some outstanding effects (including a life-size steam engine, complete with live sparks flying from the wheelset), thrilling spectacles (like synchronized corde lisse, two stories up and illumined in white), magnificent illusions (such as Earth-shaking giant feet up to knees the height of the ceiling), as well as some good old merriment (larger than life pies, cakes and ice cream, dancing wildly), fantastic puppetry (The Terminator, fighting...a swarm of bees? with fire) and beautiful imagery (white sharks and luminescent jellyfish swimming the ocean night), overall the symbolism lacked the gravitas and perhaps duende of prior years. The music, however, was phenomenally good. And so were our seats, possibly the best I've had there, not least because of sharing a bale with two good friends, wrapped in each others' blankets and arms, warm as can be... It's not entirely a miracle that we found each other--one could argue that it was inevitable, I suppose--but after spending a good twenty minutes or so trailing around and surveying the scene(s), it was no small delight that I chanced to turn and find them standing by, having freshly arrived, nowhere at all near to the spot where we had intended to meet (exactly.)... Lovely.

It was a busy and energizing weekend, after a long and draining week. I rolled out of bed early on Saturday morning and drove a good couple hours on the road south and home again, in pursuit of a long sought-after item... It was beautiful weather for driving, with bright sun wringing the last drops of color from the grasses and oaks of the Mississippi river valley, flooding my heart with memories of the savanna, while eagles overhead called to me to come up for air... In the afternoon, a session of Shiatsu set me up straight for the first time in weeks, and I spent the remainder of the day channeling the flow of my Chi into a costume design (having serendipitously found exactly what I needed at Savers after work on Friday). After losing myself in the mirror for a few hours, I emerged transformed: half dead, half living, split down the middle, the effect of which was somewhat fascinating as well as slightly creepy:

It turned out to be an impressive costume year, giving rise to any number of ooohs and aaaahs and cheers, the most raucous of these ensuing upon the entry of Lego man, accompanied by the King of the Wild Things and their daughter Flavor Flav, but my personal favorite was--by far--my sister's Piñata, painstakingly constructed of what could only have been thousands of inch-wide strips of bright crepe paper, each hand-rolled into a precious curl and then meticulously glued, one by one, in life-saver stripes, onto a bodysuit constructed from a pair of sweatpants and a hoody sewn together in perfect alignment, topped with a pair of uncannily proportioned yellow ears and a cute yellow snout, then finished off by her cute little roomie, in the classic sweat socks and the polka-dotted birthday hat, with the stripey beating stick to match. Seriously, she must have put more hours into that outfit than I burned looking for a new sofa on craigslist--all time well spent, because her getup kicked ass in a way that few people are willing to even consider trying (much less capable of actually doing), and my new sofa (for which I went all the way there and back again the next day) is so totally fabulously exactly right, in every aspect, that it completely changed the character of my entire place within minutes of its arrival. What a stroke of luck, and what an enormous comfort, literally. Yay!!

On another amazingly fortunate note, I found out over the weekend that my father had a very close call with a fallen tree while driving home during last week's windstorm--a near miss which went over the car but still crumpled the hood, shattered the windshield and dented the roof, after which he, in true Dad fashion, drove his beloved and still mechanically sound but now totaled Volvo wagon the last few miles home. Holy. I seem to recall saying out loud to myself, on my way home that night, that "I am really not at all interested in death by falling trees". I'll stand by that statement, and I thank the lucky stars above for those split seconds (and Happy Birthday, btw. We love you.)

Dead Among the Living

2010-10-29T21:33:00.314-05:00

Maybe I'm just a bit twitchy lately, but things are getting a little creepy around here... Last night I dreamed I was adrift on my own sturdy raft, in dim waters, when quite suddenly I found myself floating at the end of an untethered dock, at some distance through the cold night from my vessel, a seeming source of power. To lose it, or to go after, and risk being drownd by the downward drag of my garments? With no feeling of certainty I felt I must follow. I slipped in and began to swim, when I perceived the raft moving toward me, propelled by none other than my self in shadow, paddling with sure speed...yet as the craft drew closer I saw that it was not I who approached, but a black-robed witch, wearing tall and wide-rimmed hat and wielding a long stick which she deftly turned out of her last stroke to extend to my accepting hand, pulling me safely from the black waters in which I would otherwise have perished. I climbed aboard, and it was then I learned that she was no witch, but my sister. (And the dream continued.)

On waking this morning, I found myself thinking about Paul Wellstone, for no particular reason more than that I was singing to myself a sweet tune by John Lennon and wondering what the fuck is wrong with everybody...and then, while I was on the way to work a short time later, a voice on the radio spoke his name, and of his death--not that there's anything out of the ordinary about such an occurrence, mind you. (No black cats crossing any paths, either, just the regular old grey variety.)

It's not around the house alone, where the whispering creaks and groans of the settling cold assume a new dimension, but out in the lot, the hall, the stairwell... Is it the just waning light that plays upon mine eyes? But a chill wind in my ears? Or does the veil indeed grow thinner? This I can not tell, only wonder. I really can't say I see dead people but I am rather more interested in this aspect of America's favorite Celtic holiday than I am in sexy nurse costumes. Shall we know death, or just fuck it? If you know what I mean. I think it's probably worth at least a couple days' consideration.

With all that and more in mind, come Sunday, I would like to honor the passing of The Year I Spent Inside, the bones I buried and the maggots that ate my flesh, giving rise to winged creatures of compound eyes; I want to acknowledge the end of life and the advent of death, not black or obscured but of full color, of chrysanthemums and bonfires, of ancient teeth as bright as the sun; I turn, for guidance, to those who have been bold enough to lead the way; I hope to welcome the rest of the Fall, of the passage through darkness toward the gentle light of Winter; I look forward to squash and fungus and homebrew and roasts, early nights spent stirring pots, playing chords, stoking fires, reading stories; I wish for blankets of deep rest and everlasting change, everlasting change...and I realize that I am going to kick the bucket, sell the farm and give up the ghost sooner or later. Wear your masks, lanterns lit, and recognize the dead among the living, living among the dead. Happy Halloween, y'all.

Some Company

2010-10-28T20:13:00.000-05:00

Oh my invisible friends. What has been requested of me, of late, is tantamount to being asked to find three needles in three haystacks, without knowing whether there is one in each (maybe they're all in the one I'm not looking in?) while at the same time sorting each and every piece of straw by length and width, and then (assuming the needles have been found) having to painstakingly stitch it all together into a magnificent straw house--before the snow flies, mind you--in order that it might be made available for blowing down by something big and bad... But hey, lucky me--everyone's shitting bricks! Meanwhile there are no bales left for bedding, the eggs are all cracked or stolen, there are snakes in the grass, the cat's away, the cow's in the corn and the rest of the animals are on the loose. Sound familiar to anyone?

Curses!

Honey Do

2010-10-27T23:37:00.006-05:00

I forgot to mention that I got my first look inside the hive last weekend.

Despite my hopes and promises to share "all things bee" here, I neither immersed nor versed myself in bee culture this season, which by most accounts flew by all too quickly. However, I did spend a fair amount of time just hanging out with the bees, in close proximity, which I found to be a stimulating, fascinating, relaxing and peaceful pastime. Having no allergy or other aversion to "bee-ing" in close range, I felt comfortable and un-threatened within just a few feet of the hive even when standing in their line of flight, a pleasantly energizing experience. On a couple visits a single guard gave me a buzz, just to check things out, but only once did I feel the need to flee, and that was more than likely unwarranted. I'm really not afraid to get stung--I have on occasion even welcomed bee stings, odd as that might sound--but I'm very not interested in finding out what it feels like to raise the ire of an entire hive.

As I understand it, this particular breed of bee, the Minnesota Hygienic, has been specifically selected for it's docile and tidy nature as well as its resistance to disease and pathogens, including the Varroa mite which has wreaked havoc on colonies around the world for decades or longer. I'm not sure whether or not this breed has also demonstrated strength against the mysterious Colony Collapse Disorder which has presented a more recent, and more disturbing, threat to the global bee population. It is not really clear to me whether or not CCD might be a form of strike by these long-depended-on (as in we humans smoking hives from the time we could climb trees) and sometime-abused (as in commercial beekeepers trucking colonies all year round like so many migrant workers) and unarguably invaluable pollinators who its estimated by the UDSA are at least partly responsible for one out of three mouthfuls eaten by us persons, as their sort of way of saying "Fuck you" to the Man, in solidarity with all the other insect species that humans have eradicated from this life-loving planet in our subconsciously genocidal way. Likewise, while I do indeed feel that this vanishing is yet another proverbial canary (only hoping its song might be missed) I have no sense of the degree to which any or all bees might be aware of this, although I have to say that they seem to be pretty on top of their game. (Also, I am still in the dark as to what relationship any of this might have to alien-human relations or Moulder and Scully's lovechild.)

Anyway, the little complex in my backyard has been under the dedicated care of a colleague of mine, who took up beekeeping last year with two hives, adding a dozen or so more this year. I've learned any number of fascinating facts from her, most of which I cannot recall with any eptitude (and yes I know that's not a wurd) but all of which have contributed to my feeling that we humans could learn a lot from bees. Take, for one, following a Queen, not of the Elizabeth or Mary sort but more like one big giant mama. It's a pretty good idea that a lot of sensible people have endorsed. Caring for the brood, placing the hive's health above individual ambitions, spending all day flying around and being gingerly attentive to the sexual organs of other living beings, making sweet and wildly delicious food in abundant amounts, constructing magnificent architecture to house every member of the community, sharing information through dancing, knowing the way home without fail... These are all things I can get behind.

So, seeing the hive with the lid off was pretty cool. Basically a "traditional" hive consists of a stack of boxes which are open to each other, each containing a number of frames upon which the bees construct their comb, which is made of wax that's extruded by the female workers and then carefully manipulated into near-perfect geometry. (Imagine doing that with your mouth!) Incidentally, the male drones don't lift a leg to help; they're just there to produce the brood. The comb is built and filled from the top down, with some of it being used to house babies and some to store food. As the comb fills up, more boxes are added, maybe once or twice during the summer, to give the bees room to expand their operation. My hive turned out to be a pretty productive one, and ended up consisting of two large boxes and three smaller ones. A large box might hold 100 lbs of honey, a smaller one might hold 80 lbs, full. My whole hive wasn't full of honey, but I think the estimated take was around 200 lbs. I'm looking forward to getting a taste... oddly, I haven't really had any honey for the past year or so, having not bought a jar since I moved into this house. (This wasn't exactly intentional and actually strikes me as a little strange; although I've been relying on agave syrup as my go-to tea amendment and occasional cooking companion for some time, I've always loved honey and have in the past relied rather heavily on it as a source of sweetness, as well as beauty.)

The keeper used a smoker to keep the bees calm, but it seemed to me (as an onlooker) that they were relatively unconcerned by her, or my, presence. She wore a hat with face netting, as a matter of course, but I stood nearly as close and was not at all bothered by bees in the nose (could have had something to do with the sedative effect of the Fall weather). She set the boxes on the ground, one by one and loosely stacked, freeing frames with a small prybar (honey is sticky stuff) so that they could be removed and examined. After disassembling and evaluating the hive, she took away two of the boxes along with a good portion of the honeyed comb, leaving behind the original three-box stack, with enough food stores to see 30-40 thousand bees through the Winter. Even so, the hive is likely to incur a few losses before Spring, when they'll be provided supplemental food to get them through the days between their stirring and there being an adequate supply of nectar in the neighborhood. Until then, they'll still be active, just in a low-energy mode.

What else? I've left out a lot. Like how gorgeous they are: beautiful soft-haired and almond-eyed stripey wonders who move in patterns barely discernible to my naked eye (as evidenced by several photos I've captured of their seemingly synchronized movement) and with a grace that's both light as flight and heavy as honey, if I might put it that way. Also, the way they smell--and by this I don't mean their incredible olfactory sensibilities but the stink of their stack, which is not entirely unlike a not entirely unclean and yet totally funktasticly soiled sock, dipped in fairy piss and kissed by a horny toad, or something like that. (It's the kind of thing that makes some people sick, if that gives you a clue.) Or the sound of them, cutting through the sky, with a mind on the sun, every moving moment. And that they have helped root me to this place, as if it's not only possible but pretty much imperative to find a route home, from just about damn near anywhere, and once you get there, to spread the ancient and ever-present wurd by dancing yr ass off.

I schmokes mine pipe und I vatches dose bees,
Und I laughs till mine schtomack goes schplit,
Ven I see dem go schtrait for Hans Brinkerhoff’s flow’rs
Und nefer suck Yakob’s vone bit.

Eugene Secor, Songs of Beedom
(Cited by Ribbands, 1953, P. 184)

2010-10-26T23:56:00.001-05:00

Wild winds tonight, and fierce. I don't usually feel too vulnerable driving around in a Volvo station wagon, heavy as all get-out, but tonight my windshield actually said "maybe" while I rode the waves home, watching signs bend to and fro, passing fallen branches, and I have to admit I was relieved to make it home and find everything safe and sound. Despite the insistent gusts, even the garage, with its slightly cock-eyed support system, offered not a hint of weakness. The bee hive remains tightly covered and my house lets be heard not even the whisper of a whistle through a window, much less a groan or shake.

Arriving late, I stepped out in the dark to secure the hive, at the bequest of its keeper. I grabbed a large wedge of rock from the doorstep--still don't know from whence, or whom, that came--but on placement it seemed too light, so I traced the curving path through the garden, angling here and arching there, to fetch a heavier stone. What a lovely feeling it was, in the damp and the lateness and the pressing wind, to feel my feet fall just where they should, as if treading a well-worn path through the woods. This I love, such knowing.

I've been busy lately, unduly burdened not by work but by my job, which is not only keeping me up late at night but is also keeping me up late at night. I'm not going to get into it here, so let it suffice to say that the way things are shaping up, I'll be lucky to get my bedroom painted before my next birthday... I'd hoped to move in there by the one-year mark, but time is getting tighter and the weekends are filling fast. My job is demanding travel and, in other news, my brother is losing his house and home of many years, so there will be much sorting and packing and moving and leaving to do, in the weeks ahead, before Thanksgiving.

Here at my humble abode, I've for the past few weeks been quietly taking stock of the past year. While little has changed on the surface of the interior, much has been set in motion outside...Perennially, I've introduced a robust old rhubarb, a cluster of tenacious asparagus, a thriving peach, an ambitious plum, a modest currant and several assertive strawberries, as well as many species of herbs and natives and others, both humble and showy, among the residents. Room has been set aside for bee forage, for fruit and nut shrubs, for an expanded vegetable garden and for mixed fencerows and corner pockets, next season. More recently, my neighbor felled the young ash tree which shaded the southwest corner of my yard, clearing a sunny space for the cherry I envisioned there.

Now, as the daylight wanes, I turn my attentions inward again...with the shift of the light (set back coming soon.) I begin to change my habits of food and of rest, of rising and setting... Already my heart is filled with dreams of falling snow, mounds of pale soft quiet and the rush of my waxed weight on each downward slope, yet to climb again... There's still a way to go before that, though--two fat pumpkins sit in my entryway, awaiting the knife, and All Hallows Eve lies just ahead. It looks as though the Bare Bones show is right on the mark this year, as usual, and boy am I long overdue for a reality check of the other-worldly kind...

Right Where We Belong

2010-10-20T22:07:00.001-05:00

"No. No, they can not watch the show from backstage. Wait a minute...That's it! That's what's been missing from the show...That's what we need! More frogs and dogs and and bears and chickens and...and whatever! You're not gonna watch the show...you're gonna be in the show! C'mon, everybody!!"

Chopping Broccoli

2010-10-14T23:32:00.002-05:00

Hmmmmm........it strikes me tonight that I must've been pretty checked out for a while there, seeing as I've got a couple really lovely little heads of broccoli going to flower in my modest garden, which I've been walking past daily for how long now? and these are the second heading (the first I picked at almost peak and then let turn brown, nargh.)... Granted, I do appreciate the way their flowers grace the garden, and I have snapped off at least a couple pieces to munch on the way to work, but seriously--where in the heck have I been?? I love broccoli!! Nuts.

Crescent Moon: Winds of Change

2010-10-12T21:27:00.000-05:00

Through the normal course of things, I chanced today upon this modest rhyme, after being greeted this morning by a colleague bearing a heavy heart, and the news of two deaths--one expected, one not, both quite tragic in their way--in one extended family, in one day.

A spider web pulled tight between two stones
With nothing left but autumn leaves to catch
Is maybe a winter sign, or the thin blue bones
Of a hare picked by ants. A man can attach

Meanings enough to the wind when his luck is out,
But, having stumbled into this season of grief,
I mean to reflect on the life that is here and about
In the fall of the leaves–not on the dying leaf.

Something more tough, reliable and stark
Carries the blood of life toward a farther spring–
Something that lies concealed in the soundless dark
Of burr and pod, in the seeds that hook and sting.

I have learned from these that love which endures the night
May smolder in outward death while the colors blaze,
But trust my love–it is small, burr-coated, and tight.
It will stick to the bone. It will last through the autumn days.

- Winter Sign, by Loren Eiseley

There is, also, Fall, who this time has chosen to caress with warmth our living skins, before we softly slip them into the long sleeves of our shortening days...The wind is generous tonight; he stirs the pot, that the Moon might sup, and that both might rest by morning.

Would You Eat This?

2010-10-10T10:10:00.001-05:00

I'm guessing you probably wouldn't. What kind of person would look at something all split and browning and puckered and think hey, let's give that a try? Well, I would, and I'm glad I did, because that melon, which spontaneously cracked open after a week in my fridge and which I then left untouched for another four long weeks, daily observing its demise with a certain amount of dismay accompanied by the vague feeling that this melon--which faced me at eye level every morning and night as if to say "your Summer is over, and what have you done?"; which I knew to be the end of a chain of events circling the last few years (from my innocent dreams of cultivating such sumptuous roundness to the gathering of many seeds to the promise of stout magical seedlings to their delicate struggle against a season of cold to a little taste of magic frozen possibility to the coming of another Spring to my mother's continuing commitment to a Summer of perfect growing conditions to a bumper crop to the hands that picked it to the day it cracked to the weeks it gently pulled away) and yet was unable to truly appreciate, even with the awareness that it could not have been brought into existence without me, in some way--this melon was seemingly less a pleasure to be enjoyed than a manifestation of the unrealized potential of several months of my own growing season, as well as being the largest representative of a very small harvest now going to waste in my kitchen though I was not so long ago capable of handling bushels...so I was a little skeptical about cutting it in half this afternoon but thought what the hell. As it turned out, it's still completely perfect inside, cracks and scars and all, not merely edible but actually good, the way a melon should be, and moreover it is the only crisply deliciously sweetly juicy thing that could possibly make any kind of sense today. So let that be a lesson to me: there are plenty worse things than having a cracked melon. (Yes, I downed the whole thing.)

***

In other news, I made a very late decision to stay at home today so that I could devote a little attention to my lately neglected yard and gardens. I'm glad I did; the simple routine of mowing the lawn got me looking around at all the digging I've done here and all the little plants I've put in (some, not so small...the Datura could seriously cover a queen-size mattress, at least) and I realized that--though I might have done more--I've made a reasonable amount of progress here during the past eleven months. Among my other small efforts this afternoon, I filled in a few deep-ish holes in the lawn and moved the last of the shit pile onto the dirt pile--oh and by the way, a few weeks ago I redistributed what was left of the previous owner's "pumpkin patch" into a new bed formation and laid down new paths...all worked out pretty nicely. Also, after nearly a year of our not having really crossed paths, I finally met my southern neighbor--a nice simple bachelor--who pulled up while I was out by the garage, moving manure. We chatted for a while and I learned a few new things about my place, among them that there were at one time three apple trees in my backyard which were all struck by lightning (presumably not at the same time), and that this entire neighborhood was once a dump, which (so he says) is why such oddities as mug handles and marbles and the like keep turning up in the gardens around here. (That may explain some things, but I suspect it was gnomes who left the tiny green treasure chest I found in the garden today, discreetly snuggled into the side of a mound.) I also found out that his family has a cabin very close to where I grew up....Small world. Huh.

***

It's Sunday morning now. It's been a while since I spent a morning out in the garden...it felt good to sow seeds--rye & vetch on the new garden beds and around the hive, crimson and red clover on the mound in the center--and to rake them under the cover of loose soil...I just realized that those may have been the first actual seeds I've put in the ground here...oh, no--there was the pumpkin, sole gesture of hope, still blossoming freely... Well, anyway, I'm headed out now, to join family and friends for a barn dance, up north. Enjoy the day.

Retraction: Our Only Hope

2010-10-07T07:58:00.000-05:00

First of all, I've always been a lot more into the little things, like Ewoks. Secondly, who leaves out Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt, or frozen Solo, among others? Were there even any Storm Troopers? And where in The Hell was Obi-Wan??

(We're All) Just Biding Time Until The Next Big Thing

2010-10-06T20:14:00.008-05:00

Thinking of my brother, who's fallen on hard times, and sending this out to those among you who once had, still have, or ever really, really wanted a big box of Star Wars toys...

The Cat I Called Haiku

2010-09-25T04:01:00.000-05:00

Rainbow 'round the moon--
Vishnu climbs over the fence
to find me at home.

Fall Moon: Of the Balance

2010-09-22T20:57:00.000-05:00

Gentle readers, I've been away; we have some serious catching up to do. I'm afraid I have rather too much on my mind tonight to attempt putting any thought into words, but I didn't want to let the day pass without giving some small token of my attention to the Fall Equinox, which is occurring this year under the auspices of a full moon...I hope this day finds you well, wrapped lovingly in the arms and legs of change, and ready to go out and kick some Autumnal ass. Peace.

Evening Out

2010-09-09T22:27:00.001-05:00

Something rather miraculous has happened.

Actually, a few things.

Firstly. Last night, despite my being stupidly feverish and dehydrated as well as generally sick and tired on top of partially retarded, I prepared, completed and subsequently stored away three entire and large batches of soup, all at the same time (though not exactly simultaneously, they came together within a very close frame of time). I must tell you I could not possibly done this without my (previously only suspected but now proven to be) indispensable Pots & Pans, with which I could not possibly be more enamored or, at a very minimum, happy. They kick ass. Not too long ago I was thinking maybe they were too much, too many, just another Mark of the Beast, yet another yuppy tattoo on my Volvo-driving ass, but now that I've had the chance to put...oh, what was it?...like five or six of them to use at the same time (I don't even have that many burners.), I can only congratulate myself on being--if and only and even if a complete and utter failure at practically everything else in recent memory--keenly, prudently, awesomely good at getting really amazingly fine stuff, at a damn good deal. That one stockpot, the one that was probably just an indulgence, the one I loved so much just because of how big it was and how great it looked next to the smaller one? Totally could not have even attempted to begin to consider making stock for three soups without it. As I said, indispensable. Also it's sorta nice to know I've got at least a few things that will last me the rest of my life (assuming no hijacked planes crash into my kitchen and melt all that steel...).

Secondly, over the course of the past few days, some of the Golden Treasures have been slowly and surely ripening, changing skins from firm green brushed by shy yellow to sunny orange-streaked gold. I might be dreaming, but even a couple that were completely green seem now to have glowing, curly tips.

Thirdly, I think I may have, at long last--without any recipe to guide me--managed to achieve a Zucchini Soup which is not entirely unlike my Mom's indisputably delicious and classic version. Just zucchini and onions, garlic, a few herbs, salt, pepper and stock, simmered and then pureed. Add sauteed mushrooms, crumbled bacon, croutons and parmesan... pretty darn not bad at all.

Fourthly, after a few heaping family-style servings of love sauce with pain balls last week, coming home with a doggie bag full of low-grade fever, sniffling and chest cough, followed upon my return to work by a few treatments of good ol' mainstream corporate cynicism--and despite my weary hacking, The Job twisting my ears, the daily longing to come home to comfort food on the stove and some fluff on the tele--I've felt more sweetly at peace in the past few...hours? in a way that I have not for such a dear, long time, that it's actually got me worrying that maybe I'm just seeing the old slide show of my memories of home, for the last time, before they flee my poisoned mind forever... Oh come now...it's just Fall, you ripe nut. The air is cooling, the light is fading and I've got this urge to wear sweaters and snow pants, get myself a nice slow-cooker and start listening to some new records. The Equinox is so close, you can almost taste it, can't you? Ah, September, drifting like a leaf on the river...

Lastly, it's not yet 10:30, and I am going to bed, for not the first time in the past week. Sweet dreams, all, I hope to see each and every one of you soon, for real.

Home Again, Home Again

2010-09-07T19:35:00.002-05:00

I think Vishnu missed me, as evidenced by the decapitated squirrel in my backyard and the dainty pile of guts and puke left on the sidewalk. He was on the back step when I opened my door last night, in the cold rain, plaintively calling for me to let him in, claws reaching toward the screen, and I--wondering at this rather uncharacteristic behavior only later--did not stoop to greet him or even utter an acknowledgment, but only turned and closed the door behind me. I might have shown a little more respect, I suppose, to the essence of all beings...

Vishnu and Lakshmi on Shesha Naga

A few things have changed at home since I've been away. The tomatoes, which were tenuously staked but nonetheless thriving, have mostly toppled over due to what I can only imagine must have been a rather heavy downpour. They're still covered in ripening green fruit, though much has rotted on the vine and those spaztastic tree-devils can't seem to get their teeth into enough of it (as expected. but grrr.). Cabbages are ready for picking (harvested two heads of broccoli, also, the day I left). The eggplants are now neck-high on me, with leaves as big as my head, still covered in striking purple blooms and setting their dark little fruits, some of the Japanese sort and some round and lavender streaked beauties of a variety I can't remember...not sure they'll fully ripen, but they're a joy in any case. The datura is sprawling like crazy, so large and so covered in pods and blossoms that I can hardly believe it's only one plant. Blackberry lilies are popping their bright little heads open and the delicate bells of Korean Beauty clematis are cascading over the fence. The sweet basil I lopped for pesto a few weeks ago has completely bushed out again, while the lemon basil is sending up towering spires to tantalize the bees (who are nowhere to be seen on this dark and chilly day, though I notice the hive has once again increased in stature...full of honey, I would hope). As it happened, my house-sitter made the kind mistake of picking all of my bumper crop of Golden Treasure peppers while they were still green--a rather laughable turn of events, though something of a disappointment...On the upside, they've been put to good use and I'm looking forward to some good home-cooking in return, a welcome offering and I daresay one I've not received before, the gift of food which I grew that was prepared by someone who's not a family member (could that be? hmm.). I swear the peach and plum have both grown another foot higher in the last week, thanks in no small part to someone actually watering them every day. The Mission fig, a recent addition to my indoor garden, along with a Meyer lemon, isn't looking so hot, but both are still holding their sweet treats, for now. (I've had three or four so far, of those figs. Can't say they're the tastiest I've ever had, but I'll be working on that. Still, yum, and wow.)

Awaiting me in the kitchen this evening are umpteen ears of corn, to be shaved and made into corn-potato chowder, green (tomatillo, jalapeno, cilantro) corn soup, and red pepper-corn soup, all recipes learned and loved from Annie Somerville's Fields of Greens. Also, on the table, piled high upon the screen lifted from my over-sink window, is a harvest of Hopi red dye amaranth, chock full of gorgeous, tiny, jewel-like seeds, chock full of nutrition, wonder, and ancient wisdom. Hopefully I can figure out some way to get them out of there and into jars (and thanks to my sister for thinking to shake them out of their velvety ripeness and into her palms) and from there into cereal, salad, pancakes, what have we. Oh, yeah, and zucchini and fresh (giant, this year) onions, for Z soup; Yukon Gold and Russet potatoes; enchanting Ha-Ogen melon, and a Cream of Saskatchewan too; patty-pans, sun-burst and pale green; black eggplants; chervil and garlic chives and dill... these are just what I brought home with me, just a small portion of the gardens my parents tend, to do with what I can. Best be getting busy...

Oh yeah, and I was on vacation last week, seven days on the shore of the Great Lake called Superior, otherwise known as Gichigami. I took a few spectacular photos, which I'll be posting just as soon as I can sort through them. Also have a few from the gardens and home front this year which I might get around to sharing soon...guess there was that whole Paris thing, also... How time flies. Hope you're enjoying the fruits of the season.

Cricket Moon: Close to Over

2010-08-24T22:34:00.004-05:00

There are times at work when I feel like I'm being slowly yet expertly chased by Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, only instead of flashlights and gumption, they're equipped with blueteeth and blackberries, and they're actually cannibalistic zombie clones, on Abilify... Listening to the corn syrupy-sweet voice of someone who is talking, to you, among others, about something you did, and then neatly pauses to insert "we" rather than stooping so far as to utter your name: this is the experience of my day. "I don't think we need you for anything else", as if anyone had to tell me... I know I've set myself up for some of this--me and my shattered self-esteem plunging into a deep sea of despair from which I could not surface or even so much as rise to a professional level--but after ten long years of putting in (with all due respect) a hell of a lot more effort than most--yes, I did win my beloved snowboard on eBay at work, back when the dollar was still worth something, but no, I don't spend half my day gabbing with my family and friends or trying to figure out how to copy and paste--it's hard not to take the rather broad cold shoulder I've been getting at my job lately like a slap in the face. A hard and clammy slap, telling me that every bit of energy I've expended here--oh, and I know, yes I know, it's all for profit, not for good--making anything work better for anyone, learning bottom up and inside out, putting others needs ahead of my own (yes, I have actually done so) and becoming intimately familiar with the unthinkable details of miles upon miles of heartless lines of data, all this was worse than for nought. As much as I'd like to think that I've gained some valuable skills and accomplished some good deeds, all I've really done is given my time, my health and my hopes to a corporation, in return for a sum of money. Perhaps at some point I may have thought this job might one day support a family, but in fact it has only sucked me dry. To quote one of CM's old songs: now I know the price of signing contracts. I am actually sick and truly tired of having conversations with disinterested parties who office-casually annihilate my new-born sense of well-being, and I guess I really don't have either the wherewithal or the smarts or the stomach to find a way of being okay with spending any more of my life-giving days on this magical planet in an increasingly non-cooperative, uncompassionate, uncreative, anti-poetic and counter-evolutionary environment. You don't have to add value if you're doing something that matters. There's no such thing as a win-win if you're not competing with anyone, and you can take the whole fucking project offline for all I care. Sure I'm a team player, but my sport is not dodge-ball. The bottom line is that I am not on board. I'll be the stewardess in the parachute. And I'll be the one who jumps at 40,000 feet, and dies from exposure and lack of oxygen... Fuck, it's Tuesday. Hey kids: what happened to that girl in pigtails?

(Here I would entreat you to spare me the concession of adding a disclaimer to this post about how good I've really got it, you sanctimonious sons of bitches...)

On another, entirely different note, the moon is full tonight, the palest hazy green glow floating in an ocean of sky... It's the height of cricket season, the air is dry and cool, and it's moving real slow... it's that time of year when everyone is wearing summer like their favorite pair of underwear--comfortable as can be, but close to the end. Driving home well after sunset with the windows down, top open, old motor mount back and shifting smoothly, a night like tonight can make even a little woman like me feel like getting out from behind the wheel and taking a long, easy ride on the back of a bike...and god I hate to say it but a smoke would be so good, right about now. Fuck, is it Tuesday?

Well, yes, it is. And it's a little after ten now, and I am nowhere near to winding down for the day. I have a mind to take myself on a good long drive, find a grassy little spot by the river, drink a couple beers and fall asleep on the ground, with an eye on the moon... Is there something I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow? Well, yes, there is. But I'm asking myself tonight, does that really matter at all? Well?

Sunday's on the Phone to Monday

2010-08-23T12:19:00.003-05:00

I fingered the keys as we talked about what was going wrong (last night it finally dawned on me that it's not a wiring problem, it's the ignition) and I handed them to him, being just a little bit careful not to touch hands...I crossed the street and caught a bus in seconds flat, enjoyed a relatively brief and pleasant ride in spite of large woman in Bud Light flip-flops hacking loogey on floor, took a small detour--I guess I should known something was coming when the bus driver showed me a whole page of reroutes--and was dropped at a corner not far from my destination, in high spirits for a Monday morning. A few minutes later I arrived at my desk, ready for the day, and realized that something was missing: no computer. I'd left it at home, despite giving it the eye over coffee and telling myself not to forget it. I looked around for a replacement; no go. I'd rather have my own, in any case... Caught the train and another bus, hopped off a couple blocks from home and then it hit me that something else was missing: no keys. I'd handed them over that morning, even after considering slipping them off the ring, since I might need them or should at least have them. Good thinking there, yeah. Okaaay, what now? It would take hours to go after them and there's still no spare outside, no extra in the garage... But wait! I left one window open today, I know it... Fetched the stepladder from the garage and checked the bedroom first, just in case... not surprised to find it locked. Kitchen, also locked; sunroom, locked around; all the rest, likewise, locked. Of course. So I turned the last the corner and made my way through the towering sunflowers and shrubby weeds to lean my ladder toward the little bathroom window...Slipped off my maryjanes and climbed up, pulled down the screen and tossed one shoe in, followed by the other (I must say there was something so oddly sweet in their muffled thuds as they hit the floor...), put one leg in and back out again...headfirst, I guess, the only way...with just enough room to turn around, just enough of a hand-hold to slip my legs out from under me, I stepped down a few easy moments later and found myself safely at home, just in time for lunch. Oh Happy Monday! Guess I'd best be off to work, now...

Put Me in Pigtails

2010-08-23T03:06:00.001-05:00

"We need more girls who know how to braid." A few words of encouragement to a younger one who was practicing close to us had started me thinking about it. The S curve: snake in the grass, cutting turns in powder, riding waves, half of infinity... I examined myself in the mirror for quite some time before I finally decided to make the part and put myself in pigtails, for what I think must be the first time since I was a young girl. It reminded me that I used to braid quite a bit, for a while, and rather well--yarns and strings, lines and locks, mine and others. I'd forgotten the pleasure of it, the twist and pull of different directions drawn together into a single trajectory, snugly wound yet loosely hanging, separate yet inseparable, if only temporarily. I remember also, fondly and clearly, a lovely braid in particular which I wove of a friend's long tresses while we waited for a wedding on the June grass, his red and white gingham shirt, the two lines meeting and becoming one...A sweet afternoon. So was today's, in the way that can sometimes happen when one drops in, unexpected. I was in the neighborhood, and wanting an opinion about the new look, and hoping for a swim, and thinking of borrowing a few things, not really knowing who if anyone might be home...Why not just stop by? And with that one move--or perhaps two, with the pigtails--the whole course of the day took a decidedly happy turn: hours spent gabbing; an hour of half-skinny dipping in the warm and cooling waters of the Saint Croix as the sun sank over the ridge, passing yellow to orange; yummy bites on the patio, before heading back; more talk and a sofa each; then home to bed...and now I'm up too late again, I see, but it's good to be here, good to wear braids, good to have a little sister... Good night.

Rolling

2010-08-21T22:49:00.004-05:00

Long, relaxing day today. Massage in the morning; café au lait, zucchini fritters and mango in the afternoon. A walk to the river and upstream, in the evening, sharing the parkway with hundreds of bikers who approached casually, chatting in pleasant ways. Fungi abound on the boulevards, and yellow jewelweed is in bloom. Across the Franklin Avenue bridge, hundreds of spiders are weaving their webs, with the moon close to full upon the river, and not too much wind. Under the oaks on soft grass I ran for a while, in the fading light, despite my knocking knees, and thus I have arrived at home again, Two-Hearted, enjoying the harvest of seasons past as I withdraw from nicotine: yarrow, raspberry leaf, sage, mullein, red clover, kinnikinnick. A nice blend.

Ante Up

2010-08-18T22:01:00.003-05:00

I'll see you, Wednesday, and I'll raise you...

Fallen

2010-08-13T00:08:00.000-05:00

White Pine, planted by my grandparents, taken down by the wind:

And one a bit smaller, taken down by who knows what:

Ah, Friday

2010-08-06T21:31:00.005-05:00

A MAJOR adjustment today and then Otis Redding on the Sugar Shack, enough to make a person want to roll back the sun roof on a hot summer's day and drive the length of Lake Street all the way home, all right with the world.

Two weeks into my spinal reclamation effort, and what a profound difference.

The crickets are singing, the last of the tomatoes are now semi-firmly staked, little bro is on the way with microbrews from WI, and then we're headed up north to take things easy for a couple days. I'm told there are melons on the vine, pickles in the making and squashes galore, and much more, I'm sure... I'll report back on my return. Until then, good luck in your endeavors.

2010-08-02T23:22:00.001-05:00

Plants are returning to my consciousness. Tonight I begin work on a formula for my spine, which has given me a run for my money today, if you'll pardon the expression, and take inspiration from these companions in time:

Motherwort, Obedient Plant, Japanese Painted Fern (and Toad Lily petal)

and the spider returns tonight, to weave again...

Crossing

2010-08-01T23:18:00.002-05:00

I guess waking up every morning feeling like I've been hit by a bus is just a normal and necessary part of the experience of reclaiming my spine, but I must say it's really not the best part of my day... Despite a rough start, though, I had a mostly pain-free, relaxing and good long workday on Saturday, in which I:
blackened my toast, twice
watered the plants
pulled some crabgrass
trimmed the tree
repaired my busted gate
trellised 3 clematis, with cuttings of maple (stolwijk gold still lives!)
discovered a new colony of fantastic fungi
planned 2 fence plantings
untangled and rewound my trailing morning glories
came up with 2 great ideas involving windows and art
kneeled in a swarm of little biting ants
took out the compost
dumped an entire bag of trash on the compost heap
saw a butterfly poop
got a squirt of lime juice in my third eye
concocted a cocktail of lilac mead, white brandy, lime, nasturtiums and lemon basil flowers (with a couple borage blossoms, for good measure)
joined sis and hub for a swim at the waterpark
rode the big slide
dined on amazingly delicious comfort food not grown or made by myself or anyone I know (mmmm...Brasa)
spent some quality time with my newly tuned piano
put myself on ice
slept with ease through the night...almost...

Sunday, I:
slept in...sort of
dreamed strange dreams
ate guacamoleees for breakfast
contemplated moving to Hawaii
found nothing I was looking for on craigslist
mowed the lawn
fixed the lawn mower
saved big money at Menards
packed $88 of groceries into one little bag ?!
sipped sage brew on ice, with a twist of lemon, quite nice
missed the old folks at home
spent 3 1/2 hours staking those sprawling-ass tomatoes (and still only 3/4 of the way there...)
was kindly delivered a perfect bag of veggies from the sweet land up north. gracias...
received at least four dozen mosquito bites on my back (going to suck, with no back scratcher! although those damn ant bites are so much worse...)

Also, I :
realized (once again, continually) that I totally lucked out in having a great little place here

Oh, and Friday I:
got my piano tuned
saw its guts, learned its workings
found out it's probably worth more than twice what I paid for it
spent the evening with one very dear friend
took a handful of nice portraits, more soon :)

Not bad for a few days. Is it really August already???

Untwisting

2010-07-29T00:56:00.008-05:00

I've learned a few things in recent days.

First among these, I am coming to understand what it means to carry an injury to one's spine. It turns out that I have some not insignificant issues with a few discs in my neck which are potentially problematic (most inevitably, without proper care), but manageable, nonetheless. Neck like an oak tree (on fire), so I've been told. I have, perhaps, been underestimating the effects of this on my general state of well-being, while routine tasks such as doing the dishes, lifting a few pounds, normal movement, sitting, sleeping, seeing, swallowing, breathing, etc. have become increasingly difficult. Considering the relationship of vertebrae to the central nervous system, I am not particularly surprised--albeit relieved--to find that I am feeling much, much calmer and more lucid after only a few adjustments. I'm on deck for three per week during the next month--an aggressive schedule, to be sure, but this new person I'm seeing is not messing around. For the first time in many years I feel the beginning of a much needed and long overdue change in my body, and in the most essential element of my continuing existence as homo sapiens. It would be a bit foolish to say that I had no idea, but I have to wonder--as the urge for smoke and drink floats away, as I open my chest and stand firmly on my two feet--how in the dark I have been, for quite some time. The oak is mighty, but when it breaks, it breaks for good. To be more of the willow, to bend and to grow again, is my design...

The power of transformation. In a garden it is nearly impossible not to experience this, as I had the pleasure of being reminded this evening, after a day which went from good (I can drop my head back freely!) to worse (tight grip overtaking skull) and back again... On my arrival home I noticed that one of the pumpkins I planted with a friend last week, if only as a gesture of unyielding hope, was up and in the world. Peppers and tomatoes grow riper daily, on plants which have exceeded my expectations by so far that I am truly humbled by their presence. Here and there, flowers continue to open portals of color, coaxing my greyed matter into a more vibrant state. This yard is actually rather amazing, in the number and variety of plants growing in it, and in the gentle way it has wooed me, despite my reluctance to give it my whole heart. The neighbor(hood)'s cat, Vishnu--who I'd been calling Haiku--climbs over the fence to greet me as I wander the grounds, finding new growth at every turn. By contrast to the 120 acres of land I grew up on, this smaller scale requires a somewhat tighter focus...With macro lens (oh how I wish!) there are so many small wonders to behold...

Tonight I witnessed something which I suspect few among you have seen. I was just about to plant a few cast-off globe thistles when a trumpet of white caught my attention. I grabbed my camera and took this shot:

...and I missed the next one, because before I was able to think about what I was seeing, the blossom gave a gentle twist and opened, to my surprise...

and then, another...

and was fully open within moments:

Datura: goddess of the garden, unfurling herself in twilight to rival the moon, wielding dreams as swords to cut through the mists of time, unwinding...

Also known as Jimsonweed, erroneously as Moonflower, and more commonly as Loveapple, Daturas are members of the Solanaceae family, so potato beetles love 'em:

In the few minutes I spent taking a few photos of this lovely plant, the blossom which had only just opened began to fold...

...and in the softening whiteness, this momentary vision...

These flowers close as quickly as they open, though at the moment my Datura--planted only two short months ago and already big as a forest cat--is covered with fat green pods, ready to burst. It's possible I might catch another opening, but I've had enough experience with this sort of thing to know that it's no coincidence, when a flower spirals open before your very eyes... This is a plant of ancient wisdom and shamanic tradition, hallucinogenic dreams and love potions, not one to be taken lightly. I've never grown one before, but have always admired them, and now that we've become acquainted it's time I carry myself off to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream...

Sheets to the Wind

2010-07-25T12:53:00.001-05:00

So I'm watching this guy create a collapsing tower and expanding flower out of a single sheet, with intricate and intimate precision, the culmination of hours upon hours of carefully planned creases and in-creases, while I'm lying on the sofa trying to figure out how I can fish a radish out of my Bloody Mary with one chopstick. Yep, that sounds about right. As I found out, it is not necessary to be drunk for this to be difficult, or for one to fall into deep cosmic love with a piece of folded paper... If one of your favorite pastimes as a kid was graph paper, or cloud-busting, or you've ever been turned on by sculpture, or if you find yourself laid up or needing to lie down for an hour, you might enjoy this little documentary titled "Between the Folds". Those of you who are already doing origami mathematics over your morning bowl of Alpha-bits might find this old hat, and unfortunately the narration is both dull and annoying, but there are some paper wonders in this film (as well as a bit of insight on Chopin and Rachmaninoff), a worthwhile diversion.

I could so totally fold that.

Good News and Bad News, and Good News

2010-07-23T18:45:00.002-05:00

So the good news is that earlier this week (with a hand from a friend, much appreciated) I finally got that big blue tarp that's been occupying the better part of my backyard--in one way or another, for the past three months--folded up and back in the garage, and today I got in touch with an ass-kicking "chiropractor" who I believe will be able to help me out, for real, with some chronic body issues. The bad news is that it appears I have been rather underestimating both the pain I've been in and the severity of my "neck" problems ("walking cranial mess", were the words she used, I think), and as a result my weekend plans to transform that big ol' pile of dirt into the northern hemisphere of my radiant garden have been reclassified from promising project into "ridiculous idea". So, looks like everything's going on ice for now...

The gardens up north are thriving this year, in the loving and capable hands of my mom and dad. It's a stellar summer for the curcurbits--zucchini and summer squashes, melons, cukes and winter squashes are thriving and full of fruit and blossoms. The tomatoes are looking good, too, and even the peppers and eggplant, which were just spindly little leggy buggers when they went in, are now bushy and full of flowers. The brassicas are lagging, but they should do just fine through the home stretch into the Fall, as things cool down, and even through frost. Loads of sweet corn is about where it should be this time of year, and the onions and potatoes look great. There's a super-happy patch of Calendula taking hold of the eastern border of the back garden, practically unstoppable now... Not so many peas and lettuces this year, after a late start, but there's time for more greens in the Fall. Carrots are going gangbusters and the rest of the roots are slowly chugging along. There's a beautiful, thick stand of Jerusalem artichokes at the western edge of the compost garden, and the patch of Russian comfrey at the opposite end is three feet high and rising, just a few short weeks after mom cut it down for the first time this season. Borage abounds, as usual, and some of the perennial herbs I put in last year and this Spring have developed into nice little communities. The old--I mean OLD, like at least 30 years--rhubarb that mom and dad split transplanted from the end of the asparagus bed to the northeast corner of the front garden is so big you wouldn't know it hadn't been there forever. All in all, a good year for growing and things are doing well. The bad news is, the good word has got out (perhaps spread by the baby rabbits who were born this Spring in last year's tomato patch...), and there's a plague of chipmunks who are, in relative terms at least, wreaking havoc.

My own gardens are doing sort of surprisingly well, too--tomatoes, peppers, broccoli and cabbages have quadrupled in size in the past two or three weeks, and I've got basil bushes with leaves so large and lovely I've been eating them like lettuce, in sandwiches. The frigging squirrels stripped away the onion bags and stole my few precious strawberries, but since I wasn't really expecting any fruit this year I guess I can deal with that. Still have flowers to plant and fencerows to fill in and various other things to tend to but that I will get to in due time. Now I'm going to fetch the Led Zeppelin from the basement, refill my cup, lie down on my shaggy rug of bliss for a very long time, and thank god for doctor's orders.

Jungle of Dreams

2010-07-22T18:48:00.001-05:00

Last night, a tiger sauntered through my greenness,
all grace and strength, within reach.

Today I have changed.

So few remain.

Travel In

2010-07-21T19:42:00.002-05:00

(skip it, 10 seconds in)

In The House!

2010-07-16T01:48:00.009-05:00

Bugging Out

2010-07-09T19:59:00.000-05:00

I propped the kitchen door open last night, while hauling a carload of old stuff (aging wines and meads, mostly, a lot of them forgotten: currant wine from a few years ago, chokecherry wine and cordial and mead, lilac mead, sage mead and beer...quite the assortment of delicacies) into my new place, and inadvertently welcomed a bunch of moths, mosquitoes and other bugs to my abode. One among them dropped itself into the space between the two halves of an open window, where I fished him out with a twist-tie:

I'd never seen a beetle like this one before--something akin to a Junebug but bigger, and golden, and much more relaxed--so I snapped a few photos while he waved his mandibles at me in an ever-so-slightly-intimidating way, all the while clinging steadfastly to his twisted and wiry mate, of which he did not let go even when I turned him out into the garden...turns out it's a Grapevine Beetle, I learned from the folks over at What's That Bug. Strangely enough, their featured bug for the month of July is a Japanese Beetle, which is only odd in that I encountered one just this afternoon, traversing the back of my neck as I sat at my desk...Pretty little thing, but not cut out for the cubicle life, so I carried it out to seek its fortune on the streets of Minneapolis...There's new life to be found everywhere...

Grand Unveiling

2010-07-07T19:58:00.001-05:00

I told myself: it will not sound the way I want it to; it will not feel the way I want it to. Not that I wasn't ready for it to, if only it would...I was nervous, not having played in a while, no longer so terribly bashful about it but still not much of an improviser, hoping I could ask him to play it for me, maybe...will I remember anything? Will his wife be around? Will he be kind? I don't care to do business with unkind persons.

The place was easy to find and almost too charming, a buttercup yellow cottage with prickly pears and mats of sedum nestled among the bright flowers in the yard, the liveliest place on the street. I rang the bell and stood for a moment or two on the doorstep, admiring the artful hand-stitched lace curtain hanging inside the red door, at which I was greeted by vivid-eyed older man who said, you must be...

It was covered by a patterned cloth, piled with books and papers, a vase of dried grasses with those shiny glass coin plants, a few framed photos. He had too little faith, he said, that email would actually work and I would show up at the time we'd arranged...As he moved everything aside, I surveyed the room, the color of a shallow ocean pool, a red Chinese lantern hanging from the ceiling, a tattered violin case in front of the painted brick fireplace, an old stuffed chair, piles of books and original artwork on the walls...Adjoining, a rich pink room full of antique furniture, bright oriental rugs, spacious and intimate, colorful, home...

And then, there it was: my piano.

It had been his daughter's, years ago, but neither he nor his wife play. He told me of finding it, of the technician (who probably hadn't changed his t-shirt in years, high on fumes...) who rebuilt it, offered something akin to direction and slipped off to another room, while I sat down to try my hand. One touch, maybe, was all it took...the sound was there, bright and open to the highest resonance...light and easy action, a little worn in, the way I like it...the lower register needs some work and could perhaps be bolder but is at least not too heavy, and in any case I didn't wail on the thing, I just played a few chords, a scale or two, let my fingers wander a bit...

I suppose he could see it was mine, strange fellow.

So, naturally, I signed my name and handed him a check. I don't know how well it will hold a tune, or if it can stand up to a serious pounding, but hell--the gorgeous case alone is worth the modest price. Honestly, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Sleek, graceful, simple, detailed...perfect.

The deal's not quite done, but with any luck my new piano will be sitting where I am now, in a week. Can't get here soon enough...

All I Need Is A Miracle

2010-07-07T01:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Lord, my existence has taken such a turn toward the pointless and mundane of late that it is nearly incomprehensible to me...This evening I found myself muttering over the virtues of various plates...porcelain rings, blue dots, tiny hand-painted stars...lost among the other crazy folk who wander the aisles of others' cast-offs in the hope of finding something vaguely familiar, seemingly needed, or modestly enchanting...I left, finally, with nothing.

Underwear on sale. Light bulbs, too many to choose...

Each day, it seems, is but another transaction, the exchange of goods for time. Conversation ranges from dull to idiotic. At work, slow fingers on a keyboard within earshot grate on my brain like a dog licking its balls...fingernails clipping, throats full of mucus, another weekend at the cabin, the weather...Enough already!!!

Out and about, I float from place to place, scarcely knowing why or what for, while passers-by present themselves in full costume, throwing a line here and there, oblivious to their own pathetic talents. Still frames, random candid cameo...children everywhere, everyone wearing their summer skins... It's peaceful, in a way, and fascinating, to observe...

But what of doing? I have undertaken a few haphazard projects, but all seem egg-washed by some grandiose superficiality, white-washing the fence, as it were... Of course, this is not the Way It Is, just how it feels, or maybe seems...

Over the past four days I have received no less than seven calls inviting me to experience a miracle, the one that I've been waiting for, the one I've been needing in my home and my body and my life... I guess I already missed one tonight, but apparently I've got another chance yet tomorrow morning. I'll be honest: some part of me was stirred by the idea, that maybe yes. But the rest of me was thinking, well, how much better is this going to get? Almost everything about my life for the past year, or more, or ever, has been a goddamn motherfucking miracle, if truth be told...

It's not surprising, is it? But it is amazing.

A few more photos this evening, after an afternoon that wound me around... I swear, who needs Opium when there is Nikon? There is also, of course, the whole Cosmos:

Beets Me (As If I Carrot All)

2010-07-06T00:05:00.000-05:00

I am beginning to think that the single most important element of our (CM's and mine, with my folks at their place) gardening experiments during the past few seasons was the addition of several types of root vegetables to the staple storage crops, which had primarily previously been focused on the good ol' Potatoes & Onions. By "storage" I mean those which can be stored for the winter without (blanching and bagging and) freezing, (boiling and peeling and) canning, pickling, drying, etc.--basically the ones you can stick in a dark cold place and leave alone for months on end and come back when you're hungry (or cleaning) to find them not only a) there but b) looking pretty good for their age and also c) (somewhat surprisingly) delicious.

Until two years ago, I had no idea I loved parsnips. After our first bumper crop, I went from eating maybe on average A parsnip a year to--during a time when I (of all people!) had lost not only my appetite but my recollection of which foods had ever appealed to me in the past--actually craving those inscrutable roots...there's really nothing quite like a parsnip, you find out after spending a good long winter trying to figure out what the hell to do with the next bag full of them. They keep like gangbusters (whatever that means) and adapt quite nicely to dishes in which you might not expect to find them, like stir-fries and curries, as well as being an indispensable friend to soups and pot roasts. Curried parsnip soup has become a favorite of mine, for the deep freeze...Sweet, rich, hearty, mellow and spicy, they're easy to grow and hard to get rid of, but only because they keep forever...

So anyway, here I am, in July, just now getting around to using the last of last year's parsnips, rutabagas, beets and carrots. What kind of gardener is thinking about--much less writing about--root vegetables in the tender young days of summer, when she should be enjoying peas and lettuces, if not tomatoes and cucumbers?? Well, the kind who left her roots in storage (at my folks' amazingly "naturally" temperature-controlled environment within the concrete walls of the old barn and shop) and then in the fridge for the better part of a year... The kind who is not afraid to see what will happen when you leave a beet in a bag for 10 times its actual lifespan, or to shave the whiskers off an old carrot, scrub the feller down and give it the old college try... The kind who believes in finding out for yourself just how long it really takes for something to go bad...

As it turns out, the carrots we pulled from the ground ten months ago are still bright and crisp, and still tastier than any you can buy in a store (not that I've bought any lately...). My beets, which I'll admit most non-beet-loving-persons would probably have just tossed without a second thought, upon peeling revealed themselves to be not only of firmest flesh but also sugar-sweet, much to my surprise (and I'll have you know I tasted each and every, raw). The dark reds (either Detroits or Early Wonders) were outstanding, the Chioggias quite passable and the Goldens merely edible (if in distress.). Knowing that we (novices) are capable of growing food which might carry us all the way through from one eating season to the next is actually a pretty big deal to me, considering all there is to consider...and after all this time, with my own "wanna be" garden months behind the rest of the growing world's, to be sustained by the promise of a seed planted long ago is (though nothing at all like a sea scallop) rather an exquisite delicacy. Yum for now...

I suppose you could say that the roots can take us full circle, if that's not too far out...

Wee Bit O' Whiplash

2010-07-05T02:01:00.002-05:00

Probably worth it, but my neck hurts like hell today, as do my shoulders, back, hips, cheeks and just about every other part... When in the hell did I turn into someone who's too old to be pulled behind a boat?? In a giant, inflatable reclining sofa???

Yet, still young enough to lead the charge off the dock and into the river for the Grand Finale...little brother, despite having a sustained a shoulder injury last weekend in an heroic frisbee (almost) recovery, proved a trusty accomplice, followed in short shrift by my two (it's not my swimsuit, but) dear sisters and (always at-the-ready) brother-in-law and by our gracious and hearty hosts, (who really have a totally kick-ass setup out there...). Thanks for making my night, you head-bobbers, you... One day, when I can snap pictures from my mind's eye (and my swimming memory), I will send you all a really beautiful postcard...

In the meantime, here are a few from my sidewalk:

unknown flower, with wasps

forget-me-not

aurora

bone growth

Happy Independence Day...

Fireworks are flashy, but

2010-07-03T12:49:00.001-05:00

Oh my, the moon was absolutely stunning last night... find it rising, tonight, wherever you might be...

The weather's been outstanding here this past week, hot and dry and sunny and practically perfect... enchanting breezy evenings under the waning moon... A welcome change from weeks of rain rain and more rain, and everything growing is loving it. Amazingly, all the tomatoes I transplanted last Sunday--and which I have not given a single drop of water all week!--have been standing tall in the heat, appearing not thirsty in the least... Peppers and cabbages, likewise, looking fine... I've killed some others over the past couple months, but my attitude for this gardening season is if there are any plants here that can't stand a bit of abuse and neglect, they may as well check out now. Anyone who makes the first cut might have a chance at getting a little more special attention, but I'm not going out of my way to help anybody along. (And there are some standouts, already...love 'em.) Anyway, they're all in need a deep drink soon, but there's no sense in scalding them at this point in the day, and in any case they're just going to have to wait a little longer. I've got a new cute suit, a soft white underbelly and a whole lot of sun(burn) headed my way today... Ciao.

Invitation to Resist

2010-07-01T20:17:00.000-05:00

While it is of course and always tremendously exciting to see a message with the subject PARTY!!! in one's mailbox, there is a certain--how shall I put this?--poetic pinch of (in)justice when the invitation which follows includes the singled-out and arguably overly emphatic phrase "Everyone remember - [My Name Here] STAYS ON HER CHAIN." So all right, it's not really the host's fault that I share the name of their adopted pet who happens also to be a mad runner, but I have to wonder if there might have been a way for this missive to be communicated to the potential guests in a way that could have been...oh, I don't know--less of a knife in my heart?

Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to an afternoon on the St. Croix with family, for a change. It's been a while since I spent any time at the homestead up north--rather strange at this time of year and recalling past summers--but even so I find my intentions turning homeward this weekend, toward my own little place... I guess that's good, and probably important. Creating a home on my own has been challenging, since I've always thought of home--as many of us do, and as is only natural, I suppose--as being a place with other people in it, something shared. Without that, I am finding, there must be found very different reasons for, well, almost everything. And if pretty much everything I'm doing here is more or less defined by what I want, the question I'm left trying to answer lately isn't "what do I want?" but "(why) does what I want matter?" It's been a big adjustment, and still is, although things are coming along... just yesterday, when I walked in the back door, I was surprised and not a little joyful at being met for the first time by the sweet, complex and unmistakable smell of home...

At the same time, I am estranged from the land for which I felt such passionate devotion a couple years ago, or forever, that I could speak of it only with love, hope and confidence. I am a wayward stranger, only, now. This too shall pass, I must presume, but at the moment and recently it's been hard for me to get there, to be there and not feel displaced or even somehow turned away, at times. If it's a switch my mind could throw, to cast some stretching summer light upon this rugged landscape, I (would hope I) would have turned it on a while ago... Sadly, it seems my chain doesn't quite reach that far. (But, as all of us should know by now, it's only for her own good.)

So anyway, as pathetic as all that is, it'll be good to have a couple unfettered days at "home" to take care of a few things, not the least among them myself. I can't say Independence Day has ever been particularly meaningful to me, in nationalistic terms, but it might be a good excuse to get my hands on some sparklers and spell disappearing words in the dark, raise a flag to the open sky and take a shot at some recreation. Also, with the tarp off now, there's a whole heap of work to do in the garden, so if anyone feels like getting dirty, sweaty, sunburned and sore this weekend, I've got a big ol' pile out back needing to be moved. Haha.

Enjoy yourselves--and don't go blowing anyone's fingers off!

Righteous Beans and Rice

2010-06-29T19:11:00.000-05:00

1 c brown basmati rice, cooked in 2 c water
1/2 green pepper, diced
1 med onion, diced
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can Muir Glen fire roasted tomatoes with green chiles
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup (frozen) corn kernels
5 really large good or 9 lesser green olives, minced
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp chili powder
salt to taste
1 tsp canola oil
3/4 c cheddar cheese, grated

Cook the rice in water. In a cast iron skillet or other pan, heat the oil, saute the onion, pepper, and garlic for a minute or two (a little bite to the peppers is nice), add spices and a generous shake of salt, saute for another couple minutes, add corn, beans and olives, saute and stir until seasoned through. Add tomatoes to rice, combine and add veggie mixture, mix thoroughly and stir in grated cheese. You shouldn't need anything else at this point, but makes a good side to fajitas. So good, really.

Aiming at off-grid...

2010-06-27T03:31:00.000-05:00

more, this-a-way

Like a Walk in the Rain

2010-06-25T23:04:00.001-05:00

Shuddering dark storms rolled over this evening, pouring heavy warm rains of the sort that make it hard not to want to shed one's clothes and get drenched right through... Two hours earlier it was almost too hot to sit outside, with the thick sun beating on my back, while earlier in the day I was caressed by a few gentle drops as I listened to the chimes of the clock tower playing--for no comprehensible reason, just after one--a few of what I thought were rather peculiar selections: Climb Every Mountain, naturally followed by The Sound of Music (at which I'll admit I welled up for just a second, even with the risk of no context), and then Unchained Melody (admitting nothing.)... One of those summer days.

So it's Friday night, and I'm walking with my umbrella, getting my pants all wet, wearing my running shoes today for the first time in a while (as if I'm going anywhere fast these days), puddles gushing in and over my toes, and I'm pretty content with all that but it crosses my mind that it's the sort of night that it might be nice to share a sip of something sweet with a good friend, perhaps have a bite, and let time wend its way... But, having passed up the opportunity, or worked past it possibly, to enjoy food and fire with family and friends, I'm here tonight with a homemade pizza, my giant sink full of dishes (it's a mystery, how a single person can go through so many spoons) the hum of the refrigerator and a quiet peace. Rains have come to smooth my paths and flatten my phlox, and with everything gleaming green in the cool evening air, I can hardly wish to be elsewhere.

I've not been much for words lately--written, spoken or otherwise. Perhaps it's the change in season, but whatever the reason, I have instead turned some part of my attention toward a succession of self-portraits, a sort of paint by number (10...seconds) if you will--of which you will see nothing here, by the way--by which I hope to learn a little something about how to photograph persons, with the aim of being able, in some modest way, to paint those who are dear to me, as I know them, and also so that I might learn at long last to take that old song to heart. You know, the one that goes, love the one you're with. It's a sweet night, hope you're enjoying it.

Progress

2010-06-22T21:51:00.015-05:00

Really too tired for words, but I wanted to post these before they got away from me (having missed a couple this Spring...) Finally rolled back the tarp last weekend and with my (tireless) sister's help made some progress toward a sort of radiant garden plan... I've got paths coming in, so far leading nowhere, or perhaps just toward somewhere as yet undefined...they feel right, though...

front: strawberries, basil, sage, nasturtiums, winter savory, bitterroot

back, asparagus, peppers, brassicas, marsh mallow, lavender, more to come...

all paths lead toward the center

pretty in purslane (you go this way; I'll go that way)

seeing through (why does this remind me of Yars Revenge?

Pulled a few big patches of what was possibly Joe Pye Weed out front, which opened everything up quite a bit, and put a few new plants in the ground, here and there... things are coming along, bit by bit. Need more sun, more sleep...

That's about it for today.

2010-06-21T00:56:00.000-05:00

Fabulous weekend...

Catching Up

2010-06-15T00:13:00.005-05:00

Last few days have been strange and lovely, in ways.

Saturday I spent the evening in the company of my sisters and good friends, at the lovely and amazing birthday celebration of my dear friend JB, who has reached the ripe old age of thirty-five, in spite of all odds, in deference to fate, in sheer strength and unbelievable willingness to show life how to be lived, and loved. You blow me away, my friend, the ripples over water that your eyes radiate with each smile...

Meanwhile, CM has found, with his new partner, some good acres of gorgeous, rolling, luscious farmland upon which to build a new home and gorgeous, rolling, luscious dreams. I must admit to feeling some degree of envy, seeing those fields of green... Not long ago I held the hope of finding such a place. What a joy, to stand with both feet upon the land you will call home, to feel it give beneath you! I wish you--both--a long and winding path, deep into the weeds, up reaching oaks, under bending sumac, across the flowered valley, beyond... It will be beautiful. Much love.

But how bittersweet it can be, a taste of wild lettuce on the boulevard... (just reading about Latuca scariola, found some eager volunteers in li'l sis's garden....Eminently edible, I'd say...)

Sunday, after a night much too late for old persons, I had the pleasure of spending a relaxing day in the company of the twins, my bro-in-law and a friend, letting a long grey day pass slowly and easily, with conversation and documentary, and delicious desserts, and comfort foods, and plain old time. Ahh, leisure. I'd forgotten about you.

Not much happening in the yard these days, although I may have neglected to post anything about the ten-hour Sunday effort during part of which I got the patio herb garden in and moved my (entire) shady corner into it's proper place. Hell of a lot of work but it's starting to look like something, now... If it ever clear up again I've got plans for that vacated spot, and a few more around here....

News from up north is that all the plants are planted and all the seeds are seeded, and I'm excited to see what's growing on up there, soon. Steady rains this season have slowed things down just a little, but the new fruit trees and shrubs and all the others we planted last year have to be loving it, and I'd gladly eschew a few tomato sandwiches for the promise of plums... An orchard, now that's something I can look forward to. Oh, yeah, and my peach tree has made itself right at home, almost looks like it's been here all the while. I'll be surprised if there aren't a couple of peaches on it next year.

Sweet dreams, all of you, and thanks for reading.

Where'd the Elf Come From?

2010-06-09T22:02:00.003-05:00

It's just a question.

New Implement

2010-06-04T00:56:00.001-05:00

This is not some namby-pamby little pronged garden trowel, made for scraping the surface. Neither is it a stand-up farmer's sort of agrarian long-handled device, meant for working at length, distance. It's more of a get-down-on-your-hand-and-knees and hack it out kind of thing, my new tool. It's got teeth, it's got fangs.

I wasn't sure about this one, mainly because of the cost, and also because I couldn't find anyone online who had one, probably because of the cost. But something about this thing told me I had to have it.

I brought it along to my folks' last weekend, in anticipation of getting the beds dug in. Turned out, between the weather (bloody hot on Saturday) and the distractions (many), we only got as far as turning the front garden turned over with the broadforks and roughing out paths, and didn't get around to actual bed preparation, although the few weeds there were are mostly gone now, and a few things got planted (datura, nicotiana, artichoke) and transplanted (chervil, borage, strays of various sorts...). Thanks to all for pitching in, by the way. Anyway, at one point Mom caught a glimpse of it, lying around somewhere, and said what's that? It's my indulgent new thing. That looks like an awesome tool, she said.

And it is. I found this out working the beds around my patio, breaking up compacted clods of soil and mixing in the fresh sift from the sod, along with some compost. It took a good while--not least because of all the iridescent coral glass cabachons that emerged from the dirt with each turn (such a simple pleasure, to uncover these strange jewels...)--but it didn't take me long to understand that the tool in my hands was the real deal, worth the price. It's got groove, it's got meaning... I mean the tines on this thing are five inches long, and pointed, and the angle on the fine wood handle is such that when you swing it, it can't help but find a hold...like wielding an ice-axe, almost. It means business. Sure, it takes a little--shall we say?--aggression to use it well, but for the task of clod-busting that's probably a good thing. And once the dirt's all nice and soft, it cuts through just like butta...

I believe, in the realm of the body of tools I shall have known throughout my lifetime, this one might outlast me.

Anyhoo... in other news, I finally got my peach tree planted, over the holiday, and must say it pleased me more than a little to wake the next morning and see it peeking in at me through the kitchen window. I found a spot for my currant, made some progress on the fencerows, and stumbled onto a plan for the garden-to-be under the tarp (which I was hoping to take off this weekend, should the weather cooperate) while doodling plans at my sister's, where we ended up with a drawing of a variation on a keyhole design that looked something like a smiling antlered creature and female reproductive system, not that anyone was trying... So I'm aiming to put in some kind of heart-shaped ram's-horn yoni-type thing back there under the cover, maybe with a bee watering hole at the center. It'll be fun to start working the interior rather than securing the perimeter, if I ever make it that far... We shall see. More in the days to come.

(Oh, yeah. It's a hand tiller, Eliot Coleman design, if you must know.)

gratitude 2

2010-06-03T01:04:00.002-05:00

buried treasure

trust in plants

courageous parents

Spring rains

new hoodies

Object at rest...

2010-05-28T15:25:00.001-05:00

I am doing what I can to relinquish my lust for control, or my crazed desire for some semblance of autonomy, which may have something to do with the routine I've been running lately, of treating my body as a crude machine (a bit of fuel, some fire, exhaust...) but today I had to just give it up. I had the wisdom yesterday to know I couldn't possibly go to work today, but my hope was to spend a long a sunny day getting prep work done on the new spaces in the backyard, breaking up the soil and turning in some of that composted manure, so they'd be ready for planting when I get home on Monday. Instead I slept in, had breakfast and then curled up on my rug for a couple more hours' of unintended sleep (with the broiler on for all that time, I might add). My eyes were actually rolling around in my head, I'm so tired, so polluted, so weary maybe. Fuel, fire, exhaust, won't get you anywhere on a flat. Or four.

Anyway, I've only enough time this afternoon to get the place cleaned up, water all the plants and pack up, which sorta stinks because there's enough here to keep me occupied at a pleasant sunny pace for three days, easily...I've got trees and shrubs and flowers and herbs and fruits and veggies sitting in flats, still alive, but waiting...hopefully they can hang on for a few more days. I already lost one of the artichokes and the bitterroot is looking pretty unhappy, but the rest of them seem to be doing all right. Just wish I had the time to take the time, work at my pace for a few days, even relax maybe, instead of the weather or someone or the frigging universe constantly intervening to with that big "Don't Panic" sign, reminding me that there are an infinite number of ways to let it all go. And speaking of going...

Wow, honestly

2010-05-25T22:07:00.001-05:00

My peonies are in full bloom, hung over with heavy blossoms of white kissed just there by dark and luscious red, of deeply blushing rose...unkempt ruffles of silk, so soft on the hand, the shoulder, the cheek...their fragrance fills the yard, even while it rains; it fills the house, day and night...a vase bedside perfumes my sleep, wakes me gently... So lovely, so lovely, and there are more to come, deep purple behind the back fence... What a luxury it is, to love a flower! I cannot but breathe this sweetness...

Sod-kicker blues

2010-05-24T19:13:00.026-05:00

before kicking

So you need at least one good leg to use a sod-kicker. I found that out yesterday when, after delivering kick number four, I felt a sharp pinch in my left hip… Turned out it was nothing, or at least not enough to keep me from tearing up a good portion of the back yard, around the bee hive and under the maple, along the north and south fences, in the shady back corner and around the patio… About halfway through this operation I started to wonder if I have, indeed, lost my mind and am turning into Crazy Yard Lady. I’ve already got more square footage than I can handle and now I’ve added about half again that much. If there’s anything I would like to avoid doing—ever—it’s biting off more than I can chew, but I think I’ve come to the point where chewing is no longer feasible; it’s just gulp and swallow hard, stuff the next chunk in… Has to be done, though. I need a home for my herbs and strawberries, and I need to plant a barrier to separate my existence from Crazy Cat Lady’s. I need to see something transformed. After experiencing the metamorphosis of the front garden at my folks’—which actually changed lives—I know it’s possible. And it cannot wait until next year. So, off with the lawn.

Yet already I’ve had to call on others to assist (thank you, wonder twin powers!), like a kitten up a tree, a baby bird too big for the nest but crying to have another wriggling worm shoved down my gullet… Speaking of which, I must say I am truly impressed by the quality of the soil in my yard and the multitude of earthworms living in it, a number which has perhaps doubled due to the “stock split” precipitated by the sod cutter, although many of those that escaped being sliced in half were then brutally pulverized by the edge of my trowel as I whacked the dirt free from clumps of grass. Still a lot of whacking to go yet. Hopefully having turned much of the sod over to let it dry out in the sun will give the worms a chance to squirm to safety before the next round of beatings begin.

Speaking of which, when I returned the sod-kicker this morning I felt that pinch again, the twinge in my left hip and leg, strongly enough that I had to catch my breath once or twice and remind myself to just let it go...clutching is only going to make it hurt more, and only by releasing into and out of it will I be able to know what the trouble is so that it might be healed and allowed to heal. I know this to be true, but this is exactly what I have NOT been doing during the past few weeks, by any measure. It’s as if I’d been hit by a car and thrown from my bike, all scuffed up and with a broken wrist, and my response was to berate myself for the idiocy of bike-riding, scour my scrapes with Scotch-Brites as penance and then put in some practice time on the ol’ punching bag to toughen up that weak joint. Anyway, I’m done with that for a few days, or at least I’m going to lay off the punching bag routine for a while. But if anyone else out there wants to take a shot, you may as well go for it. I'm going to go plant my peach.

after kicking

May garden

2010-05-18T23:34:00.009-05:00

branching

petals

buds

blossoms

turn

(do you see the owl?)

shady corner

2010-05-18T00:06:00.002-05:00

behind the fence, under the light: hosta, heuchera, convallaria, polemonium, alchemilla, viola

dug in a bit today, close to done with phase one of the first garden, in the fenced corner between the house and the lilac. lady ferns, foxglove, goatsbeard, meadow rue, lily-of-the-valley, jacob's ladder (variegated and not), solomon's seal (variegated cultivar), johnny-jump-ups, violets, hostas (big blue and painted green with yellow), purple-stemmed royal fern, zig-zag goldenrod, virginia bluebells, japanese painted ferns, korean beauty clematis, lady's mantle, coral bells, still a few spaces to fill with toad lilies, nodding ladies' tressess, others. some moved in from the boulevard, others are new. thanks to sis for help clearing the space.

Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.

2010-05-10T22:40:00.002-05:00

Having spent the better part of three days (and a small fortune) at the Friends School Plant Sale, I am now officially committed to digging into my new place. With help and inspiration from my mom and sisters I returned with no fewer than five flats of flowers, ferns, grasses, vines, herbs, medicinals, natives and a few veggies, along with a couple shrubs, a Red Lake currant bush and a Reliance peach tree. To my dismay, the Persian lime and satsuma mandarin suffered crop failures and the Turkey fig sold out, but I picked up my Sapphire Tower and scored an extravagant passionflower at half-price. There was no monkshood to be had, but an enchanting Witch Alder and a beguiling Witch Hazel readily cured me of any disappointment. I've got Toad Lilies, Spiderwort and Goatsbeard, oh my.

The weather on Friday was miserable and Saturday was chilling, although it was beautiful to see the vibrant budding colors of May cloaked in white for a time, despite the slight damage it may have done to those most tender. Things brightened on Sunday and warmed up a bit, but between the frozen wet and the sale, we didn't end up getting any of the yard turned over, which was actually just fine by me. Rain today and in the days ahead means I'll have a few more evenings to plot things out before I set to work tearing up the lawn, another welcome respite from actually having to get to work... CM kindly delivered me a nice big pile of shit as a birthday gift, so I've got a good supply of composted manure to help get things started, once the sun comes around again.

The perennials in my gardens are filling out quickly and somewhat ahead of schedule due to the early Spring, making it easier for me to see how much space I really have to work with here. It's quite a bit; by my rough calculations, I've got around 1200 sf of "finished" garden space plus around 200 to be dug up in the back, not counting another 200 or so of raised beds for herbs and veggies, etc. that have yet to be created or the eleven window boxes and planters to fill. Should be enough to keep me busy for a while.

I went back home for the evening on Friday, to see my niece as Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the essence of grace and presence, naturally, and the show was rather surprisingly well-played by the whole troop, with a few standout performances that kept the crowd laughing for two good hours. It was a bit of a trip for me, down memory lane (as it were), having played Hermia years ago in a similar production, and a singing Mustardseed in another sometime after that. It's hard to imagine that so much time has passed. Yet so it does. Another year of my life has ended, and begun, and it is what it is, isn't it?

Be as thou was wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see.
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.

I find in my long-neglected copy of The Riverside Shakespeare these words, a parking ticket now fifteen years overdue and a monologue transcribed by my own hand, oddly befitting but of unremembered origin...I should memorize a few, perhaps, to recite when I am older. Language lives on the tongue--but what am I talking about? I've lost track. Anyway, I would like to send my deep and abiding love and gratitude to my dear mother and sisters, for time spent these days past, and to the future you continue to inspire, to cultivate, and to dream. I know a bank where the wild thyme grows...

To My Mother

2010-05-09T00:00:00.003-05:00

There is the drink,
the last drop of everything.

There is moon, by night urging
roots into the ground,
the height of knowing.
By day she passes over,

sometimes invisible
where hopefully then birds
and fruit begin to sing and blossom
In the wild of our hearts

the stars speak loudly
without care or need for care
where others tread. We
are known because

you have known us,
known the space between
what we love,
and what we do not

Drink,
the last drop of everything

r E v o l u t i o n

2010-05-05T23:36:00.000-05:00

Too Good Not To Share: Go here, then go to the right side of your screen and play 'Natural Selection' and listen for a while, at least until you get to 'Creationist Cousins'...

Goings On

2010-05-04T00:40:00.001-05:00

How quickly things change...The flowering crab in my front yard has rather suddenly lost her blush and stands now white and exposed, to the point of dropping her blossoms all over the place. But just a few days ago, she was still pretty in pink:

Last week I spied the Columbine tentatively feeling its way (with webby tentacled nodding sea-horse heads) into the new air,

and by week-end, it was all like, Hey, check me out! (Never been a big fan of native cultivars, but this one does make itself known, I'll give it that.)

Friday I got my groove on for the first time here, and it felt really good. Saturday I cut the grass (knee-high and) barefoot, in cashmere, a pleasure of another sort. On Sunday I joined the joyful masses over at the May Day celebration and upon my return home, found these new shoots of happiness in my backyard. About half of them are up now, making a go of life in a box. (Would I could do the same....)

Today I noticed that, in spite of my precise and merciless efforts to cut them down and roll them into submission, the dandelions that were lollygagging around my backyard a couple days ago are now back on their feet and asking for more... And they're going to get it, too, those sunny little blowhards. Eventually.

2010-04-29T22:48:00.001-05:00

Luxury itself, thick as a Persian carpet,
honey fills the jar
with the concentrated sweetness
of countless thefts,
the blossoms bereft, the hive destitute.

Though my debts are heavy
honey would pay them all.
Honey heals, honey mends.
A spoon takes more than it can hold
without reproach. A knife plunges deep,
but does no injury.

Honey moves with intense deliberation.
Between one drop and the next
forty lean years pass in a distant desert.
What one generation labored for
another receives,
and yet another gives thanks.

- Connie Wanek, Honey
from On Speaking Terms