Morning Light Comes Tapping at the Lid

The Unextinguished

Clouds glow like coals just fresh from fire, a flare
Of western light leaps with intenser blaze
To conflagration in the upper air.
All distant shapes turn brighter to the gaze.

The fire of heaven dies; a fire unseen
Wanes to the febrile smoldering of sleep;
Deep-hidden embers, smothered by the screen
Of flesh, burn backward to a blackened heap.

But morning light comes tapping at the lid,
Breaks up the crust of cinders that remain,
And pokes the crumbled coal the ashes hid,
Until thought crackles white across the brain.

--Theodore Roethke

This is one of my favorite scenes to photograph.  It's on my way to work, looking east toward the mountains with the sun rising behind.  There is a stop sign on the country road I drive, due to a structural problem with one lane; instead of fixing it, they just reduced the road to one lane and both sides of the stretch have to stop and take turns.  There are a couple of interesting things about this, I think.  One is that if another car is on the other side, it's always a competition about who goes second.  Every time I see a car approaching from the other side I slow down, ensuring the other car reaches its stop sign first and therefore takes the lane before me.  Despite this,  the other car always waits me out and I end up going first, giving a hearty wave as I pass.  Second, I used to blow through the stop sign if no one's on the other side, but since a friendly, merciful Johnny Law reminded me that it is a STOP sign, I now stop every time, and I relish it!  It gives me time to pause and look at the beauty before me, a physical stopping and a mental stopping.  Stop hurrying, stop worrying, take a photo maybe, and just be in this exact moment.  

In other news, we got a DOG!  Oakley is an 11 month old Australian Shepherd and he is absolutely wonderful in every way.  

Thanks to this dear dog, I get to go on lots of walks.  Beautiful, long walks.  This is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. When Oakley and I walk on the trail, we are in a rhythm, we are in the zone.  We break from the trail when we see a path leading away into the open space.  Off goes the leash and I open up my stride and just breath in the air, trying to make it a part of me:  the heavy scent of plum blossoms, swamp cabbage, moss, and water.

This is Harris Creek, taken from a foot bridge. I always stop here and contemplate the world.

Looking out, beyond the trail, dreaming of roaming the where-ever.

Always remember that love is all around.  Look for it and you will see.

Here, there is no rule that weeds can't be beautiful.

And floods either for that matter!

Take a minute and smell the flowers.

And smile. Just smile.

Hello To This New Relief



Relearning Winter

Hello Winter, hello flanneled
blanket of clouds, clouds
fueled by more clouds, hello again.

Hello afternoons,
off to the west, that silver
of sunset, rust-colored
and gone too soon.

And night (I admit to a short memory)
you climb back in with chilly fingers
and clocks, and there is no refusal:
ice cracks the water main, the garden hose
stiffens, the bladed leaves of the rhododendron
shine in the fog of a huge moon.

And rain, street lacquer,
oily puddles and spinning rubber,
mist of angels on the head of a pin,
hello,

and snow, upside-down cake of clouds,
white, freon scent, you build
even as you empty the world of texture-
hello to this new relief,
this new solitude now upon us,
upon which we feed.

--Mark Svenvold

 

Winter is here now; I can finally accept it.  I seem to have a bit of denial at the change of every season, well, except for Spring--I greet that eagerly.  The blur of the holidays has passed and things are more peaceful. For me, winter has alit like the snow geese in the valley.  I'm doing my best to embrace the quiet clean of the season.  The stark white of the sky.  The purity of the rain.  The other side of it involves making lots of fires in the woodstove, cacophonous times with friends and neighbors, and making soup.  Here are a few pictures from the weekend:

Caroline and Bridget with Easy Bake Oven red velvet "cupcakes" 

The Treehouse Club ate the treats at their meeting.

A fun thing I've been doing lately that gets lots of positive feedback from the younger set is to put out some appetizers when I'm making dinner, les amuses-bouches, si vous voulez. 

carrots with vinaigrette, apple slices, toothpick fun: salami, artichoke and mozzarella

carrots and green peppers with parsley pesto and celery with peanut butter

 

The new recipe this weekend was chili.  Unbelievably, I had never in my whole life made chili.  I found a good-sounding recipe on the intermawebs and it turned out to be delicious.  Here's the recipe, followed by a picture of it on the stove and of the happy eaters enjoying their requested chili dogs. 

 

All-American Chili

 

Ingredients

• 6 ounces hot turkey Italian sausage  and 1 lb ground sirloin (I used a pound and a half of ground turkey with Italian seasoning)
• 2 cups chopped onion (I used one onion--just fine)
• 1 cup chopped green bell pepper (about 3/4 of a large pepper)
• 8 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 pound ground sirloin (see above)
• 1 jalapeño pepper, chopped (didn't have this--used about a TBS of chopped chili in adobo instead--yum!)
• 2 tablespoons chili powder
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon ground cumin
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 1/4 cups Merlot or other fruity red wine--I used Syrah, I think
• 2 (28-ounce) cans whole tomatoes, undrained and coarsely chopped (I used chopped tomatoes--worked great)
• 2 (15-ounce) cans kidney beans, drained (I used pinto beans, chili-spiced and regular)
• sharp cheddar to top it off
  
  
  Preparation
• Heat a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Remove casings from sausage. Add sausage, onion, and the next 4 ingredients (onion through jalapeño) to pan; cook 8 minutes or until sausage and beef are browned, stirring to crumble. (I just browned the turkey with the onion, pepper, garlic and chili in adobo)
   
• Add chili powder and the next 7 ingredients (chili powder through bay leaves), and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Stir in wine, tomatoes, and kidney beans; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 1 hour, stirring occasionally.
   
• Uncover and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Discard the bay leaves. Sprinkle each serving with cheddar cheese.
   
• Note: Like most chilis, this version tastes even better the next day.
  From Cooking Light Magazine

they loved it!

I hope you are finding celebration and new relief of Winter in your own dynamic ways!

The Liquor of Indolence

Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond

Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer, To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old umbrellas of summer Wither like pithless hands. There is little shelter. Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges its blank Dominion. The stars are no nearer. Already frog-mouth and fish-mouth drink The liquor of indolence, and all thing sink Into a soft caul of forgetfulness. The fugitive colors die. Caddis worms drowse in their silk cases, The lamp-headed nymphs are nodding to sleep like statues. Puppets, loosed from the strings of the puppetmaster Wear masks of horn to bed. This is not death, it is something safer. The wingy myths won't tug at us anymore: The molts are tongueless that sang from above the water Of golgotha at the tip of a reed, And how a god flimsy as a baby's finger Shall unhusk himself and steer into the air. --Sylvia Plath Oh, to drink the liquor of indolence! I do love it just a little bit this time of year.  On the other side of the bright silver coin is industry, and that appeals, too.  Can't I have both? Driving to work today, the sky was cobalt and a bright star (or planet?) hung low on the eastern horizon, right over the Cascades.  26 degrees.  Frosty roads, trees, fields.  Walking in from the parking lot, everything sparkled with a cold glitter.  I ran my finger over a frosted rail and it felt like sandpaper, pleasing me.  Looking out my office window now, the evergreen rhodies' leaves droop down, the buds topping each segment pointing straight up, like gold stars on Christmas trees.  And the sky now a clear aqua, frost becoming droplets of cold water wherever the sun touches.   I love the boreal beauty of this sky's blank dominion.

Polished Little Circles on the Sky

Malheur Before Dawn

 

An owl sound wandered along the road with me.

I didn’t hear it—I breathed it into my ears.

 

Little ones at first, the stars retired, leaving

polished little circles on the sky for awhile.

 

Then the sun began to shout from below the horizon.

Throngs of birds campaigned, their music a tent of sound.

 

From across the pond, out of the mist,

one drake made a V and said its name.

 

Some vast animal of air began to rouse

from the reeds and lean outward.

 

Frogs discovered their national anthem again.

I didn’t know a ditch could hold so much joy.

 

So magic a time it was that I was both brave and afraid.

Some day like this might save the world.

 

--William Stafford

This is one of my very favorite Stafford poems.  I thought of it when I saw the gorgeous sunrise this morning:

I love to take pictures at this spot on my commute.  There is a stop sign there because the road goes down to one lane, due to some structural problem with the other.  I used to blow through that stop sign if no one was coming the other way, but since I was scolded by a policeman, I stop!  Which, really, is a gift.  If no one's behind me, I often take a picture;  looking through the black winter trees,  over the pond,  toward the sunrise and the mountains is spectacular! 

I am learning that it's important to obey the stop signs in life, whether literal or otherwise.  Take a minute, pause, not everything has to get done NOW!  Slow down and enjoy what's in front of you. 

Someday like this might save the world.

And All Goes Well

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse.  Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.  

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.  
Some men become what they were born for. 

Sometimes our best efforts do not go 
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow 
that seemed hard frozen:  may it happen for you.

--Sheenagh Pugh


Happy New Year, Friends!  Such lovely sentiment in that poem.  I kept waiting for the BUT... but it never came.  Yay!  Such an apt message on the first day of the new year.  I tend to be a believer, anyway, that things tend to work out, but this poem is a good reminder, even for me.  

The fall came and went, the holidays blew by, and I am feeling just right on this January day, full of hope, full of inspiration.  The last few days have been welcome quiet for me and I have enjoyed them.  I made a whole bunch of new year's resolutions, too. One is to write more here, which ties in with another one--to make one new recipe a week, and then share it with you, along with a review of it, both by me and the children.  Doesn't that sound fun?  

Wasting no time, because that's the kind of gal I am on New Year's Day, I made the first new recipe tonight:  Black and White Chicken Chili from Cook's Country Best Lost Recipes. I love soups and want to try making lots of new ones.  I almost made chicken noodle instead, but then I remembered that I'm being more adventurous (another resolution!) and trying new recipes this year.  I am glad I did, too.  This is one tasty soup/chili/whatever.  Here is a picture of the finished product (this is not one of those blogs that shows photographs of every step; I think you can imagine what a pile of chopped onions looks like):

I topped it with cilantro and avocado, and although you can't see them, there are some tortilla chips in the bottom, for fun.  Here is the recipe, with my notes:

Black and White Chicken Chili
serves 4-6 

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
salt and pepper
2 TBS olive oil
1 onion, minced
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 1/2 tsp. cumin
1 1/2 tsp. dried oregano
4 (or more) cups chicken broth
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 1/2 cups frozen corn, thawed
1 (8 oz.) can chopped green chiles, drained
garnish with cilantro, tortilla chips, avocado and sour cream, if you like!

Here's how the cookbook says to make it:
1.  Pat the chicken dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper.  Heat 1 TBS of the oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high until just smoking. Cook the chicken until golden brown on both sides, about 5 minutes, flipping halfway through.  Transfer chicken to a plate.
2.  Heath the remaining 1 TBS oil in the pot over medium heat until shimmering.  Add the onion and 1/2 tsp salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 5 to 7 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, cumin, oregano, and 1/2 tsp pepper and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the broth, scraping up any brown bits.  
3.  Return the chicken, along with any accumulated juices, to the pot.  Bring to a simmer and cook until the thickest part of the breasts registers 160-165 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, 10-15 minutes.  
4.  Transfer chicken to plate.  When the chicken is cool enough to handle, shred the meat into bite-sized pieces and return it to the chili; add the beans, corn, and chiles.  Return to a simmer, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 15 minutes.  
5.  Off the heat, stir in cilantro and season with salt and pepper to taste.  

Here's how I made it--serves more like 8-10 (I also threw in 3 chopped carrots and a can of pinto beans, plus another 4 cups of broth and a little more chicken).

1. Put the chicken on a foil-lined rimmed cookie sheet an drizzle with olive oil. Season with garlic & parsley seasoning, salt and a little pepper.  Bake at 375 for about 22 minutes--depending on how thick the chicken is.  Then cool and shred.
2.  While the chicken is baking, heat a couple glugs of olive oil over medium heat, in a Dutch oven.  Throw in the carrots and the onion and saute for about 10 minutes, until they begin to soften up.  
3. Now add the garlic, cumin, oregano, and a little more pepper and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. 
4.  Add the broth (8 cups), beans(smash a few with your spoon to release starch and help thicken the soup), corn and chiles and bring up to a simmer, cover partially and cook, stirring occasionally until thickened, about 15-20 minutes. Throw in the shredded chicken during the last 5 minutes or so of cooking and voila!  
5.  Ladle into bowls and top with avocado, sour cream, tortilla chips, and or whatever appeals.  

The kids weren't here tonight, but we're having it for dinner tomorrow,  so I will update this after getting their feedback. I thought it was delish!
UPDATE:  Caroline said, "I love it!" and ate 2 bowls.
Jack said "YUM!" and ate 3 bowls!  
This recipe is a KEEPER!  

Happy New Year!

A Leaf Falls Here

         People are few;

A leaf falls here,

         Falls there.

--Issa

Yesterday, we returned from a long weekend in Cayuse to celebrate Elliot Thanksgiving.  As always, it's lovely to go home.  Especially to a place that is so familiar and also unknown. I've spent a lot of time breathing that air, but there is always something new to experience, a direct connection to nature, the old wind whistling a new song.  

It was a weekend gathering of the usual suspects.  We enjoyed: a magnificent meal lovingly prepared by Tina, glasses of prosecco, old and new friends, a walk on the hillside up the draw, fat snowflakes on "Thanksgiving", horses to be fed, dogs wanting their bellies scratched, fuses blown, a treasure hunt in an old shed, pancakes, monkey bread, pies, Tina teaching me how to bead, gathering sumac, teasels, and gnarled rose branches for wreaths, finding bones and antlers on the hill, and cuddling up with Caroline in a big bed piled with heavy quilts and blankets and listening to the wind howl all night. 

morning ritual--feeding the horses with Papa Grey

Miss Business dressed for dinner

A fire AND snowflakes???  Yessssss!

rosehips on the hill

lovely sumac

clipping away

perfect picture of my dad

the boys found a wild apple tree

from Jack

Jack with bones and apples

I've lots to be thankful for.

Deep In The Brain, Far Back

Night Crow

When I saw that clumsy crow

Flap from the wasted tree,

A shape in the mind rose up:

Over the gulfs of dream

Flew a tremendous bird

Further and further away

Into a moonless black

Deep in the brain, far back.

--Theodore Roethke

Isn't that a marvelous poem that sort of swirls around in the sky of your head?  I think of it as a Fall poem, meant to be read when electric yellow leaves fly through dark grey days and the world feels a little uncertain.  There is a depth to this time of year that I can appreciate.  The fall has more texture than the other seasons; the colors stand out, even more than the rioting flowers of summer.  The air feels different, expectant maybe.  The other seasons are more straightforward, but there's a quality now that seems mysterious.  I love it.  

I have had adventures away and adventures at home lately; I love both.  Here are some pictures that tell a bit of my fall story so far:

We grew a thumbkin this year!  Won't the fairies love it?

asters

last hurrah

dear friends

Tia

big maple at dusk

the river

happy in the kitchen

very impressive

cool, huh?

Korean War Memorial--ghostly!

a walk in the Virginia woods

Whoa!  Miller almost stepped on this fellow.  

Caretaker's house at the old, now-closed prison in Lorton, VA.  Eerie.

pumpkin catapult

airborne and leaf-bound!

hot soup and cream biscuits for a chilly night

May the Night Crow land on your bedpost and carry you over the gulfs of dream...