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...

When Our Limbs Were All July

Barred Islands


Between their sandspit ends
we rowed, two spruce islands
moored in a blue Maine bay. 
And under the Sou'west sky
we rowed ashore to swim
for love, a summer whim
when our limbs were all July.


Riding in on the tide
with shipped oars, jade 
shallows under us, we 
both looked down at the play
of sun on seaweed gardens,
swaying whorls in the currents
we neither could see.


and then the kelp-grown slope
slid up to meet us, steep 
as a hill below our hull:
sand, stone, and clamshell
dredged by waves, time-
shaped by tide and fathom;
and then the tide was full.


We floated on hope at flood,
and over, over, the tide-
sunk bar; there where the run
of current, the waving sun,
showed clear on the waterglass
sand, on the seawind grass,
how the islands were one.


--Philip Booth


Now, isn't that just lovely?!  I've sort of been in a poetry lull lately, but this brought me back.  In fact, how is it that I really haven't read Philip Booth before?  He is great!  I was flipping through a friend's anthology, New Poets of England and America, and I just loved all of the Philip Booth poems included therein (6 in all).  I don't think I have a single book by him, but I am on a quest (Daaaaaad...?).  


There are several things I like about this poem.  It has very strong images that I find to be almost like a magical transport into the poem; I can almost feel the boat rocking as I stare down at 'the play of sun on seaweed gardens, swaying whorls in the currents we neither could see.'  And his use of language is lovely and evocative: 


'we rowed ashore to swim

for love, a summer whim

when our limbs were all July.'

and one more:

'the waving sun,

showed clear on the waterglass

sand,'

Plus, I just really like how the poem resonates with me. I'm not sure I totally get it, but that's ok. I think it's a metaphor, and a good one, at that.  I like the layers of it, for both the description of the day/experience and the relationship between the 2 people.  Read this poem out loud and you'll hear what he's doing with the rhythm of it, the near rhyme, the alliteration, the kinesthetic verbs, all of it working toward a poem that does its job; at least for me.  

The other Booth poems in this collection are: Heron, The Wilding, Vermont: Indian Summer, Twelfth Night, and North, in case you want to look them up on the intermaweb (or in that book that you're probably going to give me).

Well, look at that, I meant to write about what we've been up to over the last month, but got sidetracked by the poem.  Let's just go with that!  Here are a few pics and captions that should get you up to speed. It's been a lovely summer and in a few days, we're off to the beach for our annual trip.  Joy, if you're reading this, guess what, this poem is coming your way out loud when we're sitting on the sand.  Sweeeeeet!

new chicken gate made from my old chair rail trim--I even used a drill and measured!

grosgrain ribbon=good chicken barrier...just needs to look like a fence, doesn't actually have to BE one

Poppies!  Orange-y red crossed with cream to make this lovely color

"new" quilt that I picked up for a song! It is hand quilted with perfect little stitches on the back.

Fancy business for Caroline's 8th birthday

Some partygoers

Don't they look so sweet?

Caroline with Narissa, one of her favorite people on the planet

Mini Monkeys

Guess what?

"Roller coaster" road to Cayuse

Geisha, of the Cayuse dog pack

I love this picture, not sure why.  Kids in cayuse, half a border collie, old shed.

I bee jammin'

Cayuse beelord

The sweet business

New baby

Kids with Great-Grandma Ethel.  Doesn't she look great for 30-10?!

Jack and a Mater truck on our road trip shake break

mmmmmm...watermelon!

Me with tree house lumber...so much lumber

Matthew framing up the tree house

framed and partially sided

They LOVE IT!!!!