Hi! What a treat: sunshine, after only four or five days of overcast and rain. I know it's too early in the season to start thinking about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), or whatever they're calling it this year. Yesterday, the better half went off to do some grocery shopping and adding in a gleaning excursion. She came back with a bag of crab apples that were rendered into jam (or jelly). We're getting organic as everything around here. I love it.
cooking down crab apples © harrington
So, thanks to my better half, we're members of a food co-op (Mississippi Market), have a Community Supported Agriculture [CSA] share this year with the Women's Environment Initiative, and are now proud members of the gleaners. I, on the other hand, am now paying for a 97% efficient natural gas furnace that replaces our old fuel oil burner which was, I believe, less than 80% efficient. [I also do what I can to provide the occasional fish dinner but try to limit it to once a month. Too many accumulated toxins in too many of our local waters. ] So, we've reduced our carbon footprint and continue to improve our locavore standing. So far, I haven't noticed any sack cloth or ashes being worn around the house, although, maybe for Halloween this year? Probably not, at least not for trying to live in a way that meets our needs without depriving future generations of their ability to meet their own needs. We'd do more to grow our own food, but the black flies and deer flies in the Summer are just to fierce and the sand soil isn't very cooperative.Anyhow, not only did the better half bring back crab apples, she added nicely to the pumpkin collection. The front of the house is looking downright festive. That's a step up from last week's seasonal. See for yourself then enjoy David McCord's jack o'lantern poem.
Mr. Macklin's Jack O'Lantern
by David McCordMr. Macklin takes his knife
And carves the yellow pumpkin face:
Three holes bring eyes and nose to life,
The mouth has thirteen teeth in place.
Then Mr. Macklin just for fun
Transfers the corn-cob pipe from his
Wry mouth to Jack's, and everyone
Dies laughing! O what fun it is
Till Mr. Macklin draws the shade
And lights the candle in Jack's skull.
Then all the inside dark is made
As spooky and as horrorful
As Halloween, and creepy crawl
The shadows on the tool-house floor,
With Jack's face dancing on the wall.
O Mr. Macklin! where's the door?
Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Rants, raves and reflections served here daily.