Thursday, May 27, 2021

On a cold, rainy day...

Outside it's been cold and raining all day. Inside the heat is on and the Better Half is cooking homemade mac and cheese [moqui mac]. This afternoon the sourdough starter will, once again, begin to be rejuvenated so that, in a few days, we can bake some bread. We're annoyed with ourself for not having restarted the starter a few days ago so we could legitimately warm the house some more by having the oven on.

bread to feed the body and warm the soul
bread to feed the body and warm the soul
Photo by J. Harrington

Now that we're on the topic of food, I want to again recommend Mark Bittman's Animal, Vegetable, Junk for your reading pleasure and  education. I've now reached the point where he begins to focus more on solutions than on documenting the problems our "food" system has created for our health and our environment. My fingers are crossed that his explication of solutions matches that of the system's faults he describes.

colt behind sumac in pasture
colt behind sumac in pasture
Photo by J. Harrington

In a short while, it'll be time to head off to pick up this week's Community Supported Agriculture [CSA] share. That's a trip that's always more fun when it's sunny and warmer. At least there'll be the moqui mac to look forward to when we return. Yesterday, while driving through some of the same farm country we'll be traversing this afternoon, I got a chance to watch a couple of very young colts enjoying some time in the pasture with  the rest of the herd. The photos didn't turn out great, but they're at least a memory jogger of a pleasant spring day with time spent enjoying some of the beauty of nature.


The Colt


by Jeffrey Skinner

In the field and everywhere I am never far from mother.

Mother covers my face with her tail and the brightness of sky

is split. When there is danger mother puts her body

between me and danger. In the center of the field an island

of trees fenced in. Why an island of trees fenced in?

Sometimes I must rear up suddenly in the wind

and run, fast, so that all my mind is running

and then I don't care about danger and I am glad

for the fence or else I would never stop. Tired now

of maintaining this poem in the voice of a young horse

I rise and walk out: enormous brain, wobbling on toothpicks.



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