Foodie's fun

A week or ten days or so ago, I scattered the dregs of a bag of whole sunflower seeds on the slope behind the house. I had tried filling a bird feeder with them earlier this summer and the birds made a big mess with the shells. I had no idea if the seeds might germinate next spring or all be consumed by wildlife before then. This morning we got a partial answer. A flock of almost a dozen wild turkeys spent half an hour or more picking and pecking their way across the slope. I’lll be surprised if there are any undigested seeds left come spring.

In a bit, we’ll head off to pick up this week’s community supported agriculture share and drop off the Daughter Person’s half share at the abode she shares with her spouse and daughter, who also share the veggies we leave. I’m looking forward to the drive over backroads through farm country mixed with rural residential and a state park along the St. Croix river. I wonder if there’ll be much in the way of fall color showing yet. If so, I expect it to be sparse and scattered. Autumn Equinox is still a week away (locally, Saturday, September 23, 2023 at 1:50 am CDT).

artisan sourdough boule

Photo by J. Harrington

The dough is mixed and rising so we can bake a boulle of kernza/sourdough bread tomorrow. We’re still looking for that happy point at which I think there’s enough kernza flavor in the bread and the Better Half doesn’t think there’s too much kernza flavor. We’ll let you know how it turns out. It does feel good to be getting back into the routine of sourdough bread baking once a week or so.

A Poem Made of Bread

by Ibtisam Barakat

In the middle of bread --
all loaves, all shapes:
American white,
French baguette, or
Arabic flat --
single flour
or multi-grain
there is the word: read.
All that remains if you break
a loaf of bread is: read.
past and present
eternal like rain
falling from the sky
grain by grain. . .
Those who cannot read
are the hunger of this world.
And dinner will not be ready
until they can read.
Dinner will not be served
until all can read
and the young have books
early in life
to sleep on like pillows
after reading so late,
and the passing to have books
to take to the afterlife --
a gift to the reading angels
who long for human bread.

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