Soup E

Yesterday I finally made the soup. There has been some improvement. It is edible. Edible Grade E like the food served in school cafeterias. All of those wonderful ingredients forced to take part in a dismal dirge instead of a soaring symphony, I am sorry carrots and onions and parsnips and celery and potatoes and beef broth and tomatoes and beef. So I will try again at a later date. This time it will be soup parmentier. Onward and downward, that's my soup motto.
I will waste no more beef on soup. I hold beef in too much reverance to embarrass it so. Steaks, roasts, hamburgers, and stir-fry, those are the destinations for any further beef purchases. Let chicken be relegated to the soup pot instead of beef.
Yesterday was a good day for walking. The air was pleasant with a nice nip in the air. The plants and I are awaiting Spring. The plants are looking forward to it more than I am. The way the weather is now is perfect for me. The sugar maples all around town are tapped and the sap is flowing. The flow from Winter to Spring has begun. The yards with many trees all look like intensive care units with tubes stretching all about. Forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup, at times it seems unfair to the trees. How will the sap be reduced? By boiling it over a wood fire, I think that the maple trees must feel the same way about us that we feel about Dracula.

Good Day

Yesterday was a good day. I went for a walk in the gentle sparse snow. It was not very cold out. The mega-blizzard that was predicted failed to appear. We got a lot of rain here and the snow on the ground has largely disappeared. The river is about two feet above its normal level and the pulsating sound as it tumbles over the dam is mesmerizing. The light coming from it is almost stroboscopic.
I have had vegetable beef soup on my mind for some time. I made pork, beans, onions, and garlic instead. It was quite tasty. I will try the soup today but I am sure it will be as lackluster as my soup usually is. All of those wonderful ingredients blended together in a barely edible combination, what a waste and disappointment. Perhaps I will add a little more salt. I rarely use salt in anything but a thought has come to mind. My French darling used to say "Kissing a man without a moustache is like soup without salt.". The soup that I make doesn't have a moustache but maybe it needs salt. She was a maestro of soup. At least once a week she would clean out the refrigerator and cupboards and make wonderful soup. If you were walking through the kitchen when she was making soup, you had to keep moving or there was ablution in your future. To sit at the table on a cold winter day and have hot soup, bread, and cheese was heaven. Now heaven has heavenly soup. I am sure that the Elysian Fields are now heavily planted with onions and leeks. Rest easy La Petite Anglais. There must be Gruyere in heaven and crusty bagettes.
Sleep was disturbing last night. A litany of all of my transgressions in life kept waking me up. I have disappointed many people that I love. I didn't mean to disappoint them. Each day I tried to do what I felt was best. Unfortunately what I thought was best was often the worst choice that I could have made, so I ask foregiveness and understanding from my loved ones. As for those who are not loved ones "Tellwiddem". Men have failings. Some men have only a few and some have many. I have amassed enough failings to open up a park called "Failureland".
Once more I will try to be a good person but I know myself. I will find some wayward path to disappointment and follow it with a certainty that it is the best way. That will make all of the difference. I have done the best that I was capable of but my best is not very good.

Meatballs

Yesterday was Swedish Meatballs. They didn't turn out as good as they usually do. I probably used too much meat and the spices were overcome. So, the next time I will use more spices and the meatballs will be too spicy. This is the usual progression of my cooking and I wonder if I will ever reach the perfect in-between spot.
The sauce wasn't too bad, I combined everything on the plate with noodles, pickles, and lingonberries. I make the sauce with mushrooms, beef broth, brown sugar, butter, flour, and heavy cream. How could it be bad with all of those knock-out ingredients.
Today I hope to try the brownies. I will have to go to the little store and get some milk. The brownie recipe doesn't call for milk but trying to eat brownies without milk is like trying to eat Oreo's without dunking them in milk.
Today will also be a day for transplanting seedlings. They are getting a bit leggy and need larger containers.

Explicative!!!

For the last two evenings I waded in the lees of life. I ended up watching television. It usually starts with eating dinner. It is lonely to eat by yourself so I go into the living (?) room and turn on the cyclops in the corner.
I watched two episodes of Two and a Half Men. It seems odd to like that show because I never really liked The Odd Couple. The clicker makes television more appealing as I can switch from program to program from the couch. As I was bouncing from show to show I frequently encountered the Winter Olympics and the nightly news. Stargate and Frasier took most of my attention but I frequently encountered commentary criticising the red-headed boy that won the snowboard contest. I had watched his competition and was amazed that a human being could do those things. He had the gold medal in his pocket before he made his last run but went all out on the last run and was spectacular. It reminded me of Ted Williams in his last game of the season when he was technically batting over .400 before the game but played anyway.
Snowboarders evidently have acquired a reputation as being a tad irreverant. Good for them! No one gives them roses when they finish their performance. Would you rather see your son looping through the air and wisecracking at the finish or watch him competing in Men's (?) figure skating? Would you rather see your son in baggy pants, hurtling through the air in death defying loops or watch him wearing a hat of roses because he won a medal in Pixie Baseball? The snowboarders are the new American Heroes.
Back to the criticism. The boy evidently used the "F" word after he won. Used it once and the news media are aghast at that incident. The news media did not comment on all of the losers sitting around going "F", "F", "F". If he President doesn't give that boy some sort of recognition, there is something wrong in America. No award should be given to the two man Luge competitors. There is something wrong with that sport. "Oh, go through the bumps again Maurice!".
O f course I know that the President may not have the time to recognize the boy's achievement. The President is dealing with the health care issue and he is sitting in the Oval Office going "F", "F", "F".

Blanket II

The blanket of snow is slowly withering. There was very little left on the porch this morning. We did not get the large amounts that some other communities did. There are still some globs on the trees and sidewalks. It is only the middle of February so I guess that we will get some more before Spring.
There is such beauty in the new fallen snow. It is cold and reserved but intensely beautiful. It makes Gaia seem more like a mistress than a wife or Mother.
Last night was a night of complicated dreams. The dreams were about beauty. What is beauty? Who defines it? Hobbs said that it was long eyelashes and green eyes. A rose, if it stunk to the high heavens, would we still consider it beautiful? A country, if it was founded on freedom and justice and the rights of Man, and had degraded into an international bully and a greedy merchant, would we still consider it beautiful? The amber waves of grain have been replaced by asphalt and concrete towers and derivatives have replaced sweat equity as the national pride and therefore go before the inevitable.
So, beauty will be redefined by society and goals will be recast by society and the world changes. There is still the beauty of the snow, for a while, until the heat and the passion of merchants cause it to pack up and be no more. Will there be anyone left to grieve for the snow? Perhaps, if there isn't, things will cool back down and Gaia will open her arms to welcome her new children.

Blanket

It is snowing. It is not a driving or a bitterly cold snow, as I would expect from February. It is a gentle blanket that is slowly accumulating. It will protect the Spring bulbs from damage and it will keep the mice and chipmunks nice and warm.
I have no reason to go out and I will spend the day cooking. I have a new recipe for brownies and I have not made tomato sauce in three days and I feel the urge building. The sausages are defrosting in the refrigerator.
Yesterday I roasted a chicken and had roast chicken, green beans, and two baked potatoes with sour cream, pepper, and a lot of gravy. I also feel that Swedish meatballs are in the near future.
It is so wonderful to be housebound. There are books to read and food to cook, plants to be transplanted and a gentle snow to watch accumulating. There are things to be done but they will have to get done at another time as this is to good a day to not waste. I hope that the chipmunks will be O.K.. I am really fond of chipmunks.

If you......, you're probably in New England.

This morning I received a humorous e-mail from my Sister-in-Law. It consisted of comments by Jeff Foxworthy about New England. It didn't have the derogatory comments usually associated with "You're Probably a Redneck". Most of them were tender and pleasant. One of them really struck home about what living in a small New England town is really like.
The comment went like this: "If you have installed security lights on your house and garage but don't lock either door, you're probably in New England.". Yes, we try to keep up with the rest of the country but there is a basic trusting and optimism in a small New England town that perseveres through snow and misfortune and the Legislature. We are not necessarily optimistic about the future but we trust that things will stay the same and not get worse. The Nightly News is the only acquaintance that we have with the tragedies and horror of the world today.
This tiny town is a microcosm of what life used to be like all over our wonderful country. We say good morning to each person we pass on the street, even the teen-agers do. Automobiles stop to let a person cross the street. There are no beatings or car jackings or home invasions or hate crimes on the local cable News. There are the meetings of the School Committee and the Library Trustees. I don't recall that an episode of Cops has been filmed in a small New England town. Cops are not cops here, they are Policemen. You don't see them very often but you do see them often enough to know that they are watching over the community. You usually see them accompanying an ambulance taking an elderly person to the hospital. They don't wear Gestapo Black Leather gear, just light blue shirts and darker blue trousers and wear the old-fashioned peaky hats. Some of them are young and some aren't but I think that most of them grew up in this town. They say "Good Morning" and smile but you can feel their eyes as you walk on by. They are not assertive but they are very observant. I guess that they have learned to drop the ob.
We are occasionally blessed with snow. The sidewalks seem to get plowed before the streets are. The Department of Public Works knows this town and the people that live here. There will not be a public outcry if a BIPPY (Big Important Person) can't get to Boston but there will be people at the next town meeting wanting to know why it was so difficult to walk to the corner store for coffee and the newspaper in the morning. Every store has multiple newspapers for sale and none of the papers are from this town. We are too small to have a local paper, there is a weekly paper that addresses this town and several others in one issue, because the biggest news in this town is a High School game or Bake Sale, someone's anniversary or retirement.
There is one Police station and one Fire house, both in the same building as the Town offices. There is one doughnut shop and one grocery store and one bookstore and one library and a bunch of churches. The local Wal-Mart packed up all of their tacky crap and moved away several years ago as the people in this town still frequented the shops owned by people that they went to High School with. Those shops all have tiny bill boards at the local Little League field. There never was a Wal-Mart bill board there.
There is one barber shop, haircuts $10 seniors $8, and the local church bells ring out the time every hour. A train runs through every morning about 4:30 A.M.. Yes, a real train with toots and whistles and a slight shuddering of the air.
Like most cities in America, this town is dominated by business people. Not bankers, the local bank doesn't offer free toasters but the checking account is totally free, even the checks, and if a senior wants to withdraw a large amount of money there are questions. Not CEO's, not lawyers, not real estate developers but simple business people. People minding their own business!
There is a Hot Dog store. All that they serve is hot dogs on butter toasted rolls and they have been in business for quite a while. There is one art gallery and two Liquor stores (Winters can be long in New England) and neither one has ever sold to minors, not even cigarettes.
Sure, we get motion detecting security lights to illuminate the occasional racoon and defecating dog but we do not lock our doors and windows because if someone breaks in we would rather be able to get out fast than confront them. Also, they might be a neighbor in trouble and they would never be denied access. Our hearts and minds and wallets are as open as our doors.
Yes Mister Foxworthy, you're probably in New England. If you are very lucky, you are.

Dusting

The weather forecast was for a monster snowstorm. I went out to make sure that I could comfortably endure several days of being snowbound. I looked outside about an hour ago and all that we got was a dusting. Being snowbound is one of the infrequent joys of living in New England We can survive without lights and heat as long as the water supply does not fail. There is no way to adjust for not having the toilet working. I have even made tea with a candle. It takes a long time. Hmmm, I think that it is time to purchase a Sterno Stove, just in case.

Stocking

Once more the larder is stocked. My Brother took me to the grocery store on Saturday. I couldn't have faced it without him. He carried most of the bags up the stairs. I find that I am too weary to do so and my balance is not so good.
I will throw out the stew that I made before and try stew again. Sooner or later I might produce a decent one. I will never achieve the level that my Mother reached and can never come near the level that Mrs. Foley reached when I was a teenager. I guess that I will just "Keep on Keepin on.".
That may be the story of my life. Never achieving anything spectacular, just plodding slowly along.

Honk

Yesterday morning the dearth of birds ceased. As I was looking out of the window, two Vees of geese flew over headed North. Two crows were engaged in an aerial ballet and dogfight. I went for a small walk and the weather has mediated, mediated not startlingly changed.
The geese must be headed North to their nesting grounds. The crows might have been males contesting a nesting area in anticipation of the arrival of females. Do the birds know more than the groundhog does? I know that it is February in New England and not a good time to try and keep eggs warm, or toes for that matter. Still, there is always the promise of Spring in the heart of a New Englander. I have started some seedlings, I will wait a month before starting the tomatoes, and will soon be overrun with herbs and pepper plants. Many of the seeds came from Pittsburgh over a year ago and still are viable.
I don't know where or how I will be come Spring but I will probably be here , so the plants will be started. Planning, what a wasted use of energy.

Birdless

Last night I watched a program about Leonard Cohen. I listened to him sing "Bird on a Wire". It was still on my mind this morning and I came to a sad realization. There have been no birds in the tree out front for several days. There were flocks of them before, all busily feeding on the cedar berries in that enormous tree.
Where have they gone? Is it the new cold weather that has them huddled away somewhere or has some tragedy struck them? I miss them. Now only the squirrel is grazing over the cedar fields, causing the branches to droop as he moves from one to the other, constantly stopping to look up, fearing talons from above. Humans and squirrels, we both look up to find salvation. We look up, like Tevya, to address salvation. The squirrel looks up to avoid destruction and that is his salvation. It is an interesting contradiction to me that requires further thought. I wonder what the squirrel thinks.
I realize that I might be becoming a little crazy over the birds. So the squirrel and I have something in common. We are both thinking about nuts.