Giving Thanks

Woosh, there goes a month. Thanksgiving was lovely. We did a dry brine turkey- so easy. What was I thinking with the 5 gallon bucket, the heavy brine, the days of prep? It's true, I do love the process of things and sometimes the 20 steps appeal, but this year simple won out.
Then: a couple big snowstorms later, we are in the third week of advent. Big party this weekend and then a home trunk show on Sunday.. posts to follow.
We learned this sweet little song at one of the spiral garden celebrations at school and I have been singing it all week.

White, white the starlight that shines upon the snow.
Green, green the flowering life that waits again to grow.
Red, red the tender heart that guides us as we go,
under the starlight and over the snow.

Preserving

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It occurred to me today after having made apple butter, apple chutney, applesauce and then moving on to concord grape jelly that I am really hooked on this idea of preservation. This desire to capture is what drives me to write, to take photos and to save food for the cold winter. At its best it is an embrace, a remembrance and an honoring but at it's worst it is a grasping, a longing to stay forever lodged in a single perfect moment. It is Keats's line "Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours." The last oozings.
After putting the boys to bed and kissing their peaceful foreheads I came down to clean up the kitchen, put the jars in the cellar and prepare for bed. I was seized with that terrible feeling of wanting things to stay just as they are. Wanting an eternal childhood, wanting ever ripe fruit, wanting things to stay the same.. we all know how that story ends. So for now, the canning is done, the house is quiet and I am remembering the line in Steiner's verse for courage: "It is part of what we must learn in this age, namely to live out of absolute trust without any security of existence."

Apple Valley Road

My parents live on a magical country lane called Apple Valley Road. In old pictures it is a winding dirt path along the river, orchards as far as you can see. Apples everywhere. There are still a lot of heirlooms apples to be had if you have a ladder and a few free hours. We took the boys today and picked three baskets full. They are small fruits- imperfect, a few wormy ones in the bunch- but they have the most wonderful tart crispness and will make for good winter pies and crumbles. Welcome, Fall- nice to see you again.

Honey Harvest

Man, what a great weekend. The celebration of a best friend's 40th, many of the guests dear to my heart. Food from a local farm, Rosé from Aix and a perfect, crisp newly autumn evening lit by little white lights. Today we went out to the country and harvested this years honey. I know that for many beekeepers this yearly ritual is just another piece of the puzzle, but for me it was an apex. This is my third year stewarding bees and this the first harvest. There were some early hardships (hives gobbled by hungry bears among them) that just never left enough honey left over to take any for ourselves. This year, the hives have been thriving and we harvested nearly a dozen jars of beautiful, marmalade colored Apple Valley honey. Deeply satisfying.

Tired children at the end of a full Sunday. Everyone drifting off to a different dream station... the sound of the waves on the Malecon in Havana, the top of some desolate Pakistani peak, the inside of an all glass shopping mall where everyone is naked.. who knows where we will go tonight, fed on the golden nectar of mystery. As I turn in this day, I offer a deep bow to all those who left us 10 years ago today and a wish that survivors of loved ones can forgive, heal and live on in fullness.

Son
by Sharon Olds

Coming home from the women-only bar,
I go into my son's room.
He sleeps-fine, freckled face
thrown back, the scarlet lining of his mouth
shadowy and fragrant, his small teeth
glowing dull and milky in the dark,
opal eyelids quivering
like insect wings, his hands closed
in the middle of the night.

Let there be enough
room for this life: the head, lips,
throat, wrists, hips, cock,
knees, feet. Let no part go
unpraised. Into any new world we enter, let us
take this man.

These babies are the best. Sweet, fragrant, fuzzy and fresh. Summer in a skin.
We kept a dozen out to eat and then transformed the rest into canned peaches and chutney. Easy and so delightful as the days grow shorter..
Peach Chutney

Ingredients

2 cups chopped onions
1 tbsp yellow mustard seeds
1 tsp fresh ginger
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp hot pepper flakes
1/4 tsp pepper
8 cups (2 L) peeled and sliced peaches
2 - 2 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup raisins
1 cup cider vinegar

Add all ingredients and bring to a boil, stirring.

3. Reduce to medium and simmer uncovered, stirring often, until the mixture reduces to about 8 cups and is thick enough to mound on a spoon.

4. Pour the mixture into 4 2-cup (or 8 1-cup) sterilized canning jars. Seal with prepared discs and clean bands. Process for 10 minutes. Store in a cool, dark place for up to one year.

Mid summer