I’m grateful we got to start out the day with a nice walk to the canyon, greeting our old tree friends, and taking stock of more erosion deeper into the woods.
Most of our trails to the rim experienced some transformation, this one with a new rill snaking quite a long way down the center.
What happens when I get a burst of inspiration to tidy up or reorganize is that I always lose something. Awhile ago I did a kitchen project in which I bought a few new shelf and drawer accessories, and really got the pantry and cabinets in order. Not long after that I was searching for the J&M granulated garlic refill that my neighbors produce for their marvelous garlic grinder. I was sure that I had a packet somewhere, but scoured my spice racks and drawers and couldn’t find it. Some weeks after that, I was searching for the Chaat Masala that my cousin had sent me last winter, and I knew that I had done something sensible with it when I reorganized, but it had vanished. It was reminiscent of Breadgate, but I didn’t get quite so attached to finding it. And a week after that–this morning–I opened a little flat drawer in a lower cabinet looking for something else, and voila! There were the missing spices. I had quite logically put the flat spice bags in there instead of trying to cram them into the racks with the bottles and boxes. I’m grateful for finding lost things, and for being able to laugh about it.
In other food news, all the string beans are tapering off production, while the paprika peppers continue to ripen. Lunch was a simple BLT wrap. Wren and Biko each got a green bean, but Biko turned up his beak and Wren ate them both.
And I’m grateful that we got to end this precious day that will never come again with a stroll to the west fence, and view this surprising cloud configuration.
I’m grateful for the ancient junipers and the clouds above…
…and for the little dog on the ground below.
How am I different from that girl who first walked these woods thirty years ago when I discovered the leading edge of peace? I don’t feel so different. I feel the same, but more subdued, less eager. I feel well within the bounds of peace now, though not yet at the center. How is the land different? How are these woods different? More limbs down, more trees down, more down trees decomposing. Far fewer birds, and bugs. The mosses still green, cactus still spiny. Three paths diverged in the woods and I, I chose to stay in shade. Sun climbing as morning rain dissipates. The scant scent of damp sage, juniper oils rising, soft wet dirt underfoot. I’m grateful for taking time to wander aimlessly until I find myself among unfamiliar trees; and the for finding my way home. This seems as fruitful a way as any to spend an hour this late August day.
I’m grateful for the copious eggplant harvest I’m getting from three little bushes. I sliced yesterday’s four, each about six inches long, into three-eighth inch thick slices, salted them for about an hour, patted dry, breaded, and baked them.
The recipe uses only melted butter instead of egg to dip them in before dredging in a breadcrumb/spice/parmesan mix, then calls for baking rather than frying. It was so simple! As they baked, I made a quick sauce with canned tomatoes from last year, red onion from yesterday, a tiny purple pepper, and fresh basil and oregano. I mix and matched a couple of eggplant parmesan recipes, and essentially made up my own.
Once the sauce was reduced and the eggplant disks baked, I layered them with fresh mozzarella and sauce, topped with parmesan and leftover breadcrumbs, and baked. It was perfect! And I cut it up into portions and froze every bit of it, only tasting the pan scrapings. There are so many eggplants ripening that I’ll make another panful in a couple of weeks and eat at least some of it right away. My strategy is to load up the freezer with plenty of ready to heat meals for when the garden is spent, so I can enjoy and be grateful for summer’s flavors all winter long.
Tonight I whipped up this simple olive oil poundcake, but can’t touch it for another half hour until it’s cooled enough to tip out of the pan. I’ve not seen this trick before: after spraying the pan, dusting it with sugar instead of flour.
I’m grateful for all the conditions, choices, and help along the way that have led me to a path of Right Livelihood. I’m grateful for the teachers, mentors, and students that have helped me to be able to make my living teaching meditation and mindfulness. I’m grateful for the practices that bring peace and contentment to my life in these troubled times. I’m grateful for the opportunity to share these skills with others as we navigate the accelerating personal, local, and global challenges of the Anthropocene; and grateful to be offering a four-part online course in Meditation Basics starting this Thursday. Email me if you’d like to participate, at dukkaqueen@skybeam.com, with ‘meditation’ in the subject line.
Yesterday’s cucumbers transformed into bread and butter pickles…
…and the leftover pickling syrup poured over lettuce, feta, red onions, and cashews for dinner salad.
Amazing clouds at sunset in all directions: North…
… South…
…and West…
I’m grateful for another full day of mindfulness, considering my values and trying to put them into action. One of my deepest values is gratitude, of course; another is savoring wholesome food and making the most of the gifts I’m given; yet another is witnessing the beauty of this fragile planet. I’m grateful for its atmosphere, what I can experience of it anyway: the clouds above, aridity and humidity, heat and cool as they fluctuate with day and night; and each breath inhaling air here as pure as anywhere. I’m grateful for a friend to spend these precious days with, and the atmosphere of playful joy she brings to everything we do.
I’m grateful for a surprise harvest of beurre du Rocquencourt wax beans. The plants are so bushy and dense I had not noticed until I went to tie them up away from the onions that there is already a good crop of ripe beans hiding under the deep green leaves. How one thing can bring so clearly to mind another thing from long ago… little green apples. I can’t see them without hearing the song, and this evening as I was thinning the Fuji tree I kept turning over in my head that perplexing rhyme ‘apples’ and ‘Indianapolis.’ But I let that go, and surrendered my thoughts to the soft pillow of my ancient crush. Then I remembered that I wanted to photograph the first sunflower to bloom, and though it was blowing wildly in the taunting wind I waited for a still moment, not sure til I shot the picture quite what was going down on that petal. The beefly was losing.I’m grateful for another lovely Sunday in this beautiful place on this exquisite planet, for sunset and clouds and ancient junipers, for light and color.
Another evening walk to the west fence, on top of a full and restful day. I’m grateful for this sunset, and hope to savor many more with my little friend. What a dazzling array of clouds and colors. I’m grateful for the support expressed by several readers in response to my post yesterday, one of whom shared a lead to this column about BA.5, the latest Covid variant sweeping the nation. Feeling less alone in my cautious solitude today, thank you! I’m grateful for other ways to connect than in person, and grateful for the vast, magnificent sky and its reassuring perspective.
I was grateful this morning for a day that opened with clouds and 36% humidity, a welcome change from yesterday.
An old friend stopped by today on his way home to Montana. We sat and talked for hours in the garden, then took a short walk to the canyon. Wren discovered something new and had to put it in her mouth. I was grateful for the opportunity to share a little of my camera knowledge with Gary who is getting to know his new Canon. We were all grateful for a clear day that topped out in the high seventies.
I was grateful for Wren’s caution at the canyon rim, especially after her near miss yesterday.
After the walk I tossed together a quick dinner of chicken, kale, potatoes and sweet potatoes with some fresh herbs, dried cherries, and a splash of balsamic vinegar, over basmati rice. Gary was in charge of wine and dessert, and outdid himself with both. He didn’t have to go anywhere to procure two of the best wines in the valley (a 2017 Pinot Noir, and an exquisite 2008 port) having stayed the night with his friends at Alfred Eames Cellars. I was grateful for his generosity and good taste, for his deep listening and insightful conversation, and for his affable consideration in respecting my covid precautions. I was grateful for his warm good company on this cool gorgeous day.
Dessert was an outrageous German chocolate cheesecake, also from the extended family of friendly gourmands in Paonia.
I think these are Cumulus fractus clouds but I could be wrong. Whatever they’re called, I’m grateful for the gorgeous spectacle of them this afternoon.
I’m grateful today for the January 6 Committee broadcasting their public hearing. I’m sad, though, that I’m not confident it will sway anyone who is still on the fence about the Insurrection. I was moved by the opening speech from committee chair Rep. Bennie Thompson, but I imagine that any bigots who had tuned in would have turned off in the first five minutes. This is because I was raised by a bigot; I come from an extended family of them, and unfortunately I can hear their voices clearly in my head to this day. The last person they’d listen to is an old black man from Mississippi talking about slavery blah blah blah Lincoln blah blah blah… I won’t repeat what their voices in my head are actually saying, and thankfully, I’m able to tune them out. But I’m afraid that anyone inclined to believe The Big Lie who dared to turn on the hearing would have turned it off before it got to the heart of the matter.
Which began to be revealed in a riveting way once Rep. Liz Cheney came on, and except for frequent internet freezes and apparent video malfunctions zooming onto background flags and moulding for extended times, it compelled me to stay tuned instead of heading outside into the cooling evening to pull weeds. I had not intended to watch. I know what happened on that day. I watched it unfold live on TV a year and a half ago and I haven’t forgotten what I saw, as so many Americans seem to have done. Tonight, recorded and live testimony and video clips of the insurrection brought the shock and horror back all too vividly. I’m grateful that most people I know are able to discern truth from lies, and pray that most other Americans can also and will vote accordingly in November.
I’m grateful for a wonderful Boyz Lunch, reminiscing about 25 years of friendship with these two dear men and the community of which we are an integral part. I’m grateful for all the elements I’ve acquired over the past weeks to make homemade Massaman curry paste and a lovely vegetarian version of it, and for all those beings known and unknown who contributed to these ingredients being present in my kitchen. I’d share the recipes but something was missing from the paste, and there are plenty of recipes for the dish online and I commingled two of them.For dessert I made last night a no-bake cheesecake which was delicious and disgusting. We ate more than half of it as we sat under the patio umbrella in early summer heat, a hint of the sweet scent of Buddleia alternifolia and the enthusiastic voices of cowgirls in training next door both wafting by on the breeze. I’m grateful for holding things in balance and perspective.
I’m grateful the babies are still alive, still getting fed, still growing.
I’m grateful for every little thing about this day, starting with I woke up alive, and relatively pain free. From there, anything else is gravy. I didn’t do much today. I didn’t even think or feel much. I’m on staycation. But I paid attention to the phoebes, the jays, the magpies; to weather, lightning, potential rain; to nutrition, mine and others. I paid attention to the moment as consistently as I could, and remembered quite often to breathe, or rather, to notice my breath, each inhalation, each exhalation, the exact conditions of the body at the time. I’m grateful for each breath that allowed me to read some things, to watch some TV: I’m grateful for things to read and TV to watch, and various individuals who make those entertainments possible. I’m grateful for these five or six senses that let me make sense of, or at least interpret, the world outside this body-mind.
I’m grateful for the garden thus far, and for the One Dog who makes everything else possible.I’m grateful for even the barest hint of rain.
