Tag Archive | the cheese sandwich

A Multi-Purpose Stump

Dec29

It was a pleasant morning, with a latté, a good story on the kindle, and a slice of potica. But there was sorrow in store.

Looking east toward the mountains the juniper looks tattered but possibly salvageable.

A juniper has stood by my front gate for hundreds of years longer than there was a gate. A couple of years ago a large limb broke off in a heavy snow, and some weeks ago a few more limbs broke in a similar heavy, wet snow. A remaining limb had already died. It was a hard decision, like putting down a dog whose last legs have gone out from under him. What little life the tree still held would not last long, might well come down in the next storm.

Looking north the extent of the damage is more visible, and it’s clear the one remaining living trunk will break before long.

So, grateful for a friend’s recommendation, I called Paonia Tree Service, and they were able to come out just a few days later. I spent some time before they arrived hugging the juniper and saying goodbye.

Cameron arrived with a warm smile, empathetic, and eager to help. He assessed the tree, positioned the chipper, and set to work. I watched from the west window, sad but sure.

He moved efficiently and gracefully, cutting smaller limbs first and dragging them to a pile out of the way, a few times shutting down the saw and feeding the pile into the chipper, which blew out an astonishing stream of chips and sawdust. As he moved around the tree he effortlessly trimmed, chipped, and cut larger limbs into cordwood lengths stacking them in front of the long gate.

When he was down to the main trunk, he cut three disks about two inches thick as I’d asked him to, so that I can sand and polish them. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but it’s my way of honoring the tree. Since he could not cut the trunk off at ground level (which would have allowed for a handy parking spot), I asked him to leave it tall enough so that anyone pulling in could see it and avoid running into it.

I look forward to sanding, polishing, and oiling the stump come spring, and then counting the rings.

I imagined I might set something ornamental on it, or it could be a landing pad for outgoing or incoming things like parcels, treats, the kinds of things neighbors drop off or pick up on a flyby. “You could set a plant on it,” Cameron said.

I had sent this picture to Cousin Mel and was telling her this story, when she said, “—or you could set a dog on it! A multi-purpose stump!” Something about that struck our funny bones hard; we laughed a long while over the phone. And we’re both always grateful for a good long laugh.

Roughly the same view to the east as the top picture, minus the tree, with its mortal remains: a big pile of chips, a swath of sawdust over snow, and a multi-purpose stump.

And then it was lunchtime. It had taken Cameron less than an hour to transform the juniper into components. Every time I’ve stepped outside since then, I smell the clean, sweet scent of the tree, lingering; even more strongly since the latest snow which lies six inches deep everywhere except the chip pile: the heat of the tree’s life force melted the snow almost as fast as it fell.

Lunch was another delicious cheese sandwich: mayo, mustard, avocado, Havarti, B&B pickles, and romaine. And our little lives go on, day by day, full of small adventures and simple pleasures, mindful and unmindful moments, gratefully aware of ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows.

Catching Up

Dec27
I was grateful to be able to get under the stairs and pull out Christmas decorations with more agility and less pain than I’ve had in years; and grateful to be able to hang these lovely holiday quilts from a dear friend.

Something’s getting in my way of posting these past couple of weeks. I keep trying to come to grips with my procrastination habit, and manage to get organized and catch up, but before long I’m disorganized and behind again. I read recently that both this kind of intermittent organization, and procrastination that gets in the way of daily living, are symptoms of adult ADHD. It wouldn’t surprise me. But then again, I’m always looking for some diagnosis to rationalize my circuitous brain habits. Am I “neuro spicy” as the sticker Amy sent me suggests, or neurodiverse in some other direction, or perhaps many? The more scientists learn about the human brain, the more people come under the umbrella of neurodiverse, and it is beginning to look like maybe there’s no such thing as normal.

Anyway, I am what I am, and I’m grateful that I’m beginning to truly accept and appreciate me no matter what kind of brain I have. I sometimes forget that some tick-borne disease robbed me of half my life, and fail to give myself credit for getting along as well as I do. It’s been a full couple of weeks and I’m grateful to be catching up with myself.

The cheese sandwiches the past few weeks have reached new heights of gustatory perfection. Here I spread mayo on both bread slices, then a little hot sauce on one, and maple cream on the other…

…followed by bacon on the maple side and a fried egg on the spicy side…

…and finished with thinly sliced extra sharp white cheddar and shredded romaine.

The result exceeded expectations. Stay tuned for more exceptional cheese sandwiches and other adventures, if I can keep the momentum going. Meanwhile, Wren has run out of steam.

My Little Town

Dec7
Sometimes a cheese sandwich is just a cheese sandwich.

Even though it’s no more ‘my’ town than this ‘identity’ I refer to as ‘I,’ I think of it as my little town. It’s the closest to me, just a few miles away, and has almost anything anyone could need in a town: a couple of restaurants, a post office, and a general store, among other amenities. And just a few miles beyond, the last gas for 80 miles south.

I needed to vacuum the residue of another pack rat nest out of the air duct system hidden beyond the glove box. I’m grateful I learned how to replace the cabin air filter years ago, so I can change it whenever mice nest in the hollows or in this case a pack rat fills the duct with leaves and twigs. I’d already pulled most of them out by hand, so I drove up to town this morning to use the car wash vacuum, still only a dollar in quarters thirty years on from the first time I used it.

It was a morning filled with brief and cheerful interactions, once I survived the pickup with trailer speeding down the middle of the narrow winding road out of the canyon. Other drivers, and there were a surprising number of them, smiled and waved as we passed each other.

A woman pulled up at the other vacuum right after me, with a Wren-sized longhaired dog between the front seats. I’d left Wren at home because of how she responds to the house vacuum. I was amazed at the calm of this dog as her person reached in with the noisy hose, and after we were both finished I said I was impressed. We chatted a minute with smiles and she said “glad to meet another dog lover!” A man in the wash bay smiled and asked, “Did you git ‘er done?”

At the post office, Patrice was more helpful than she needed to be, and at the general store a nice young lady led me to mouse traps and read the fine print for me on a balsam fir mouse repellent. It only occurred to me as I was driving home that maybe these people were extra nice because I was using a cane. Or maybe it was simply because I was pleasant and smiling at them, too.

View from the post office of the long trek to the general store…

I was especially grateful for the choice I made to walk from the PO to the store —a whopping fifty yards— a distance I have driven for many years simply to minimize steps because walking hurt so much; and it was on the way home. I looked from the PO uphill to the store and thought, hey, I can walk that now! What a simple joy it was to stroll that short distance on smooth pavement, and carry my small purchases back down the hill to the car, on a sunny, mild day in my bustling little town.

…and the view back down the hill to my little blue car.
Two nights ago I played with some more night shots, and this was the best of the new moon with Venus over the trees. Nothing to write home about. But fun to try to capture! I was inspired to try by Robert Hubbell’s daily dose of perspective that morning, of the moon the night before (below): Knowing I could not come remotely close. I am sure grateful for living with dark sky.
Just for fun, since WordPress gives the option when you add a photo, I chose the option to let AI generate an image. I specified “new moon with Venus over tree.” AI at least did not do as well as I did! It’s second attempt with the same instruction was a glorious full moon. Give me iPhone or Hubbell any night.

Cheese Sandwich: Hospital Edition

Sep24

Imagine my gratitude when I awoke in the recovery room one week ago today, looked up at the clock across from me at exactly noon, and was shortly wheeled to a lovely room with a view. Imagine my delight when the lunch they brought me was a cheese sandwich! And a damn good one, at that.

I think this is the same room I got fourteen years ago after another surgery. I remember being so grateful then that I got a single room with a view of the trees, as I was last week. I’ve been at home recovering since last Wednesday, with all the best care a girl could get from her community of friends. There have been some hiccups, and I’m learning some profound lessons. In the way of lessons, they’re often nothing we haven’t already learned, but they come back with more clarity, nuance, and relevance.

Sign on the ceiling above the hospital bed…

More later. I’m still pretty tired. And awash in gratitude, for the artistry of the surgeon, the quality of care at the hospital, the friends who have rallied around to attend to my every need, and the needs of my dear carer who came down with covid the day after she arrived. The biggest hiccup.

Morning after breakfast. It was tasty, but I have been belching nonstop ever since. I mean, all that day, all the next day, up to ten burps a minute… It calms down when I am still for awhile, but the second I move a limb or take a deep breath, or speak, or swallow a mouthful of anything, it’s greps, greps, greps – my new vocabulary word!
Home Sweet Home

Medical Care

Aug15
I deconstructed today’s cheese sandwich: grilled chicken strips and tomato on toast, with cheddar in a chopped tomato and avocado salad.

This morning I dropped off the little dingo at a friend’s house for an hour while I drove to town to get a pneumonia vaccine. This fall I plan to get all my shots before the hip replacement. I’m grateful for the research and researchers through the years that made vaccines safe, for my PCP who recommended I get the pneumonia shot, for the shingles and covid vaccines I’ve received over the past few years, for the shots yet to come this fall. I’m grateful for the childhood vaccines my parents made sure I received, and for not getting polio because of that.

I’m grateful for the medical care currently available to us in rural western Colorado, and I understand that rural healthcare throughout the country faces profound, systems level issues including funding, clinical care, and mortality disparities with urban healthcare. We are very fortunate in this, one of the lowest income counties in the state, to have the quality of care we do. I am especially grateful for the excellent care from the providers at the West Elk Clinic just twenty minutes away, and for the kindness of the nurse who stuck me in the arm this morning. I’m grateful for all of the hardworking and compassionate medical providers and first responders in this community.

Simple Pleasures

Aug14

One day at the pond I saw three small frogs and two big frogs. My times in the pond have brought more peace and joy than I could have imagined, especially when I find myself eye to eye with a frog. Even though I’m not posting every day right now, I’m still grateful every day; even though it’s been a challenging summer, I’m still grateful every day. Simply experiencing myself as another living being in this little ecosystem fills me with gratitude.

Progress continues, slowly but surely.

And with progress comes motivation to spend relaxing time at the pond as well as work time in it. Once again I can sit with coffee in the morning at the little blue table, listen to the birds, smell living water, rest in open awareness with contentment. This morning I brought my planner and stopped in delight when I dropped it on the table. The most simple pleasures. Color. Sound. Scent. Senses.

I get an inordinate amount of delight from this small crystal ball which I bought years ago. It was sold as a sort of external lens for photography, but I never did much with it that way. I simply loved the simple perfection of it on a table, surrounded by ancestral cats. But the other evening I took it down to the pond to play, just for fun. No great shots resulted, but the simple pleasure of play sufficed.

I’m grateful for my first fresh tomato of summer–not from my garden, for sure, but brought from the market by a friend, along with Olathe Sweet sweet corn, a local summer essential.
Another day this week I savored a cream cheese and smoked salmon open-face sandwich with a sliced red onion from the garden. Grateful, as always, for the extravagance of food.

I’m grateful for the little dingo who finds the tortoise every evening. I like to know where he’s tucked in for the night even when we don’t need to bring him in, and it keeps Wren in training. In fact, she’s trained me: If we haven’t looked for him by dusk, she agitates until we do. The other night we went out between thunderstorms–she loves her job so much she braved the weather–and she found this hole under the fence. I panicked for a second calculating if Biko could have escaped, but he was tucked in under a sagebrush a foot inside the yard. It took a moment to dawn on me that something had tried to dig under in that spot precisely to get to him! What could it have been? I think it had just happened and Wren had scared it off. We filled the hole and have been vigilant about checking the fenceline morning and evening since then.

Biko has a number of usual spots he tucks in overnight, like the sagebrush where he was threatened (which he hasn’t used since that evening), but this is not one of them. Only once or twice in all his years has he tucked in under this spirea, but Wren found him tonight just the same.
Camouflage Cat along the driveway

Rainbow Season

Jul5

Though we are just entering a dry spell, Rainbow Season has officially begun in the valley. I’ve lost count of how many have graced our skies in the past few weeks. A full double rainbow is rare, and was a lovely sight a few evenings ago. There is much to be grateful for, even as another dear friend lies on his deathbed. I’m grateful that he is being well and tenderly cared for, and that his partner has such a supportive community. I’m grateful to have met the inspiring Hospice chaplain who was sitting with him this morning when I arrived, and took her precious time to converse with and comfort me.

I’m grateful Wren was allowed to visit him with me, and that even though she had some trepidation she rose to the occasion.

I’m grateful I’ve been able to spend some time with him these past few days, witnessing his strong heart beating, his tired lungs breathing, the body’s ferocious will to live; and reassuring him softly about how much he gave to this life, how he will now discover the answers to all the questions we used to ponder over lunch, how he will slip into the stream of pure consciousness. I’ve told him how grateful I am for knowing him these many years, for all the good he has done in this community, for the friendship he’s given me. I’ve told him we will know him in the song of the meadowlark, in the blue of the mountain bluebird, in the summer breeze; in the river cascading over rocks, in the tilth of garden soil, in the warmth of burning firewood, and in the bright taste of sour cherries.

In the midst of big things, I’m grateful for this tiny predator guarding the tattered strawberry plant, and I wish her as many grasshoppers as she can eat.

I’m grateful for my own will to survive, and to continue the daily rituals required to sustain the life of this body and soul. Chief among these is the weekly baking of the bread loaf, this time using a quarter local rye flour for a light rye; and the daily cheese sandwich, now packing as many vegetables as possible, including seared red bell peppers and pickled red onions.

I’m grateful for learning to forgive my own missteps and mistakes. I’m grateful for learning to return again and again to the truth of the present moment, allowing beauty and joy, sorrow and suffering, all that life contains in equal measure.

Remembering to Live

Jun2
The little blueberry bush is overcoming its cold transplant: the leaves which turned burgundy after planting are fading and vibrant new growth is mainly green as the weather and soil both warm up.
I’m grateful these past few difficult days for remembering to live: to find beauty, joy, and meaning in the smallest quotidian things, and to be grateful for each breath I am granted, holding life in one hand even as I hold grief in the other.
The first week of aiming for twenty fruits and vegetables, or rather thirty different plant foods in a week, has been interesting. No time to tally tonight, but I did have fun sticking arugula into anything I could. Like this cheese sandwich.
Where’s Wren? Under the covers, lying on my belly.

Flowers

May31

Whether it’s the flowers of arugula and broccolini drawing beneficial insects to the raised beds, or subtly fragrant pink honeysuckle flowers on the giant Lonicera korolkowii filled with honeybees, I’m grateful for the complex diverse flowers of the garden, of the world.

I started planting two ‘three sisters’ mounds today, with four corn seeds in each depression. In a couple of weeks when the corn is up, I’ll intersperse a vining bean, and a week or so after that plant two winter squash plants on the outsides of each mound. In the raised bed just above this area, I planted three more squares of four corn kernels interspersed with the salvaged arugula dug up when we turned and amended the bed below. Next to those, bush beans are already sprouting, and zucchini seeds wait for more warmth.

Where’s Wren?

The days have been full with compassion and not much attention to my 42 fruits and vegetables each day, but at least I got some color in my lunch. The cheese sandwich du jour is brie, arugula pesto, avocado and lettuce on herbed focaccia leftover from yesterday. I was grateful for a relatively quiet day in the garden, except for a quick ride to town to pick up my car from the shop where tires were fixed and winter wheels swapped off. Little Wren charmed everywhere from the bank, to Farm and Home, to the shop.

Where’s Wren? I was grateful to find a riot of flowers still at Paonia Farm & Home, and wished GB and I had gone there shopping last week instead of the actual farm where the plants I bought were, frankly, kinda tragic. Oh well, “water off a duck’s back.” Excellent to practice letting go with the small losses, so it’s a habit when the big losses come along, as they inevitably do.

A Day Off

May11
I’m grateful once again today for the Parks State Farm – Phil’s Towing combo that have rescued me three times in the past six months. This time it was a flat tire that must have occurred shortly before I arrived home from the last place I went, whenever and wherever that was. I’m grateful that I have to leave home so infrequently that I sometimes can’t remember the last time I did so. And I’m grateful to neighbor Gary who suggested I call my car insurance instead of try to do it myself.
This surprising little flower popped up in the ground cover that I don’t remember seeing before. And it didn’t last long — the next day they were gone, nipped off by deer, which is probably why I have only seen the foliage.
The sandwich loaf provided good lunches all week, including this Havarti-avocado-lettuce-peach salsa sandwich.

I’ve been grateful all week for ample and delicious food, from occasional homemade granola with peaches from the tree last summer via the freezer, to fresh garden salads supplemented with avocados and nuts that I didn’t grow, to of course cheese sandwiches. I’ve been eating more protein recently, and how lucky am I that I can say that? And have smoked salmon in the fridge to include in my lunches.

I made one sandwich with fromage fort, smoked salmon, lettuce, avocado, and peach salsa. It was delicious but it felt like it needed to be on a bagel, open-face, instead of between two slices.

Lacking a bagel, but with a thick slice toward the end of the loaf, I toasted that and added a fried egg, and enjoyed a gourmet lunch. I truly do savor these simple sandwiches with a few extra touches, with deep humility and gratitude that my life at this time allows me such marvelous food. I share the bounty of my garden and my lunch plates not to boast or show off, but to inspire and encourage anyone who has the means to make the time to make a simple meal special, and to savor it. I’m keenly aware that the day may come when I don’t get to enjoy this kind of lunch, for an infinite array of potential reasons: anything can happen, to anyone, at any time. Each meal is a special meal; each meal, like each breath, like each moment, is unique.

Where’s Wren?

Meanwhile, in the garden, each day offers new delight. New blossoms continue to open on the little cherry tree even as the first cluster to open begins to set fruit.

With the coldest nights behind us, I hope, I am planting this week. These sci-fi ‘self-watering’ baskets came from Gardeners’ Supply complete with a water meter for each. They actually seem like the best hanging option for this dry climate, and I’m optimistic about the strawberries I planted in them.

The little North Sky blueberry has acclimated long enough, sprouted new leaves, and seemed ready to go in its big pot filled with special blueberry soil.

How is it possible that I forget over the winter how much joy and contentment the garden brings me? I stepped outside into a cool, damp morning after Telesangha, and didn’t come inside again until lunchtime. I was just going to plant the blueberry, but one thing led to another. I spread compost over the onions, garlic, strawberry pot, and a few other large pots I’ve yet to plant, watered some beds lightly in case it didn’t rain, brought in the tea towels from the laundry line in case it did rain, strolled around the grounds admiring a few things, pulling a few weeds. I noticed and praised the first potato leaves emerging in that bed, checked on the illicit asparagus patch, and puttered with some small tasks, all the while humming aloud or silently to myself like a grateful, busy bumblebee.

The crabapple blossoms survived last weekend’s windstorm, and ongoing windy days, but a juniper by the driveway lost part of a trunk.

The Fuji apple tree, though irregularly pruned by deer, has a few limbs with blooms, lit with late sun after rain. Our evening rounds brought satisfaction, contentment, and a light rainbow. I’m grateful for a day off with no obligations, time to plant, rest, and restore in the garden, time to meditate during the storm, and time to reflect on the blessings of this life I landed in.