Sunday, October 28, 2012

Wet October Night

Indian summer is a long ago dream now, as the wood stove creaks and sighs in the background of my warm rooms. The last of the tomatoes simmers into sauce on it's surface, the perfect dual use for the wood gathered all spring and summer. The grapes have been stemmed, crushed, pressed and safely tucked away into their next phase. Many gallons of wine red and white are finding natural yeast, and already taste like wine after 2 weeks of nothing but this air.  One batch of Pinot Noir jelly sits on the counter, slowly thickening into it's jell.
The jams of cherry, strawberry and plum have a new shelf, under the green beans, applesauce, over the pickles, tomatio sauce and potatoes.  The second most comforting thing next to a woodstove is a full larder. It's just a used bookcase we found at a little Lafayette thrift store for 20.00, but it holds the winter's goodies and lots of work in a nice arrangement rather like a gallery of food behind glass.

October.

Soon we will celebrate the Day of the Dead. Harvest time and the light change makes us think of our mortality it would seem. We approach winter with all the best intentions, and yet our own unknown expiration date is always there somewhere, and we think of those who have gone before, hoping they will light the way for us, because love is the thing which survives death.

Here I wash the floors, scrub the sinks, hang the laundry by the woodstove - ah- it serves three functions tonight.
 The air outside is almost tropical, the drops of rain huge and random. I watch the progress of Hurricane Sandy 3000 miles away, and wonder if there is any relation to our rain storm, maybe they are second cousins once removed? There is poetic justice in the concept that a big storm is interrupting the presidential election campaigns. I wish the common people, the workers who make the rich rich, I wish them to be high and dry. As for the rich, if global warming sends a flood into their luxury, there is some justice in that. (Not that I wish it at all. In Catholic School I learned that is a sin, and I think it still is wrong, to wish misfortune upon others, even cretins who are insensitive and speak leisurely of rape.)
On this peaceful night the air is inky black, no moon shines, the middle of autumn. It becomes time to vote, and to harvest walnuts for Christmas fruitcake. It becomes time to stand back quietly and notice the work of busy months past. We become what we reap, what we sow, as the light decreases slowly toward solstice.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Flowing Free

The Elwha River is now flowing free for the first time in 80 years. I went to see it with my own eyes. As  I walked over the hills of accumulated silt which was the bottom of Lake Aldwell,  I thought of Monica, my Elwha friend. She, who told me that Elwha means "deep voiced people", and that the legendary Elwha King Salmon was gone since the damns were built.

I have not seen or heard from Monica for many years. I moved away from that valley below Mt. Olympus, and only now return to visit in the hills above where my brother has made his home for more than 30 years.
We walked the new river bed together, and words did not come for the feeling of seeing a river literally 'breathing' after being strangled in the hands of profiteers who knew or cared nothing about the connection to life salmon has been for thousands of years to the natives of this land.
Now fish have become a political issue. If you have noticed the price rising into brackets where only the rich can afford fresh local fish like halibut, cod and salmon. Fish used to be s staple food for those living near water. Now it is a luxury.

May the salmon come back to the reaches above the Elwha, 22,000 acres of pristine habitat protected by Olympic National Park. The Elwha have a salmon coming home song, and they are singing it now with hope.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Buying Magic

Buying Magic

"The swans, they were so pretty,
on the little lake...
How did they get the swans?"

I say " You can buy swans." She says, " You CAN?"
Like swans are magical, they should only appear
 from the etheral whims of fairy tale themes.

Because really,
you should not
be able to buy magic.