Sunday's Thought

Spiritual attitudes are always self-fulfilling. Suspect the world and you will find abundant reasons to suspect. Greet the world with open arms and an open heart and you will never cease to find reasons to rejoice. - Bishop Edmond Lee Browning from his book of meditations on the Book of Common of Prayer,  A Year of Days.

Wrapping Meat

There are two more deer to butcher, we did four yesterday.  I wrapped each trimmed roast, or bag of stew meat in clean white paper and labeled them- "Best Hind Roast" or "Three Small Tenderloins" or " Big Stew", "Small Stew" "Pot Roast" and "Summer Party Back Strap Steaks."  Chip said I could go a little faster. I didn't need to write a novel on each package. I like to know what is in them. The details they make a difference in how I cook it. Last year he didn't label the moose sausage and hamburger.  He just wrote ground meat on them all.

Turkey Trotting

Maybe the  Turkey Trot should be the day after the big meal. I'm a little full this morning from the deer steaks, turkey, corn bread stuffing, green been casserole, cream curried onions, rutabagas, carrots, mashed potatoes, beet and asparagus vinagrette,  rolls, cranberry sauce, gravy...have I missed anything? Oh, olives and smoked salmon before dinner. And pies, pumpkin and apple, and I did have plenty of whipping cream thanks to shopping ahead. Like I said, it was nice to run in the slush before Thanksgiving dinner, but I need to climb a mountain today.

Pies and Deer

 Happy Thanksgiving! A photo thanks to my darling daughters home from college and an email to my neighbor James in South Africa (crazy but true. )Maybe there will be more, if I can figure out how the camera and computer work. Stoli made the crusts, JJ  filled them up (apple) and Chip shot the deer (that's backstrap.) Me? I just made  a heck of a mess stuffing the turkey.

The Thanksgiving Bunny

 "There's a bunch of bunny tracks in the snow," my husband said this morning, as he carried in an armload of firewood. The girls were still sleeping, and I should have been. My husband is an early riser. (About 4:30. This was closer to 6.) I hadn't had coffee yet, and was thinking about starting the pies for tomorrow. I need the girls to make the crusts though. Mine are like play-dough.  The rabbit my husband is referring to is a domestic bunny. He looks like a siamese cat, with a beautiful coat. He sits under the bird feeder and nibbles seeds. I leave carrots and apples for him.

Gathering Together

It's not always easy gathering together for the holidays. My daughter Stoli somehow got out of Anchorage in yesterday's ice storm, and landed safely in Juneau last night. There's a light skiff of snow, and it is still falling gently in the dawn fog. Hopefully pilot Sam will fly her here today, if not, her older sister lives there, so they can visit and she has a place to stay. There is a ferry tomorrow morning at 7am.

Circling Home

 I'm lying in bed this morning, in the dark, thinking that whoever invented flannel sheets should have won a Nobel prize for human comfort in cold climates. (Dog comfort too, my terrier Phoebe has made a nice nest by the back of my knees.) I'm listening to the morning news, when a story comes on about a scientist doing experiments on people walking in straight lines. He takes them to a field, or a parking lot, blindfolds them, and says to walk in a straight line. No one can do it. Not one person. Everyone walks in circles.

Sunday's Thought

From Madeleine L'Engle's The Irrational Season:
I find it a good discipline to believe as many as seven impossible things every morning before breakfast. How dull the world would be if we limited ourselves to the possible. The only God who seems to me to be worth believing in is impossible for mortal man to understand, and therefore he teaches us through this impossible.

Blessing Buckshot and Bobby Pins

 I made oatmeal for the chickens again this morning, and they didn't mind that it was a little brown on the bottom. Yes, I burned it, again. This happens when my husband is not here to remind me to watch the pot. But the hens like the soft, warm grain on these cold mornings when their water is frozen. Speaking of water and a kind if warmth, yesterday at noon a handful of us from St. Michael's gathered inside the new gift shop on Main Street, Buckshot and Bobby Pins, to bless it.



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