NFTNIF Episode 10

Notes From the North IF Decimus Parte

Most days begin like a fire kindling to life from smoldering coals. The blackness gives grudging way to the faintest of lightness, then asudden deep and rich colors are aborning. Ocher, umber, charcoal, maroon, burnt orange, ashes and coals mixed in the horizon. And, like fire, the clouds catch color, burning swiftly to yellow and pink and rose and molten gold and swiftly the colors burn their way across and through the clouds and they fall to ash colors - smeary gray and lighter gray and gatherings of silvery white and finally the colors draw free of the clouds leaving only ash colors - the colors that are left when the fire is gone.

Most mornings now the lawn is silvered with frost - the whole of it dipped in mercury and then frozen to a brittle but scintillating sculpture of grass. This silvering yields most reluctantly to the warmth of morning - every pocket of shadow clings to its galvanized coat until it's burned away in the wan sunlight, a feeble but (for now) irresistible energy weapon turned on the shielding of frost.

The advance of winter has enforced some behaviors on me. For one, I have returned to my Michigan practice of wearing layers. Layers allow you to maintain the desired body temperature irrespective of the environment. Underneath, a t-shirt. Next layer, a long sleeve shirt, maybe a turtle neck. Next, a sweat shirt. Next, a hoody, maybe two. If it's really cold, a winter coat over everything. That's not even counting a scarf (have not had to go there yet!), mittens or gloves, thermal underwear, multiple pairs of socks - some really thick and heavy. Winter - I am ready for you!

To get even more ready, I have started to grow a beard. Growing a beard has to be one of the more uncomfortable things a body can do. First, it's an unsightly, prickly mess warning everyone that you are at least unkempt, probably low-class, maybe even desperate in some way. Then, as the growth continues, the hairs curve around, picking and poking the skin that supports them. Itchy, ugly, uncomfortable, affording little or no extra warmth for the pain and discomfort.

Slowly it grows, covering more of my face, getting longer and curling once more away from my beleaguered epidermis. Some of the hairs do not break entirely free of their genetive hollows, burrowing under the skin, exciting an immune response - the body at war with itself. I smile and smile and sigh and wait. Finally, once the hair is long enough that it forms its own shield against the growing hair, it starts to infiltrate nostrils, mouth, like my awful lawn, growing and growing insensibly, following it's own imperatives. What have I done?

And the insult to a host on minute injuries - the hair that grows now is not the dark, anarchistic beard of yesteryear - it is the silver shot beard of an Old Testament prophet, returned from mind-blasting visions and conversations with God in the desert, only our desert is cold, and the vision stares back at me from the mirror. This better keep my face warm.

D finally got paid, so we paid bills and then went shopping. D's friend Michelle drove into town to go grocery shopping and we hitched a ride with her. We bought food and food and food. That began my spate of cooking.

Our lawn looks like someone randomly shaved the head of a drunk friend. Parts of it are too heaped with trench dirt, other parts of it are blotched like a leper with patches of clay and ostrich-egg-sized stones. All of those parts have not been mowed. The rest was mowed to the quick when we had the chance. The guys who did the digging and strewing and changing of the pipe left some tools here along with the mess. The boss, Mr. E. came back over here quickly and quietly - trying to sneak back out with his tools, but Glenn caught him and asked when he would be cleaning up the lawn. Mr. E. was totally non-plussed by being caught, stammered some vague answer and left, leaving behind his wheel-barrow in earnest of finishing the job.

Since it's harvest time, and our neighbor keeps begging us to take more fruit, D and I walk over to her place and pick a bazillion plums. I go back later and pick a mere whajillion apples. Since it's impossible to eat them all even though we try, it's time for cooking and freezing!

I made the following recipes:
Apple/plum/apricot jam.
Mince the flesh of 40 italian plums, 20 tart, firm apples and a package of dried turkish apricots. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon, half a cup of brown sugar, half a teaspoon of chili powder, 3 oz. of red cooking wine and cook in a slow cooker all day, stirring frequently. Made 40 oz. of jam.

Plum jam.
Mince the flesh of a lot of Italian plums. Add 1/4 teaspoon of ground red pepper, the juice of half a lime, 2 oz of red cooking wine. Stew all day. made 4 cups of lovely jam.

Cinnamon, apple-lime pie.
Slice 24 apples into thin crescents. Sprinkle with the juice of half a lime, 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract, 6 oz. of brown sugar. Mix well and set into 2 graham cracker pie crusts. Cook at 425 for 20-25 minutes, remove from oven and cover with aluminum foil. Serve with vanilla ice cream.

Spaghetti sauce.
Mince 30 field fresh tomatoes. Mince 10-15 garlic buds and saute them in (canola) oil. Add the tomatoes as garlic begins to brown. Add 2 teaspoons italian seasoning, 1/2 teaspoon sea salt, 1 teaspoon ground black pepper, 1/4 cup red cooking wine, 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/2 teaspoon onion powder, 2 bay laurel leaves. Stew at a low heat for 4-5 hours. If you use fresh tomatoes like we did - it's amazing!

Spaghetti squash casserole.
Cut a spaghetti squash in half along the long axis. Remove the seeds. Place cut-side down in a baking tray or dish along with enough water to cover the bottom of the pan. bake at 425 for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and cut side up to cool. remove the flesh.
Stir fry broccoli and onion with soy sauce, black pepper and garlic powder. Stir fry mushrooms cut into thick slices with minced garlic, white wine, white pepper (or black if no white pepper available).
Put a layer of spaghetti sauce (see above) into a baking pan, add the squash in a layer over the sauce. Add the broccoli/onion mix, cover with the mushrooms. Cover once more with spaghetti sauce. Top with cheese, and cook uncovered at 425 for 25-30 minutes, until cheese is browning.

I froze half of the spaghetti squash for later, put up one pies worth of pie filling, and stocked the refrigerator with jams.

The cat I have seen in our yard actually lives with the neighbor with kids. I saw it arrange itself into it's house - then we gazed at each other across our domains, two friendly monarchs secure in our realms. 

It turns out that I am going to be covered on D's health insurance, as his "other". So no ACA plan for me at this point.

We picked some more apples today, and I will be making apple butter next. I also decided to freeze plum halves since you can't even buy these in stores.

So another day spirals down into night - fires burning out in a great gush of color and burning the day to ash. A blanket of gray covers the sky, over us and under the stars.

That's it for this report. Except,
The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones both start soon!!!!!! WOOT!