Category Archives: Cooking

Cooking, Dogs, Garden, Greenhouse, Plants, Sport

Maybe…

Leave a comment

Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Planting Garlic. Putting the Garden to bed. Solving Garden problems. Dead Cucumber Vines and Nasturtiums. Frost, hard Freeze. Mother Nature, time to slow down. Shadow and the time change. New electric blanket. Working with the Soil. Winter is coming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Planting in November

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: A splendid day yesterday, blue Sky, a few clouds, temperature in the mid-sixties, so I got out the trowel, dug ten medium holes in the west raised bed, dropped a bit of organic fertilizer in the bottom, covered that with Soil, placed a Garlic Clove in with care, filled the hole with Soil, repeated this ten times, and after put two inches of soil over the now resting below Ground Cloves, followed that with six inches of Hay from Tara. Now we wait until next spring.

 

Dog diary: Each morning I let Shadow out. She runs about fifteen feet from the house, then stops. Her head swivels from left to right, checking her territory, seeing what should occupy her first. From that spot she often runs to the back fence where she sometimes finds Mule Deer or other Dogs, further away.

Her job is to know every inch of the yard and as far as she can see in any direction. Later in the morning as some neighbors walk their Dogs, she has responsibilities along the front fence, barking at these maybe invaders first from one side of the house, then running quickly to do the same at the other side of the house, being sure they stay on the other side of her domain.

A happily busy girl, my Shadow.

It occurred to me that we might sell permanent standard time, not for humans, but for Dogs. So many dog owners. So many confused and unhappy Dogs. We all love Dogs, right? Even if it strains us to love our fellow Americans. Just a thought.

 

Cooking: I ordered all the ingredients for two sheet pan meals: a Shrimp Boil and Roasted Cabbage and Butter Beans. This may be the trick I’ve been looking for to bring more Vegetables into my diet. Each recipe serves 4 which means I can get three to four meals out of each one. They’re also easy to assemble and cook. We’ll see over the next few weeks.

 

Sport: I know. So, so, male? Right? Well, never said I wasn’t a guy. (and, yes, before you say, I know there many rabid fans across genders and gender preferences.)

Baseball: I was a Dodger fan when I was a boy. Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills. They won it all in 1955, 1959, 1963, and 1965, the year I graduated from high school. I listened to games on my transistor radio as I delivered newspapers. Yes, still a fan and a happy one.

Football: Oh, that, too. Da Vikes. Perennial hope dashed always. Yet. Did we see a glimmer-again-of what could be? Vikings 27-Lions 24. McCarthy looked good. Maybe…

 

Back Pain, Cancer, Cooking, Coronavirus, Politics, Post Polio, Sport, US History

How Great an America is This?

Leave a comment

Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Dodgers win the World Series! Rabbi Jamie’s hug. Joe. Alan. Jim. Corey. Irv. Matt. Torah study led by Luke. Bagels and schmear. Joanne in rehab. Back to real time, standard time. Dark Winds. Everwood.  Heather. Tramadol. The boiler. The mini-splits. My breath. Sight. Touch. Taste. Hearing. Smell. YHWH.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Home

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaphysician

One brief shining: Sitting in regular chairs, my head unsupported by a back rest, fasciculations begin, muscles straining and flexing, moving under the skin, distracting me from the words of Hagar and the Angel, from El-Roi, the God who sees, I don’t notice it, the wobbling, at first, until my shoulders get sore and I’m no longer able to concentrate, be sharp, as my head tilts right, polio wreaking one last not so subtle blow.

 

So. I’m taking notice. Part of my fatigue, maybe a big part, follows from my increasing inability to hold up my own head. Dr. Eunberg diagnosed it, post-polio syndrome. I’ve been to an orthotists’ office and been told my situation has no other instances. They’re going to modify soft collars for me. We’ll see.

Beginning to feel like my body’s falling apart literally from the neck down. A tumor on T4 needing radiation. Arthritic L1-L5 nerves needing ablation. A right torn labrum possibly needing surgery. I mean, geez.

I’m so far ahead of my insurance company with expensive cancer drugs, pet scans, mri’s, and radiation. That makes me feel somewhat good. Even so…

 

Food: Had the last of the sheet pan meal with my Cherry Tomatoes and Beets. So. Good. Planning more sheet plan cooking, easy, quick, lots of Veggies. Of all the health maintenance matters, cooking for myself has proved the most challenging. Just hard to pull off.

CookUnity has been ok, but just ok. Pricey and with time constraints that make it difficult to use. Some of the meals are tasty, many of them edible, but only edible.

May not be getting enough calories, protein.

 

Sport: What a world series! Game 7, extra innings, Dodgers behind with two outs in the ninth…and Rojas hits a home run! Tie game. In the 11th, the 11th inning of Game 7 of a world series with a historically long game 3, 18 innings, a double play ended the Canadian’s dreams. Dodger’s repeat. Not since the Yankees 1998-2000 run has a world series champion repeated.

Meanwhile, back in forlorn football country, JJ McCarthy returns from injury absence. Will he play like a future franchise quarterback? Or, will he rip out the hearts of a Twin City’s fan base already inured to the breaks never falling their way. If the Vikings didn’t have bad luck, they’d had have no luck at all.

 

Just a moment: SNAP. Medicaid. Obamacare. Taking money literally from the mouths of the poor, taking away their final recourse for medical care, raising health care premiums to the    sky for even middle class Americans. Funneling the money “saved” into the pockets of oligarchs. How great is this America?

Cooking, Greenhouse, Health, Plants, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Charred Tomatoes

Leave a comment

Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Joanne. Rabbi Jamie. Ric. Shadow the wonderful. Kate, always Kate. Rigel. Vega. Gertie. Kepler. Murdoch. All Dogs. Cooking with homegrown food. Kylie. Nerve ablation. Dr. Carter. Radiating my T4 vertebrae. Life with chronic disease. Tom and his PET scan. At Mayo. All men with prostate cancers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My Cherry Tomatoes and Beets. Cooked.

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1   Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Me as a Metaphysician

One brief shining:  After pouring three tablespoons of extra virgin Olive oil on the Pepper strips, the delicate Garlic slices, the wedges of Scallion, the whole Cherry Tomatoes, and the hot Italian sausage, I took my favorite wooden spoon and began stirring it all on the baking pan, coating the Vegetables with a bright sheen, the sausages, too. Under the broiler.

 

Artemis/Cooking: Alan reminded me of the sheet pan recipes in the New York Times cooking section when I mentioned my bumper crop of Cherry Tomatoes. He had some favorites using Cherry Tomatoes and forwarded them to me. I found them and another one using Italian sausage.

Ordered the sausage, the Scallions, the Garlic, to go with my Cherry Tomatoes and Beet, the already cut strips of Bell Peppers and last night I assembled them all. My ability to stand has its limits, but I thought of movies where Italian mothers sat peeling and chopping, and did some of the work that way.

I cannot tell you how meaningful, how wonderful it was to once again cook with food I had grown myself. I could have done more but I ate the other Tomatoes off the Plant or soon after. The first bite of the charred Tomatoes? Exquisite. The second of my Beets? Excellent. Overall a great Thursday evening meal.

Two gallon bags remain, one with Spinach and Beet Leaves, the other with Kale. I plan to cook them over the weekend. An unexpected bonus? Energizing my desire to cook for myself. Will cancel Cook Unity for now. Have at it.

 

Health: Saw Kylie, my pain doc, yesterday. She sent the order for my nerve ablation. Should hear from scheduling in a week or two. Can’t be too soon. If the ablations produce that pain free feeling I had for a couple of hours after the first lidocaine injections, I will be ecstatic. Should reinforce my cooking decision.

Hannah, Kylie’s med tech, lives in Bailey, even further west into the Mountains along 285. Maybe 13 miles. Each time I see her we discuss the drive in. She does it everyday, including winter. Not an easy commute for a job that can’t pay too well.

 

Just a moment: Nuclear Don. Red Tie Guy glowing with energy after his meeting with Xi Jinping. His erratic behavior would cause serious, thoughtful, concerned reporting yet because it seems to be only an extension of prior behavior, it seems to rouse less interest. Odd. IMHO.

Asia, Cooking, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Travel

Now, not so other

Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Natalie. Mussar. Luke and Leo. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Tara. Eleanor. Paul and Findlay. Jim Butcher, a summer’s entertainment. PSA. Testosterone. Kailie. Marny Eulberg. Dr. Buphati. Shadow, her mornings. Mine. The darkness increasing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Western Medicine

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ometz Lev. Strength of the heart. The inner strength to move forward. Courage.

Tarot: #0, The Fool (Druid Craft)

  • Optimism and trust: Have confidence that you have everything you need to begin this new phase. The Fool’s lack of baggage is a strength, not a weakness.
  • Living in the moment: This card encourages you to enjoy the process and worry less about the future. It’s a reminder to approach life with childlike wonder.
  • Embracing your inner eccentric: The Fool operates outside conventional rules and norms. Your unique approach to life is to be celebrated. 

One brief shining: Ate the last of the hard boiled eggs with a bit of the regenerative farming sourced dried steak, some mayonnaise, and a banana after I finished my workout, a leg and core day using exercises from Halle, who now works in Dallas, a bit of cardio, another full morning.

 

Health: In somewhat new territory. My PSA rose to .3 from .19. Not a huge rise, certainly not a doubling which always gets attention. Even so, it’s not the direction I want. Probably means another blood draw on Monday as a check, then another one 4-6 weeks later.

At some point, maybe now, I become the Fool on another stage of this eleven year long cancer path. The Fool reminds me to take even this possibility as part of the process. A part that does not suppress seeing the world with childlike wonder. Live until l die.

Mountain View Pain called and scheduled my lidocaine injections, October 1st and 2nd. Left side, right side. The lidocaine anesthetizes my lumbar nerves. Seeing if numbing those nerves stops my pain. That guides the upcoming nerve ablations on October 15th and 16th. Those ablations plus the butran patch should knock down most of my pain. May it be so.

a bit corny, yet…

I feel ok about all of this. Part of living with chronic pain and a terminal illness. I did choose ometz lev as my week kavannah knowing my PSA could change. Strength of heart, the inner strength to move forward. I needed it when I read that number yesterday. And, I had it. I did sit for a minute, looking out my upstairs window as a car went by on Black Mountain Drive, considering my alone but not lonely life.

 

Just a moment: The Chinese military Parade. Modi, Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong Un. A world without us. My son close by in South Korea. Seoah, too. And, the Jangs.

Asia used to seem so far away, so exotic, so other. Then Mary went to K.L. Mark to Bangkok. Kate, my son, and I to Beijing.  Mary to Singapore. My trip to Singapore, Bangkok, Angkor Wat.  Then my son to Korea where he met Seoah. Kate and I to South Korea and Singapore. Later, my son and Seoah to Singapore.   My trip to South Korea. Still far away, now not so other, though often still exotic.

 

 

Cooking, Greenhouse, Health

The Sacred, always, everywhere

Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Labor Day gratefuls: Labor unions. Working class Americans. Of all colors. AI. Productivity. Work. Leisure. Fertility. Births. Their decline in the U.S. Shadow, destroyer of towels. Right now. Artemis. Her heater. Kale and Spinach growing. Beets, too. Tomatoes fully developed. Need to mature. Carrots planted, waiting on the Garlic.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Great Sol + photosynthesis

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev. Inner strength to move forward. Courage.

Tarot: A Celtic Cross spread on the question, what is my purpose in the next three months?

One brief shining: The acrid smell of Tomato Plants, the wavy swaying of Kale in a light breeze, the solid green of Spinach Leaves, Beets in their red and green push into the Soil and above it, Artemis supporting her children as they race the coming cold and waiting for the Garlic Cloves which need the cold to grow, a garden in miniature.

Artemis: The coming of fall brings the chance of frost, which all but the Tomatoes can weather. This vital connection to the Soil, to growing things, the miracle of photosynthesis. Yes, always yes. Living into the Greenman within. And, the Green Woman, too.

That moment each day when I go to the beds, see the growth, even from yesterday, Tomatoes hanging from sturdy Stalks. Next is sweet redness. The Kale and the Spinach should be enough for at least one salad. The Beet Leaves will help. Whether the Beet Root will swell in time I’m unsure.

Garlic, as I’ve written before, has a special spot in my heart. Plant it in the fall, harvest it in late spring. A contrarian.

 

Cooking: Yesterday I made my first complete meal in a while. Rare tenderloin with butter seared Morels, Corn on the Cob, and sliced Bell Peppers. Glad I have those soft rubber mats. They ease the standing.

Ate about half of the tenderloin and the Corn. All the Morels and Bell Peppers. Steak sandwich for Labor Day lunch.

 

Celtic Cross Spread:  Decided I would start having quarterly major spreads since cancer parses my life into blood draws every three months. Tomorrow. Again.

No expectations. Que serait, serait. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. A favorite song of my mom’s.

Yet. What about the next three months? Since these short windows, similar, it has occurred to me, to quarterly earnings reports for corporations, can mark significant change-though I hope they don’t; stable is good-I choose to see them as units of my life. Each different. Four seasons. Four quarters. My own Great Wheel.

The top right card of the staff, the four cards on the right, represents the likely outcome for this quarter if I pursue my creativity, the three of stones, and lean into those who offer me support and kindness in a gentle independent way, the queen of bows. My challenge, the crossing card, the two of arrows, represents, I think, slipping into melancholy due to the physical and occasional canine challenges I face. I suppose that’s where leaning into support comes in.

The outcome card seems apt to me. The Shaman, #1 of the major arcana. The Shaman in The Wildwood Tarot represents a deep connection to the natural world and ancestral wisdom. He is a mediator between the visible and unseen realms, using nature’s energy to bring healing, insight, and understanding to the community. Gemini

As the seasons change from harvest to fallow time and Holiseason commences my place, my spot in that change remains constant, one who sees the world both as it is and as it can be seen to be.

 

Cooking, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Seed Keepers, Shadow Mountain, US History

Help Me?

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow and me. Cool nights. Good sleeping. Figuring out Shadow. Amy. Annie. Luna. Leo. Gracie. St. Patrick’s Day. Taxes. 529. Cousin Donald. Democrats, wherever they (we) are. A world changing. My son and his theologizing. Seoah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Granite Mountain Hotshots

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: We were all together, Maine to Shadow Mountain, spots around the Twin Cities, as we have been for several years on Sunday morning, talking about sleep, yes, but really seeing each other, nodding to the gods the neshama the imago dei in each of us linking arms again as we walk each other home.

 

Dog journal: My instincts about dogs came alive in the struggle over Shadow and coming inside. I realized what needed to happen.

When she came to the door, I opened it. When she then ran away, I closed it. We did this many, many times on Saturday. Many times. Now when she scratches on the glass, I open the door, sit down, and she comes in! Hallelujah. A chorus from Leonard Cohen in his raspy voice as background music.

Shadow and I crossed a bridge on Saturday, from puppy enigma to young dog companion. My confidence level in our relationship solidified. And hers with me. I can see it. We see each other now.

What a journey. 100% worth it. We needed each other and, thanks to Ginny and Janice and Heather and the Granby Shelter folks, we found each other. A journey only just begun. More doggy tails to come.

 

Have found a meal service I like. Cookunity. Not cheap, but not expensive when balanced against eating out. Lots of meal selections, easy to heat up, and all the ones I’ve eaten, six as of last night’s Chicken Schnitzel with Mustard mashed Potatoes, tasty.

I find the four meal plan works well for me. The meals arrive fresh and their use by dates make ordering a week’s worth problematic.

Breakfast I manage well. Lunch, too. The evening meal though I’ll often skip because I’m tired or at least too tired to go through the whole rigamarole of cooking and cleaning up. Still, I need the proteins and veggies. Four nights covered. All right.

Also measure the cost against having a light housekeeper come in twice a week to cook a couple of meals, tidy up, do laundry, unload the dishwasher. Probably a hundred to hundred and fifty bucks a week. This notion driven for the most part by the cooked meals.

Taking care of myself while living alone is not always easy. Maintaining chez Shadow Mountain, seeing I eat well, workout. I can do it, have been doing it, but things that ease the way are always welcome.

Fortunate to have enough money. Kate, always Kate. Still caring for me four years after dying. What a woman.

 

Just a moment: I liked the image that came to me of my age peers as the faded flowers of the Baby Bloom, seedheads ready, needing to disperse our seeds so that a new generation of just and compassionate Americans rise up when Spring finally comes for our benighted nation. Help me make this happen?

Cooking, Family, Fourth Phase, Holidays, Memories

It’s the Best Time of the Year

Leave a comment

Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Sunday gratefuls: Mark working his options. Mary. Turning cold and Snowy for Thanksgiving week. Thanksgiving at the Water Grill. Nexus, chilling and hopeful about A.I. Constitutional A.I. Anthropic’s Claude. ChatbotGPT. A.I.’s policing each other. Living. Cancer. Stable. Long tie guys quick appointments. Loyalty far and above competence.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: The coffee slides down my throat, the heavy mug with the Elk and the logo Evergreen reminds me of my current location as the caffeine hits my bloodstream and sleep begins to fall away, replaced by alertness, keystrokes and thoughts once again merge, another morning of Ancientrails under construction.

 

Hitting the family Ellis in their various locations: Melbourne, K.L., Songtan. All from the top of Shadow Mountain. Thanksgiving week. Holiseason well underway. Diwali. Thanksgiving. Advent. Yule. Christmas. Hanukah. Kwanza.

It’s that time of the year. My favorite. I love the lights, the music, the cheerfulness, the gatherings. The opportunity to celebrate life connections, to go deep into the psyche hunting for ohr, the light of creation. We’ve already had Divali and Samain both of which shared the same Gregorian dates this year. All Saints. Now Thanksgiving.

I appreciate the layered ironies of all holidays. Light against the fading of Great Sol. The depth of learning available only in the darkness. The messy and ugly origins of Thanksgiving, yet its warmth and family focus now. Our need to see Native American stories. Christmas replacing the Roman blowout of Saturnalia with its too often ridiculous capitalist captivity. Hanukah and its noble martyrs who were far right Jews of their time and its gentler but still ridiculous capitalist captivity. Yule, its symbols taken over: The Christmas Tree. The Evergreen Holly and Ivy. The crackling Fire with the Yule Log. A wassail bowl. Singing and Feasting. Cultural appropriation of long ago.

So much to appreciate, to probe.

Then, less than a month from now, the least encumbered holiday of them all, the Winter Solstice. A celebration of life continuing in the darkest moments. The rich nurturing of nighttime, of a blanket of Snow, a bright Moon. The psyche free to roam in the oceans of the unconscious. A still turning point. Join me on that long night. Unless of course you live in the Southern Hemisphere where you’ll get naked and dance around the bonfires of the Summer Solstice. Looking at you, Australia. New Zealand. Africa. Most of Latin America.

 

Just a moment: Reminded by all of the Thanksgiving recipes of my first attempt to cook a Thanksgiving meal. In my senior year of college, 1968-69, I worked as an 11 to 7 security guard at a factory that made magnalite cookware. For the Thanksgiving holiday they gave all employees a frozen Turkey.

I dutifully took it home and put it in the freezer of the second story apartment I shared with John Belcher and Carter Fox. On Thanksgiving day I took it out and called my Aunt Marjorie to ask her what to do. She was a professional cook for the University.

Imagine her surprise when I led with, “I have this frozen Turkey. What do I do with it?”

As you could guess, my roommates and I went out for our Thanksgiving meal.

Cooking, Politics, Writing

Cookin’

Leave a comment

Mabon (Fall) and the Sukkot Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Dawn. Steel gray over Black Mountain. Cool. Dreams. Adults. UC Boulder. Transitional season. Mid-Fall. Drosophila brain. Europa Clipper. Uzbekistan. Diane’s trip. Mark and Mary in Malaysia. Mark headed to Saudi Arabia. The flyover from Israel to Iran. My son and Murdoch and Seoah, enjoying cooler weather at last. The Jang family planning a trip to Colorado. Next summer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ovid’s Metamorphosis

Kavannah: Yirah

One brief shining: Got out the mirepoix vegetables Carrot, Red Onion, Celery and the dutch oven, the Olive oil and the Cornish Game Hen, diced the Celery, then the Carrots and Onions, poured the Olive oil in the dutch oven, clicked to 7 on the induction stove, waited a bit, then used the flat side of my cleaver to drop the vegetables into the hot oil, sizzling, cooking slowly, when the onion turned translucent and the celery, too, I placed the Cornish Game Hen in the pot and poured Chicken Bone Broth in, steam rising as it hit the already hot dutch oven’s bottom, added enough water to cover the small Chicken, waited for a hard boil, clicked down to 2 for simmer, put the lid on and went off to read Jennie’s Dead while the soup cooked.

 

Two significant notes here. The celecoxib (generic Celebrex) allowed me to stand long enough to cook. Something I’ve been unable to do for months. Chicken soup using a Cornish Game Hen instead of a full Chicken. Slowly gaining ground on cooking for one. Soups. Smoothies with protein powder. Sardines. Fruit. Want to make my own food, but the pain was in the way. Somewhat better is enough. Will probably still rely on takeout on certain days.

Second. I’m reading further and further into Jennie’s Dead. Some of it is wonderful. IMO. Some of it I wonder why I wrote it. I can see a path through it though. Rearranging. Cranking up the conflict from the first page. Letting plot and characters develop in a more organic way. This and the cooking? Teshuvah. Returning to the land of my soul. The who I am. I am not the pain or the cancer; or better said, I’m not only the pain and the cancer. The who I am does not have to lie in waiting.

 

Just a moment. 30 days. One month. In this corner, the orange menace, that molester of women, that felonius candidate, the man from Mar-a-Lago! His opponent the woman from California, former prosecutor and current Vice-President of the United States of America, Kamala Harris! This is a fight to a knockout. No winning on points.

Now candidates, here are the rules. One of you will get 270 electoral college votes or more. That person will be the winner. Even if they lost the popular vote as Republicans have in every election since 2000. 270 plus electoral college votes is a knockout. No crying. No temper tantrums. One person leaves the stage, does not pass go, does not get sworn in to office on January 20th, 2025.

Cooking, Dogs, Dreams, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Plants, Shadow Mountain

Oh, my

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Full Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: New credit card. Tom in Omaha. At the Air and Space museum. Good workout. Isaac coming today. Possible personal trainer. Ginny and Janice today. Cooling nights. Gold popping up here and there on Black Mountain. My son. His commitment. Palliative care. Sharpe. Salisbury Steak. A vegetable smoothie. Bad dreams.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Protein

Kavannah: Teshuvah   Returning to the land of my soul

One brief shining: Geez, ever have a night where the dreams stuck with you and you wish they hadn’t; last night I bought a used Porsche that had bald tires and rust, tried to preach in a synagogue bare foot which they said was ok, but couldn’t find my sermon, woke up agitated, out of sorts.

 

What dreams may come. Must have been feeling insecure last night. Perhaps because I got a Groveland UU e-wire announcing their dissolution. Kate and I were a part of Groveland from the beginning and I preached there off and on even after we moved to Andover, then the Rockies. I tried to help them grow. Didn’t have much luck. A feeling of failure. Though I never was their minister except for a brief period. Guess it is a feeling of failure. As I write this, I feel bad. Sad. Inadequate. Groveland was the place Kate and I landed after I left the Presbyterians.

Moods. As I’ve written. Need to return to the land of my soul. Which is here, today, this September 19th life of 2024. Shadow Mountain. Seeing friends. Living. How do I feel? Down. How do I feel? Grounded. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Sad. How do I feel? Inadequate. How do I feel? In my body. How do I feel? Grateful. How do I feel? Gathered in. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Surprised. How do I feel? Glad. How do I feel? Here. How do I feel? Sad/OK. How do I feel? Ashamed. How do I feel? Oh, yeah. How do I feel? In myself. How do I feel? Knowing. How do I feel? Back. Mostly

What I learned here was why I never served as a pastor. Not me. I’m a political activist, an organizer, but never a minister. Even though I tried on the role briefly. Twice. Kate told me it wasn’t me. She was right. I wanted to work. To mean something. Sure, that’s fine. But I couldn’t get to that being someone I wasn’t. I didn’t have the right skill set to help a congregation grow unless I was a consultant, not of the congregation. And I was not meant for a pastoral role.

I found work that mattered, that was me, in Andover. Gardener. Bee Keeper. Dog wrangler. Lumberjack. Cook. Husband. Writing. Learning. Oh, the joy I felt. We felt. How much time I wasted trying to fit into square holes when I was a plant shaped peg. A lover of dogs, plants, bees, writing, Kate.

Here in Colorado I have a new focus. The Mountains. Judaism. Friends and Family. Writing. Learning. All about love.

 

 

Cooking, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

The Jurupa Oak

Leave a comment

The Mountain Summer Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Churros and xocolate. Ham and creamed cheese. Mandarin oranges. The Mediterranean diet. Aspirational. Coffee. Bunn High Altitude Coffee Maker. Espresso roast beans. Veronica’s bat mitzvah party. Rabbi Jamie. Parsha Korach. Numbers. Aviva Zornberg’s Bewilderment. Reading. Plant hormones: cytokinin, auxin, gibberellin.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Evolution

One brief shining: Pulled back the blue wrapper on the bar of xocolate from La Tienda, put chunks from it in a small pan with some milk after I placed the churros in my toaster oven, hit the induction button and pressed it up to six slowly stirring with a fork as the milk turned first light brown, then a deep chocolate as it thickened, the churros finished with an appliance ding, I poured the xocalate in a wide coffee cup and began dipping the churros.

 

One thing tasted like I hoped. Churros and melted chocolate. Definitely an only on rare occasions treat. But yum. The Spanish serve it at breakfast and as a dessert. This is something that will stay on my broad menu. Though I admit it doesn’t bring me closer to the fruits, vegetables, whole grains and fish my inner dietitian recommends.

 

Spent shabbat reading and watching TV. Napping. Relaxing after a rigorous workout week. Eating good food. At least good tasting food. Tarot cards. Working the subconscious through Woodland Guardians and the Wildwood deck. Reading parsha Korach and Aviva Zornberg’s commentary. Which also works the subconscious.

The inner world equivalent of those deep submersibles. Scrunching myself up in the five of vessels, diving with the archetype of a dancing anima holding a Baccahanalian thysrus, twirling among candles. How low can I go? Or following the lost generation of Jews and their trust/distrust of the power that led them out of Egypt only to wander in the desert. The bee and the pomegranate taking me back to the Andover bee hives, the evenings with seeds encased in red. Thinking of Persephone.

Shabbat. Friends. Food. Learning. Relaxing. Reinforcing my Jewish identity.

 

iNature page on the Jurupa Oak

Just a moment: the Jurupa Oak*. I’d never heard of it until cousin Diane sent me an article about it. This tree has lived for 13,000 years. California’s housing crisis could doom it. WP, July 5, Shannon Osaka.

It is a clonal colony like the more well known Pando, a colony of Aspen in Utah, estimated to be 14,000 years old.

Trees and their lives. Bristlecones and Sequoias and Coastal Redwoods and Lodgepoles and Aspen. Maples. Oaks. Wollemi Pines. Dogwood. Ash. Elm. Ironwood. Willows. Ponderosa. Douglas Fir. Colorado Blue Spruce.

We live such short lives though we may travel far. The Tree stays rooted, lets the world travel around it, dancing and reaching for the Sky.

 

*The Jurupa Oak, or Hurungna Oak,[1][2] is a clonal colony of Quercus palmeri (Palmer’s oak) trees in the Jurupa Mountains in Crestmore Heights, Riverside County, California. The colony has survived an estimated 13,000 years through clonal reproduction,[3][4][5] making it one of the world’s oldest living trees.[5] Wiki