“When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For the time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
~ Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things
“The life of rocks, ice, mountains, snow, oceans, islands, albatross, sooty gulls, whales, seals, crabs, limpets, and guanaco once flowed up into the bodies of these people, and out came whale prayers, condor chants, crab feasts, and guanaco songs. Life went where there was food. Villages were portable. Food occurred in places of great beauty, and the feedback from living directly fueled their movements, dances, thoughts, and lives.
Everything spoke: birds, ghosts, animals, oceans, bogs, rocks, humans, trees, and rivers; everything made a sound, and when they passed one another, a third sound occurred. That’s why weather, glaciers, and each passing season were so noisy. Song and dance, sex and gratitude were the season-sensitive ceremonies that linked the human psyche to the larger, wild, weather-ridden world.
When did we begin thinking that weather was something to be rescued from? Why did we trade in our ceremonial lives for the workplace? Is this a natural progression, or a hiccup in human civilization that we’ll soon renounce?
I eat at a rustic bar with other travelers. It’s late when night comes, maybe 10:30. In the darkness, Perito Moreno is still calving and moving, grabbing snowflakes, stirring weather, spitting out ice water, and it makes me smile.”
~ Gretel Erlich, excerpted from her book The Future of Ice: A Journey into Cold
“Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.”
~ Seamus Heaney, Digging
Lindsay Nixon’s Deviled Eggs
From her new book, Happy Herbivore Light and Lean
6 small red potatoes
¼ c hummus (plain)
1 tsp Dijon mustard
¼ tsp garlic powder
¼ tsp onion powder
pinch black salt
hot sauce (optional)
paprika, or smoked paprika (garnish)
Boil potatoes until fork-tender, then let cool completely. Meanwhile, mix hummus, Dijon, garlic powder, and onion powder together, plus a pinch of black salt, stirring to combine. (Add hot sauce here if you prefer a spicy deviled egg.) Taste, adding more Dijon or black salt to taste, then set aside. Once potatoes cool, slice in half long-ways and use a little spoon or melon baller to scoop out a small circle of the potato flesh (this is your “egg”). Spoon hummus mixture into the hole and garnish with paprika.
Chef’s Note: Black salt is also called kala namak. Not to be confused with Hawaiian black lava salt.
Calories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Fat. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .0.6g
Carbs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.4g
Fiber. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18g
Sugars. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0.9g
Protein. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1g
WW Points. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0
Do you enjoy food poetry? There are gorgeous photos and beautiful recipes over here at Aloha, a new healthy food support for busy people.
Food, poetry, beauty – it’s all love really, isn’t it?