Just Like My Side of the Mountain Except for the Chainsaw and the Swearing

Wow! I have not done this in so long I almost forgot how to log in.

I Like Erin's idea of some shorties when time is scarce.

The last of the edible plants class consisted of the most amazing meal starting with acorn pate (ya have to boil them 12 times til they aren't bitter)and moving through comfrey leaf and dandilion flower fritters, flat bread made with wild amaranth seeds and ww flour and another version with lambs quarters seeds (related to quinoa), we winnowed the seeds. There was nettle soup and nettle tort using both the stinging kind and the non stinging (our fingers were stung even though we were careful as we prepared them -it was a wierd feeling). There was the usual wild salad with a host of characters, and roasted chestnuts just to eat from the shell. There were more chestnuts that went into the heavenly concoction of persimmon and sweet tender chestnut ice cream. To top it off there was elderflower champaigne and OH I forgot the bitters to start were... uh, tasty but I forget what they were made of.

Tody I had a melt down as I was trying to replenish my firewood supply before the stuff I ordered comes. I had gotten the guy at the hardware store to put the sharpened blade on the chainsaw and set out to tackle a downer that was sufficiently aged to be a good subject. The usually responsive starter refused to have the desired effect. I chilled and busied myself with a kindling fest (talk about gifts falling from the sky, and tried again, and again (by now I had a whole cart of kindling. When I was starting to snivel about my plight I decided to go for a round of full out yelling including a peppery collection of satisfying swear words. I topped it off with a bellowing incantation of "give me a god damn break and I mean it"! The little sucker started right up. But just to let me know who's boss it ran out of gas in about 5 cuts -and I had just filled it! The tank is really no bigger than a thimble.

I'll save the news of the impending Cob Studio celebration.

How Many Ingredients

Its been too long since my last post. I feel the overflow of narrative being sand bagged by urgent dealings with phantom details of living.

My daughters, once again, inspire me to get on with it as I read their commentaries.
The following may serve to clean up the kitchen of past meals that wanted reporting.

The most recent was my encounter this a.m. with the man on the phone at Charles Schwab who we will call George because I have no qualms about revealing his true identity. It started when I asked how to find the transfer form on line that I needed to download about my mother's estate. All of a sudden I wanted to squeeze through the phone and send him to the office to be fired. It was about logging into the site and saying I had to look up my husband's name and password. George boomed out the words "you should not be able to know that" and I gathered all of the tired, insecure, lonely, abandoned feelings that snuck up on me yesterday while I thought I was living a grown up life of abundance. My own power was supplanted by thoughts of "this is MINE and YOU shut up". The wounded little girl rears her uncared for identity. Poor little thing, she needs a nap.

Next: I have been meaning to report the count and character of the salad ingredients in last week's foraging at the edible plants class and a nod to groundhog college road.
sheep sorrel
galensoga
dandelion
chickweed
plantain (2 kinds)
wood sorrel
yellow dock
horseradish leaf
jerusalem artichoke (*we cheated on this and one other in that they were cultivated)
wild onion/garlic
red clover
comfrey
perilla (shiso, the purple mint that makes umi plum paste red)
asparagus (*the other)
It was yummy and the company was wonderful. I met a delightful young woman named Dani who cheerfully stuffed a healthy handfull of dandilion greens in her purse announcing she was taking them to a friend. She lives nearby and wants to see the cob.

Next: I am whining about taking King's tile table to an art show. It is a symbol. He was going to be home by Sept. 30 and therefore HE would be putting it on top of the car and driving it to West Chester...

I think the clog has passed. I must sign off. My young friend Maureen is coming from NJ to make clay spoon rests and she is on her way. I may have time to get my brochure done before she gets here -today's MUST DO task (besides the damn table).

The thought in my mind is don't forget to notice the beautiful white teeth on that dead dog lying mangled and rotting by the side of the road. Let's hear it for the miracle of canine dentition.

And here it is: Maureen is also bringing what sounds like a yummy lunch, as if her presence is not enough.