Thursday, September 30, 2004

What happened to fall?

I woke this morning to a deeper, softer silence. It was snowing. The white sky bird was shaking thick downy feathers over everything and very little of the ground and green of the pine needles remained. I noticed the hush.

Snow deadens and softens sounds. Everything was so quiet I heard bubbles from the soapy water in the sink popping softly and the sh-whoosh and muffled whump of snow sliding down the pitched roof and onto the ground. No other sounds penetrate the silence as showers of fears and sugar slip from over burdened branches and drop to the white ground below. No birds scrabble and squabble over tortilla scraps and apples on the deck or in the yard. Squirrels and chipmunks are nowhere to be seen.

The sky is white and snow sifts and drifts down on errant winds, coming slower and softer now while snow slides down the curved pine boughs on the way to the white humps, drifts, and sprays of white.

I lost the electricity twice this morning and I'm almost uncomfortable posting this now since I do not know whether or not it will blink again. I can't afford to lose my computers to the frequently infrequent power shifts, but that is part of the price of living here off the beaten track and away from the bustle of city streets. And yet when I think of being anywhere but here, I am glad I'm here.

I should have realized this snow was coming. I have had a dull headache behind my right eye and my sinuses have been clogged. Sure sign of storms on the way. My mind was elsewhere, worrying about things out of my control, as indeed everything ultimately is. But I am hopeful that all things will turn out right and my doubts are quiet at this moment.

For some reason, Master & Commander with Russell Crowe sailed thru my mind. I didn't think the movie rated an Oscar. The scenery was nice, the characters interesting for what you got to see of them, but the story was a throw-away with some good moments. There was no continuity, no cohesiveness. Considering they took the movie from a series of books, there is little else to expect. You can't make a good movie trying to get everything in a series of books into 2 or 3 hours. It doesn't work that way without losing the sense of character and place and story line. Nice photography and little vignettes do not an Oscar caliber movie make. Not even with Russell Crowe.

Last night's good news on the acceptance of one of my stories has sparked new ideas for more stories and a way to finish a couple of books. Since I'm not longer whoring for RAC I'll have some time in between working up proposals and flyers for medical transcription and business newsletters. And all of this is happening while a fragrant pot of beans cooks slowly on the stove downstairs, filling the air with warmth and the fragrance of spices, herbs, and dried beans turning soft and rich. I'll have to make some more tortillas for dinner later, but I've almost got that process down to a science.

And speaking of science, I was reading Discover about the Inuits' paradoxical diet of fat and protein. Puts a whole new face on the current low carb, high protein, high fat controversy in diets.

My diet lately has been more towards the vegetarian with meat thrown in occasionally, usually in the form of chicken or turkey (mostly turkey). Meat is really expensive up here and when I'm counting pennies a pot of beans goes a whole lot farther than a chicken or turkey or even ground beef. I also make skillet dishes out of tofu and eat eggs, which makes up the compliment of my protein intake. It's interesting because my Israeli friend is a rabid vegetarian and has been at me about changing my evil meat eating ways. He keeps telling me that with a little push I can get rid of that nasty fowl food and just go completely vegetarian. Of course that means I'd have to stop using chicken stock and bouillon in my beans when I cook them or give up the lovely chicken salad I make with the leftover chicken from making the chicken stock, but he thinks it's worthwhile. I don't. Sometimes I need to sink my teeth into something fleshy and vegetable and soy protein converted to look and taste like chicken and beef and turkey do not taste like chicken and beef and turkey to me. Sorry. You may be able to fool some people, but my carnivorous instincts go much deeper than my olfactory senses. It's either allow me to chomp down on some meat or have me chomp down on a person. Which do you think is better?

I'm listening to more of the ballads John sent me and they wrap me in warmth on this cold and snowy day, making me feel nostalgic and mellow and in need of company. Maybe some beknighted woodsman will stumble on my hidden aerie and ask for a bowl of beans, some warm homemade tortillas, and a fragrant cup of green tea (or coffee -- I actually have some in the freezer that smells good, but I don't drink it because it's strictly for guests). In the meantime, I'll find something else to occupy my time until someone offers to come join me and share a warm cup by the fire.

No comments: