because nothing is cut and dry.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

domesticity...the changing seasons

i'm reminding myself that the most important thing is to make sure we're treating ourselves and the world well.

last weekend i spent two whole days doing nothing but exactly what i wanted to be doing. i rode bikes in the changing autumn leaves and preached social justice organizing to a room full of my elders. i stayed up late drinking wine with lifelong friends and concocted plans of building families and supportive parenting. i hiked in the woods and laughed really hard and went out for brunch.

last night i went to basha's and ate homemade CSA-veggie soup, fresh homemade bread, and homemade chocolate truffles (none of which i can personally take credit for home-making - thanks 1427 pacific!)

this morning i woke up early and made coffee and sat in the living room when the sun was doing it's incredible dawning-streaming-light-thing. i swept, and scrubbed and scrubbed the greasy stove with a passion. i also stumbled upon this poem via facebook friends of facebook friends; i really like it though i have no idea who the author is or my train of connection to them:

HOW NOT TO ENTER WINTER
EMPTY-HANDED

by Verandah Porche

1.

Hold a candle to a mirror.
Spell out the lover’s name in tallow.
Dip a spatula in water.
If brittle letter-blobs chilled on silver
won’t lift off evenly
set him aside.

2.

Fill a black sky-speckled kettle
with a rolling boil.
Steam quart jars.
Can light.
Seal and cool.

3.

Take a cleaver to red cabbage.
Thunk! Choose half.
Ink its imprint: dense violet strata
curved around a geologic core.
Pull yourself together.
Shred the clean side
for a tart slaw. Serve.

4.

Root for your future.
Bring daughters into wind.
Bend to the field.
Watch their white hands
numb and gladden
around red potatoes.
Say: Dig for our ancestors.
See with your fingers.
Quick work.
Frost’s no false alarm.

5.

Squash Song:

Simmer forever
my delicata: two-toned
thick-skinned
winter keeper.

Why take a lifetime
to be tender
While beside you
the slick seeds burn?

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