No Subject

The green wall advances. Rain all morning and I harvest water, take a bath, wash hair, shave; then a huge breakfast, bacon, potatoes, morel and shallot omelet, toast. Read Turin's descriptions of scents, chase down some definitions. -Nothing raises false hopes in a human being like one good cantaloupe.- Anonymous. Read several essays on Dendritic Drainage. Rain put out the wildfire in Kentucky, thank the gods, the smell of a fire in the woods was driving me crazy. Yard work tomorrow, couple of hours anyway, then early dinner over at B's, his turn to host the family Sunday Dinner. He's cooking a whole cured pork loin. We discussed it a couple of times, I'd smear with an herbed butter, cook in foil, off the heat, for a couple of hours, he doesn't use butter (I might use bacon fat, herbed bacon fat, what a concept) but did agree some lubricant might be a good idea, as his wonderful home-cure removes all moisture from the loin. Usually we fry slices of this cured meat. Both with long experience and a deep love for this particular product, it's always fried in slices, cooking a whole one is a different kettle of fish. Be good to see that whole family together, a very cool dynamic thing, everybody giving everybody a line of talk. Southern. The focus on food and counting coup in a friendly and off-hand manner. My intention is to get home before dark and write, but if somebody has a jug of moonshine, plans could change. I try to stay flexible. Also, I don't drink and walk outside my house, I know everything in the dark, and can navigate unknown shoals by the way the surface looks. And did I mention facile, had the thought that I'd gotten quite facile, Glenn's algorithm that if you worked at anything for three hours a day for ten years you'd get better, and I have. This is the instrument I never learned to play, what I mean, you are my family, my readers, all that matters to me, stronger than blood. Not to diminish blood, hey, I've read "Hamlet" a great many times but I keep getting sidetracked, sub-plot, sub-text, I flounder, no, founder, like a fish out of water. Whatever that state is. Where you flop around and die.

Tom

Avoiding the limp
celery is a chore
but better than nothing.