Acorn Fall

Sounds like a young war, acorns hitting the un-insulated tin roof of the woodshed. Not a noise you can adjust to. Random rifle shots. Read a long essay by Salman Rushdie about living with a fatwa. On my way out to the truck to get a couple of gallons of drinking water, I got hit on the head by an acorn and vow to go to the Goodwill for a football helmet. Fortunately most of the acorns are almost hollow, and though the blow hurt like hell, there was no blood. I collected enough solid ones for a batch of mush, shell them out and break them up, soak them in numerous changes of water during the day. I cover them with rainwater, which I heat up one time on the grill (a stick fire) and let cool completely, then repeat. You end up with a tasteless high-protein meal, not unlike tofu, which I like for the same reason: you can do anything with it. I fry cakes half-and-half with grits, salt and pepper, a little maple syrup, and they're wonderful. Equally good with a fiery salsa. With a smear of pesto they elevate into higher reaches. Sometimes I do sardines with a touch of wasabi. Caramelized anything. Point being, of course, you flavor things. I stand to harvest fifteen to twenty gallons of pure clean rain water tonight and tomorrow morning, should last me for several weeks, I've cut way down on my water use. This soft water I'll use to clean myself completely. That's important, right? because it's at least green. Pickle water. I hadn't thought about that. When you bathe in pickle juice, you are at least an item apart. One step removed. Hunting for dinner, with a single shell, you wait until two birds cross, it's a matter of habit. Two quail, for the price of one.