Leaf Day

My usual method to decompress is to spend a day reading and the Utah Kid sent a fine book during my trip. B collected my mail, so I stopped down there after a fitful night's sleep. Up before dawn, with a wee dram and a smoke, making notes about Dad. One line descriptions of specific events or traits. I could do a paragraph, easily, from each of them. For instance, his name. Buren Jackson Bridwell. He answers to a great many names. BJ, most commonly, but also Jack (which serves a sailor), and Chief (which also), the usual Dad, and the occasional expletive when our beliefs ran contrary. The book is Six Thousand Years Of Bread, by H.E. Jacob, the 70th anniversary edition of a classic study of wheat and bread. I knew about this book, but I hadn't read it, and here it was. Deep clover, as we say about new pasture. All day the wind blows colored leaves off the trees. They're more brittle now, and the sound they make, in the wind, carries a harsh tone. And the acorns falling. I suspect I've bitten off more than I can chew. Still, I'd rather fail; in the great scheme of things, success is the kiss of death. Replenish my store of rainwater, four five gallon buckets, plus the three gallon kettle (waiting on the stove for tomorrow's fire and bath, temps in the forties). I have to say that a week with hot running water was very nice. And all those home-cooked meals. Brenda makes bran muffins and various egg dishes for breakfast every day, great sandwiches or left-overs for lunch, and dinner with two vegetables at night. Always dessert, so Bill can have his night-time snack. I do love pie for breakfast, though I seem to have been born without a sweet-tooth. Mona, one of the hospice nurses, is as skinny as me, and to the dismay of everyone else, we talked about trying to gain weight. In the interest of which, outside Paintsville, Kentucky, on the way home, I bought some wonderful cheese and butter at a farmer's market, also some tomatoes and kale, and a breakfast sausage that smelled divine. A grind or two of nutmeg I think. I make a frittata, any egg dish with multiple ingredients, and it's so good I'm rendered speechless. I'd cooked the greens for several hours, with fat-back, onions and peppers. Brown some sausage in a ten-inch skillet, caramelize an onion in the fat, stir in the greens, add some whipped eggs. Best enjoyed with a piece of toast, jalapeno jelly, and a peaty single malt, Sheep Dip, for instance. Glendronach. Getting back to you is important to me, I hate being disconnected.