Absolute Calm

A beautiful day. Slept in after staying up when the power came back on. Warm enough inside that I could take a sponge bath, wash my hair, and shave my neck. It feels wonderful to be clean. To town early, trying to avoid the crush at Kroger, but it was still a zoo. I just needed a couple of things and the self-checkout was empty as everyone was buying cartloads of holiday food. Stopped at the pub for a pint and a bowl of soup, went to the library, then drove down below the flood wall to stare at the river for a little while. Came home the back way and drove about 10 mph on the last 7 miles through the State Forest. Three trees had been cleared from the road and I got several nice pieces of bone dry firewood to split into kindling. Stopped by B's place, had a beer and talked about books. Part of the roof on his barn was ripped off by the wind yesterday and he'd managed a repair despite the gale. I don't think I could have done it, but's he's one tenacious bastard when it comes to doing something that needs to be fixed in the instant. An especially valuable characteristic when you live an isolated existence. My plan is to spend part of tomorrow splitting firewood, then clean out the fridge, then make the soup; two out of three would be good. I need to make the soup because it's so much better the next day. I buy these packages of cured ham trimmings when they're on sale, half-price, three bucks a pound, soak them in milk overnight, to get rid of most of the salt; the next day I caramelize the diced ham bits with the onions, cook a pound of navy beans in chicken stock, mix them together with some finely chopped chilies and let it simmer for eight hours. Then let it rest, and eat it the next day. I usually have a bowl green, because I can't wait; make a pone of cornbread and dig in; but the next day, with toasted left-over cornbread, this is one of the legendary meals. The toaster oven is one of the great inventions, and cornbread, with its irregular surface, browns beautifully. Thick ham and bean soup on a trencher of toasted corn bread has got to be a nearly perfect food. Grape tomatoes and water-cress with a balsamic dressing on the side. And I picked up a nice old-vines zinfandel to wash everything down. B asked me down to his family dinner, but we both knew that I already had plans. I'll eat soup and salad, take a walk, maybe call up a turkey. Maybe I'll see the fox. Probably not.