Dancing With Change

It was a lovely morning and I was up earlyish considering that I'd gotten to bed rather late. With September swiftly approaching, I find that I generally awaken at an antelucan hour instead of just after dawn. Thinking that I didn't want to do much in the way of chores on Labor Day, I grabbed my cup of coffee and went outside to A) clear a gutter downspout and B) trim some hedges.

Before I got to work I spent some time just looking up at the trees and getting some sun so I could photosynthesize some vitamin D. I thought about how this was one of the last times that I'd be taking in this scene of lovely tree canopies. The mellow ortgeist of Eastmorland would soon be a thing of the past for me.

My earbuds were in and music was playing. Hopefully no one noticed and Heaven forbid that someone taped me as I danced in the driveway.

I am happier than I've been in years and feeling vivacious too. Music once again penetrates my ear holes and burrows into my soul; it pulses through my veins like a vital humor. A few days ago I was in the kitchen putzing around with my headphones on and I spontaneously started jumping up & down. Had I been cursed by St. Vitus? That song just felt so good that I could not merely enjoy it with my brain, but I had to move as well in order for the music to travel through me. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in "The Crack-Up":

A man does not recover from such jolts—he becomes a different person, and, eventually, the new person finds new things to care about.

That is what is happening to me. What does Earthseed say? "All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you."

Some of the things I am finding to care about are new new while some are the old becoming new once again. I have blown the dust off an old, stagnant friendship or two, made some new ones, and deepened the friendships that animate my daily life.

Speaking of friends, I accompanied one out to Lapacek's Orchard this past weekend. It was a gorgeous day.

I purchased a quarter peck of Paula Red pomaceous goodness. In addition, I got to see the chickens. 

Plus, unlike my last visit, I spent some time with the goats. They got plenty of pets and a trio posed for me so I could take this Abbey Road-like photograph.

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Having finished my outdoor chores, I decided to take a stroll through Acewood Park. On both sides of the path Brown-Eyed Susans had their refulgent beauty on display for all to see making for a lovely late summer burst of color.

The path that wends close to the shore of the pond is all-too short but it is glorious. Walking through the woods here I experience a sense of Waldeinsamkeit as the mature trees and their canopies give this space a cathedral-like atmosphere. The sun casts its light and the whole area is aglow with a warm viredescence.

And just as churches have their incense, I was treated to the fresh, green aroma of the woods. 

Many of the trees have vines creeping skywards. 

Between the trees you can get glimpses of the pond. It felt as if I was looking at the windows of a nave.

My beloved Acewood arch is obscured by summer's verdancy but soon enough it will be revealed once again. 

Near the arch a familiar fence was to be seen. Yes, the Crack Garlic Mustard Removal Squad was on duty! They were nowhere in sight so I made my way back to the asphalt path and wandered along the fence. All at once that smell, that goat smell, wafted into my nose and I knew I was close. And then there they were, eating breakfast.

There were several kids in the herd and they were cuter than all get out. I am not sure how old this fine caprine specimen is. 

While the lush aestival beauty of the park was on full display, there were also small reminders of what is to come with leaves changing their colors scattered about.

A pie of rye

Having made my first visit to Lapacek's Orchard of the season recently, I decided to make an apple pie. It occurred to me that the crust should be made of rye instead of wheat because it just sounded like a tasty idea and my Slavic ancestors would be proud to boot.

I enlisted the help of a friend who knows more about baking than I shall ever know but had never made a rye pie crust. A learning experience for both of us. All the apples were from Lapacek's and included Duchess, a Wolf River, and other varieties unknown. Our efforts yielded this:

With the near Stygian crust, the gurgling apple lava, and the uneven vent holes, it was the Necronomicon of pies. 

I served it with generous portions of Sassy Cow vanilla ice cream.

With such a mass of deliciousness, we succumbed to madness. The crust turned out well with my butter grating skillz coming in handy as it was nice and flaky. Lacking the sweetness of wheat, it instead had a lovely nutty taste which made me want to bake further rye-crusted pies, including savory ones.

My first orchard visit of the year

August means apples, even if only a limited number of varieties. And so I went out to Lapacek's Orchard on opening weekend. When I got their email announcement about opening for the season, I paused a second in near disbelief that it was once again the time of year for pomaceous goodness. Tempus really fugits.

Lapacek's is one of those places that my wife and I went to many times. It was something of an "our" kind of place and then became a place my Frau would go with a friend with me in tow on the odd occasion. Now I would have to get used to going solo.

The welcoming committee was Johnny on the spot.

Despite the clouds, the place looked lovely, all verdant with a smattering of flowers. 

As I stood there lamenting the absence of the goats, I heard a call to my left. It was another cat but this one had been working and it was eager to show off its prize.

I walked inside to find Kim behind the counter and the shelves rather bare. I ended up getting a quarter peck of Tony Banks' favorite variety of apples.

A sleepy kitty watched as shoppers walked to their cars, likely making sure the hoomans truly departed.

I also bought a couple ears of corn as August is also when maize is harvested. I am planning on cooking this weekend and the menu so far consists of apple pie and corn.

More autumnal scenes '24

We grew a pumpkin this year! It appears that the squirrels did some sampling.

I made an apple pie with fruit from Lapacek's, including a Wolf River apple. It spent a little too long in the oven - look at the Maillard reactions! - but it still tasted delicious.

Piper sleeping on my lap.

The first female monster cereal mascot. Perhaps the first lesbian one as well. Will the Sheridan Le Fanu estate sue?

A creepy night at the bus stop.

At Gamehole Con with Don of Novus Ordo Seclorum. All hail the Great Cthulhu!

A pre-gaming walk at Turville Point Conservation Park.

Rauchbier!

Autumn Scenes '24

I bought some Wolf River apples, the leviathans of the pomaceous family.

Lapacek's presses a mean cider.

A small flock of turkeys cleared the grass under the bird feeder in the backyard of stray seeds that the house sparrows have shoveled off the feeder. House sparrows are the messiest of eaters. I think they prefer sunflower seeds and just cast off the millet and wheat and whatever else is in the feed.

Maple trees are aflame!

I spied Lederhosen in the store windows of Stillgood's recently.

Aside from the cooling temps and lovey colors, fall brings seasonal beers and one of my favorites is Lakefront's Pumpkin Lager. It is actually brewed with pumpkin and has an emphasis on the allspice, to my taste. Plus, it's lagered so the usual sweetness in these kinds of beers is replaced by a nice crispness. I always look forward to this brew.

I had the chance to thank Russ Klisch, president/owner of Lakefront, personally for this stuff last month at the Cap Times Ideas Fest session on craft beer. In addition, I offered a suggestion...

With the AC off, the windows are open and Piper gets to enjoy the fresh air.

On a recent cool night, my Frau had a fire.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 110: Afterimage

(late September 2023)

(Watch the prelude.)

In the first couple days after Grabby’s death, Piper acted differently. I suspect she realized that her sister was gone. Piper seemed more sedentary, that is, she seemed to lie on the couch more instead of her usual peripatetic routine of hanging out there for a bit before wandering over to the cardboard bed and then to the cat house to grabbing a snack in the kitchen and then circling back to the couch. Grabby’s body lay wrapped in a towel inside a cat carrier, just as it was when I brought her back from the vet. My Frau was not quite ready to bury her.

Eventually we chose a spot in the yard and I dug a fairly deep hole to keep local carrion scavengers from digging Grabby up. We buried her one very warm evening, her loss hanging in the air just like the oppressive humidity. I now want to have a little marker made. She’s buried next to the deck and I’d like to have a wooden plaque hung on the stringer above her grave.

The Frau and I are adjusting to not having Grabby around any longer. We miss petting her extremely fine fur – the softest fur I’ve ever encountered on a cat. I no longer wake up to her staring at me when breakfast is a minute late. Her appetite was never satisfied and she would jump on our laps while we were eating or, at least, get as close to the human chow as she could and stare at it. Sometimes she’d drool. 

Grabby quickly learned the sound of a cat food can lid being removed and she came running into the kitchen whenever any can was opened, whether it was her chow or soup, tomato sauce, beans, or any other non-feline food. Now I open cans and look down reflexively to see Grabby at my heels but she’s not there.

She'd come into the bathroom when I was in the shower and hang out on the counter. Upon opening the shower curtain, Grabby would be there staring at me impatiently for, after I'd dried off and dressed, she'd jump on my shoulder and curl around my neck and I'd take her for a ride. She kept my neck very warm in the winter. The only way to get her off was the promise of treats. I still expect to see her there on the counter when I brush the shower curtain aside every morning.

Cat food and litter stocks are depleted at a much slower pace these days and I have less scooping and cleaning to do at the litter boxes. I call Piper Grabby by mistake sometimes.

There are just a million little routines and habits that have yet to change or disappear. However, I do not miss her farts. The lymphoma or whatever ailed her guts gave her the worst gas. She'd be lying on your lap peacefully relaxing and without betraying the slightest hint that she was trying to kill you, this miasma would engulf your head. Waving your hand in an attempt to disperse it was futile and only seemed to make it worse. And Grabby would just lie there as if nothing was happening, although I suspect she was gleefully chuckling to herself on the inside with feline schadenfreude.

For my part, I found myself going to the movies a lot.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, my first visit to the cinema after Grabby’s death was to see this:

Cat Video Fest is just a bunch of people’s cat home movies/cell phone videos strung together. There were kittens sleeping on their backs with their little bellies exposed, cats attempting to jump on a counter and falling woefully short, cats spinning on ceiling fans, and cats casually knocking dishes and vases off of hutches. Plus much more.

Just good fun.

Next was John Carpenter’s classic commentary on the Reagan era, They Live. It screams the 1980s. I chuckled at some of the ladies’ Aquanet-drenched coifs and the men’s mullets. But it has that classic cinematic slugfest featuring our nameless drifter hero coming to blows with his co-worker Frank in an attempt to get him to put on the glasses that allow the wearer to see who the aliens are and exposes their subliminal messages.

A highly enjoyable blast from the past.

Perfect Blue is a bit more serious than the previous couple movies. It’s anime and follows a singer named Mima who leaves the music business to pursue an acting career. She is beset by a stalker and this is followed up by the murder of several people around her. Soon Mima shows signs of psychosis and the movie takes on strong Phildickian tones with questions of identity and what is truly real.

I’d rented this on DVD last year so it was nice to be able to see it in the theater. Not only did it look better, the big screen heightened the sense of the uncanny that this movie traffics in.

This is a wonderful little love story. I really enjoyed how the tension between the two main characters slowly builds before they realize they’ve fallen in love with one another. Their desires are so bright, so hot yet they remain unfulfilled. This is one of the most intense love stories I’ve ever seen.

And the cast of characters that inhabit that apartment building they live in are funny, especially the ones in the regular mahjong game.

I’ve read that this is the second film in a loose trilogy so I must seek out the other two.

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On a recent afternoon my Frau, a friend of hers, and I made a quick trek up to our beloved Lapacek’s Orchard. We were just shy of a month into apple season so I expected a fair variety of them to be available. Luckily they had this handy dandy analog tool letting you know which one are available(red), which ones are coming soon(green), and which ones are done for the season(yellow).

I was rather surprised at how many yellow apples there were. Some varieties do not sit on those shelves for long, especially ones with “strawberry” in the name.

Next to the availability indicator was a tub full of gourds.

Of course I went to see the goats. I love petting them. Look at this cutie!

Lapacek’s has the perfect Halloween/momento mori chair. (Grabby! ☹)

Lots of apples for sale inside. The Frau bought a couple half pecks, with a peck being a quarter of a bushel or 8 quarts. Silken and Wolf River, I believe.

Out back, the flora, including some very tall sunflowers, was still looking very nice.

Lapacek’s has a lot of barn cats. Some will let you pet them while others are cagey and prefer that humans keep their distance, like this one. She was OK with letting me watch her do a bit of grooming but pets were strictly off-limits on this day.

We went home with more apples than we knew what to do with and will have to find a way to eat them all. Sauce? Pie? With pork? The possibilities are endless.

If having to figure out what to do with a peck of apples wasn't enough, my Frau's friend bestowed some ground cherries on us from her CSA box. While I'd seen them at the farmers market recently, I had never had them before. Synchronicity!

At one point, I figured they’d sat in our refrigerator long enough so I pulled them out, removed the husks, and washed them. I popped one into my mouth and found it to be sweet, at first. A bit like a cherry but with a tomato element to it. As I swallowed, the sweetness wore off and it took on a more vegetal flavor. Very tasty.

Now what? Ground cherry clafoutis!

It was quite delicious. I am not sure what else there is to do with ground cherries – maybe put them in salsa? – but I am content with more clafoutis.

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Bonus photo. Earlier this month I spied this classic Chrysler New Yorker outside a diner in nearby Cottage Grove.