Author: janet

radish butter and yoga| a raisin & a porpoise

body of work

There was this one time I was leading a horse into a field. I was maybe 12 years old and well-acquainted with horses, especially this one. Though he knew me, this horse did not know the field or the other horses in it and he did not feel super relaxed about going through the gate. He communicated his hesitation to me pretty effectively through his body language, a special skill of horses. I tried to relay his message verbally, as I understood it (“No”), to the person who had asked me to lead the horse into the field. She maintained that he had to go in there, and that I should insist. I insisted. He resisted. He planted his feet firmly. He tossed his head around mightily. And when this failed to overcome my continued attempts to urge him forward, he did some impressive snorting and whinnying, thrashed his head pretty hard, and then he reared up. In order to prevent him from running away at the high speeds I knew him to be capable …

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naturally sweet food in jars giveaway | a raisin & a porpoise

musings about foods in jars (with a Food In Jars Giveaway!)

  I’m a hoarder. In the fall, knowing that winter and its limited access to fresh, local food is looming, I can and I freeze in a rodent-esque frenzy, rushing with stuffed cheeks from tree to larder. Over the winter I mete out the jars and bags hoping-just-hoping we’ll make them last until the food returns. Then the mercury climbs and the world begins to green up again, as it currently is greening like a time-lapse film outside my window, and though we’ve inevitably run out of tomatoes more or less by Christmas, equally inevitably I realize that I have over-hoarded, over-meted, over-parsed. THERE IS A LOT OF FRUIT IN THE BASEMENT, just FYI if you are in the area. Every March I vow that next year will be the year that I’ll just Annie Dillard right through the stash instead of doling it out like a miser. And then we go around again. Despite its lack of snow, the winter we just ended was as foodless (in local terms) as it usually is, but …

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papaya salad with queso fresco & fresh mint | a raisin & a porpoise

crazy salad

Normally I wait to write here until some synapse fires connecting something that happened in the kitchen to something that happened outside it. All quiet on the synapse front these days. There are so many reasons for my mental flat-line. Here’s one: my beloved lunatic Dog B, silky grey cherished bane of my existence, has begun to pick up speed on a slide into some kind of canine dementia even though she is not especially old. This is provoking all manner of deep, soul-draining considerations of What Constitutes A Life Worth Living and side excursions into Who Gets To Play God. On a less profound level, her condition is also provoking a lot of cleaning up the floor and daily instances of finding her inexplicably stranded inside the wood box in the furnace room in the basement or stuck under a table. Because I am the sun of her days (everyone is the bread of heaven for some creature), she sometimes leaves off pacing in circles around the room to very very quietly pad up …

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