Good for the soul

I’ve always hated litter; in fact, I once walked out in the middle of a date because my companion threw a wrapper on the sidewalk. In my opinion, littering is the most preventable and stupid of the world’s sins, and all the more infuriating because it has no proponents. For example, though I am also against corporal punishment, there are people who would readily argue that it is a useful and necessary form of discipline. But no one ever defends littering—even the people who do it. Mark Olmsted  

Twilly Spree, a character in the Carl Hiaasen novel Sick Puppy, has anger management issues. People who litter make him really angry, and those he catches littering are punished. He gets revenge on one egregious litterer by hijacking a garbage truck and dumping its load onto the wife’s convertible (the top was down) and by filling the husband’s Range Rover with dung beetles.

I go to an aerobics class 3 times a week, and on the days when I don’t go, I walk the frontage roads near our house – weather permitting -- and pick up litter as I go. What I find is sometimes peculiar. One sock, a glove, a shoe, tools, sometimes money. Not too long ago I found a food storage bag with a small amount of what appeared to be marijuana. At first I wasn’t sure, but if it looks like marijuana and smells like marijuana, it probably is not oregano. I dumped it out along the shoulder of the road.

Not too long ago I picked up this assortment of trash along a half-mile section of the road near our house. I am almost positive I know the place where this trash came from—the people live in a hoard about 2 minutes away from where the trash was found.

I found myself becoming very disgusted and angry, and I was seriously considering driving by their house and dumping the trash.

But I didn’t.

As part of the Sunday order of worship at the church I attend, the pastor says "As we do each week, let us pause now for a time of prayer and confession, beginning with moments of silent prayer…  I confess sometimes my mind wanders, and sometimes the confession is rather generic and nebulous, but not that next Sunday. I definitely had something to confess. She closes with a scripture about forgiveness, which varies from week to week, and then ends with "Friends, let us believe the good news of the gospel: In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven."

Whew.

Escape!

 The “small” crocus appeared in February and managed to survive without being frozen. I have pictures of them in previous winters peeking through the snow. But not this year. They have finished blooming, and were a lovely bright sight to see in otherwise gray and brown yard.

 
And now the “large” have started blooming. They are supposed to be blooming inside the lower bed, and indeed, the smaller crocus have stayed put,

  but some of the larger ones have decided to make a break for it…

Having them spread throughout the yard would be quite lovely, I think, so it will be interesting to see how far they spread in the coming years.

Guess Who's Coming to Visit?

My older baby brother, who lives in Idaho (the puppy is either a labradoodle or a goldendoodle that his daughter is breeding)...

...sent a picture today of unexpected visitors in their neighborhood. I can't imaging looking out a window and seeing a couple of these in my front yard, probably munching on the shrubs, but I suppose this is just another of those places where mooses come walking. 

If memory serves, I think I heard Arlo Guthrie recite his poem on Prairie Home Companion some years ago, but then again my memory gets rather muddled:

Mooses Come Walking

Mooses come walking up over the hill.
Mooses come walking. They rarely stand still
When mooses come walking, they walk where they will.
And mooses come walking up over the hill.

Mooses look into your window at night.
They look to the left and they look to the right.
The mooses are smiling; they think it’s a zoo.
That’s why the mooses like looking at you.

So, if you see mooses while lying in bed,
It’s best to just stay there, pretending you’re dead.
The mooses will leave, and you’ll get the thrill
Of seeing the mooses go over the hill.

 

Pie!

“Pie, pie, me oh my! Nothing tastes sweet, wet, salty and dry, all at once, so well as pie. Apple! Pumpkin! Minced an’ wet bottom! I’ll come to your place every day if you’ve got ’em! Pie, me oh my, I love pie!”

Sung by Andie McDowell, Michael

 I have made two pie crusts that were perfect. The first time was in 1989.

A friend had raised a couple of pigs. We bought one, and they hauled the pigs to the meat processor. A week or so later, we picked up the wrapped meat and brought it home, including the head and all of the fat.

I found some instructions for making head cheese. It was quite good. And then I rendered the fat. After a couple of days of bubbling fat in the pots, I had all of this creamy white lard, and I decided to use some of it to make soap. The soap was not entirely successful. Although I thought I was following the directions, I failed to do something right. Some of the cakes of soap retained bubbles of liquid lye, which caused some excitement during the shower. 

By then we had made the decision to stop using hydrogenated vegetable oil (shortening) to cook with, and so any pie crust I made was either with oil (which was usually a disaster) or I just bought it ready made from the store. Of course, the store-bought crust was made with hydrogenated vegetable oil, but at least I didn’t have to invest in a can of shortening that I might use once a year.

Thanksgiving was approaching and it was time to make the annual pie. I had all of this lard and I thought, oh what the heck, it’s not going to kill us.... 

So I used the homemade lard to make the pie crust. I was stunned at how wonderful that crust was. But, I never used lard again.... until 2009. Once again, Thanksgiving was approaching. We weren’t going to have pie at all – just “pumpkin custard,” but then at the last minute, we changed our minds, and so I used some of the lard I had bought to make “suet cakes” for the birds.

And so the second time one of my homemade pie crusts came out perfect. The temptation to use the lard the next time a pie was requested was almost overwhelming, and  it is probably a good thing we don’t have pie very often.

But then we discovered Mrs. Smith’s pies. By the time I figured in the cost of the ready made pie crust and the cost of the fruit—pear pie is my favorite, with apple and pumpkin in a dead heat for second, and grape pie coming in third—and the time spent peeling fruit, slicing it up, etc. I decided Mrs. Smith’s pies are a good buy when they are on sale at $4.99.

And best of all, they use REAL APPLES, which prompts the question: What would they use if they didn’t use real ones? Ritz crackers and apple-cider vinegar?