September 21, 2011

With bread and eggs

I baked this cinnamon raisin bread yesterday.  It's warm fall scent enveloping the house, like a sweater.  I was happy with the results, but not thrilled, so I won't be sending a recipe your way.  This was bread baking endeavor number four for the season.

I did my grocery shopping today, but forgot my list at the first store I went to.  So as much as I hope I won't need to pick anything up until Monday I realize it's a futile wish.  I ordered three pounds of pork shoulder from my butcher shop today.  I'm planning to make sausage, nothing to fancy, no casings required.

I saw a heron standing in the stream on our walk yesterday, tall and proud like.  As we eyed him up in passing the chatter of blue jays distracted me with their calls and funny dance on the strong trees, that had branches dipping like arms for a wash in the water.  Finally the geese honked and sputtered low overhead as though their flight was new and three seasons rust were in their wings, going south.  When we looked back the heron was gone.
We get our eggs from a friend that lives a forty-five minute drive away.  Often our meetings are on short notice but never without eggs.  She doesn't always have time to wash them and so oftentimes I come home with three dozen to a bucket, each needing a gentle scrubbing before they're nestled comfy in their trays.  This work makes me happy and my mind sometimes wanders to the chickens who've laid them.  Dirty eggs are so much closer to the farm than clean eggs.  I know these chickens and the love they receive.  Yesterday these eggs were lain and today I eat.  Thank you chickens.

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