milk and honey

Fascinating to learn during the Super Bowl halftime ads that the NFL is working to bring traumatic brain injuries to Ghanaians and the rest of the globe.

Wet things smell stronger,
and I suppose his main regret is that
he can sniff just one at a time.
In a frenzy of delight
he runs way up the sandy road—
scored by freshets after five days
of rain. Every pebble gleams, every leaf. 

When I whistle he halts abruptly
and steps in a circle,
swings his extravagant tail.
The he rolls and rubs his muzzle
in a particular place, while the drizzle
falls without cease, and Queen Anne’s lace
and Goldenrod bend low.

The top of the logging road stands open
and light. Another day, before
hunting starts, we’ll see how far it goes,
leaving word first at home.
The footing is ambiguous.

Soaked and muddy, the dog drops,
panting, and looks up with what amounts
to a grin. It’s so good to be uphill with him,
nicely winded, and looking down on the pond.

A sound commences in my left ear
like the sound of the sea in a shell;
a downward, vertiginous drag comes with it.
Time to head home. I wait
until we’re nearly out to the main road
to put him back on the leash, and he
—the designated optimist—
imagines to the end that he is free.

1942 📷

Interesting.

One of the benefits of gardening in the South. January 27: tomatoes are sprouting and onions are planted.

Eureka! I finally discovered a good use for whey left over from yogurt-making. Add it to the pot when cooking steel-cut oatmeal. Makes for a delicious tangy breakfast. (BTW, the soft-boiled egg and s.c. oatmeal combo is dynamite.) 🍳

Tragedy and Christianity are incommensurable,
he declared, which we’d have chalked to bluster
had he not, within the month, held a son
hot from the womb but cold to his kiss,
and over a coffin compact as a toolbox wept
in the wrecked unreachable way that most resist,
and that all of us, where we are most ourselves,
turn away from.
                              Bonded and islanded 
by the silence, we waited there,
desperate, with our own pains, to believe,
desperate, with our own pains, not to.

Started tomato plants by seed today in the garage. Will use grow lights when (if) they sprout, then repot, then into the ground come Spring. Never tried doing it this way before. Fingers crossed.

📷

... the third place tavern combines drinking with conversation such that each improves the other. The talking/drinking synergism is basic to the pub, tavern, taverna, bistro, saloon, estaminet, osteria -- whatever it is called and wherever it is found... [J]ust as conversation is enhanced by the temperate use of alcohol, the artful and witty game of conversation moderates consumption of liquor. As Tibor Scitovsky remarked with respect to those who know how to use a public drinking facility, "a half-pint of beer is to talk as bed is to making love -- one can do without, but does better with.”

• .75 oz Old Tom Gin
• .75 oz London Dry Gin (Tanq or Beefeater)
• 1.5 oz dry vermouth (I prefer Dolin)
• .25 oz Luxardo liqueur (worth having around for other classic cocktails, such as the Aviation)
• 2 dashes anise liqueur (absininthe, pernod, etc.)
• 2 dashes orange bitters
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters
• lemon twist garnish (important!)

So beautifully balanced. [chef's kiss emoji goes here.]

“We aim to humanize those who have been objectified.”
   – Jessie Kornberg, Director, Skirball Cultural Center, Los Angeles

From the wonderful Spitalfields Life: "In the seventies, while living in Mile End Place ... photographer Philip Cunningham took these tender portraits of his friends and colleagues."


📷

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Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned to pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace.
In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.

📷

American suburbs provide an excess of privacy, but deny proximity to those places upon which a community life depends.

Ray Oldenberg, The Great Good Place

Ten days in, my theme for 2024 is: “Be attentive”:

• Pay attention to what I pay attention to, and jettison stuff that doesn’t pay back with value.
• Improve focus on stuff that is valuable. (Takes practice!)
• Be attentive and responsive (or least present) to others.

(NB: They all take practice.)

Could any tiger
Drink martinis, smoke cigars,
And last as we do?