The 4th Thursday of Every November…

is dedicated to gratitude. As it should be, every American should be thankful for the Indigenous folk who saved their starving fundamentalist fannies so that the culture could grow and weed out those who helped in their time of dire need. So, many get together and re-envision what that gratitude could look like now — they thank their families and friends, they thank their lucky stars and Mother Earth, and they hopefully remember to step up and help others in dire need. Capitalism has commercialized it to the hilt, but I like to think that the core of the re-envisioning still stands for most of us.

I feel like I certainly see it in our growing community. Everyone can be a part of decolonization by lending a helping hand (and especially to Native peoples who now may need individual help, as people of our community, and culturally for both politics and capitalism to get out of their way so they can assert their right to self — and social– determination). As Tribal Chief Clarissa Sabattis, of the Houlton Maliseet says, “Food is sacred”, and this festival we call ‘Thanksgiving’ is about understanding food, and food sovereignty — as access to food, and the right to feed ourselves what we think is important, local, and best (and as the right to one’s culture and essential being).

Food is fundamental to how we congregate as community, how we care for each other, how we care for ourselves — it has helped us evolve (and sometimes devolve) physically and socially. And all revolutions relate to the ability to feed the people. Food is health, food is ethics, food is (unfortunately) politics. Food should be healthy and medicinal. Food should be fair and equitable. Food should be shared.

I want to take a moment just to thank some of our magnificient folk who have shared their food with us, coming in and offering their foraged, their homemade, and their homegrown. They’ve bartered and freely given. We’ve been luck to receive such bounty — tons of gorgeous basil (tulsi, thai, lemon, genovese), tons of gorgeous mushrooms (heads of maitake, black trumpet, yellow footed chanterelles and many more), ramps, scapes, eggs, lamb, bear jerky, honey, salads, jams, cookies, and almond bark, smoked chili powder, and bushels of Hatch green chili, berries, and cakes, and creme brulee, kombucha, maple syrup, and seeds. Some have opened their tables to us and we have eaten together. We are grateful indeed.

Duendesday: ‘doll-world’

{life with a curious and crazy 13 yr old}

Since she was a wee one, Duende has always made her own mind about her toys. We foster imaginative toys and we don’t buy plastic so she creates her own little worlds. She didn’t care for dolls when she was smaller, except a couple of stuffy dolls (Big Baby — who is a pillow doll, and a couple of gorgeous handcrafted fairy dolls from a friend of a friend who makes stunning sewn crafts) which she mostly just slept with but then all of a sudden, just when I thought she was getting too old for the doll world, she decided to start ‘saving’ Barbie’s from the Swap Shack (the re-use garage at the transfer station), and then she found porcelain dolls.

Mostly they act as props for her fashions — she loves to design fashions and they rarely do much else (though once in awhile the Barbie’s have been known to have dance parties in disco clubs), as she strips them of any previous clothing and sews new dresses, hats, shoes, etc. It amuses her and is a full design circle for her (from drawing, to sometimes a pattern, to sewing). And now, somehow she has quite a doll ‘collection’. I think it is a middle ground, a tiny grasp/hold onto childhood and yet an articulate move toward personhood. It still fuels her imagination, so we’re good with it.

My favorite story from long ago was from an amazing Goddard mentor of both J & I, who had 2 children. As a strong feminist, she was concerned her daughter would absorb too much dominant culture from her acquired Barbie but overheard the children playing one day, one with a dragon and one with the doll, and realized they would all be fine when the kids combined those two facets — the Barbie, after all, was always in drag.

Which then leads me to a great Patti Smith quote, “As far as I’m concerned, being any gender is a drag”. Isn’t it all costume, these personas we wear…underneath it all, we’re just people trying to relate to other people.

Here’s to cinnamon rolls as big as your head (thank you, B&T), secret diaries, learning cursive, Ted the tortoise, paper moustaches, and fashion as art.

Tuesday Happenings: Catching up

The chill is in the air. The bee balm seed heads sway with frost, the leaves on the peach trees are finally giving up, the witch hazel has had her last bloom for the season. We’ve shucked the beans (such glorious beans — Doloff, Purple Podded Pole, and True Red Cranberry Pole Beans), dried Calendula, and collected tiny Multiflora rose hips. My guilt for the neglected gardens gives way because now there is nothing I can do — what’s done is done. Onto other things like festivities, a breather before next year’s planning.

With that said, we are coming up on our first year anniversary at the shop! Can you believe it? I barely can. On one hand we have a hard time believing we made it this far (thanks to the bravery and support of our lovely customer base) and on the other hand we see so much growth potential. With the final acquiescence of Instagram and beautiful partnerships (like the Good Life Center, the Wabanaki Public Health & Wellness, and Hallowell Pride Alliance), we’re connecting in different ways to different folks. We foresee and welcome more of that goodness in our world. Our second year looks to have some great additions to our wares and relations.

Meanwhile, we’ve been arting and writing away, getting ready to solidify my final degree process. The baker has been developing some new breads (like the lovely Fougasse, ready to be stuffed and shaped), and reworking his schedule (soon to be announced, yes, sorry, we are going to be taking another day off in the New Year) so that he can be a human, too. And the child is a wonder and a gift, helping us along, growing her own self now. It’s all coming together, little by little.

Another Monday already, another muse

Early Frost

BY Scott Cairns

This morning the world’s white face reminds us
that life intends to become serious again.
And the same loud birds that all summer long
annoyed us with their high attitudes and chatter
silently line the gibbet of the fence a little stunned,
chastened enough.

They look as if they’re waiting for things
to grow worse, but are watching the house,
as if somewhere in their dim memories
they recall something about this abandoned garden
that could save them.

The neighbor’s dog has also learned to wake
without exaggeration. And the neighbor himself
has made it to his car with less noise, starting
the small engine with a kind of reverence. At the window
his wife witnesses this bleak tableau, blinking
her eyes, silent.

I fill the feeders to the top and cart them
to the tree, hurrying back inside
to leave the morning to these ridiculous
birds, who, reminded, find the rough shelters,
bow, and then feed.

Monday’s Musing

{book at hand, random page}

Claims of the freedom advocates, like all other claims, are subject to the rule of reason. There is no such thing as a free person in the strict meaning of the term. Basic to human life are the drastic limitations inherent in the structure and functioning of the human organism. Each is at the mercy of the self, but in addition to self-limitation there are the multiple restraints imposed by Mother Nature and by the specific social environment in which the individual is entangled and embedded. Beyond the ignorance, stupidity, blunders and lack of consideration which each individual encounters every day, are the restrictions deliberately imposed by the power age environment. Among the factors in the enviroment restricting the choices and actions of the individual none is more restrictive or omnipresent than the authority of the power age state. ~ Scott Nearing, from Freedom: Promise and Menace, A Critique on the Cult of Freedom

Happenings — Not Happenings

Samhain is generally a time of renewal, of connecting with our ancestors for strength and knowledge in the ‘waking world’. But this waking world is asleep, adrift. It is hard today to contemplate the connection of all things (in time, space, ecology…) but the new chill helps to pull our thoughts and people close.

My people inspire me. They invigorate me in ways I didn’t even know were inside of me. All celebrations have been canceled due to recent tragic events (there seems to be tragic events everywhere) but this does not negate the importance of this mid-season. My people and I will make a fire, we will feast together, we will plan and make new worlds with our triumvirate. We will manifest goodness, with words and actions — by living the kind of life we are proud to share with others.

Recipe Thursday: Stuffed Poblanos

This wonderful amalgamation is brought to you by the beautiful late-season peppers populating Andrews Farm here in Gardiner. Our jalapenos have come and gone but they are resplendent in sweet long red, yellow, and orange peppers (whose name I do not know), green chilis (graciously and mostly for us!), and poblanos. As other crops have struggled this year, the peppers seem to be happy!

And every now and again, my mother gets the urge to make Puerto Rican pasteles — a yummy tamale-like package made of green plantain and yucca root and filled with savory pork bits, topped with olives and wrapped in banana leaves and parchment paper, and she’s nice enough to share. They’re yummy, and go great with these stuffed poblanos.

But there are ways to make these poblanos as a main dish, too. One way is to add chicken or fried tofu to the stuffing mix, and another is to add pre-cooked rice to the meal or even under the peppers as they bake. That would pretty much suffice to make it a full meal for us, but it works as a nice side for these pasteles, too (or a pork roast or chicken). They are super easy and full of cheese (as my friend, Sam likes to say, “I’m full of cheese and confused!”).

Stuffed Poblanos
Serves 6 as a side dish

6 Poblano Peppers, cored and slit down one side (but remain whole)
8 oz. Cream Cheese
4 oz. Monterey Jack Cheese, shredded
1 lb. Corn kernels (we used frozen fire-roasted this time, but corn is easy to strip from the cob and freeze, cooked or fresh, it’s a very handy freezer item)
Sea Salt & Freshly Ground Black Pepper, to taste
1 tsp Mexican Oregano
1 tsp Aleppo Pepper (or Paprika)
1 Tbsp Oil of choice for baking
Queso Fresco (I’ve discovered I can get affordable 8 oz. rounds, I use as needed, for garnish), optional
2 cups cooked Rice, of choice, optional
Sour Cream or Greek Yogurt, optional
Lime wedges, optional
1 cup shredded cooked Chicken or Roasted/Fried Tofu (I like to cube the latter, marinate for an hour or so in Amino Acids/soy sauce and garlic – if possible, toss in Brown Rice Flour and lay out on an oiled baking sheet, drizzle with a little more Olive Oil/or oil of choice, and bake at 375 degrees until crispy, about 20 min, flipping about halfway through to crisp up all sides, use accordingly) — all optional

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a 3″ deep baking dish, drizzle a little Olive Oil/oil of choice.

In a Large Bowl combine Cream Cheese, shredded Jack Cheese, Corn, Sea Salt/Black Pepper, Oregano, Aleppo (or Paprika) and mix thoroughly. Gently open Poblano Peppers and fill with cheese mix. Place in deep baking dish alone or atop cooked rice and cover with foil or baking lid.

Bake 30 min, then remove the foil and bake another 10 minutes to crisp edges (I add a little Paprika or Aleppo here on top, too).
Serve with rice, if desired, and a sprinkling of Queso Fresco and maybe even a dollop of Greek Yogurt or Sour Cream and a spritz of Lime.

Happy Peppers!

Duendesday: Life learning

{life with a curious and crazy 13 yr old}

What has this gal been up to? Mushroom walks and apple picking, for sure — my little Ronja–, but also pottery class and crochet: getting her craft on. At home Duende is making hand-painted beautiful-3D paper flowers, she designed a whole layout of doll dresses in tweed, and is practicing some nail polish painting skills from a recently acquired book. She reads a bunch, dances a lot, and likes puzzles, mazes, and games. She loves Samhain and has been thinking about a costume for months (might be something vampiric, methinks, or kitty — or vampire kitty!). It was chilly enough the other night she begged J for a fire in the woodstove and we were all very cozy.

For schooling, she’s decided she wants to learn some Italian so she is beginning to practice that and this week she is reading the graphic memoir Mexikid by Pedro Martin. D actually set up the last art show for the shop; a collection of Homeschool Art, cleaning and framing the pieces, curating the organization — making themes and aesthetic decisions (the kids loved it!). She has an essay on why she arts due next week, and a physics intro book to get started on. She’s been baking a lot so her math skills are up and she surprised me the other day dropping some knowledge on herbs and foraged plants. She’s a sharp one.

D has been joining in on some store events, too. Attending author readings, writing a poem for the (scary Friday the 13th) open-no-mic poetry night, processing sumac at a foraging workshop, and sitting in on the St*tch ‘n B*tch. She’s generally a good help at the store, too — she can run the register, dust and vac, restock, stamp bags, deliver some bread for the folks who order from the other shops on the street and even go to the hardware or grocery store for emergency goods or the bank for change, hang event posters, clean and bake in the kitchen, make and set up the coffee, and still have time to relax and read a bit, play a hand of Uno or Boggle, and visit the library. Let me amend my statement above — she’s a great help. And on Tuesdays, she takes the trip to Portland to deliver shares with her father (and I know it’s their thing, very cute…).

She seems sassy sometimes but Duende is a good kid and a thoughtful peach. It seems like she’s been cleaning her room since the dawn of time but if that’s all I have to contend with for now, I’ll take it.

A Muse for Monday

Grandmother in the Garden
~ Louise Gluck

The grass below the willow
Of my daughter’s wash is curled
With earthworms, and the world
Is measured into row on row
Of unspiced houses, painted to seem real.
The drugged Long Island summer sun drains
Pattern from those empty sleeves, beyond my grandson
Squealing in his pen. I have survived my life.
The yellow daylight lines the oak leaf
And the wire vines melt with the unchanged changes
Of the baby. My children have their husbands’ hands
My husband’s framed, propped bald as a baby on their pianos,
My tremendous man. I close my eyes. And all the clothes
I have thrown out come back to me, the banners
Of my daughters’ slips…they drift; I see the sheer
Summer cottons drift, equivalent to air.