This
morning dawned drizzly, foggy and bleak. The blackbirds were flying low, tree level, and so loud it was glorious. Speaking
of glorious things, Jerry got me some new pajamas which are the most wonderfully
weird things I’ve ever seen: disembodied heads, his and Phil’s, float around in
a teal-ish blue background. I love them – PJ’s, man and cat.
Today is the day before the day that ends the year. My last day to run errands: birds need seeds and I needed my library books. Tomorrow the whole day is devoted to working on poetry. Well, my day will be devoted to poetry; we will take a walk at some point; there will be a nap and reading, lots of reading. Maybe an episode of Perry Mason, these are wild times we’re living in.
And now, a poem for no other reason than I told Justine I had a poem about a type of pasta, Garganelli, when we were in Columbus for Christmas, and she is making pasta today.
Buon appetito!
Today is the day before the day that ends the year. My last day to run errands: birds need seeds and I needed my library books. Tomorrow the whole day is devoted to working on poetry. Well, my day will be devoted to poetry; we will take a walk at some point; there will be a nap and reading, lots of reading. Maybe an episode of Perry Mason, these are wild times we’re living in.
And now, a poem for no other reason than I told Justine I had a poem about a type of pasta, Garganelli, when we were in Columbus for Christmas, and she is making pasta today.
Buon appetito!
Garganelli
is filled with a dozen yolks sprinkled with salt.
He whisks these until every egg is broken and blended
into a smooth golden cream and then the sides
of the cone are folded into this center. Once
every dry ingredient has become moist he kneads
the mass smooth. He forms the dough into a ball,
cuts a third of it away and feeds it into a pasta press.
These he refeeds until he has a
saffron sheet that looks like fine cloth. From here
he works like a seamstress, cutting equilateral
squares no more than two inches per side.
The blend of sciences then become art
as he takes a corner, spools it around a dowel
and then rolls it across a board
(called a comb) that creates grooved
tubes of pasta. And like that he has food.
and then rolls it across a board
(called a comb) that creates grooved
tubes of pasta. And like that he has food.
Happy penultimate day of 2021!
ReplyDeleteInteresting how modern humans mark time on a majority calendar. Many calendars exist, and certainly a lunar calendar makes more sense to me. Still, with jobs and society all punching timeclocks in and out (in one way or another) to a standardized representation of time, I can just say Happy 2022! I've already marked the New Year based on celestial movements, but the paper year of 2022 is about to take effect. Wishing us well!
and I love this poem ;-)
We all have our ways of marking days, years. Light returns, axis shift. Love you!
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