I sit here listening to the speeches and songs from the inauguration of Joe Biden and feel hope for their future. Some songs bring a tear to my eye - who can stay dry-eyed during ‘Amazing Grace’? But the sun is shining and I feel good.
As I walked down the laneway to open the gate for Carm (he was going to get a wonderful Italian wine that is on sale), the refrain of ‘Amazing Grace’ looped in my head. I looked around me, surrounded by snow covered limbs and a powder blue sky, it felt like a prayer to Nature, a prayer to my own soul.
Winter is a dichotomy of fury and stunning beauty. It is perhaps made more wondrous because of the contrast. The view out of the window inspired me to take a stroll on the snow shoes again today.
It’s bone broth day today - a combination of chicken backs, turkey frame and any leftover bones from our meals, are immersed in water in the instant pot and cooked for 3 hours. At the end it is strained, saving the now mushy bones for the dogs, and the broth divided between jars for the dogs and jars for us. It’s a long, hands free, process that yields a beautiful gelatinous broth that the dogs go crazy for. Spike was always ho hum about breakfast until I started making this - now he leaps and runs.
AKKKKK!!!! The 8qt instant pot died after doing its duty with the bone broth. I’m heartbroken. Thanks to all the babbling I do in the blog, we were able to narrow down the date we got it to find the receipt. September 2017. Carm’s put in a ticket.
Our space age looking video chat apparatus got a workout tonight - the new battery pack works great!
I was inspired by some letters by E.B. White and had to share a few of the best.
“A writer should concern himself with whatever absorbs his fancy, stirs his heart, and unlimbers his typewriter. I feel no obligation to deal with politics. I do feel a responsibility to society because of going into print: a writer has the duty to be good, not lousy; true, not false; lively, not dull; accurate, not full of error. He should tend to lift people up, not lower them down. Writers do not merely reflect and interpret life, they inform and shape life.
~E.B. White
“Dear Mr. Nadeau:
As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.
Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society — things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man’s curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.
Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
Sincerely,
E. B. White”
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