The Week That Was
Last week was a bittersweet one.
We had a beautiful secondary bloom of fall colors here on the mountain when the outdoor temperatures finally got cool enough to kill the chlorophyll in all the evergreen leaves. I made my monthly trek to Jefferson for prescription drugs, bought butter and 5-year-old cheese at Ashe Cheese, and found a small refrigerator along the way from which I constructed a bread dough proofing oven for a total investment of $1.00. I continued to cut and split wood for heating the house this coming winter.
The thinking part of my week was centered around our nation and how we got from the one with little religiosity and no capitalism that our founding fathers created to what we have today and what we might have tomorrow. (To those I owe private email responses, I apologize and ask your patience.) That thinking continues with increasing complexity.
The week indeed ended on a bitter note when I learned my barbecue soul mate, Bob in Ga, has broken ranks and joined the barbecue cooking contest circuit. One could have pierced my heart with a dagger and it would have hurt no less. I take Bob doing cooking contest as a sure sign that the end of traditional Southern barbecue is neigh. And, that makes me sad. Very sad.
But, life goes on in a strange new world.
We had a beautiful secondary bloom of fall colors here on the mountain when the outdoor temperatures finally got cool enough to kill the chlorophyll in all the evergreen leaves. I made my monthly trek to Jefferson for prescription drugs, bought butter and 5-year-old cheese at Ashe Cheese, and found a small refrigerator along the way from which I constructed a bread dough proofing oven for a total investment of $1.00. I continued to cut and split wood for heating the house this coming winter.
The thinking part of my week was centered around our nation and how we got from the one with little religiosity and no capitalism that our founding fathers created to what we have today and what we might have tomorrow. (To those I owe private email responses, I apologize and ask your patience.) That thinking continues with increasing complexity.
The week indeed ended on a bitter note when I learned my barbecue soul mate, Bob in Ga, has broken ranks and joined the barbecue cooking contest circuit. One could have pierced my heart with a dagger and it would have hurt no less. I take Bob doing cooking contest as a sure sign that the end of traditional Southern barbecue is neigh. And, that makes me sad. Very sad.
But, life goes on in a strange new world.
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