THE DARK TIME

My whole life I have been an advocate against child abuse.  I have shouted, written, marched, posted, cried and worked with both children and adults.  Several years ago I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of children I would about read in the papers who had died at the 'hand' of abuse.  I recall feeling compelled to keep a small notebook of their names, ages, and their hometowns.  I would open this notebook and read their names each night before I went to bed.  I wanted so desperately to keep them alive, to keep them in my heart, to give them love.  

After a few years, this notebook became too full, my heart too heavy, and I could not open it anymore. Today, a list of the names of the children killed in Newtown, Connecticut rests here by my side.  I read their names, I tuck them into my heart. The thought passed through my mind to enter their names here, but I won't.  In some ways I feel how unfortunate that the media, I think without true intention, seems to be exploiting this incident.  I fear it will become a political issue and our politicians will use it to be heard, to seem better, to stand out.  I fear that the kind of media attention this is receiving, (milking blood from this tragedy to have 'air time') will surely push someone over the edge to 'top' this count, this event.

I feel small and powerless.  I feel not unlike this dark, dreary day.  The Winter Solstice is upon us, the darkest night of the year.  It is a dark time, a very dark time.  Yet it is a time that the coming light can open us up to our better selves.  We are in a time of great need, both here and abroad.  We are in a time that needs us more than ever before...and we must stand and be counted.  

We must not only lament, and pray, and talk in serious, grave tones with one another.  We must change.

FORLORNE 'SOLDIERS' NO MORE

Up until just two days ago, I feared that the following poem I wrote last January would be true of this year as well.

 

Absorbed

The ground is bare

and brown.

Dried and broken,

nearly beyond recognition,

leaves scatter themselves

in the breeze,

and as I walk back to my cabin,

my feet cannot avoid the plethora

of pinecones

littered in my path.

I do not mind,

rather enjoy 

the music of the

crunch, crunch, crunch.

Still, I ache for snow

on this January day,

when at 44 degrees

it seems more like spring.

My skis,

forlorn upright soldiers

lean against the too

warm bricks

of the basement wall

dejectedly,

longing as I do

for the shush, shush, shush

of winters past...

longing for the woods,

for the densely white silence

that opens up

and takes us deeply in

until we disperse

our cellular structure

and are no more.

January 2012

Now it might happen that this is the only snowfall we will get, or one of only a few, however

as I am just back from my first ski of the season...

still feeling the thrill of the magic and beauty that surrounded me

I am nothing but grateful...

grateful for the silence, the solitude, the majesty of winter.  And however foolish it might sound, I do think of my skis propped against the basement bricks....waiting...waiting...waiting...and I think now that they are grateful, too.

'TIS THE SEASON OF GIVING

The season of creating, the season of giving.

I attended a Holiday Fair last weekend.  The plethora of colors, textures, smells, and gaily dressed shoppers was heady.  I love attending such events, mostly to see and touch the creativity of others.  I must say there were many booths that boasted the same kind of item, especially bags.  There were bags of every shape, color, size and function.

I was drawn to some tiny bags time and again.  I kept fingering them, and trying to decide how many to purchase.  The last time I approached this booth, with the intention to buy something, the light lit inside...."I can make these!"  And of course it was precisely the kind of thing I could make.

I call these Bead Bags

and I will fill them with various sizes, shapes and colors of beads, along with leather thongs, and silken ribbons.  They shall become Christmas gifts.  

Somehow it is the making and the giving that is the most joyful part of this holiday season for me.  There is something in the giving that far exceeds the getting, filling me with tingling anticipation and excitement.

May everyone have a season of giving.

MEDITATIONS

Once the season changes and the darkness sets in around 5:00 I notice that my inner feelings turn to warmer, quieter things.  It seems like one wants to hole up a bit now, cozy in the warmth of the house, dinner far earlier than in the days of long light, and then curl up in the corner of the sofa with my knitting.

I only knit in the late fall and winter, despite loving to knit.  It was with great eagerness I took out the needles and the yarn, and decided to knit some fingerless gloves, or as I prefer to call them hand-warmers.  I knit myself two pair last year, and wore them only occasionally.  For some reason this year, I took them out, and they became a real boon to me and my hands.  I have had Raynard's Disease since I was in my 20's, and for those of you who might not know what that is, it is a circulation problem in the fingers and toes, brought on by a (at least for me) change of temperature.  Honestly, sometimes my hands are dead white, just like those of a corpse.  (It also happens in the summer if I abruptly go into an air conditioned building.)  I have learned to live with this, and learned to compensate with lots of tricks, and winter still remains my favorite season of the year.  However, I took the wool hand warmers out and began wearing them around the house and find that they certainly help keep my Raynard's at bay.  I also started wearing them to Zumba and most everyone who saw them not only loved them, but wanted a pair....and so my compulsive knitting of woolen hand warmers began...

 ...pale green and gray hand warmers...

...the turquoise, my favorite color...

...for my friend Lori...

...still to be given...

...clockwise from 1:00...Carolyn's, Karen's, Lori's, Heather's, Janet's, mine, and Joan's...

...these include a pair for my daughter and my friends Laurel and Geri...

This pattern is quite simple, worked primarily in rows of three, yet despite that, and quietly chanting to myself, one, one, one, two, two, two..etc., I am often at a lose as to which row I am really on and have to do some counting of rows. 

 Knitting is truly a meditative activity, and not long after the first few rhythmic stitches, a kind of deep quiet descends over me, and I wander into the solitude.  It really is quite Zen-like and is in part the reason that I made pair after pair of these hand warmers. 

Still, I find that I often create in multiples.  While working on one, somewhere in my mind another one, with different colors, and a different arrangement is being born, and I am eager to bring that one forth as well.  The well of 'creation' seems rich and deep and it not only brings things forth, but it fills me up as well.

In My Little Corner of the World

I know most of us, if not all of us, rally round and think about all that we are thankful for as Thanksgiving approaches.  Somehow this year, considering all that I am blessed with has left a kind of darkness in me, knowing much of the world has not a tiny, tiny fraction of my blessings...blessings that are so easy to take for granted in a life overflowing with blessings.

I hope that I can keep in the forefront of my mind, on all the days to come, those for whom a blessing might be something as small as a crust of bread.  I know keeping all those destitute people, people living in war zones, people who must watch their children starve, in my mind and in my heart is so little in the scope of the world, but I do think it matters.  It matters for us to keep those who are less fortunate, deep within ourselves...in our hearts, our minds and in our prayers.  It matters.

My little corner

of the world

has no rubble,

no debris strewn streets,

no women buried to the neck

and stoned.

My corner of the world

has no daily strife,

no search for morsels

among the refuse,

no stench of stray bodily fluids

lingering in the air.

My small corner 

of the world

has no machete wielding

rebels,

no stray bullets piercing 

random bodies,

no children falling

senseless victims.

In my corner of the world

there is an enormous

absence

of the dark,

the dirty,

the broken,

an enormous absence

of bitter violence

of discord

of struggle

and I ask

why me?

I am thankful...

thankful my life is 

so blessed

yet, it seems I am not thankful enough,

not in quantity

nor in frequency,

not enough anyway

to balance

a world,

away from my sacred corner,

that is consumed by hatred,

war,

hunger,

homelessness,

grief,

abuse,

violence...

I wish my thankfulness

had power...

I wish it made me huge...

I wish

I could heal the world

with my gratitude.

Joanne Adragna Shird

November 19,2012

May everyone find the blessings in their life!

I am thankful!

MY BIRTHDAY CAKE

I am a food fanatic, and love cookbooks and cooking magazines.  I subscribe to several cooking magazines (however as this isn't especially eco-friendly, I am a bit ashamed).  One of my favorites being Cooks Illustrated.  I do not subscribe to Cooks Country, however I do get that from the library at each new issue.

As I was reading the latest issue of that magazine, I saw a recipe for a cake that not only looked good, but seemed magical as well. (Now I do believe that there is something essentially magical in all phases of food...but magical in the sense of holy.  This was magical in the sense mystery and abracadabra.)  After reading that recipe, (Magic Chocolate Flan Cake) I decided I'd like to make my own birthday cake this year (that was yesterday) and that this was the cake I'd like to make.

Read on and you will see what I mean.

Start with a bundt pan that you are sure holds 12 cups.  Warm up some caramel sauce, preferably homemade, and place 1/2 cup in the well greased pan.

In a small bowl put 1/2 c. plus 2 tbs. flour, 1/3 c. cocoa, 1/2 tsp. baking soda and a pinch of salt.  Whisk until mixed and set aside.

In another bowl whisk 1/2 c. buttermilk, 1/2 c. sugar, 2 large eggs, and 1 tsp. vanilla, and set aside.

Place 6 tbs. of unsalted butter in a medium pan, add 4 oz. of bittersweet chocolate, and gently heat until melted, let cool slightly then whisk the buttermilk mixture into this melted chocolate mixture.

Stir in the flour mixture, and pour this batter over the caramel in the bundt pan.

And now for the Flan part of this recipe....

Place 2 (14 oz.) cans sweetened condensed milk, 2 1/2 c. whole milk, 6 oz. cream cheese, 6 large eggs, and 4 large yolks and 1 tsp. vanilla in a blender and process until smooth.

Gently pour this over the cake batter in the bundt pan and cover the pan tightly with tin foil.  

Place the pan in a large roaster, fill it with water to about half way, and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 1 1/2-2 hours.  Check by inserting a tooth pick, which should come out with a few crumbs sticking to it.

Remove from oven and let cool 15 minutes.  Remove the tin foil and let cool for one hour.  Invert on a plate....

and here is this lovely cake.....and for the magic, well, mysteriously, though I am sure it is scientifically explainable, during the baking, the chocolate cake and the flan magically trade places.  Remember, caramel sauce, chocolate cake, and then flan went into the pan, so when inverted it should be caramel, chocolate cake and flan, but as you can see, the flan is now directly beneath the caramel sauce... intriguing isn't it?

Refrigerate for at least 4 hours before cutting.

(This cake weighed in at 7 #s.)

This definitely is a rich cake, but we managed to each have two pieces. 

It is kind of simple looking, but it is surely one of the most delicious cakes I have ever eaten!!!  The chocolate is dense and moist, the flan is quite heavenly, and the caramel sauce a great topping.  

This isn't an everyday cake, and it is expensive to make, but it is well worth the work...as we all can attest to directly after the first aromatic mouthful.  

A NEW BIRTH

I have had, for many years, a very large collection of old 100% wool blankets. I buy them up where ever I see them, thrift stores, rummage sales and Goodwill.  They used to be quite inexpensive, however, they are quite costly now.  Still, when I see one I like, especially if it is in a color I do not have, I scoop it up.   

Generally I cut them into one inch strips and use them to weave sturdy wool rugs.  However, a couple of years ago, this huge collection of blankets piled  in  my workshop kept calling to me, sometimes in strange ways.  Quite honestly, it seemed like something was trapped in there.  It was from this feeling that the Woolies were born.

I have made around 30 of these 'creatures',

 

including this one, named Jackie, because through no effort of mine, she just ended up looking like my sister (and the one peeking beside her named Rufus).

At the present I have a friend who is not feeling particularly well, and I decided to liberate a Woolie in her name.  She is fun-filled woman, who loves life and color...lots of color.  She is about as unselfconscious a person as I have ever known.  She can always be counted on to adorn herself in the funkiest of outfits, and she wears them so very well.  She is a strong, warrior of a woman, who while not feeling her best, I thought could use a little boost.

....and Patti was born....

Now this is the back of the Woolie named Patti, embellished with recycled silk ties,  felted wool, and an odd button or two.

...and this, ladies and gentlemen, is Patti!! 

Oh, she made me smile while creating her, and she is filled with lots and lots of love, as well as lavender flowers and wool from my daughter's sheep.

I hope she brings my friend warmth, love and some laughter during this trying time.