Category Archives: Food

just in after having set out 144 cabbages in a fine light rain, the rows straight, the cabbages spirited, and me, the day done, with just enough energy to cabbage on

“Cabbage: A familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man’s head.”  Ambrose Bierce

“Remorse is eating his soul like a caterpillar in a cabbage.” Dorothy Sayers

“An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.” H.L  Mencken

“Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college degree.”  Mark Twain


Painting. Marilyn Wells.



Our Big Dena

Quetzal came skipping up yesterday mid-morning with both hands behind her back. She was glowing. “Which hand?” she asked.  “Left,” I said. She shook her head. “Right,” I said.  And so in slow motion she brought around her right hand and there it was, the season’s first, a perfectly ripe Big Dena tomato. We stared at it for a few seconds, and then she handed it off to me and we stared a while longer. It seemed like a new center of gravity, a small sun.

Quetzal initially placed the tomato in the very center of our dining room table. Later on she placed it on a cutting board along with her favorite knife. When I returned home from Portsmouth, I noticed she had added a small bouquet of sweet peas to one side. That’s how it showed all last evening, last night, and that’s how the tomato shows right now. The Queen Bride, the first begotten, some new revelation sent down from Saddleback Mountain. Our Big Dena. When we go to eat it, it will be like communion. When we walk through the valleys we will know no evil.  We shall stand as lifted. Yea we will stand as lifted.



With Soul and Earth Only

Imagine if every adult in America sat on a rock each morning and listened or prayed or studied their ankles. 6 minutes, say.  Or, to splurge a bit, imagine if every adult likewise attended each morning a garden of carrots and spinach.  6 minutes, say. What would come of 300 million folks sitting/gardening each morning for 12 minutes? 12 minutes with soul and earth only.

Art: Kerry Buck

When Men Walk Together With Eggs

My friend Dan stopped by yesterday just before dusk, and we talked for a while, and then we opened the gate and walked across the pasture to the chicken house. I built the house last fall at this very time. My family was away, and every day for two weeks I worked alone on the house, the weather fine and bright with sunshine. I told Dan all about this while we were standing in with the chickens. How it was to build the house, and how one late afternoon I had put a lawn chair on the roof so as to sit close up with the coming dusk. Continue reading