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What's for dinner?

posted by Helen

I've been meaning to blog but no subject was grabbing me -- apart from more whining about how hard things are (yep, still too much work and not enough money) and who has died (yep, people and pets are still inexplicably dying).

But then tonight I cooked dinner.

I know that doesn't sound like much. People all over the Upper Valley, nay all over the world, are cooking all the time. I cook far less than you would think possible. But tonight I had some chicken cutlets and brussels sprouts in the fridge that were destined for the garbage and compost pile respectively if someone did not take action soon. And a new issue of Cooks Illustrated had recently arrived in the mail.

You may wonder why someone who doesn't cook all the much has a subscription to Cooks Illustrated. It's my brother-in-law's fault. He gave me a subscription a few years ago and I love it. I don't mind cooking, but I really prefer to read about it. Just like I would rather read about travel to third world countries than actually get on a plane.

It is no small coincidence that I had chicken breasts in the fridge. When the magazine arrived, the first thing I noticed was the teaser "Better Pan-Seared Chicken Breasts" on the cover. I have been trying to figure out how to cook skinless chicken breasts since I first stepped into the kitchen with intent to produce edible meals (which didn't actually happen until I was well into my 30s). The best I've been able to accomplish to date is the Chinese technique of "velveting" the meat prior to stir-frying and, boy, that's a pain in the neck. So on Sunday, I stopped in the market on the way home from church and picked up some "Smart Chicken." I'm not sure what made this chicken smart. The fact that it was under plastic wrap and I wasn't gave me a bit of an edge over it in the IQ department, but it was the only choice at this particular store.

The Cooks Illustrated recipe worked well -- better than the velveting and stir-frying. It involved more steps than I normally consider reasonable, but the result was juicy, tender meat with lots of flavor. And the lemon/scallion sauce I made on the side turned out great too. Luckily Dave happened along when things were in full swing so I drafted him to deal with the brussels. He did a great job, never once having to consult any kind of recipe whatsoever. The side dish was reheated brown rice I had made earlier. (If you think you don't like brown rice, Cooks Illustrated has the answer to that, too. Really, you need a subscription.)

Season of Loss

posted by Helen

By November 1st even the birches in the front yard had lost all their leaves and the world outside my window appeared to be dead. I watched a small flock of robins perched in another tree, a species of wild cherry. They were picking off fruit, fueling up for the flight south. "You're late," I thought, "better hurry or you'll freeze."

What did our early ancestors think the first time they observed the onset of winter, the apparent death of the world? When did they realize it was part of a cycle of loss and renewal?

Death, which still seems the ultimate loss, was much on my mind that day. We were getting ready to sing a trio of songs about it for a chapel service commemorating the day of the dead. Oliver had prepared a short speech to describe the songs. The first "Absalom, My Son" was about the tragedy of early death; the second "Thou Knowest Lord the Secrets of Our Hearts" was a meditation on the fear of death; and the third "Never Weather Beaten Sail" was about death as a welcome event when a life has run its full course.

I was hoping my next blog post would be a little more cheerful than some of my more recent ones. Due to my complete inability to leave my office long enough to go to the grocery store, we recently suffered through a whole week of drinking Maxwell House coffee, the only brand at a nearby convenience store. I had some amusing thoughts about that, coffee snob that I am. But recently I've had news of three deaths and I'm bewildered by the piling up of loss upon loss.

Strictly speaking the passing of these three people is not my loss. The first was the son of a couple I once knew quite well but with whom I have fallen out of touch. I never met the son but I feel sorrow for my friends, especially in circumstances as tragic as these were.

The other two deaths are closer to home and yet it seems a little presumptuous to claim them as my loss. My ex-husband called a little over a week ago to tell me that his mother had died suddenly, heart failure. She was a good woman. My principal memory of her is she loved a good laugh. I remember long evenings at her dinner table with much good food and laughter.

I was sad to hear the news, sad for my ex to have lost her. We have had a long association and have remained friends. Throughout our marriage and divorce, his family treated me with love and kindness. My former father-in-law, Bob, was also much in my mind. He and Pat were childhood friends and had been together all their lives.

Then yesterday morning my ex called again with the news that Bob had died. He didn't give me any more information than that but I wonder if the cause was a broken heart.

The passing of Pat and Bob doesn't fit any of the songs we sang at that service. They were not young, except at heart where it really counts. Neither of them were fearful people and they were yet too young for their death to be a comfort to them or to anyone who loves them. I will mourn them whether I have a right to it or not.

Towards a Theology Based on Labrador Retrievers

posted by Helen

It has been almost a month since I let my dog "go gentle into that good night." Getting over it has been harder than I imagined; she was such a big part of my daily life. But bit by bit I am getting to the point where I do not expect to find her waiting for me when I come home.

I read the poem below on the Poetry Daily site years ago. It has consoled me these last days with images so closely resembling my memories of Cammy.

Towards a Theology Based on Labrador Retrievers
by Tina Kelley

I am arguing in the affirmative: that the Creator moves among us today
in Brooklyn, in the form of a black dog named Addie. Her benevolence is deeper
than the farthest foxhole, her gentleness thick as husky fur. Were she human,
she would sort and fold strangers' clothing at the laundromat. Were she only a dog,

she would not fetch without being asked. There is abundance in her, like the butterfly
laying its eggs midair. Bountiful and democratic is her spirit: she licks my hand
like a spa treatment, she sleeps, calm back flat by my flank, breathing like a separate sea.
She dreams of the squirrel's flicking, scolding tail, its visible neener neener neener.

Her vengeance is quick and awful. Yet love of fellowship runs in her blood,
her song like the bird's that is only heard among other birds. She has taught me
the help given to the soul by the mile-wide lawn dotted with trees, by the tossed scrap.
I believe in her greetings, in the wide-maple way she roams from one scent to another.

Bury me in this part of the park where the dogs run without leashes, mix my ashes
with hers. Shield us in our joy, o protector, o collar. Let her true heart be contagious.

Copyright Tina Kelley
Reprinted with permission
Http://www.word-press.com/Kelley.htm

Autumn Reflection

posted by Helen

(photo credit: Jason H. Clark)

Time tipped into a new season this week and summer was gone. It was a summer of waiting and unanswered questions.

First we waited for the rain to stop. Then we looked for signs of life in the economy. All the while, I watched my much loved dog slide further and further into incapacity, unsure about when it will be the right time to let go.

I've imagined the right time will be when she can no longer get up. When I come down to her in the morning (her days of climbing the stairs to sleep beside our bed are long gone), she isn't ready and waiting for me to feed her. She lifts her head and looks at me without recognition. But once awareness dawns, she still rises, slowly. I help her up and coax her to the kitchen. Her once-graceful tail now permanently curved down between her legs and bedraggled. I don't know if I can bear to see her lie down and stay there.

So many people have told me this summer that when the time comes, I will know. Instantly. The time hasn't come. It's autumn and I'm still waiting.

posted by Helen

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~John Lubbock

I will

posted by Helen

And when at last I've found you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do
Endear you to me
Ah, you know I will
I will

- Lennon and McCartney

Full house and new music on the home page

posted by Helen

The Yellow House is full to capacity this week with a gathering of Clarks from all over the country. We were hoping to have outdoor jam sessions on the patio all week leading up to some big July 4th events this weekend but so far the weather hasn't co-operated. It's a good reminder to make the best of what we have to work with.

This week we are featuring new recordings of Wrensong in Fresh Tracks on the home page of the website. Wrensong is the acapella renaissance choral group Dave and I sing in along with Elizabeth Harley, Miriam Langner, Sue Neighbor, Oliver Goodenough, John Severinghaus, Frank Fields and Tyler Harwell.

Memorial Day

posted by Helen

We live across the street from a cemetery. Every spring, the flags appear in preparation for Memorial Day.

It's an old cemetery. The veterans there mostly fought in the American Revolution and the Civil War. A couple of years ago, when I was out walking one morning, I met two young men putting the flags in place. They were carefully studying each headstone, worried about missing one. We talked for a while and I learned that up until that year they had an older man working with them who knew exactly where all the flags had to be placed.

Shortly after I moved up here, we were walking in deep woods out past Barnard in early summer. There in a small clearing was a small cemetery. It had a forlorn, abandoned appearance and yet the grave of each veteran was marked with a flag. Just like across the street from my house. Just like at Arlington National Cemetery.

How I spent my three-day weekend (so far)

posted by Helen

I'm spending a lot of time this weekend on website redesign. I've made huge progress templatizing the new design and finding drop down menus that work (pure CSS, not JavaScript). Here's a sneak peek:

http://www.yellowhousemedia.com/yellow/

Only the home page is active right now. I have about 80 pages to convert to the new template, but once I do, new updates will be a lot faster and easier.

The next big hurdle is finding a good calendar solution for the events. We've been embedding the Airset calendar that Dave keeps updated but I find it slow and all around annoying.

I also need to write a lot of copy. The stuff on the home page is old and I need new filler stuff for the music page, etc. Also on each of the over 70 musician pages, I want to add a blurb and links to their sites. It's a big research project from that point of view, but it's the least I can do for these people who are so graciously letting us stream their original music.

Luckily it is grey and cool here so I don't feel like I'm missing out too much staying glued to my Mac.

(PS - the radio and "Fresh Tracks" feature on the new page work so enjoy!)

Update: the new site is live now!