We finally made it to a friend’s to pick the last of the plums. She’d had her fill but didn’t want any to go to waste. We should have been a week earlier; the plums quite literally exploding with ripeness. We lost a few on the 10 minute drive home. The rest went immediately into the dehydrator. They are pure sweetness !
I can look on it as a picture: stiff column in a shock of light, or splash of green shot with the delicate blue and silver of the background.
I can perceive it as movement: flowing veins on clinging, pressing pith, suck of the roots, breathing of the leaves, ceaseless commerce with earth and air—and the obscure growth itself.
I can classify it in a species and study it as a type in its structure and mode of life.
I can subdue its actual presence and form so sternly that I recognise it only as an expression of law — of the laws in accordance with which a constant opposition of forces is continually adjusted, or of those in accordance with which the component substances mingle and separate.
I can dissipate it and perpetuate it in number, in pure numerical relation.
In all this the tree remains my object, occupies space and time, and has its nature and constitution.
It can, however, also come about, if I have both will and grace, that in considering the tree I become bound up in relation to it. The tree is now no longer It. I have been seized by the power of exclusiveness.
To effect this it is not necessary for me to give up any of the ways in which I consider the tree. There is nothing from which I would have to turn my eyes away in order to see, and no knowledge that I would have to forget. Rather is everything, picture and movement, species and type, law and number, indivisibly united in this event.
Everything belonging to the tree is in this: its form and structure, its colours and chemical composition, its intercourse with the elements and with the stars, are all present in a single whole.
The tree is no impression, no play of my imagination, no value depending on my mood; but it is bodied over against me and has to do with me, as I with it — only in a different way.
Let no attempt be made to sap the strength from the meaning of the relation: relation is mutual.
– Martin Buber
Today I’m considering it again. My relation with the plums in my belly being quite clear.
The last day of the year 2017. After a week of rain the sun finally showed its face this morning; the birds running riot in the yard. In addition to the usual feeder visitors (chickadees, sparrows, finches, juncos), we had a flock of robins in search of the final cotoneaster berries. They pulled a few cedar waxwings along with them too. The more unusual sight was the small gang of Steller’s jays. Given their size, I find it comical how timid they are, like a bunch of nervous gunslingers. Gulls, cormorants and crows on the wing completed the picture. I’ll take them all as good omens !
No chestnuts, no open fire. We have ginger cookies and natural gas. Merry Christmas, Blessed Yule, Happy Holidays everyone !
Ginger Spice Cookies (gluten and dairy free)
3 cups almond flour
1 1/2 tsp coconut flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp gr. ginger
2 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp each nutmeg, cardamon, cloves
1/2 cup coconut oil
1/2 cup molasses
2 Tbsp maple syrup
2 Tbsp minced candied ginger
In food processor pulse together almond flour, coconut flour, salt, soda and dry spices. Add coconut oil. Pulse to mix. Add molasses, maple syrup and candied ginger. Pulse until a dough forms.
Make dough in to 1 1/2 inch balls. Roll in cane sugar. Place on a parchment paper lined baking sheet and flatten to ~ 1/4 inch. Bake at 350 F for 6 to 8 minutes or until lightly browned around edges. Keep an eye on them they can burn easily ! Makes ~ 3 dozen cookies.