Wild Man in Suburbia (41)
When I was a boy, on Halloween, Trick or treating meant bypassing The authentic, haunted farm houses Of my rural community, spaced Unwalkable half miles distant, Windows black as skull sockets, Their spiderwebbed porches unlit, Graveyard yards unwelcoming. Instead, I was driven twenty five Minutes to the nearest subdivision, Brightly lit with festive windows, Flickering flames of jack-o-lanterns, Dropped off [...]
Smith Meadows Instant Pot Bone Broth
When nights dip down into the 40's, it's broth season in Virginia. At farmers' market we sell a lot of our soup bones, but busy customers like to buy it ready-made. In our archives you will find bone broth comes up a lot. It's the base of many of our delicious soups like Granny's Beef Barley Soup. There's many variations [...]
Galileo & Eggs (40)
Sorting eggs with my son, Listening to a twenty eight minute Biography of Galileo Galilei, Who raked the ashes of Aristotle Over the coals of Ptolemy until The Catholic church couldn’t help But notice. A freckled egg, Cupped in my palm, curving Inward, sac, albumen, yolk, Scintilla speck of embryo, Brain, blood, programatic, Geometric physics of biology— Galileo, however, looking [...]
October Light (39)
Where I backed the silver trailer In the autumn rain, pressing close To oak boards once painted black, The wooly longhorn turns his head To enter the vacant space, Stepping into cool darkness. Nearby, buttressed with stilt grass, Panicles of pink knotweed, The tomb of the ground spider, Diurnal shroud decorated with fallen Sugarnut leaves, funneling light. The rain taps [...]
Pasta with Hot Sausage & Autumn Vegetables
Ingredients 1/2 lb Smith Meadows Hot or Sweet Italian Sausage1 package Smith Meadows Noodles4-6 large leaves of kale1/2 small sweet onion2 cloves of garlic1 cup small tomatoes (cherry or petite)2-3 delicata squash, roasted and scraped from skin or cut into chunks2-3 fresh sage leaves1/2 tsp Bavarian Spice Blend1-2 TBSP olive oilSalt & Pepper to taste Fill your large pasta pot [...]
Cider Apples (38)
After my dad died, and life Slowly resumed its seasons, My sixty year old cousin George Called, asking for apples. This was no ordinary request. My father and I had, for a decade, Picked apples together each fall, Which he subsequently delivered, Driving four tortuous hours To our tiny Appalachian homestead, A fundraiser donation for the clapboard Church, each year [...]