Frost

There were needles of fine frost on Burt, the apothecary’s rose, this morning.

So much for “once blooming”!  My fine specimen of Rosa gallica officinalis, the ancient and unmodified Red Rose of Lancaster (and of Martin Luther), has blossomed repeatedly all summer.

No more, I suspect!

Time passes.  The goofy jack-o-lantern is still grinning, as oblivious as ever, on the mulch pile.

The pre-dawn was cold but strikingly clear, albeit half-ruined with light pollution.  I clearly saw the Praesepe, also known as M44 or the Beehive Cluster.  Cancer itself was distinctly and easily visible.  From east to west, Leo, Cancer, Gemini, and Taurus were arrayed in all their glory.  Aries was stuck in the trees.

Thanksgiving will involve at least one traditional corn dish.  The base will be John Cope’s dried corn in any case.  I lean towards hasty pudding (or “Indian pudding” as it was also called).  I made the “corn supreme” recipe on the package, and while it came out pretty well, I’m not sure I love it enough to give it space in the Thanksgiving Day oven!

After all, there’s Nana’s creamed pearl onions to consider!

 

 

About Jonathan B. Hall

Keyboard artist, sacred musician, teacher, writer, working in New York City and State. Many interests include music theory and history, literature, astronomy, genealogy, philosophy and theology, gardening, and good food.
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