Third night of kage no tsuki, the night following the feast of humility
I had enough to eat heartily on this day, known as Thanksgiving. Summers and autumns must have been hell way back when if they had to celebrate their survival. In the last few days I have given myself the perspective of looking to the future, and now is not the time for rejoicing. Just the opposite. It's time to make sure the roots and apples are stored away, the corn and beans properly dried, the livestock fat enough to compensate for the restricted fodder supply, and the henhouse sealed against the elements.
The suburban version is a full freezer, many cans of stuff, and a few dozen cups of dried ramen soup.
I made a stuffing medly that took several veggies, sauted mushrooms, and stuffing mix. I ate about a sixth of it, barely a quarter cup. The rest should last the next three days, making it a ceremonial part of this Thanksgiving Day weekend. I had just two small fish tenders for dinner, with barely a dozen steak fries. I doubted it all added up to 1200 calories for the day, which is hardly a day of feasting.
Which is how it should be. It should be a feast of humility, a banquet in recognition that the gods have Gone South, and arrogant gluttony is a prideful boast in the face of a cold cruel twilight that will methodically squeeze such hubris from us. No, it is better to dine sparsely, in a conscious effort to recognize that the days of want shall begin soon enough and that we, although fearful of the coming days, are not going to face the cold adversity with wishful thinking, silly actions, or traditional American ignorance.
It may seem like I am as gray as the days that have just arrived. In truth, I am not. My own understanding of the painful twenty one weeks ahead gives me solid ground to stand upon. I am less giddy than many about me now. But come the icy times I will be calm and accepting. How can I not accept the fate I have forseen for the world in which I live? I know the frozen thug who shall bully the neighborhood, where he strikes, who he looks for. I am armed against him, even if it is only with the knowledge of how to avoid most of his malice, and to never let on I have something worth his trouble.
The winds blew strongly all day. Snow accumulated even on the sidewalk, perhaps two inches or more. It was neither a good day, nor a blizzard. The weather reminds me of some fool who, on the way back to the farm, pulls the pick-up over to the side of the road, then walks into a convenient field to squeeze off a few rounds of the brand new gun he just bought. A few shots fired, a test for the mass destruction yet ahead, just a test. Today was the first day below 20 degrees.
The suburban version is a full freezer, many cans of stuff, and a few dozen cups of dried ramen soup.
I made a stuffing medly that took several veggies, sauted mushrooms, and stuffing mix. I ate about a sixth of it, barely a quarter cup. The rest should last the next three days, making it a ceremonial part of this Thanksgiving Day weekend. I had just two small fish tenders for dinner, with barely a dozen steak fries. I doubted it all added up to 1200 calories for the day, which is hardly a day of feasting.
Which is how it should be. It should be a feast of humility, a banquet in recognition that the gods have Gone South, and arrogant gluttony is a prideful boast in the face of a cold cruel twilight that will methodically squeeze such hubris from us. No, it is better to dine sparsely, in a conscious effort to recognize that the days of want shall begin soon enough and that we, although fearful of the coming days, are not going to face the cold adversity with wishful thinking, silly actions, or traditional American ignorance.
It may seem like I am as gray as the days that have just arrived. In truth, I am not. My own understanding of the painful twenty one weeks ahead gives me solid ground to stand upon. I am less giddy than many about me now. But come the icy times I will be calm and accepting. How can I not accept the fate I have forseen for the world in which I live? I know the frozen thug who shall bully the neighborhood, where he strikes, who he looks for. I am armed against him, even if it is only with the knowledge of how to avoid most of his malice, and to never let on I have something worth his trouble.
The winds blew strongly all day. Snow accumulated even on the sidewalk, perhaps two inches or more. It was neither a good day, nor a blizzard. The weather reminds me of some fool who, on the way back to the farm, pulls the pick-up over to the side of the road, then walks into a convenient field to squeeze off a few rounds of the brand new gun he just bought. A few shots fired, a test for the mass destruction yet ahead, just a test. Today was the first day below 20 degrees.