For dinner last night, we had turkey hash, a plain yet sublime food--chopped dark meat mixed with leftover mashed potatoes; a mixture of sauteed leeks, carrots, and sourdough bread cubes; and some of the turkey stock that had been simmering all day--which Tom pan-fried on a buttered griddle. Using the food processor, I ground together cranberries, apples, and an orange, which requires only 3/4 of a cup of sugar to become a fine, fresh, and very quick-to-prepare relish. And for our salad we ate tiny roasted brussels sprouts mixed with frost-sweetened spinach leaves, radish sprouts, and grated kohlrabi.
Today, however, I am back at my desk: copyediting and anthologizing and still thinking about the Stan Musial poem that is beginning to assume an amoeba shape in my mind. I hope the poem will declare itself soon. But of course these things cannot be rushed.