I'm off my game this week. I had a minor flare-up of the bronchitis that plagued me most of December, but it does seem to be back under control now. And it seems I've finished nothing I started. Even when I think I have indeed finished, I find I was mistaken.
Better therefore to rely on simple things:
1. It has been so warm in Knoxville, despite a few frosts here and there, that my bulbs are all starting to come up early. I worry that they may still loose their heads.
2. But I can't say that I mind seeing a few things in bloom in the otherwise desolate landscape as we take our morning walks.
3. Most of the Christmas decorations have come down and been put away. I had a lot of fun sorting out various balls and baubles, recalling origins and associations, and lovingly packing them away, a combination of Christmas and Epiphany carols running through my head.
4. It has also struck me that I've had better fish and seafood since I've come home, cooked in my own kitchen, than I had in Sarasota. There is something truly sad about that. Beautiful Grouper, purchased locally and cooked at home with long Japanese eggplant and oyster mushrooms on the side. I had made an incredible batch of mayonnaise that afternoon with a richly fruity yet mellow olive oil from Lucero. On a whim, I combined the mayo with grated coconut and ginger and used it as a topping for the fish. The coconut and ginger brought out the fruitiness of the olive oil, and beautifully enhanced the fish. Not at all modestly, I will assert it was perfectly cooked, unlike the sad pan-roasted grouper I had in Sarasota at a locale probably better suited to those who want their fish breaded and baked or fried.
5. I've been reminded of this quote from John McPhee, writing about writer's block in the New Yorker. After confessing that his first drafts may often take the form of an "awful blurting", he goes on to state the following: "Then you put the thing aside. You get in the car and drive home. On the way, your mind is still knitting at the words. You think of a better way to say something, a good phrase to correct a certain problem. Without the drafted version -- if it did not exist -- you obviously would not be thinking of ways to improve it. In short, you may actually be writing two or three hours a day, but your mind, in one way or another, is working on it twenty-four hours a day -- yes, while you sleep -- but only if some sort of draft or earlier version exists. Until it exists, writing has not really begun."
I've started writing several things this week only to have them all turn out to be awful blurtings. And my thoughts are still revolving around the paths that those words might eventually take. I suppose also that this post technically only contains four things, as bulbs and flowers could have been combined. But it is only human to fudge occasionally.
Have a lovely weekend.
Quote from John McPhee, "Draft no. 4," New Yorker, April 29, 2013.
photos all taken on my iPhone.
