#Starentine

While we’re in quarantine, let’s all starentine! Head outside at the same time each night and log your experience on social media using the hashtag #starentine, along with thousands of other people around the world. 

Appreciating the night sky comes naturally, after all, as Carl Sagan so aptly stated, “we are all made of starstuff.” During this time of lockdown, less light pollution allows the vibrancy of meteors, planets, and star constellations to reach our eager eyes. Star gazing requires no specialized knowledge or expensive gear. Turn off the lights, call your neighbor and ask them politely to turn off their yard light, and step outside with your head tilted back and eyes wide open. Let us enjoy the night sky together, while we are all apart. 

This week is perfect for viewing the Lyrid meteor shower with mostly clear skies and the moon hidden in Earth’s shadow. The Lyrids can be seen throughout the end of April, but the peak viewing time is during the darkest hours of the new moon Wednesday night, April 22nd. The recommended viewing time is from midnight to just an hour before dawn. Look to the northeast, towards the Vega star in the Lyra constellation. To learn more about the Lyrid meteor shower, visit the American Meteor Society’s webpage, https://www.amsmeteors.org/

You may have already noticed a vibrant Venus. She is the brightest planet and the first to arrive to the party in the western sky shortly after the Sun takes his leave. If you rise an hour before dawn and look to the east, you’ll see Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter. Mars has a reddish hue from the rust colored dust coating his surface. Saturn, the gassiest planet, is golden from the mixture of hydrogen, helium, ammonia, phosphine, water vapor, and hydrocarbons. The largest planet in our solar system, Jupiter, is mostly viewed as creamy white with the ice crystals that make up its atmosphere. The four largest moons of Jupiter can be seen through a pair of binoculars. Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto are known collectively as the Galileans, named after Galileo Galilei. For more information on viewing planets in the night sky, visit https://nightsky.jpl.nasa.gov/planner.cfm

The best time to view the topography of the moon will be at the end of the month, on April 30th during the “quarter moon” phase, when half of the visible surface is lit. Using binoculars, gaze along the boundary line between the dark side and the sunlit side of the moon. Long shadows cast by mountain ranges and crater rims are easier to see on the moon’s surface when it is partially lit in either the crescent or half-moon phases.

Another kind of shooting star can be seen during the day, on long walks up sunny hillsides. In addition to shooting stars, the mountain buttercups, yellow bells, and blue bells are in full bloom, while the balsam root sunflowers are eclipsing the newly green hillsides. With upended daily routines, and social hangouts on hold, I feel my thoughts sluggish at times. But in the words of Henry David Thoreau, “Methinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.” 

Wash your hands, take a walk, and look up once in a while. Be well, my friends.

Original publication, Methow Valley News, 22 April 2020

Full Plate

My plate is too full

I wish it piled with cake

Alas it is not

As it has always been...

Two recent earthquakes shook the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains. On March 18th a 5.7 magnitude quake shook a town near Salt Lake. On March 31st, a 6.5 magnitude quake occurred north of Boise. The quakes were unrelated, but caused by the same actions that formed the Rocky Mountain range 80 million to 55 million years ago. The mountains continue to slowly grow, as they always have. It is a reassurance that the world continues to move in ways it always has.

The Idaho quake triggered an instant video conference with school chums from my hometown. We all had ‘working from home’ hair except for that one guy who dresses up for everything, and that one gal who is always put together. His coiffure lay in perfectly combed waves and he wore a sweater vest with a tie, her black hair smoothly framed her flawless skin as she sipped a glass of wine. The rest of us bore wild uncombed locks and sported concert t-shirts and sweatpants. It has always been this way with this group.

Mud season is not my favorite season, but I do love what it promises: long walks in an awakening spring. Plants unfurl their leaves to absorb sunlight, breathe in carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen, producing food and clean air. Afternoon mud puddles transform overnight into crystalline art forms, glistening in the morning sun. As the day warms, rivulets of melted ice trickle into the ditch along the road, rushing to meet the creek, which flows into the river in a rush towards the great ocean. Mary Oliver assured us, “It is the nature of stone to be satisfied. It is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else.” It has always been this way.

In the novel, The Overstory by Richard Powers, one of the characters describes walking through a Pacific Northwest forest tucked into the stony folds of the Cascade mountain range. She walks in a place where one of the native languages uses the same word for “footprint” and “understanding.” The Wenatchi dialect of Interior Pacific Northwest Salish uses the same phrase for “footprint” as “to comprehend and to understand.” In Latin, the phrase solvitur ambulando, translates as, “it is solved by walking.” Walking is good for both body and soul, as is understood in languages older than our own. It has always been a grounding reassurance to feel the earth under our feet.

I’ve been stuck on the song, “Alaska,” by Maggie Rogers. She sings about walking through icy streams and glacial plains. The chorus, “I walked off you, and I walked off an old me,” is a reminder that everything is temporary, and a walk is good medicine to clear the mind. It has always been this way.

While we are physically distanced, we can still make a connection with each other by listening and reading one another’s stories…as it has always been.

Roasted vegetables with creamy polenta

This meal feels perfect during the coronavirus quarantine. Made from pantry staples and fresh vegetables that keep well for weeks, this simple dish is full of flavor and deeply satisfying.

I use pre-cooked polenta, that comes packaged in a tube form. Mainly because I'm lazy, but also because I love to cut the polenta into thick slices and fry it for other meals. For this meal, I made the polenta, roasted the veggies, and stewed the the sweet peppers in a tomato sauce. A bit longer to prepare, but worth it. The stewed peppers are also a nice addition to an antipasto board served with brushetta.
For a quicker meal, skip the stewing step, and roast the peppers with the other vegetables before topping off with your favorite tomato sauce.

• 1 pkg precooked polenta
• cream, butter, and salt and pepper to taste
• 1 zucchini
• 1 large carrot
• 6 large white mushrooms
• 1 small red onion
• 6 small sweet bell peppers, red and yellow
• Olive oil
• Seasoning salt

Optional - if you choose to stew the peppers instead of roasting:

• Olive oil
• 4 anchovies
• 1 large sweet onion
• kalamata olives, pitted, and capers in brine
• 1 can roasted tomatoes
• salt

Prepare the polenta according to package directions. I break mine up into chunks in a saucepan and heat over medium heat, mashing and adding cream and butter until it is the consistency that I like. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Chop up vegetables, except the peppers if you opt to stew them, and toss with olive oil and seasoning salt. Roast at 400 degrees F for 20 minutes.

To prepare stewed peppers: Heat the olive oil in a large straight-sided skillet over medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the anchovies. Cook and stir until they dissolve into the oil, about 1 to 2 minutes. Add the onions, and cook until they begin to wilt, about 4 minutes.

Add the peppers, and season with the salt. Add the olives, capers, and red pepper flakes, and get everything sizzling; then add the tomatoes, slosh out the can with 1 cup water, and add that to the pan. Cover, and cook until the peppers begin to droop, about 10 minutes.

Uncover, and cook until the peppers and onions are tender and the sauce is thick and flavorful, about 10 to 15 minutes more.

To serve: spoon polenta onto plate, top with vegetables and grated parmesan or asiago cheese.

Lentil Loaf

After a long day of weekend chores and hiking, this was exactly what I wanted for dinner tonight. Filling, delicious, easy, and cheap

I wanted traditional comfort food. Meat loaf fit the bill, but I'm working to reduce the plastic I buy, and since meat at the grocery store is all wrapped in plastic, we are trying to reduce the meat in our meals.

I was curious about lentil loaves, having read several recipes about them, it seemed simple enough. I perused through a few different recipes, and came up with this combination.

Canned lentils could be used in place of dry lentils. Dry lentils can be simmered in any type of liquid: broth or water would be just as good. I typically use a tomato sauce in my meatloaf mixture, so I opted to cook the lentils in a tomato sauce for this recipe.

Loaf 1/2 C dry lentils 1 C chopped mushrooms 32 oz tomato sauce 1 C water 1/2 tsp onion powder 1/2 tsp garlic powder 1/2 tsp chipotle powder 1/4 salt

Vegetables onion 2 carrots 2 celery stalks 1 zucchini olive oil salt and pepper 3 garlic cloves

Binder 2 eggs 1 C flour 1 C oats

Glaze 32 oz tomato sauce 3 T balsamic vinegar 3 T maple syrup

Place the loaf ingredients into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Simmer until lentils are soft, about 30 minutes.

Finely chop vegetables and saute in olive oil for about 10 minutes, until onions are translucent. Finely chop garlic cloves and add to vegetable mixture, sauteing for another 2 minutes before removing from heat.

Using an immersion blender, mash lentil/mushroom mixture, or put in a food processor. Add binding ingredients: eggs, flour, oats, and mix until well blended. Combine lentil mixture with vegetables. Place  into loaf pan and bake in 350 degree oven for 40 minutes.

To prepare glaze, place tomato sauce, balsamic vinegar, and maple syrup into sauce pan. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 40 minutes to reduce sauce. When lentil loaf has baked for 40 minutes, remove from oven, spoon glaze over top, and return to oven for an additional 10 minutes or until glaze starts to caramelize (brown).

We are all made of star stuff

Everyone has a desire to connect with where their DNA originated from. Friday night discussions in the tap room circled around an upcoming vacation. The couple planned to follow the genetic signature revealed by their DNA test results. The journey to find our common origination source could go back even further.  Let’s start at the very beginning. I heard it’s a very good place to start.

In the first few seconds of the Big Bang, the simplest atom, hydrogen, formed. Hydrogen atoms were the only element for nearly 300 million years. Hydrogen atoms begin to stick together, forming large clusters.  As more and more hydrogen atoms joined the cluster, the internal temperature and pressure excited the particles to the extent that two hydrogen atoms crashed together in nuclear fusion. The protons of each hydrogen atom fused in the nuclei, forming a nucleus with two protons. Helium was born. This nuclear fusion released an astronomical amount of energy, converting some of the hydrogen mass into energy expressed as light, creating a star. Einstein’s shorthand for this process can be read as E=mc2.

Within the newborn star, nuclear fusion continued. Elements crashed together again and again, protons colliding into nuclei, combining to form more elements. Helium fused with hydrogen to form lithium, and on and on all the way up to iron, with 26 protons in its nuclei. At this moment, the star full of elements reached the end of its life and exploded in a supernova. The elements erupted forth in the form of stardust that traveled on stellar winds like little space dust bunnies, clumping together to form more stars. In all, 86 different elements are produced during the birth, life, and death of stars. 

All of these elements, these particles of stardust, make up the human body. There is oxygen in our lungs, carbon in our muscles, calcium in our bones, and iron in our blood. All of these elements were created inside a star before Earth was ever a twinkle in her daddy’s eye. Imagine, someone may have wished upon a star that you are made of.

This week of January is the perfect time of month for star gazing, if the skies are clear. The moon is positioned in between the Earth and Sun, showing us her dark side, and leaving only the light of the stars to reach our eyes at night. 

Look directly north around 7:30 p.m. to see the Double Cluster of stars. These star clusters lie between the constellations of Perseus and Cassiopia. The Double Cluster is visible by the naked eye in areas with little light pollution – like our own Methow Valley dark skies. In the northern sky this week, comet C/2017 T2 PanSTARRS will travel through the Cassiopeia constellation. With binoculars, the comet and perhaps its tail is dimly visible during the month of January. Peak visibility of the comet is during May 2020. 

Preserving our dark skies allows us to see the very stars from whence we came, and connect with the basic elements that we all share. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” 

This article originally appeared in Methow Valley News, 22 January 2020

Mr. Crotchet

Merry Christmas Eve

The year was 1981. I was seven, and mesmerized by our neighbor: a crotchety man, I will call him Mr. Crotchet, who tirelessly ranted about everything and everyone. I found him fascinating.

Sometimes I sat on my bike in his driveway, listening while he puttered and muttered in his garage.

Sometimes I would inch closer and start handing him tools while he worked on his motorcycle and raged against the world. He taught me sophisticated insults: insipid, fatuous, obtuse, and more. I never heard an adult so articulately voice anger on a consistent level. I honestly did not think he noticed who handed him tools, or that a seven-year-old intently listened to his diatribes on the current state of affairs.

One day he uncharacteristically asked me a question: when were we getting a Christmas tree?

The night before, my dad explained there was no money for a tree. His shoulders slumped as he said he hoped I was not disappointed. I only wanted my parents not to worry, I did not care about a tree.

I explained all this to Mr. Crotchet, and shrugged my shoulders to indicate that a stupid tree was not important. He asked if we had enough to eat, and inquired about my baby brother. We were fine, I said, and then took off on my bike after wishing him a Merry Christmas.

The next day I came home from school to find the biggest, fullest, beautiful fir tree leaning up against our house next to a box filled with jars of baby food and a frozen turkey. The electric bill was due that day, and when my mother called the power company to explain why we were not able to pay on time that month, the receptionist said someone paid our bill the day before.

I told Mom it was Mr. Crotchet. She doubted it, but piled a clean styrofoam meat tray with cookies, wrapped it with Saran Wrap and stuck a bow on top. We marched across the street with the tray full of cookies topped with a bow and knocked on his door.

As we thanked him, Mr. Crotchet claimed he didn’t know what we were talking about and rushed to firmly shut the door in our faces.

Mom bent down to set the cookies on his stoop and met me at eye level. “Clearly, it wasn’t him,” she said with a look that made it clear this was a secret we would let him keep.

His gift was not the tree, the turkey, the baby food, or even the paid bill.

The gift he gave us was kindness.

Being kind is not the same as being nice. Niceties are shallow, and disappear quickly, like snowflakes melting on a fingertip. Kindness leaves a lasting impression, an indented fingerprint on our souls of clay.