Fox kits

There is a family of foxes living under H. Potter's barn. Here's how we found them: Amy and I were taking a bike ride in the early evening (around 7:00). We were biking the 5.5 mile loop around our neighborhood (turn left, then left, then left, then left ...). A little more than half-way, having finished the hills, we turned from Beaver Head Rd. onto West St. (left again).

"Hey," I said, "A fox!" I was pleased -- Amy and Sarah had seen a fox in the neighborhood earlier in the week but I hadn't. Then I said, "Look, it's playing with rabbits!"

"Those aren't rabbits," Amy said, "those are baby foxes!"

At this point, half our neighborhood seems to be on regular evening outings to check on the family of baby foxes. We have seen 5 or 6, but have been told that there are 8. Some evenings they are bouncing all over the yard; some evenings they are hiding under the barn.

Although this is predominantly a photo blog, I thought the incredibly wonderful little foxes deserved some video (below) ! [Click the little "play" arrow at the bottom left of the black box below.]

Special restaurants, special friends

This week, seven courses of photos to celebrate a week of eating and connection to friends.

Thursday evening, eight of us converged on the Shanghai Pavilion in New York City to eat the meal you see laid out above. The gathering was two years in the making. The planning began when Vivien described to me the incredible meal she had there, hosted by her friend Wangsheng who is the CEO of a Hong Kong foundation. Although Vivien and I continued to scheme to bring people together for a special meal, circumstances conspired against us for a long time. Most recently, 4 of us we were ready to travel to New York in February, when suddenly the city received a big dump of snow and we had to postpone again...

The wait was worth it. We were joined by Vivien's son Evan, her daughter Loren, and my brother Eric. Vivien, her husband Bill, our friend Marvin, Amy and I took the train in from New Haven. Wangsheng had pre-arranged with the chef to prepare a fixed menu for us (he had also counseled us which days of the week would provide the freshest food!)

I thought Beggar's' Chicken (marinated richly and cooked in lotus leaves) was one of the best things we ate. Bill got the head:

Two days later, it was Rick's birthday, and he and Anne took us "Hobbit-style" to the wonderful Spanish restaurant in New Haven, Ibiza. (For those who don't remember the opening scenes of Lord of The Rings, Bilbo follows the Hobbit custom of giving presents at his birthday party.) Our meal was as fabulous as Bilbo's birthday. We started with an amuse bouche from the kitchen (little cups of gazpacho, with little fried blue cheese balls on the side) and things got even better from there. Behold a wonderful ceviche below:

Ibiza's amazing sangria, worth the trip by itself, provided a bridge between courses, until eventually by the end we received the final "complements of the kitchen" -- a little milkshake and cookie -- and Rick blew out his candle.


I was reminded of what these two meals had in common as I was reading the book that everyone in our ceramics class has picked up, Erica Bauermeister's The School of Essential Ingredients. It's a very sweet book about the food and people in a cooking class. The meals, and the book, left me appreciating how special it is to have just the right ingredients -- good friends who pay attention to each other and the joys of life -- and then to have a meal that turns the mundane task of nutrition into a song of joy. A mix of familiar and intriguing flavors and textures, wrapped up in a beautiful dumpling package.

Yum.

The "Bird" Feeder

There was quite a parade today at the feeder.
When I got up this morning, the chipmunk was busily and successfully raiding the feeder. Amy asked if she should chase him (?) away, but I like chipmunks and don't mind if we feed them. How many apples trees and blackberry patches have I grabbed a bite from? Seems only fair that the chipmunk should find a free meal where possible.
(Admittedly, it's easy for me to say; Amy's usually the one who fills the feeder ...)

In any case, the chipmunk was chased away by a squirrel, which was too heavy to be able to eat from the feeder but apparently had feelings of possession anyway. When the squirrel tired of standing guard, a blue jay came in, followed by a downy woodpecker.

This white-breasted nuthatch showed up later. Beautiful curved beak.

And then the arrival that reminded us of the progression of the season -- the pair of American goldfinch, with the male having thrown off his winter garb in favor of a bright yellow coat.

The other spring coat I noted today was on the garden rock outside.

Green is beautiful.

Making stuff

Amy and I are what Peter Drucker called "knowledge workers" -- people who apply their intellect to a given situation, to create options or solutions. It can be very satisfying work, but it does not fully meet our instinctive need to "do" or "make," because while our work is important it isn't concrete. So we find opportunities to make things.

If you have seen the piles of pots in our house, you know what I mean. Amy and I have been in Debbie Staub's ceramics class since 1997. We joke that the accumulation of pots is making our house sink lower and lower. But we keep at it because making attractive usable objects out of wet clay is wonderfully satisfying for a part of us that needs to hold what we have done.

I have found the quantity of pots we have made frees me from any anxiety about losing any "special" pot. Over time, some of our pots seem particularly wonderful, but my favorites change, and I have learned that if one breaks and another appears, I don't need to care much about the change. For someone who tends to be over-attached to "things," the huge number of pots we have made over 13 years has made it very easy for me to say, "Any of these I've made may break, but I can always make another!"

And so today, as I was thinking about this posting, I was making the loaf of bread in the picture. I was making a long-rising loaf (the kind that rises overnight and into the next day); in this case I was using a little oat flour, a little whole wheat, and the rest white flour. I baked the bread on a baking stone I had made in ceramics class using a "slab roller." During the first 20 minutes of baking, when the bread bakes at 450 degrees F or higher, the stone broke into four pieces. Remarkably, it didn't just crack, it moved, leaving a gap between the parts. I had always assumed that when my baking stones break, they do so because of a minute air bubble or other fault in the clay. But the way in which this stone separated leaves me wondering whether the bread, which doubles in size during those first hot minutes, had stuck to the stone and actually broken it as the loaf rose up and out. In any case, this oven event was a simultaneous "making" and "unmaking." I will make a new baking stone; the bread was delicious.

Transitions, and a bumblebee

This week has been Passover. We didn't host a seder this year, but attended three very different and wonderful seders. The seder plate above is from Alice & Jon's house. You have to admire the amazing sprouting horseradish that Amy pulled out of our garden. It makes the most eye-watering potent ground horseradish you have ever imagined, bringing us very close to the the tears of our ancesters. Second night we were at Debi & Israel's house, joining a wonderfully diverse group some of whom could recite the story from heart and others at their first seder. By last weekend, we were at my brother Eric's house in Buck's County, PA, along with my brother David and my niece Hannah. Eric's place has been undergoing a transformation from run-down old house to Eric's dream house, and it was very special to have an inaugural seder there all together.

Passover is a great holiday - a good story, some debate over the traditions, lots of food, and the wonderful theme of freedom. This year I also was thinking a lot about how much transition happens in the Passover story. There are geographic migrations; passage from plenty to hunger and back; and enormous family changes as Joseph is cast off by his brothers, makes his own life, and years later is reunited with his family.

Why would the theme of transitions catch my attention so much this year? Well ... by the weekend, we were visiting two more colleges (Haverford and Swarthmore) with Sarah. (Sarah reports that she has seen enough for now, and is happy to put the topic away until she makes some decisions in the fall.) While Sarah imagines herself in each college, figuratively "trying it on," we were doing the same (what would visits be like if she went here? Are there fun places to eat around this one? etc.). Life will be very different in a year and a half, as Amy and I embark on our next phase of life together!

It was a glorious weekend at the colleges and then back home on Sunday. I actually took some time to work in the garden (why is there such pleasure in weeding and sweeping the brick walkway to the patio, and so little in cleaning inside the house?). But the busiest bee outside (despite heavy competition from Amy) was .....