Weekend notes.

I was glad when the weekend arrived, even though I had no real plans. For one thing, I'd had my fill of people moaning to me in session about how the country is now going to hell, and only true Christians were going to be okay in the end. Have I mentioned how right wing this area is? Even the local county paper made no pretense at being unbiased - they couldn't even bring themselves to mention the President's win before Romney. I was struck by the wording of it "Romney wins" and then "Obama takes" - as if he stole it. I sat quietly and listened, and then gladly shut the office door behind me on Friday.

On Saturday, in spite of a family situation he had to attend to, my friend suggested getting lunch and going for a short ride in the mountains. While we were getting ready to leave, there was a thump that sounded like someone in the house. We found out later that a light (4.3) earthquake in a neighboring state had been felt in our area at that time. It was a gorgeous day to be out on the road - high of 70, sunny and clear. Once again, I swallowed my fear and focused on the beauty around me.

After he dropped me at home, I decided it would be a good day to wash my car. I enjoyed scrubbing the car down and 8 quarters later, my car was clean and shiny.

Today, I went into town for a walk along the greenway and then to run errands. I had to check out the new Trader Joe's. It's a manageable size and has reasonable prices. I found my younger son's favorite Reed's ginger beer for a lot less than anywhere else I've seen and got their chocolate Advent calendars for only 99 cents each. And the folks there are remarkably friendly. If they don't enjoy their work, they are doing a good job of faking it. So nothing spectacular, but still a lovely fall weekend.

"He said, 'Son, you go to school and learn your letters, don't be no dusty miner like me.'"

There's a darker side to the beautiful Cumberlands, along with the rest of the mountains in this part of the country. Coal companies. The coal companies had a nasty habit of paying in script which could only be redeemed at the store the company owned. Fires and cave-ins were common and people were often both broke and broken-down. Blue Heron was a mining community run by the Stearns Coal and Lumber Company, starting in 1937.

At the base of some of the escarpments is exposed coal. My son, who does some blacksmithing and was intrigued, broke off some pieces to bring home.

Although the coal companies have long since shut down here, there are still interesting reminders that it was an industrial area for a quarter of a century.

Sulphur? I know coal contains sulphur (which becomes poisonous sulphur dioxide when burned), and that was my son's guess.

But we had absolutely no idea what this orange goo was oozing from the coal. I've had several patients over the years whose fathers were coal miners, most of them dead now from black lung disease. All of these people grew up in poverty in the coal-rich portions of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia.

Along the trail there were cave entrances gated off, apparently after some of the rock collapsed. I didn't need that warning - the place looked decidedly treacherous. In 1962, the company shut down Mine 18 and Blue Heron became a ghost town, with only foundations of old buildings remaining. There are re-created shells of the buildings now, with recorded voices of the miners and their families telling their stories.

"For I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard holler, 
coal cars roarin' and rumblin' past my door. 
Now they stand in a rusty row all empty 
And the L & N don't stop here anymore. 

 I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust, 
I never thought I'd pray to hear the tipple roar. 
But Lord, I wish the grass would change to money 
And them greenbacks fill my pockets once more." (Jean Ritchie)

A plea to my moderate Republican blogfriends.

If you are unhappy with the Presidential election results, then consider doing this: Take back your party. I'm serious. The old Republican party that was focused on fiscal conservatism, fair taxes and sharing the burden. Not the new Republican party of tax breaks for the wealthy and corporations-as-persons. The old Republican party of limited government, not the new Republican party of interference in adults' private lives. You want values of the Founding Fathers? Those include things like separation of church and state. Demand it from your leaders. Don't let the Teabaggers set your agenda. Don't vote for candidates like Aiken who said that in a "legitimate" rape a woman's body shuts down and she won't get pregnant. When you let people like that get the nomination, the whole party looks insane. Don't vote for candidates like Romney, who said that it's not his job to worry about 47% of the country, people he dismissed as entitled, dependent self-perceived victims. When you let people like that get the nomination, the whole party looks callous. How did the Republican party become obsessed with fighting civil rights for gays and fighting reproductive freedom for women? When those are the primary goals, none of the other issues (economy, military, foreign policy, education and so on) even get a place on the table.

I follow the blogs of several moderate Republicans and I am talking to all of you. I believe you to be good-hearted people who are every bit as concerned about this country as I am.  I believe you to be people who are not racist or homophobic or anti-woman.  I think it's time for you to change the discourse. Turn off the voices at Fox who use innuendo, distortions, half-truths, and bald-faced lies to stir up hate. I know you are frustrated with the economy (which, incidentally, is thanks to one George W. Bush) and so am I. So it's time for you to vote for Republicans who will work with Democrats to rebuild this country rather than obstructionists who hamstring the President. That's the only way we're going to get anywhere.

Please, moderate Republicans, take back your party. Wrest it from the grip of the lunatic fringe. I'm begging you. And if you do that, in return I will promise not to be bitter if your party wins the next election. It's time for compromise and reconciliation on all our parts. It's time for the work of rising above our differences.

No words, just relief.

The right weather for cranberry-applesauce.

Last weekend, in contrast to this past one, was chilly and rainy. I'd picked up some apples (Granny Smith, gala and some other variety whose name I can't recall) and decided it was time to make applesauce for a dinner I planned the next day. I turned on a movie and started peeling.

I left them in the fridge overnight in a little orange juice and went out in the morning to pick up a few groceries. And they had winesaps! For my money, the very best applesauce apples. Naturally, I had to peel and chop a few of those as well.

I put the apple chunks in a crock pot without liquid and just leave them to reduce themselves to sauce. Hours later, I add a can of whole-berry cranberry sauce, a couple of tablespoons of marmalade  and a little ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. The apples were still cooking early afternoon when I got a text saying it was a good day for being indoors. It was indeed dreary out, so I texted back, "Come on over."

Salmon in roasted pepper marinade, green beans, red peppers, carrots and sweet onions slow roasted with herbs and balsamic vinegar, my famous twice-baked potato bombs and the applesauce. Cooler weather just seems to call for heartier food.

It keeps for a while in the fridge, so I've been using the sauce to make snacks like this - toasted on sunflower seed bread with slices of brie and walnuts. You can't beat that combo, I promise.

Into the semi-wild.

Yesterday my younger son and I headed up into Kentucky to the Big South Fork area of the Cumberland Mountains.

We had perfect hiking weather - mid-60's and a very light bit of cloud cover for part of the hike.

 The Blue Heron loop took us first beside the Cumberland River,

then upwards along the sandstone cliffs.

In some parts of the trail it was steep enough that the park had put in staircases.  When my son got to the top before me, he turned and put his hands on his knees, dropped his voice an octave and shouted at me like a drill instructor, "You gotta waaaant iiiiit!"

 With color like this, though, I did not mind the climbs.

We stopped on a rock overlooking the river for the lunch I'd packed into our backpacks. Someone had left a firepit, so my son built a small fire.

After dousing the fire with water before we left, making sure there was not a single ember remaining, we headed back into the forest.

The trail has a small detour to an overlook above the gorge. Devils Jump, named because the men who used to guide the logs were called raft devils, and they'd often jump off at the rapids.

 This rock looked remarkably like a cottage to me.

 Parts of the trail took us under stone overhangs

 and into caves.

I decided I liked going up the stairs a whole lot better than I liked going down them!

Eventually we left the caves behind and headed back down the mountain.

The trees again proved irresistible to my climbing son.

All told, with a detour and a short hike to the trailhead, we walked about seven miles, much of it up along switchback trails and half a dozen sets of stairs. We were hungry by the end but we were close to home before we found a place to stop. For literally two hours, my son sang an ad lib song about whether he might die of hunger before we got food. At the end of the song we were both laughing and he said, "All new and original lyrics!" Possibly the best part was my son spontaneously turning to me as we walked and saying, "Thanks for taking me hiking, Mama!"

Honestly, I have good intentions when it comes to recipes.

I saw instructions for potato bombs on G-Man's blog, and thought I might make them. Without meat, of course. But I had two problems. The first was that the recipe called for an apple corer and as part of my de-cluttering I've vowed not to bring unnecessary things into my house.  I'm actually kind of a minimalist when it comes to kitchen tools. And the other issue was that I thought I needed a bigger stuffing-to-potato ratio. I decided I'd slice them and cut out part of the potato with a knife and refit them before cooking. Then I decided they'd be easier to cut into if I nuked them first. I hated to let the potato from the ditch I'd carved go to waste so I hollowed them out entirely (with an ice cream scoop), mashed the potato with a little butter, light cream cheese, and milk. Then stirred in parmesan and cheddar cheeses, along with some chopped sauteed sweet onions, diced veggie sausage, and sage, parsley and chives from my garden. And then, what the hell, I topped them with a little more cheddar and some paprika, put a little olive oil and salt on the skins, and baked them.

So yeah, potato bombs that bear virtually no resemblance to their inspiration. But boy, were they good.