I'm a huge fan of Glen & Friends Cooking channel. They just do everything. More than that, they give you the method and understanding of what the recipe actually is at bottom. Which is to say: confidence. I love how he uses MSG and de-mythologizes its bad reputation - along with other long-word ingredients that people paint as villainous. I love the one where he makes processed cheese.
This youtube channel is so Canadian. I love it so much.
D.W. Lafferty does a thorough consolidation of the origins and history of LifeSiteNews. I very much agree with his conclusion:
"Practical efforts to make a real difference in the world by helping to protect unborn life would effectively be replaced by apocalyptic fantasies, dualistic thinking, and tactics that are meant to provoke antagonism. Such a movement would only function for the benefit of its adherents, rather than the benefit of the unborn."
Emmett O'Regan writes about the apocalypse streamlining service, Countdown to the Kingdom, how they attempt to wash themselves of their own millenarianism.
"The authors of Countdown to the Kingdom thus attempt to bypass the charge of millenarianism by confining the doctrinal error to the idea of Jesus physically returning in the Flesh, and assert that a spiritual version of Chiliasm is an acceptable teaching that was held by the Early Church Fathers."
Rebecca Bratten Weiss writes about the latent providentialism among Catholics that has been revealed by the pandemic.
"The wave of providentialist unrest in the face of these precautions betrays a perspective on divine will and human reason that is not theologically sound or helpful.
But this type of thinking has percolated in Catholic circles for a while."
What a glorious night! The windows are wide open. I came back from a walk and the September gusts, unusually warm for a coastal B.C. night, have brought indoors the fragrance of the first dead and dried leaves being scattered out there, everywhere. The place smells like freshly cured tobacco leaves. What a strange thing: freshly cured.
Labour Day is not the end of summer. Because summer is not constituted of vacationing from labour (or schooling). This is probably my favourite time of year. The cottonwoods sing about something brilliantly alive behind the blue of the sky. Some people are all eager for pumpkin spice instead of bright blue death - the weirdos. The grass is still mostly gold, except for those weirdos who insist on keeping their patches green. Peaches are still coming in from the Okanagan. And the apples, the hoards of apples sending the brix meters off the charts. Those chojuro pears! What a strange thing: crisp and juicy.
My Wicksons are small this year because I didn't thin them, but goodness, they are the best apples I've ever tasted. How can one describe the Wickson? That malty champagne burst when you bite into it - how can one bitch about the size of the apple when it sends your salivary glands for such a wild trip? When you think salivary glands, you might think sour. It's not sour that does it. It's something else, and it's definitely full-on sweet, and if you can describe it, then you're a good writer.
If you're growing beefsteak tomatoes without cover in the Fraser Valley, this season is turning out to be the idyll. The Fraser Valley is a notoriously difficult climate to ripen a good amount of beefsteaks to perfection on the vine. People often opt for cherry types. You can set a huge crop of beefsteaks, no problem, but getting them to ripen is the challenge. This season is not offering a challenge. For this Surrey native, it's pure magic.
My Dad died on a sunny summer September morning, almost a decade ago. And it was like the summer died all on in one day - though it didn't. The last thing he built was a solid foursquare wood frame, stapled with plastic, to protect the beefsteak tomatoes I was growing in the backyard. We were thinking of some weeks ahead, yet that very afternoon, right after we placed the mobile 'greenhouse' over the tomato vines, there was a terrific downpour; the first great rain you get after the long west coast drought.
My Dad stood at the kitchen window and he kept saying, "We built that shelter just in time!" He kept repeating this. He said it three times.
"We built that shelter just in time!"
