Travel on the Gravel

A good cold snap interrupted the inordinately mild winter late last week, producing a weekend of deep winter, that is, lows below zero--but also some welcome sunshine, brilliant on the newfallen snow. Deep winter has its virtues. It encourages reflections and activities that otherwise lag. Winter cooking, for instance. Friday night we started sourdough pancake batter, so that Saturday morning (pulling our garden juneberries from the freezer) I could produce juneberry pancakes. Venison sausage on the side, courtesy of my pal Neil Schmidt. ZZ got into the act on Saturday by baking a couple of loaves of bread and, in the afternoon (getting some frozen pumpkin pulp from the freezer), two pumpkin cheesecakes, which were scrumptious, especially splashed with a little raspberry syrup. While holed up we alternated cooking with writing; I turned out a couple of book reviews for regional journals. Come evening there was the Bison MBB game against IPFW, and after that Good Night and Good Luck at the Fargo Theatre. On Sunday, following services at Maple-Sheyenne, we headed into town again for the Great Books of the Great Plains discussion at the Zandbroz, where Jess Clark did a sweet job as leader. Thence back home to snack on queso (seasoned with La Siesta sauce we picked up in Topeka) while doing some more writing (I turned out a few Plains Folk columns) and preparing bison tacos (pinned and fried Rodriguez-style) for supper. The main point of this being, deep winter is conducive to reading, writing, cooking, and eating, all of which refresh the soul. The secondary point being, while we love our big garden and other aspects of rural living, it's pleasant, too, to live within easy distance of Division I basketball, a theatre that runs films of merit, and an independent bookstore.

Come January 29, Kansas Day, wherever I am--in whatever state or hemisphere--my thoughts turn to my native state. I find myself singing phrases from "Home on the Range" and "Kansas Boys," contemplating John Brown, that sort of thing. This year the celebration took material form, as we turned out a batch of Bierocks, signature food of the Volga Germans in Western Kansas. We made them with ground bison, cut the cabbage and onions by hand, seasoned with herbs from the garden. Some commemorations are contemplative, some are sensory, and this one was the latter!