Weta and Slow Food

On Ocean Mysteries today, a feature on the weta, a very large cricket that lives in New Zealnd and has inhabited the earth tens of millions of years. I must tell my friend Doc V, a wonderful companion, mother, and entymologist. The weta is about 9 inches long or so, one of the largest insects in the world. He was amazing, and another living fossil. These are the "antique" animals and plants that still live and breathe their stories. Would they could talk our language. Then there are those species that can exist for centuries at a time. If we could be Dr. Who and time travel with them, what would they tell us? What did they think when we humans burst on the scene? Could they settle the dispute over evolution? What were Neanderthals really like? When did war start? Where their dragons and vampires; are zombies possible? I always thought we were simply the authors of our own apocalypse. Along with these musings, I watched Rick Steves on Tuscany and the Slow Food Movement, which simply means it takes a long but expensively worthwhile time to make the food eaten in the region. Cheese begins with raising the right sheep and goats, milking them, heating the milk, curdling it by hand, skimming the curds and whey, pressing them all into molds and aging them naturally. Wine is made in a similar slow fashion, and food is cooked slowly in brick ovens and over open fires. He features the artichoke festival in this episode. One host was an octogenarian vintner who looked sixty. Hmmm? Stress and chemicals anyone? Their take on the truffle snuffing hogs were dogs, and all cattle was free range. Pork and prosciutto came from the native wild boar. Talk about eating local! Our skies are clearing here, the clouds and tornadic winds less menacing. We were all gathered Monday in the center of our building, as tornadoes and storms raged over our area. Once again, we were spared, and old wives' tale or not, I bless the river. We were all lucky this time; our power did not go out. Emma cat is still ailing, but more alert. I have hope this thyroid condition will be under conrol, but my fierce little Contessa Bathory is no super quiet and too compliant. She doesn't want to play with her cat toys and dolls, not even Marionette Toinette Mouse or Mme. Pomplemousse, the string puppet cat toys. They are her favorites. We have done our share of burying young friends and classmates, taken suddenly, or by violence, while still too young. One was only 25, and she was shot by a man she feared for a long time. He claimed it was an accident. She was a veteran, Navy, and was buried, at least with full honors. Seeing her lying in a coffin made life seem very random and futile. I thought of Boethius and his Consolation of Philisophy. I recommend it at times like this. On a happier note, The Creative Writing Primer by the MWWC, our local writers group, is now 2nd in its type on Amazon. Our Kindle giveaway was yesterday. When it is sold, proceeds go to MWWC. I was a guest blogger yesterday on the MWWC Blog. Will post a link later.