Small Bridge.  Big Magic



      Lately everyone is yelling about walls, one way or another.  I’m not a fan of building giant walls to keep people out, though I am fond of other kinds of walls - the ones my house is made of are all good, for instance.   They keep us tucked in during the winter.   They shelter us.   And they have doors so other folks can join us in our shelter. 
    I’m also a really big fan of bridges.  They connect here, to there, allowing you to cross over and back again.  In that sense, the bridge is similar to writing.  You go ‘there’ and get a story, then bring it back ‘here.’  You bridge the gap between your experience of the story and the mind of the reader.  To me, that’s big magic.
      I’m particularly fond of a bridge my husband built at the back of our land.  It’s  small, simple, and effective in doing what it was made to do.  It crosses a seasonal stream that’s sometimes gushy and rushy, sometimes icey,  sometimes just kind of trickley and muddy.  Before the bridge, I often slipped into the stream, or on it as I tried to cross.  Since I go over that seasonal stream every day with my dogs, the little bridge has certainly made it easier for me and Ziggy and Luna to get into the woods and have our walk. 
    And lately I’ve come to realize that it’s even more than convenient.  It’s a magic connection between here and there, which appeals to others as well as us.  Coyote Leaves PeeMail



    If there’s snow, I’ll often see tracks on it.  Bunny, mouse, deer, coyote and fox.  The dogs often stop there to sniff for a long time, which tells me something interesting has happened there the night before.  And sometimes, I’ll find animal droppings.  Sometimes I can’t identify them.  then I’ll go home and tell my husband, “There’s some new shit on the bridge,”  and we’ll try to figure it out.
   
    Then, not too long ago we got an outdoor camera to see who’s coming to visit, and we placed it near the bridge.  Shortly after I saw the Most Mysterious Poop of All,   the camera showed us a picture of a Fisher hanging out on the bridge, early in the morning.  Fisher poop.   Now I know what that looks like.  Over the summer a juvenile Green Heron posed admirably for the camera.  We regularly get pictures of bunnies, other birds, deer,  fox, or coyote. 
     This week the bridge has been in heavy use for the commuter crowd.  We have a picture of a coyote, leaving peemail for the dogs.  (They’d left some for him, so it was only courteous to responde promptly).  Along with that was our first picture of a porcupine, and a Bobcat who posed nicely for us. 
     Yes.  Bobcat.  
      Our little bridge connects here to there, and there to here.  It goes beyond what I thought it would do, and welcomes the neighbors to come closer. 
   I like that.   It allows us to share in the lives of those whose land we occupy in a whole new way.  It lets us know who’s here.  It’s the closest I’ll get to knowing what the dogs know when they sniff. 
     So, while the world is shouting about walls, I’m hoping we get to place where we learn to value better the magic of bridges.  The magic of connecting.  The inherent joy of welcome, and safe passage.  


   You can find Ziggy's new book, DOGGEREL:  Pomes for Hoomins And Other Friends at amazon.   So many of these Pomes are from our walks in the woods, including "Whose poop this is I think I know...."





MAGIC TIME BRIDGING BEET AND HORSERADISH SALAD

A lot of magic is contained in food, which is actually a time bridge.  You knew that, right? All I have to do is catch the scent of garlic cooking in olive oil and I'm back at my grandmother's house, young and happy.   And exploring foods from your heritage connects you to the people who are the earlier chapters of your story.   So here's a recipe that's simple, but serves to bridge time for me in two ways.  First, it's Lithuanian, and that's part of who I am as well.  Second, it has horseradish, and it brings back memories of my father, grating fresh horseradish at the kitchen table.  I can feel my sinuses clearing just thinking about it.  

This is easy peasy.  Enjoy!  




4 good sized beets
1/4 to 1/2 cup grated horseradish (You get to decide how much is too much because you know the rule - Play With Your Food!)
Salt and pepper to taste
About 2 tablespoons fresh chopped dill (more if you like it really dilly dilly)
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar


Cut the leaves and stems and bottom root off the beets and wash 'em up good.  They're going to a Salad Party!

Wrap them in aluminum foil, making sure they've got a bit of room to breathe, but also making sure the foil is closed well.  Put it in the oven at 375 degrees for about 90 minutes, or until the beets are soft.  Larger ones will, of course, take longer.  

Let them cool, then peel them, and cut them into half inch pieces.  (Or slices if you prefer, or a bit larger if you prefer because you know the rule - PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD!)

Toss them into a nice casserole dish and pour the vinegar over them, add the dill and horseradish, and season to taste.  Mix it all up good.  Let it hang around for an hour or two, then adjust flavors as you choose, and eat and enjoy.