Shane Devin Rowland Yeats stared at Thelene.
'SHE, is...' He paused, a tabula rasa about him.
Thelene, nodded.
'So...'Yeats began, 'She is the Nexus...yet she
also awaits?'
Closing her eyes, Thelene turned toward the sea. She leaned her head back and the wind caressed her long dark hair. Yeats came to her side and began to massage her shoulder with his big warm hand.
'Ahhh...that...is so good...'Thelene melted abit then. 'Ah Shane...would that we had, Time!' She laughed then, and looked up at him. He smiled a crooked grin of his own.
'I would wish the same,' he assured her.
Thelene gazed down then, considering sea foam and waves and how eternal the sea should be. She shrugged, taking his hand and holding it. 'Change must come, somehow. We are in dire need of great change. Or perish.'
'Indeed.'
'Well!'Thelene sighed, 'I believe Emmeline shall see it through.
Anara is proof.'
'She should know.' Yeats kissed Thelene's hand softly. She smiled and lowered her lashes.'She will be fine.Perhaps...' she
straighteded, and touched his face, 'just perhaps, your young Jack may prove himself not altogether bootless.'
'I do believe you are right, as you so often are!' Yeats smiled into her hair, holding her close.
'You know all the best things to say...' Thelene stared off over the reflective echo; a moonlight bay in water and in sky set the scene before them. 'A mass awakening would be wonderful, wouldn't it?' She looked at him. 'If people could just work together, anything may be accomplished. But then there are the greedy few, tossing debris in the road so that everyone must keep looking down...gods forbid anyone to be so at leisure or free from pain that they may gaze around,recognize their neighbor,work together, or even look up and about them...anywhere but focused on the eternal wading in hip-boots just to survive...unless you are born a Fortunate Son.'
'Thelene! Querida!' Yeats held her apart from him now, gazing at her concerned. 'Not all is lost, dear girl!' He put an arm about her and nodded, walking with her to a stone bench.
'The best minds of generations of Chinese were destroyed in gender genocide with the killing of girl children!' Thelene
sat and slumped over. 'People of Jacks' time consider themselves 'Civilized!''
Yeats was used to Thelene;her varied and inspired moods. She was receptive and passionate, and had seemingly inexhaustable energy for whatever she perceived must be worth fighting for.It was why he had loved her so for lo these many years...and still, she would not give up her seat on the High Council, not for him, not for an honorable Regents' post. Then, they could be together. But. no, not while so much was at stake at this pivotal crossroads. Of course, she did what she must. She wouldn't be the woman he loved, if she had been less committed.'Needs must when the de'el drives.' Still...
'Take heart, ma chere'...' Yeats whispered.
'As Ghandi once said, when asked what he thought of Western civilization: 'I think it would be a good idea.''
Yeats pulled her to him on the bench, and held her close.
...and still: the night, the moon, the eternal sea...
.........
The next morning...Emmeline awakens somewhere familiar, yet she's never slept here before...but the smell of her tatami, and
the birdsong in the spring air coming through her window all
wrap her in a closeness that was also freeing.
If only it were real, she was thinking...
And what was her dream last night? She was back There, in the Otherwhere...that same place...she allowed her mind to drift...
into another dream, just before waking...she was talking w/Marta, Ernestine & Marco,"Nothing is as it seems,'they were saying...
Emmeline asked after Marco's nombre and why it was not Marcos. 'My mother was Italiano.She named me
for that other explorer who ventured east instead of west.
Not everything is as it seems at first glance!'
'Nothing is as it seems!' All joined in the chant and clinked
glasses together in the toast...it was all rather Mad Tea Partyesque.
'Oh,' Marta added, 'But one would wish some things to be...like payment for work well done!'
'--unless! the payment was something far superior than ever imagined...?' Who said that? Emmeline was drifting again...scenes shifted....
...Feeling then she'd been lazy long enough, Emmeline shook off her dream and decided she was ready for tea...she washed up and quickly dressed against the chill March morning and headed downstairs into the welcome warmth where she could hear the men's muffled voices below.
'Greetings, Em!' Jack looked up as she entered the kitchen. 'You're just in time for tea...Yeats has a kettle hot, just here,'and he showed her where the tea things were.'How was your night?'
Em smiled sleepily, 'Good morning Jack, Aleister! I slept well! The futon is quite comfortable.' She poured hot water over the Earl Grey leaves in the warm pot.'And I love the tatami smell! Oh, Jack...I may have to get a set of my own!'
Jack looked over at Aleister, and grinned. 'I know the feeling, Em. But do try it afew more times. Sometimes the futons can get
hard after use. We'll keep your bed here safe for whenever you wish.'
Em sat waiting for her tea to brew, gazing out the kitchen window. It seemed so odd, yet almost familiar to her, sitting in Crowley Houses' kitchen just bold as brass and making free within...What was that dream about though...? 'I'm trying to recall my dreams...they were odd, like living a chapter in a storybook, but it all melts away in daylight...'
Jack handed Em a basket of warm biscuits. 'Butter and honey, here,' he passed them to her. 'You should keep a notebook by your bedside Em. Make note of your dreams upon waking.'
That's a good idea, Em thought. 'I'll do that, Jack...yes.'She poured her tea. 'So, shall we finish it up and get to the laquer today then? What are your plans, Jack?'
. . . . .
And so Em began her new life at Crowley Place;slowly acclimating a day at a time. She would return to Alice's and come back, letting her floor dry in between coats of laquer...but somehow, thus far the transition went smoothly and wasn't the abrupt change that she'd feared. The men did their thing and she did hers and sometimes it all was the same. No problems thus far...
The rains came and went and everyone felt in better spirits to have at last some rainwater in their cache and barrels, and
plans proceeded about Druid Days, now upon them.
St. Patrick's Day dawned with verdant rush of springs' lush buskin donned...
'We'll all head out to Woody's tonight,early.'Yeats told Jack and Aleister after supper,'And, we shall be leaving EARLY.' His glowering stare brooked no nay-saying.
'Emmeline is coming with the Guevara's and will meet up with us there. YOU,'Yeats indicated Jack with a heavy glare, 'Will be guarded at all times, without fail.'
Jack nodded. He was anxious to go and be a part of the festivities, but surely things were not going to go off the rails on a crazy train tonight...
He hoped.
. . . .
Sure and it was with the luck o'the Irish that the hoped-for festivities were off to an early start. By the last glow of sunset when Jack and Company arrived at Woody's already they could hear fiddle and flute and drums upon the wind. They pulled up the trap to find gay ropes of ivy twined about the lamposts and hitching posts, lanterns hung and a bonfire burned in back of the Leaping Lizard where the druid men and women danced a ring-dance round about holding hands, clapping and turning whilst a fiddler played a reel and a lad drummed upon bhodran in time.
Jack and Al unhitched Trotsky and turned him out to the corral where they saw Lulu Belle and Scotty already within, heralding the arrival of Homer and Jethro. They caught up to Yeats who stood watching the dance and found him nodding to the music and tapping his foot in time. Good, perhaps he would lose some of his somber mood with the evening's callithump.
'We'll just be inside--I'd like to have a word or two with Homer and Jethro!' Aleister told him, and Yeats nodded then, as Al and Jack headed within the bowels of the Lizard.
. . . .
The two found Homer and Jethro hovering about Woody in back by the kitchen. Al and Jack were pleased to note that Woody had changed his frying habits over to corn oil and Jethro appeared to be giving him pointers on his frying. 'Save some for us,'Aleister greeted them, 'Whatever it is!'
'Hey, it's Al and Jack! Good to see you!' Woody came over to Jack then. 'Glad you're healed up again, Jack. And I've let everyone know,'he nodded at his bouncers stationed about the house, 'That none of the Bush Boys are to be allowed in. Not tonight, not ever.'
'Well, I appreciate that, Woody.' Jack felt rather embarrased, but he knew that Woody was just doing his job and acting in the best interests of his bar and patrons.'What's cooking?'
'Can't you guess?' Homer asked. 'Potatoes!' They all chimed in, and laughed. 'Jethro here has added some spice though. When they come out, you just shake 'em up in the herb-bag...' Jethro held a paper sack and demonstrated, showing grease-marks through the brown paper, then opened the bag and released a steaming savory whiff of basil, oregano and garlic.'Oooh, yeah!' He said as the gents took appreciative sniffs.
He opened up the sack and spilled out the fries into a basket, which were eagerly sampled by all. 'And the bag soaks up abit of that grease, too...not bad, eh?' The men nodded, and Woody handed out Buffalos all around. (Well, just one perhaps, Jack thought to himself...)'Been working on making garlic powder, just dry and grind up. Good stuff, what?'
All agreed. Homer reached behind the counter and took out a jar with a red sauce. 'Some salsa we made. Goes well with...'He popped the lid.'Not too hot...! Try it with a fry...'
'By gods you got something here, Homer! I'm going to start selling salsa to go with, and for a little somethin' extra you can order these garlic fries too!' He grinned and rubbed his hands,'Nothing wrong in a little bit more for a whole lot more flavor, eh? Folks will like this...'You could almost hear the wheels turn as Woody calculated the new sales in his head...
'I don't know...this salsa could use more chilies!' A feminine voice piped up from behind the men.
They turned about to behold Marta with Emmeline and Ernestine, Leon and Marco, all munching on fries and salsa as well.
'Heeeyyy! It's the Guevaras! Como estas?' Woody was at Marta's side pronto and gave her a friendly hug hola.'More chilies, eh?'
'Si.'She smiled.'And, what would also be muy bueno, fried tortillas, which you dip in the salsa and eat. Brings on a great
thirst!' She winked at Woody knowingly.'Cheap and tasty treats!'
Woody agreed. 'I think it can be done, alright! Will go over it with the cooks... Inspired!' He smiled at Marta. 'Good to see you all! Excuse me for a bit, I must check on something. You'll be seeing me later,'he told Marta as he saw to the business in back.
. . . . .
The entertainment part of the evening began in earnest when Michael and the Head Druids arrived from town at last. Wearing a sweeping cobalt blue robe studded with silver stars at the hem, his long red locks flowing free, he looked, as Em had said,' a right bard indeed.'His poetry took one places, made one see, hear, feel and taste things.
His words brought tears to the eye, a smile to the lips, and a warmth to heart and belly both. It was easy to see why the goddess favored him so...
All were gathered 'round the stage to hear the poetry reading and Yeats had joined them at last.Some recited along with a fife accompaniment, some without. Yeats was one of those.
Taking his place alone upon the stage, standing very tall and straight-backed, Yeats glanced about at the company assembled and
then looked beyond them all, narrowing his dark gaze at some
shadow perhaps only he could see...then, in a low and resonant voice he began to chant in cadence:
'The Host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling 'Away, come away!
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and hope of his heart.'
The Host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling, 'Away, come away...'
Yeats exited the stage amidst drums beating their esteemed appreciation, whilst applause and whistles accompanied his return to the bench and the others.
'Mr. Yeats!'Emmeline exclaimed, 'That was wholly beautiful! I do believe you could call the sidhe themselves with such as that!'
He regarded Em then with a gleam in his eye 'neath dark brows. He then put a finger to his lips in 'silence'. But he smiled then, and winked!Em was pleasantly surprised to be discovering more of Yeats' 'other side'...
An intermission came after the poetry readings and pot luck dishes set out on the bar near the kitchen. Marta had been instructing the cook, Alonzo, on just the right way to fry one's tortillas, which were broken up into small 'chips' to be dipped into the salsa. 'And, I'll bring some spicy salsa, next time!' She told Woody who
was loving every minute of this spicy St. Patrick's Day. Aleister, too, never one to be retiring when faced with comestibles, had joined in with their talk of various chilies and flavorings. 'When you and Emmeline are out on your herb hunts, do gather some chilie seeds for me, would you? I want to plant some heirloom chilie plants back at the ranch...'
'Of course, Aleister! I would be pleased to do so. But I do have some seeds now, for spring planting this year, if you like!' Marta and Al seemed to be getting along well, Emmeline noted. If Woody was at all bothered by it, he wasn't letting on. She knew that Woody had a certain fondness for Marta, who was the very incarnation of a free spirit. Yet another reason why Em got along so well with her.
Jack was busy talking with Jethro, she noted, who was onstage with the keltic musicians and tuning up a mandolin while snatches of fiddle and fife and drum caught at the edges of her ear. She was sharing beer and snacks at a table with Tina and Marco when she suddenly recalled some of her dream of the night before...
'Marco! I had the oddest dream last night! I was talking with Tina, and Marta, and you...and you told me you were named 'Marco' after Marco Polo, and that your mother was Italian!' Em smiled, thinking it an oddity and nothing more.
Marco's eyes widened abit, as he took a sip of brew. 'That's completely correct, Em! You dream well! Veridad en suenos! -- there's truth in your dreams. Yes, my mother's family was Italiano, and I was named after Marco Polo.' He didn't seem at all amazed by this information from the Otherwhere.
'How odd...'Em thought.
'Not so strange,'Tina announced taking a bite of chip and salsa. 'I often have dreams which prove true. As does Leon,'she nodded to her brother onstage with his concertina.'And Marta, of course, she is the Queen of Dreams!'
'The Queen of Dreams...'Em said. Who was the queen of her dreams? She could almost see her, a tall, dark-haired woman in a grecian type gown, standing on the shore of a wine-dark sea...such had been the leit motif of her dreams forever and a day now.'Nothing is as it seems...'she breathed, recalling...
Suddenly there was a great drumming calling the attention of all to the stage as the musicians made ready in earnest for the cantus firmus to begin. A tall woman with redhair and creamy skin known to the druids as Clare, stood beside Michael who caommanded the stage like a wizard in their midst and he raised a hand, 'Hail all and well met!'
'Hail and well met!' Chanted the crowd in answer.
'The rains have come at last, and the ground gives thanks and is green once more...'Michael paced round about the stage, 'Blessed is She, Mother Gaia,and mother of us all. We her children, honor her today and everyday in this celebration of new growth. May we sow and reap ever with her blessing, and may we live in health, in peace and in joy; Hear our songs and praises O Queen of Dreams!
Forward, Into the Dance!' Michael called, as he leaped from the stage,
holding a hand out to Clare and they all joined in the dance and began to whirl in time to the music erupting from fife and drum, fiddle and mandolino, concertina and harp, guitar and banjo ...
And so the festivities flowed on into the evening and bright jigs and reels gave way to ballads and story songs...and none were spared from the dance. Even Yeats gave it up and traipsed his long self about in a circle-dance with the lads and lasses, men and women, nymph, maid and crone...
They then rested a space while a guitar and flute accompanied a young lad singing with talent beyond his years:
'Come all you fair and tender ladies
take warning how you court your men
They're like a star on a cloudy morning
first they'll appear and then they're gone again...'
Yeats leaned back against the wall and sighed. Emmeline, sitting beside him, felt an odd kinship with this strange gentleman. 'Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Yeats?'
'That I am, Emmeline.' He answered quite simply.
'Jack seems to be fine. We've had some dancing, but nothing too
strenuous.'Em had kept an eye upon Jack, but he seemed well enough.
'I do think the Guevaras and I shall be leaving soon, however...'
'Yes. It would seem to be about that time for us, as well,'Yeats agreed, downing the last of his glass.
The song ended to applause and whistles, and then suddenly the front door opened to a cacophony of noise; a troupe of musicians entered singing loudly but not altogether in time or tune, and
laughing heartily they strode to the stage and set their instrument cases down and bellowed for beer, while some took out their guitars and horns and banjos and began to tune up, still singing all the while, and others leapt from the stage and trotted off to the bar roaring for food and drink.
'Ah, sure'n tis a visit from the 'gentry'!'Michael nodded at the lads onstage as he strode up to Emmeline and Yeats. ''Quality', that!' He shook his head and smiled.
'You know this, ah, band?' Emmeline enquired, eyes wide as she watched this new bit of daft theatre being played out before them.
'Know OF them...they show up at festivals here and there. From Ireland, so they are. They're all harmless fun, for the most part...'Michael paused. 'Usually.'
Yeats was staring at one of the lads onstage who had accepted a Buffalo and was drinking it down, seemingly in one go. 'Hm. Perhaps we had best rally the troops...' He gazed out over the tavern, seeking familiar faces.
'I'll go find Jack,' Em stood and began to wander about, enquiring after Jack and Al, who was, supposedly, with him...somewhere.
The crowd had gathered about the stage now, engrossed in the newest dramedy thereupon...as the band had gotten themselves tuned-up and limbered-up (or liquor'd up more like) their ceaseless din and banter hard to make out to Californian ears
but the Lizard gave them every chance to make of it what they would.
Em found Jack and Al regarding the stage with half an eye whilst watching Homer fry up some of his newest 'garlic fries' adding garlic to the oil. Now that was worth some attention...
Suddenly from the stage came a plaintive chant in a thick Irish brogue, which quickly proceeded from legato, lento, to a wild staccato of sound which was hard to catch up to, yet
left none behind...
'McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed
There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head
There's devils on each side of you with bottles in their hands
You need one more drop of poison and you'll dream of foreign lands...
When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne
And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone
Frank Ryan bought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid
And you decked some fracking blackshirt who was cursing all the Yids...
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devils in the chair...'
Jack and Aleister looked at one another, not believing their ears. Jack sprinted off to the stage then, Al close behind, and Em followed, wondering what had gotten into them...
'And in the Euston tavern you screamed it was your shout
But they wouldn't give you service so you kicked the windows out
They took you out in the street and kicked you in the brains
And you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again...'
Jack was plastered up stageside leaning over until he was nearly face - to - face with the singer who also leaned over the stage and was holding on to Jack's shoulder with one arm as he belted out the rollicking tune...
Yeats was at Emmeline's side then. 'We must go! It would be well if you were also gone from here, Miss Page!' Yeats meant business.
'Of course!' Em watched as Yeats strode stageside and grasped Jack's arm, pulling him away fromt the singer, who laughed and
leapt from the stage then, and danced with folk who were
willing, singing on with the odd story-song all the while. Em saw Aleister join Yeats then and Jack seemed to be arguing with them both...what was going on?
'Ah, and who have we here, now?' Suddenly Em found herself facing the man of the moment, the singer from the roving Irish band, looking like a man from out of faery perhaps, a man out of time, certainly. Why had she thought that? Ah, his eyes...yes, a haunted look about his eyes, like Morgana's...and then he smiled at her. She nearly fainted. She felt herself alone with the very devil.
'Surely not that bad, lass...' He'd seemed to read her mind then. 'But then, ' he shrugged and gazed about them, 'One woman's devvil is just another woman's loving huzband, izn't it
so now!?' And he laughed and ran to the stage and leapt upon it and growled out the last of the tune...Em was mesmerized, and yet she kept backing away from the stage, til she found the wall behind her and noticed Yeats haul Jack outside while Aleister followed.
'Emmeline!' She turned to find Ernestine at her elbow,' We are
just taking leave. Are you ready?'
Em thought she was that. Oh, what a night this had been! And just day one of Druid Days!
Emmeline's Double Your Omega-3's Double Your Fun Fishcakes
Running on Island Time?-
Here we have another adapted recipe from Ann Vanderhoof's Caribbean travel/receta books. Instead of saltfish, we use salmon. Canned: ok. And, add flaxseed meal to the mix = DOUBLE OMEGA 3'S!a vegetarian take on this: use chopped Nori. ALL: very good, muy bueno and good eating!
...Ohhh...when you smell dis cook, mon...it's a pretty thing too: opens into a red/green pepper mix,
Makes 10-15 incredible edible fishcakes.
mixup:
13-14 oz can salmon, delete any bones remaining
1/4 c. ch onion
3 cloves garlic minced
1/4 c. fresh bell pepper
1/4 c. fresh sweet red pepper
1 eggwhite
1/4 c. cornflour--also, save out about 1/2 c. to dredge cakes in
1/4 c. ground flaxseed meal
1/2 c. leftover rice if u have it. ok if not.
(i happened to have some shortgrain(very yang!)and kasha mix--yum!)
dash: curry powder, cumin, oregano, chilie powder,soya, sesame oil.
mixup well, and wet hands, shape into rounds, slightly smaller than tennis ball size then flatten and dredge in corn flour with a little black pepper and chilie powder.
heat frying pan w/peanut oil to hot. fry on both sides until golden brown. drain on newspaper (no color).Inhale the mahvellous aroma!
Tartar Sauce:
to: 1/2 c. Veganaise *better than mayo! and no cholesterol!
add: 1 tbsp stoneground/or dijon mustard
dash soya, worchestershire
squeeze lime or lemon juice
tsp:finely minced red onion
2 tsp pickle relish
sprinkle dill weed
Serve cakes HOT! with a squirt of lime, and if u like, Tabasco
*McIlhenny's Louisiana Tabasco from Avery Island, LA se vous plait!
& tartar sauce.
Baked french fries with white and sweet potatoes would go well w/this *see Thanksgiving feast recipe here earlier...) as well as a cole slaw or some crunchy salad: featured here: greens w/crunch: Romaine w/ ch. celery, fresh tomato, green onion, avocado and black olives w/a balsam vinagrette.
Bon Apetit! mes amis!
...a wee footnote from the Capt'n...
CHILIES CHILIES CHILES!
now that the dog-end of the dog-days of summer are upon us, i find i enjoy abitof heat now and then!dog-nose! there is a hot pepper from the Yucatan:Xnipek: dogs nose. (dogs noses r wet, no? ah, a running nose & eyes and a tangy bite on the tongue, chilie peppers in summer. which brings us to:
'Chasing Chilies' and xcellent new (2011) bk out by 3 chilie aficionados who chase the elusive endangered chilies of America from Maryland (fish peppers anyone?) thru Louisiana (aforemention'd Tabasco of course) and down into Sonora and Yucatan (habaneros, etc). Fascinating book, with great recipes! Inspired me to make:
a Chilie Oil (w/raw and sauteed garlic, New Mexico Chilies and cayenne), Chilie Sauce (same ingreds + cilantro, celery, onion, cumin, oregano, & abit of tomato) and a sortof Chilie Colorado only w/chicken, okra, mustard greens, corn and tomato sauce...umm humm.
That recipe coming on up -- next time!
!PS Habaneros a cure for arthritis? Just possibly!Stay tuned!
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