Monstro

Usually in late August, EJ and I are exclaiming that the trees are already changing into their autumn colors. This year has been different. It is the end of September–the very last day of the month–and I don’t see that many vivid colors. I’m assuming the warmer temperatures have something to do with it. The daytime temperatures have hovered around the low 70s. Mind you, low 70s feel different in spring, summer, and autumn: in the spring the 70s–in fact, the 60s–feel warm and we open the windows and wear t-shirts. In summer, the 70s feel nice–not too cold or too hot. The autumn 70s feel warm on the surface but with a coolness underneath. In autumn, I am comfortable wearing a sweatshirt or hoodie at this temperature.

Several weeks ago EJ found a room-sized (almost) rug for sale on Facebook Marketplace. Actually, the sellers were giving it away for free. It looked lovely, so EJ quickly contacted them and they replied “Come and get it!” So we did. Despite the lack of vivid autumn color, we had a lovely drive through beautiful countryside. Sometimes when we run errands, EJ asks me, “Which route do you want to take?” I always answer the same way: “In Northern Michigan, every route is beautiful so there’s no wrong answer.” The only time I choose a route is in winter when the snow is deep. then I’d prefer that we stay on more traveled roads. But, again, in Northern Michigan every route is beautiful so there’s no wrong answer.”

The sellers had a beautiful property. Their long driveway wound through deep woods. They had a lovely house, a cute chicken coop, and a pole barn with several old classic cars in it. We had a throughly enjoyable chat with the husband and wife. They are people I would have enjoyed having as friends. I mentioned to the wife that I saw the “Watch for Bear” along their driveway and asked if they often encountered bears, and was told bear stories–with photos.

The rug is beautiful. It’s very large with my favorite warm autumn colors that suit our home. Our feet sink deep into its luxurious plushness when we walk across it. This is what we call “a find.”

Now that EJ is retired, he shares in the cookng. Unlike my Dad, who had no cooking skill whatsoever–my Mom used to say that he could starve in a grocery store–EJ enjoys cooking. We both enjoy simple homemade foods, but there are differences in our style. EJ likes making “Old fashioned grub.” He especially enjoys baking different sorts of bread. Recently, he has made sourdough starter for bread.

For those who might not know, a sourdough starter is a living culture of wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria maintained in a mixture of flour and water. It does not require the use of commerical yeast. Once established, the starter is largely self-sustaining, though it requires regular feeding and care to remain active and effective for fermenting dough. When a sourdough starter is active and ready for baking, a portion of it is mixed into the dough to leaven the bread. The remaining portion is retained in its container, fed with fresh flour and water, and allowed to ferment and grow again. This retained culture continues the cycle, ensuring a continuous supply of starter for future use. A happy, well-fed starter will double or triple in size, fill with bubbles, and look lively within hours. Neglect it and it sulks–and eventually dies.

When I was still a teenager, my Mom had a sourdough starter for awhile. It grew so quickly that she had to keep using it–we had a constantly supply of breads, donuts, and other bakery goods. We couldn’t keep up with the products of the starter. My Mom began calling it “the monster” because it was always hungry, always required baking, and we never could eat enough of it’s products to keep up with the supply. It was too much. Mom finally let the monster die.

Years ago, someone gave me sourdough starter. I tried to keep up with it–feeding it, baking, making delicious goods for EJ, JJ, and me. Like my Mom, I couldn’t keep up. Like my Mom, I called it the monster. Now EJ has made sourdough. Good for him. His bread is delicious. But it’s his baby. I wash my hands of monsters that consume me.

EJ has named his sourdough “Monstro.”