Trying to Practice Enough

There was leftover trout in the fridge.  Its local trout from our CSA - farmed, caught and cleaned by a local trout farmer.  Still good.  Still fresh.

The kids didn't want to eat it (they didn't want to eat it the first time it appeared on our table a few days ago).  My husband didn't want to eat it.  Frankly, I didn't want to eat it either.

But the class, the readings, the Earth herself, is having its effect on me.  I had the idea of making a sandwich, like my mother used to make with canned salmon.  Making a salad - similar to a tuna salad - with trout, mayonnaise, pickles, some Jalepeno Brew (another local product, mustard with a kick) - spreading it on bread with cheese, tomato for me because no one else likes them(one of the farmers in our CSA has a hothouse and we have local, organic, heirloom tomatoes!!), popping it in the oven and letting the cheese brown.  An open faced trout melt.

I got some bread from 'bread day' at Eden - a lovely multigrain baguette.  Threw together some potato soup to go along with it (not local, but stuff we had in the pantry and the fridge).  It was really really good.  And quick.  Devin, who only managed a single bite of the trout the first time, had three pieces.  Tom also enjoyed it.  I feel a bit smug.

But there are still leftovers in my fridge, threatening to go bad.  The manna past its due date.  One victory is followed by a dozen failures.  But consciousness begins to change.  And the Earth's voice begins to sing.  And maybe, just maybe, it really is possible that things could change.  Maybe not in time to save the polar bears.  But just maybe . . . in time to save a few things.  Maybe humanity.  Maybe we can save enough.  Or what could someday, after grief and repentance and true humility, become enough.  Not what we had.  But enough.