Patty's Spaghetti

I started this blog many many moons ago at this time of year, hunting season, frost in the air and homemade spaghetti sauce simmering in the pot. I carried it down the road to my parent's house (arms wrapped around the pot for warmth) with gunshots echoing in the woods, but light of foot and heart, to coin a tired phrase.

There is no house down the road anymore, at least not one for me. Hunting season has come and gone. Patty's Spaghetti recipe is tucked away in a book, along with others cut out of the newspaper with handwritten notes: Look Yvonne, sounds good, no?

Tis the losing season, I've often thought, as dark closes in, tighter and tighter, this year especially, though we string lights and put candles in windows. Hopefully we turn the corner soon to a brighter future and less toxic news. Doesn't everyone just want to return to normal?

I hadn't meant for this to turn political but the politics of the day have pitted friend against friend, brother against sister, neighbor against neighbor until it feels like there is no us anymore.

Patty would not approve of the new lapse in decorum, the lack of civility in our national discourse. Hatred is a contagion for which there is no vaccination, but we still have free and fair elections and a new year ahead.

On that uplifting note, we will soon reach winter solstice and celebrate the return of the sun. Oh, and that recipe? Trust me, it is a good one.