I’ve been up for a few hours, making marmalade and attempting to get my new computer set up.
Not set up in the sense of physically set up, because it has been that way for several days now, but set up in the sense of persuading it to recognize the camera and the scanner, both of which it persists in giving the cut direct, and getting rid of the ads masquerading as useful software, and putting on the software that I actually want, and all that.
At the same time, I am making orange marmalade. This is very labor-intensive, and should not be attempted unless you love marmalade and/or the people you plan to give it to. It begins with juicing oranges. At first, you are transported by the scent, the very distillation of summer, a reminder of happy childhood days, and you wonder why you don’t do this every morning. Then, as you continue to twist and pour and measure, you fully appreciate Tropicana.
Next you quarter a passel of freshly-washed oranges and slice them paper-thin. There is of course still the marvelous scent, and the satisfying thunk of the knife on the wood of the cutting board, and the brilliant color (it is best to do this in a blue and yellow kitchen, if at all possible), but it still begins to feel like work after a while.
Today’s song is “People, Look East!” a fine Advent hymn by Eleanor Farjeon, set to the sprightly Besancon carol. It tells us to make our houses as fair as we are able, and then gets the birds and the furrows and the angels and whatnot going on their chores, because Love is on the way. Poetic, danceable nagging, that’s what this song comes down to. It was first published in 1928, and will make a good fiddle tune, or something to hum as you race around doing stuff today.
That is what I am doing today, so I will now wish you a wonderful weekend and make like a banana and split.