scones.

black cherry and black walnut.
that's that double-black-on-black big business.
yeah.
and we're staying black at breakfast time over here.
really.
nuts and fruits,
no pits, and stained fingers from all the slicing,
makes for activation of the first order,
for first thing in the morning flavorful freshness,
directly out of the oven.
the way it has to be-
that's the way we do it in the woodsly goodness.
and MY scones are too dry, or suckie,
because i employ the ingredients to their fullest potential.
i fold in a little vegan sour cream,
and a little cream chee',
and the buttery-type stuffs,
and i fold and turn and fold and turn and fold and turn
over and over and over and over,
because if i'm gonna be eating scones all dang day,
they'd better be turbo mutha-flippin' expert.
makes sense, doesn't it?
just sayin'-
if you've got creative control,
and you only halfway do it to it,
instead of way overdoing it,
then you pretty much basically deserve to eat the sh!t.
right?
i mean,
if you aren't activating your jauns all the way to eleven,
you must be the kind of A*-hole who doesn't understand
the very basic principles of warrior poetry.
too far is not a distance you can ever reach;
too much is the right amount;
and when it's all really happening, it'd better be loud, fresh, and hard.
that's no joke.
just check the teleport:

mmmhmmmm.
lemon zest and raw sugar sprankles,
and all those layers of super-sexy moist new hottness.
cherries get better when they're baked.
i think that's real.
the nuts are plentiful,
with that perfect hint of acidic bite,
and the lemon makes them taste even summerier than the cherries.
i cheated and put a punch of sugar in 'em,
but, i mean,
c'mon.
if i gotta get it going on,
i'mma get it poppin' like i'm s'posed to.
and i did.
and they are.
and i'm always flattered when they start disappearing as soon as they're served.
the faster it's all gone,
the better it probably was.
fairly sure that's correct.
***********
portland happened the other day.
in the winter,
the weather is bitter and biting and brutal and bad in general.
so,
sightseeing is at a minimum because it's too terrible to try and look around
in the coastal winds and sh!t-salad storms that comprise the city
for about six months.
the thing of it is-
when it's nice outside,
and the sun is shining,
and the buildings are looking good,
and the trees are providing shade and windbreaks,
and everything is light, and airy, and busy, and beautiful?
ugh.
that's when ALL the filthy peepee bums are out in full force.
carriages full of cans,
mouths full of cavities,
body cavities full of skankiness,
and all of it swirling around in an miasmic reek that blends
in with the summery stink of hot docks and old fish and worse dumpsters.
it all costs something, i guess.
sure,
it looks great if you're looking up.
literally.
but at ground level,
its all scabs and lice and liquor.
yikes.
i love the teeming city,
but mostly because it makes me miss the mountain hermitage
i chose as my harder, smarter way.
i'm grateful for the trips i take,
and for the moves i make,
and most of all for the place i rest my head.
here and there and everywhere,
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....