Leaf Removal Quotes

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No, thank you,' he will think. 'Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.

There are books, that one has for twenty years without reading them, that one always keeps at hand, that one takes along from city to city, from country to country, carefully packed, even when there is very little room, and perhaps one leafs through them while removing them from a trunk; yet one carefully refrains from reading even a complete sentence. Then after twenty years, there comes a moment when suddenly, as though under a high compulsion, one cannot help taking in such a book from beginning to end, at one sitting: it is like a revelation. Now one knows why one made such a fuss about it. It had to be with one for a long time; it had to travel; it had to occupy space; it had to be a burden; and now it has reached the goal of its voyage, now it reveals itself, now it illuminates the twenty bygone years it mutely lived with one. It could not say so much if it had not been there mutely the whole time, and what idiot would dare to assert that the same things had always been in it.

In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. from "East Coker

Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus to a place so much beloved. "Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; "when shall I cease to regret you!—when learn to feel a home elsewhere!—Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more!—And you, ye well-known trees!—but you will continue the same.—No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

Have you ever seen an anthill?" he said at last. "A machine of tiny marchers. Too much motion, you cannot make out the aims in it. But take something away from that anthill – a stone, a leaf, a dead caterpillar – and the ants scurry. You see which ones you have sabotaged, which ones are disturbed and scuttling to prop something in its place. That is what I do. That is kleptomancy. Divination by theft. Find something that is important, something on which you suspect many plans rely, and remove it. Then sit and watch. That’s why stealing you will help, even if you know nothing. Right now, the people who want to use you and the people who want you dead will be in a race to find you before the other does. People in a hurry often show their hand by mistake.

It was Valentine's Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romance movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night. At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all-the-time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer. Then, within the two hour time frame of the movie, the couple meet, fall in love, fall out of love, break up, and then just before the end of the movie, they happen to bump into each other by "coincidence" somewhere absolutely absurd, like by the river. This never happens in real life. The last time I bumped into an ex-boyfriend was at three o'clock in the morning at Rite Aid. I was ringing up Gas-X and corn removers.

Logotherapy, keeping in mind the essential transitoriness of human existence, is not pessimistic but rather activistic. To express this point figuratively we might say: The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.

And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self. You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone. Aye,and he falls for those ahead of him,who,though faster and surer of foot,yet removed not the stumbling stone.

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.

Cardan removes his glamour, glad to be free of it, drinking in the fragrance of moss and loam. The moonlight shines down, reflecting off leaf and stone.

PROSCIUTTO- AND SAGE-WRAPPED DATES (Serves 6)   INGREDIENTS 24 fresh sage leaves 12 dates, halved, pits removed 1 pack prosciutto, each slice sliced lengthways down the middle 2 Tablespoons maple syrup   Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place a sage leaf on each date half, wrap with prosciutto, place flat side down on a baking sheet. Bake 10 minutes. Brush with maple syrup and serve.

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back.

when shall I cease to regret you!—when learn to feel a home elsewhere!—Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence, perhaps, I may view you no more!—And you, ye well-known trees!—but you will continue the same. No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer! – No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade! – But who will remain to enjoy you?

Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; "when shall I cease to regret you? -- when learn to feel a home elsewhere? -- Oh happy house! could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more! -- And you, ye well-known trees! -- but you will continue the same. -- No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer! -- No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade! -- But who will remain to enjoy you?

And you, ye well-known trees!—but you will continue the same.—No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. Houses live and die: there is a time for building And a time for living and for generation And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto. In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls Across the open field, leaving the deep lane Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon, Where you lean against a bank while a van passes, And the deep lane insists on the direction Into the village, in the electric heat Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone. The dahlias sleep in the empty silence. Wait for the early owl. In that open field If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close, On a summer midnight, you can hear the music Of the weak pipe and the little drum And see them dancing around the bonfire The association of man and woman In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie— A dignified and commodiois sacrament. Two and two, necessarye coniunction, Holding eche other by the hand or the arm Whiche betokeneth concorde. Round and round the fire Leaping through the flames, or joined in circles, Rustically solemn or in rustic laughter Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes, Earth feet, loam feet, lifted in country mirth Mirth of those long since under earth Nourishing the corn. Keeping time, Keeping the rhythm in their dancing As in their living in the living seasons The time of the seasons and the constellations The time of milking and the time of harvest The time of the coupling of man and woman And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling. Eating and drinking. Dung and death. Dawn points, and another day Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and slides. I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

Excuse me, Father,” Calvin said, leafing through his copy, “but there’s a problem with mine. Some of the pages are missing.” “They’re not missing, Calvin,” the priest said. “They’ve been removed.” “Why?” “Because they’re wrong, that’s why. Now open your books to page one hundred nineteen, boys. We’ll start with—” “Evolution’s missing,” Calvin persisted, riffling through the pages. “That’s enough, Calvin.” “But—” The ruler cracked down hard against his knuckles.

Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more!—And you, ye well-known trees!—but you will continue the same.—No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest.

to every leaf and every flower there is an ideal to which the growth of the plant is constantly urging, so is there an ideal to every human being, a perfect form in which it might appear, were every defect removed and every characteristic excellence stimulated to the highest point. Once, in an age, God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us, not a false imagining, an unreal character, but, looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our nature, loves, not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.

when shall I cease to regret you!—when learn to feel a home elsewhere!—Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more!—And you, ye well-known trees!—but you will continue the same.—No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!—No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!—But who will remain to enjoy you?

In the University library he wandered through the stacks, among the thousands of books, inhaling the musty odor of leather, cloth, and drying page as if it were an exotic incense. Sometimes he would pause, remove a volume from the shelves, and hold it for a moment in his large hands, which tingled at the still unfamiliar feel of spine and board and unresisting page. Then he would leaf through the book, reading a paragraph here and there, his stiff fingers careful as they turned the pages, as if in their clumsiness they might tear and destroy what they took such pains to uncover.

22 grams cinchona bark 4 grams dried hawthorn berries 8 grams dried sumac berries 2 grams cassia buds 3 cloves 1 small (2-inch) cinnamon stick, preferably Ceylon cinnamon 1 star anise 12 grams dried bitter orange peel 4 grams blackberry leaf 51⁄4 cups spring water 50 grams citric acid 2 teaspoons sea salt 1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 1⁄2-inch sections Finely grated zest and juice of 2 limes Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon 1⁄2 cup agave syrup Combine the cinchona bark, hawthorn berries, sumac berries, cassia buds, cloves, cinnamon, and star anise in a spice mill or mortar and pestle and crush into a coarse powder. Add the orange peel and blackberry leaf, divide the mixture among three large tea baskets or tea bags, and put a few pie weights in each. Bring the water to a boil in a large stainless-steel saucepan. Add the tea baskets, citric acid, and salt. Let simmer for 5 minutes. Add the lemongrass, cover partially, and let simmer 15 minutes longer. Add the lime and lemon zests and juices and let simmer, uncovered, until the liquid is reduced by a little less than half, making about 3 cups. Remove from the heat and remove the tea balls. Pour the agave syrup into a bowl. Set a fine-mesh strainer over the bowl and strain the tonic into the syrup. You will need to work in batches and to dump out the strainer after each pour. If the tonic is cloudy, strain again. Pour into a clean bottle and seal. Store in the refrigerator for up to 1 year.

Cilantro: eat half a cup a day of this herb as-is, sprinkled on salads, or in a smoothie. Parsley: eat a quarter cup a day of this herb as-is, sprinkled on salads, or in a smoothie. Zeolite: buy this mineralized clay in liquid form. Spirulina (preferably from Hawaii): if it’s in powder form (which is best for removal of metals from the gut), mix one teaspoon daily into water or a smoothie. Garlic: eat two fresh cloves a day. Sage: eat two tablespoons a day. L-glutamine: if it’s in powder form (which is preferable for removal of metals from the gut), mix one teaspoon daily into water or a smoothie. Plantain leaf: brew this herb to make tea and drink a cup a day. Red clover blossom: brew two tablespoons of these flower blossoms to make two cups of tea a day.

Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world. But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you, So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also. And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self. You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone. Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone.

1¼ cups white wine vinegar 1¾ cups water 2½ tablespoons sugar ½ bay leaf 4 thyme sprigs A pinch of dried chile flakes ½ teaspoon coriander seeds 2 whole cloves 4 garlic cloves, halved 1½ teaspoons sea salt Combine all the ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add small or chopped vegetables to the brine, cooking each type of vegetable separately and removing them when they are cooked but still a little crisp. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon and set them aside to cool to room temperature. Once all the vegetables are cooked and cooled, allow the brine to cool as well. Stir the vegetables together gently in a large bowl, then transfer to jars or other covered containers, cover with the cooled pickle brine, and refrigerate. You can keep this basic brine in your refrigerator and reheat it to make fresh pickles when you are inspired by a trip to the farmers’ market.

day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.

In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. Houses live and die: there is a time for building And a time for living and for generation And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto. In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls Across the open field, leaving the deep lane Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon, Where you lean against a bank while a van passes, And the deep lane insists on the direction Into the village, in the electric heat Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone. The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.

Why is programming fun? What delights may its practitioner expect as his reward? First is the sheer joy of making things. As the child delights in his first mud pie, so the adult enjoys building things, especially things of his own design. I think this delight must be an image of God’s delight in making things, a delight shown in the distinctness and newness of each leaf and each snowflake. Second is the pleasure of making things that are useful to other people. Deep within, we want others to use our work and to find it helpful. In this respect the programming system is not essentially different from the child’s first clay pencil holder “for Daddy’s office.” Third is the fascination of fashioning complex puzzle-like objects of interlocking moving parts and watching them work in subtle cycles, playing out the consequences of principles built in from the beginning. The programmed computer has all the fascination of the pinball machine or the jukebox mechanism, carried to the ultimate. Fourth is the joy of always learning, which springs from the nonrepeating nature of the task. In one way or another the problem is ever new, and its solver learns something; sometimes practical, sometimes theoretical, and sometimes both. Finally, there is the delight of working in such a tractable medium. The programmer, like the poet, works only slightly removed from pure thought-stuff. He builds his castles in the air, from air, creating by exertion of the imagination. Few media of creation are so flexible, so easy to polish and rework, so readily capable of realizing grand conceptual structures. (As we shall see later, this very tractability has its own problems.) Yet the program construct, unlike the poet’s words, is real in the sense that it moves and works, producing visible outputs separate from the construct itself. It prints results, draws pictures, produces sounds, moves arms. The magic of myth and legend has come true in our time. One types the correct incantation on a keyboard and a display screen comes to life, showing things that never were nor could be. Programming then is fun because it gratifies creative longings built deep within us and delights sensibilities we have in common with all men.

The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No, thank you,' he will think. 'Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.

we might say: The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.

Logotherapy, keeping in mind the essential transitoriness of human existence, is not pessimistic but rather activistic. To express this point figuratively, we might say: the pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes; on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No thank you, he will think. Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past. Not only the reality of work done, and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.

Did It Ever Occur to You That Maybe You’re Falling in Love? BY AILISH HOPPER We buried the problem. We planted a tree over the problem. We regretted our actions toward the problem. We declined to comment on the problem. We carved a memorial to the problem, dedicated it. Forgot our handkerchief. We removed all “unnatural” ingredients, handcrafted a locally-grown tincture for the problem. But nobody bought it. We freshly-laundered, bleached, deodorized the problem. We built a wall around the problem, tagged it with pictures of children, birds in trees. We renamed the problem, and denounced those who used the old name. We wrote a law for the problem, but it died in committee. We drove the problem out with loud noises from homemade instruments. We marched, leafleted, sang hymns, linked arms with the problem, got dragged to jail, got spat on by the problem and let out. We elected an official who Finally Gets the problem. … We watched carefully for the problem, but our flashlight died. We had dreams of the problem. In which we could no longer recognize ourselves. We reformed. We transformed. Turned over a new leaf. Turned a corner, found ourselves near a scent that somehow reminded us of the problem, In ways we could never Put into words. That Little I-can’t-explain-it That makes it hard to think. That Rings like a siren inside.

JANUARY 26 Being Kind-I You often say, “I would give, but only to the deserving.” The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pastures. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish. —KAHLIL GIBRAN The great and fierce mystic William Blake said, There is no greater act than putting another before you. This speaks to a selfless giving that seems to be at the base of meaningful love. Yet having struggled for a lifetime with letting the needs of others define me, I've come to understand that without the healthiest form of self-love—without honoring the essence of life that this thing called “self” carries, the way a pod carries a seed—putting another before you can result in damaging self-sacrifice and endless codependence. I have in many ways over many years suppressed my own needs and insights in an effort not to disappoint others, even when no one asked me to. This is not unique to me. Somehow, in the course of learning to be good, we have all been asked to wrestle with a false dilemma: being kind to ourselves or being kind to others. In truth, though, being kind to ourselves is a prerequisite to being kind to others. Honoring ourselves is, in fact, the only lasting way to release a truly selfless kindness to others. It is, I believe, as Mencius, the grandson of Confucius, says, that just as water unobstructed will flow downhill, we, given the chance to be what we are, will extend ourselves in kindness. So, the real and lasting practice for each of us is to remove what obstructs us so that we can be who we are, holding nothing back. If we can work toward this kind of authenticity, then the living kindness—the water of compassion—will naturally flow. We do not need discipline to be kind, just an open heart. Center yourself and meditate on the water of compassion that pools in your heart. As you breathe, simply let it flow, without intent, into the air about you. JANUARY 27 Being Kind-II We love what we attend. —MWALIMU IMARA There were two brothers who never got along. One was forever ambushing everything in his path, looking for the next treasure while the first was still in his hand. He swaggered his shield and cursed everything he held. The other brother wandered in the open with very little protection, attending whatever he came upon. He would linger with every leaf and twig and broken stone. He blessed everything he held. This little story suggests that when we dare to move past hiding, a deeper law arises. When we bare our inwardness fully, exposing our strengths and frailties alike, we discover a kinship in all living things, and from this kinship a kindness moves through us and between us. The mystery is that being authentic is the only thing that reveals to us our kinship with life. In this way, we can unfold the opposite of Blake's truth and say, there is no greater act than putting yourself before another. Not before another as in coming first, but rather as in opening yourself before another, exposing your essence before another. Only in being this authentic can real kinship be known and real kindness released. It is why we are moved, even if we won't admit it, when strangers let down and show themselves. It is why we stop to help the wounded and the real. When we put ourselves fully before another, it makes love possible, the way the stubborn land goes soft before the sea. Place a favorite object in front of you, and as you breathe, put yourself fully before it and feel what makes it special to you. As you breathe, meditate on the place in you where that specialness comes from. Keep breathing evenly, and know this specialness as a kinship between you and your favorite object. During your day, take the time to put yourself fully before something that is new to you, and as you breathe, try to feel your kinship to it.

1. For the space of one entire month (from full moon to full moon), a single leaf from a Mandrake must be carried constantly in the mouth. The leaf must not be swallowed or taken out of the mouth at any point. If the leaf is removed from the mouth, the process must be started again. 2. Remove the leaf at the full moon and place it, steeped in your saliva, in a small crystal phial that receives the pure rays of the moon (if the night is cloudy, you will have to find a new Mandrake leaf and begin the whole process again). To the moon-struck crystal phial, add one of your own hairs, a silver teaspoon of dew collected from a place that neither sunlight nor human feet have touched for a full seven days, and the chrysalis of a Death’s-head Hawk Moth. Put this mixture in a quiet, dark place and do not look at it or otherwise disturb it until the next electrical storm. 3. While waiting for the storm, the following procedure should be followed at sunrise and sundown. The tip of the wand should be placed over the heart and the following incantation spoken: ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus.’ 4. The wait for a storm may take weeks, months or even years. During this time, the crystal phial should remain completely undisturbed and untouched by sunlight. Contamination by sunlight gives rise to the worst mutations. Resist the temptation to look at your potion until lightning occurs. If you continue to repeat your incantation at sunrise and sunset there will come a time when, with the touch of the wand-tip to the chest, a second heartbeat may be sensed, sometimes more powerful than the first, sometimes less so. Nothing should be changed. The incantation should be uttered without fail at the correct times, never omitting a single occasion. 5. Immediately upon the appearance of lightning in the sky, proceed directly to the place where your crystal phial is hidden. If you have followed all the preceding steps correctly, you will discover a mouthful of blood-red potion inside it.

Once the writer was at the deathbed of a fellow writer. What interested his dying colleague more than anything else was what was being said in the cultural section of the newspapers. Did these battles of opinion take his mind off his illness by infuriating him or making him laugh? Did they put him in mind of an eternal repetition, preferable after all to what was in store for him? There was more to it than that. Even in his hopeless situation, far-removed as he was from the editorial offices, he was their prisoner; more than his nearest and dearest, the critics and editors were the object of his dreams; and in the intervals when he was free from pain, he would ask, since by then he was incapable of reading, what one publication or another had said about some new book. The intrigues, and the almost pleasurable fury they aroused in the sufferer - who saw through them - brought a kind of world, a certain permanence into the sickroom, and the man at his bedside understood his vituperating or silently nodding friend as well as if it had been his own self lying there. But later, when the end was near and the dying man still insisted on having opinions read out to him from the latest batch of newspapers, the witness vowed that he would never let things come to such a pass with him as they had with his image and likeness. Never again would he involve himself in this circuit of classifications and judgments, the substance of which was almost exclusively the playing off of one writer or school against another. Over the years since then, he had derived pride and satisfaction from staying on the outside and carrying on by his own strength rather than at the expense of rivals. The mere thought of returning to the circuit or to any of the persistently warring cliques made him feel physically ill. Of course, he would never get entirely away from them, for even today, so long after his vow, he suddenly caught sight of a word that he at first mistook for his name. But today at least he was glad - as he would not have been years ago - to have been mistaken. Lulled in security, he leafed through the local section and succeeded in giving his mind to every single news item.

Chapter 1 Death on the Doorstep LIVY HINGE’S AUNT lay dying in the back yard, which Aunt Neala thought was darned inconvenient. “Nebula!” she called, hoping her weakened voice would reach the barn where that lazy cat was no doubt taking a nap. If Neala had the energy to get up and tap her foot she would. If only that wretched elf hadn’t attacked her, she’d have made her delivery by now. Instead she lay dying. She willed her heart to take its time spreading the poison. Her heart, being just as stubborn as its owner, ignored her and raced on. A cat with a swirling orange pattern on its back ran straight to Neala and nuzzled her face. “Nebula!” She was relieved the cat had overcome its tendency to do the exact opposite of whatever was most wanted of it. Reaching into her bag, Neala pulled out a delicate leaf made of silver. She fought to keep one eye cracked open to make sure the cat knew what to do. The cat took the leaf in its teeth and ran back toward the barn. It was important that Neala stay alive long enough for the cat to hide the leaf. The moment Neala gave up the ghost, the cat would vanish from this world and return to her master. Satisfied, Neala turned her aching head toward the farmhouse where her brother’s family was nestled securely inside. Smoke curled carelessly from the old chimney in blissful ignorance of the peril that lay just beyond the yard. The shimmershield Neala had created around the property was the only thing keeping her dear ones safe. A sheet hung limply from a branch of the tree that stood sentinel in the back of the house. It was Halloween and the sheet was meant to be a ghost, but without the wind it only managed to look like old laundry. Neala’s eyes followed the sturdy branch to Livy’s bedroom window. She knew what her failure to deliver the leaf meant. The elves would try again. This time, they would choose someone young enough to be at the peak of their day dreaming powers. A druid of the Hinge bloodline, about Livy’s age. Poor Livy, who had no idea what she was. Well, that would change soon enough. Neala could do nothing about that now. Her willful eyes finally closed. In the wake of her last breath a storm rose up, bringing with it frightful wind and lightning. The sheet tore free from the branch and flew away. The kitchen door banged open. Livy Hinge, who had been told to secure the barn against the storm, found her lifeless aunt at the edge of the yard. ☐☐☐ A year later, Livy still couldn’t think about Aunt Neala without feeling the memories bite at her, as though they only wanted to be left alone. Thankfully, Livy wasn’t concerned about her aunt at the moment. Right now, Rudus Brutemel was going to get what was coming to him. Hugh, Livy’s twin, sat next to her on the bus. His nose was buried in a spelling book. The bus lurched dangerously close to their stop. If they waited any longer, they’d miss their chance. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Rudus was watching. Opening her backpack, she made a show of removing a bologna sandwich with thick slices of soft homemade bread. Hugh studied the book like it was the last thing he might ever see. Livy nudged him. He tore his eyes from his book and delivered his lines as though he were reading them. “Hey, can I have some? I’m starving.” At least he could make his stomach growl on demand.

I have questions," she said. "Ask away." Poppy decided to be blunt. "Are you dangerous? Everyone says you are." "To you? No." "To others?" Harry shrugged innocently. "I'm a hotelier. How dangerous could I be?" Poppy gave him a dubious glance, not at all deceived. "I may be gullible, Harry, but I'm not brainless. You know the rumors... you're well aware of your reputation. Are you as unscrupulous as you're made out to be?" Harry was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on a distant cluster of blossoms. The sun threw its light into the filter of branches, scattering leaf shadows over the pair in the arbor. Eventually he lifted his head and looked at her directly, his eyes greener than the sun struck rose leaves. "I'm not a gentleman," he said. "Not by birth, and not by character. Very few men can afford to be honorable while trying to make a success of themselves. I don't lie, but I rarely tell everything I know. I'm not a religious man, nor a spiritual one. I act in my own interests, and I make no secret of it. However, I always keep my side of a bargain, I don't cheat, and I pay my debts." Pausing, Harry fished in his coat pocket, pulled out a penknife, and reached up to cut a rose in full bloom. After neatly severing the stem, he occupied himself with stripping the thorns with the sharp little blade. "I would never use physical force against a woman, or anyone weaker than myself. I don't smoke, take snuff, or chew tobacco. I always hold my liquor. I don't sleep well. And I can make a clock from scratch." Removing the last thorn, he handed the rose to her, and slipped the knife back into his pocket. Poppy concentrated on the satiny pink rose, running her fingers along the top edges of the petals.

BRANGIAN collects the sheets to wash. BRANGIAN: I shook like a leaf. He whispered, ‘Be calm, sweet one’ – But of course I could not speak. He inhaled the scent of my flesh As if he wanted to remember it. And then… and then I felt the weight of him, Oh Lord! My knees quaked, my hands trembled, My stomach turned somersaults. And – servant though I am – I did not want to leave, To slip out from under him and be replaced: Bugger duty! This morning, with rings under my eyes I took the wedding breakfast in And removed the sheets with my own blood on them. What of my wedding night? Will a queen take my place for me? Not likely. Not bloody likely. But last night it was me who was the beloved.

3. Bake 1 sheet at 350°F for 7 to 9 minutes or until the edges of the mounds are lightly browned and beginning to set. Working quickly, transfer the cheese rounds to a lightly greased (with cooking spray) 24-cup miniature muffin pan, pressing gently into each cup to form shells. Repeat the procedure with the second baking sheet. 4. Microwave the milk in a microwave-safe measuring cup for 30 seconds on high or until warm. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Whisk in the flour; cook, whisking constantly, for 1 minute. Gradually whisk in the warm milk. Bring to a boil, whisking constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes, or until thickened. Whisk in the cheddar cheese, kosher salt, and black pepper. 5. Increase the oven temperature to 425°F. Line each Parmesan shell with 2 turkey pieces and fill each with 1 teaspoon cheese sauce. Bake for 5 minutes. Remove from the pan to a wire rack and top with crumbled bacon and diced tomato. Garnish with flat-leaf parsley leaves.

The snare of “long-life” foods can directly affect our health. Take the average loaf of bread available today. To adapt the production of bread to the food industry’s goal of a large market for cheaply and efficiently produced foodstuffs, the wheat germ, which contains the natural oils that give bread its true, wholesome flavor and make it nutritious, has to be removed, since it causes bread to rot within a day. To make up for this loss of flavor and texture, the wheat, after it is heavily processed into white flour, is made into a bread-like product that contains preservatives and additives such as the infamous high fructose corn syrup (HFCS).42 Or, in the case of many organic packaged breads that last for days, organic sugars and other strange-sounding ingredients are added.

At the desk in the showroom, Bryce removed Tharion’s letter from the top of the pile, while Hunt began to leaf through some of the pages beneath. The blood rushed from her face at a photograph in Hunt’s hand. “Is that a body?” Hunt grunted. “It’s what’s left of one after Tharion pried it from a sobek’s lair.” Bryce couldn’t stop the shudder down her spine. Clocking in at more than twenty-five feet and nearly three thousand pounds of scale-covered muscle, sobeks were among the worst of the apex predators who prowled the river. Mean, strong, and with teeth that could snap you in two, a full-grown male sobek could make most Vanir back away. “He’s insane.” Hunt chuckled. “Oh, he most certainly is.

American accent. Broad shoulders, at least fifty years old. He was wearing generic sunglasses and a cap that read NASHVILLE PREDATORS. His lips were thin, sharp like a palm leaf. Lucie stood up; the man took up position behind her. The cop looked around for pedestrians, witnesses, but no luck. Alone and unarmed, she was helpless. They walked about a hundred yards without encountering a soul. A Datsun 240Z was waiting under the maples. “You drive.” He pushed her roughly into the car. Lucie’s throat was knotted and she was finding it hard to stay calm. The faces of her twins swam before her eyes. Not like this, she kept thinking. Not like this… The man took a seat next to her. Like a pro, he quickly patted her pockets, thighs, and hips. He took out her wallet, removed her police ID—which he looked at carefully—then turned off her cell phone. Lucie spoke in a slightly shaky voice: “No need—it isn’t working.” “Drive.” “What is it you want? I—” “Drive, I said.” She started the car. They headed out of Montreal due north, via the Charles de Gaulle Bridge. And left the lights of the city far behind.

Lemon-Herb Chicken   This chicken recipe is one of my favorites, and something I’ve eaten more times than I can count in the homes of Italians. You can actually find cellophane bundles in the produce section of Tuscany grocery stores that have all the ingredients pre-packaged together (sans chicken, of course.) This is a flexible recipe and can be made with chicken breasts, thighs, quarters, etc. There’s no right or wrong here.   1 whole chicken, washed and patted dry Extra-virgin olive oil 3-4 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and minced 1 lemon, zested and juiced (you can also substitute an orange, if you’d like, or even do both) 10-12 leafs fresh sage (or around 1 T. dried), chopped 3-4 sprigs fresh rosemary (or around 1 T. dried), chopped   Mix the minced garlic, lemon zest (but NOT the juice), sage and rosemary together. Add enough olive oil to create a nice paste. Slather the paste all over and even inside the whole chicken. Let marinate overnight or at least for several hours. Place the chicken on a backing rack in a pan and roast, uncovered, @ 350 degrees for 1-2 hours until a thermometer in the thigh registers 165 degrees. If the chicken gets too brown on top while cooking, cover with tinfoil. Once done, remove the chicken from the oven and pour the saved lemon juice over the entire chicken. Carve and serve, reserving the lemony pan drippings for drizzling over the chicken.

Tips for Preparing Artichokes To cook an artichoke, slice 1 inch off the tip. Cut off about ½ inch or less of the very bottom piece of the stem to expose the fresh green bottom, keeping the remaining stem attached. Then, using a large, sharp knife, slice the artichoke in half lengthwise. Once sliced in half, you can see the fuzzy inedible choke part. Use a small, pointed knife to cut a deep half-moon-shaped incision where the heart meets the choke. Scoop out and discard the fibrous and hairy choke from the center of each half. Place the artichoke in a steamer basket over several inches of water. Bring the water to a boil, cover, and steam for eighteen minutes. Set the artichoke aside until it’s cool enough to handle. To eat, peel off the outer leaves one at a time. Tightly grip the outer end of the leaf, place the opposite end in your mouth, and pull through your teeth to remove the soft, pulpy, delicious portion of the leaf. You can also scrape off the edible portion with a butter knife. Then you can eat it plain or prepare a healthful dip or dressing to use as a dip. Continue until all the leaves are removed. Cut the remaining heart into pieces and enjoy!

Felicity’s Macaroni and Cheese 4 cups (1 pound) elbow macaroni 5 tablespoons unsalted butter 4 cups milk 1/2 medium onion 4 cloves garlic 1 bay leaf 3 sprigs fresh thyme 1 teaspoon dry mustard 2 tablespoons flour 2 cups grated cheddar, plus 1 cup in big chunks 1 cup sharp white cheddar cheese 1/2 cup grated parmesan Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper Directions Cook the macaroni in a large pot of boiling salted water until done, about five to seven minutes. Drain and toss it with two tablespoons of butter; set aside. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Coat a large baking dish with one tablespoon of butter, and set it aside. Mince the onion, and crush the garlic cloves. Pour the milk into a saucepan, and add the onion, garlic, bay leaf, thyme, and mustard. Warm over medium-low heat until the milk starts to steam, about ten minutes. Remove from the heat, and let the flavors infuse while you make the roux. In a large pot over medium heat, add two tablespoons butter and the flour. Cook, stirring, for about two to three minutes; don’t let the roux color. Remove the bay leaf from the infused milk and add to the roux, whisking constantly to avoid lumps. Cook, stirring often, for about five minutes until the sauce is thick. Remove from the heat and add one half of the grated cheddar, one half of the sharp white cheddar, and one half of the parmesan; stir until it is melted and smooth. Taste and adjust

4/20, CANNABIS DAY, APRIL 20 420 FARMERS’ MARKET RISOTTO Recipe from Chef Herb Celebrate the bounty of a new growing season with a dish that’s perfectly in season on April 20. Better known as 4/20, the once unremarkable date has slowly evolved into a new high holiday, set aside by stoners of all stripes to celebrate the herb among like-minded friends. The celebration’s origins are humble in nature: It was simply the time of day when four friends (dubbed “The Waldos”) met to share a joint each day in San Rafael, California. Little did they know that they were beginning a new ceremony that would unite potheads worldwide! Every day at 4:20 p.m., you can light up a joint in solidarity with other pot-lovers in your time zone. It’s a tradition that has caught on, and today, there are huge 4/20 parties and festivals in many cities, including famous gatherings of students in Boulder and Santa Cruz. An Italian rice stew, risotto is dense, rich, and intensely satisfying—perfect cannabis comfort cuisine. This risotto uses the freshest spring ingredients for a variation in texture and bright colors that stimulate the senses. Visit your local farmers’ market around April 20, when the bounty of tender new vegetables is beginning to be harvested after the long, dreary winter. As for tracking down the secret ingredient, you’ll have to find another kind of farmer entirely. STONES 4 4 tablespoons THC olive oil (see recipe) 1 medium leek, white part only, cleaned and finely chopped ½ cup sliced mushrooms 1 small carrot, grated ½ cup sugar snap peas, ends trimmed ½ cup asparagus spears, woody ends removed, cut into 1-inch-long pieces Freshly ground pepper 3½ cups low-sodium chicken broth ¼ cup California dry white wine Olive oil cooking spray 1 cup arborio rice 1 tablespoon minced fresh flat-leaf parsley ¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese Salt 1. In a nonstick skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the THC olive oil over medium-low heat. Add leek and sauté until wilted, about 5 minutes. Stir in mushrooms and continue to cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add carrot, sugar snap peas, and asparagus. Continue to cook, stirring, for another minute. Remove from heat, season with pepper, and set aside. 2. In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring broth and wine to a boil. Reduce heat and keep broth mixture at a slow simmer. 3. In a large pot that has been lightly coated with cooking spray, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons THC olive oil over medium heat. Add rice and stir well until all the grains of rice are coated. Pour in ½ cup of the hot broth and stir, using a wooden spoon, until all liquid is absorbed. Continue adding the broth ½ cup at a time, making sure the rice has absorbed the broth before adding more, reserving ¼ cup of broth for the vegetables. 4. Combine ¼ cup of the broth with the reserved vegetables. Once all broth has been added to the risotto and absorbed, add the vegetable mixture and continue to cook over low heat for 2 minutes. Rice should have a very creamy consistency. Remove from heat and stir in parsley, Parmesan, and salt to taste. Stir well to combine.

LENTILS WITH SAUSAGES { LENTILLES AUX SAUCISSES } My friend Fabienne makes this dish at the drop of a hat, because it’s quick, simple, satisfying, and delicious! Traditional vegetables in a dish like this are carrots, celery, onions, and perhaps fennel, which make it so flavorful. Sometimes it’s fun to go a bit wild, though, as Fabienne says. “I use red bell pepper,” she said. “It gives the dish exciting color and flavor.” Whichever vegetables you use, be sure to dice them so they blend in nicely. This calls for a hearty red, from Cahors. NOTE: You need delicious pork for this recipe. I’ve suggested kielbasa and slab bacon; use pork belly or unsmoked bacon, salt pork that you’ve boiled in fresh water twice first, or fresh pork sausages. 1 tablespoon duck fat or extra-virgin olive oil 2 medium onions, diced 1 small red bell pepper, seeds and pith removed Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 large clove garlic, green germ removed, minced 1 cup (250g) green lentils (ideally lentilles de Puy), picked over for small stones, rinsed 1 bouquet garni 1 (8-ounce; 250g) Morteau or kielbasa, cut into ½-inch (1.2cm) rounds 2 to 3 fresh sausages (about 8 ounces; 250g total), cut into 2-inch (5cm) pieces 6 ounces (180g) lean slab bacon, cut into 1-inch (2.5cm) chunks Fresh flat-leaf parsley, for garnish Grainy mustard, for serving Melt the duck fat in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Add the onions and bell pepper and stir. Season with salt and black pepper and cook until the onions are translucent, stirring frequently so they don’t stick, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and stir. Add the lentils, stir, and add water to cover them by 1 inch (2.5cm). Add the bouquet garni, pushing it under the water. Raise the heat to medium-high and when the water boils, reduce the heat to medium so it is simmering, partially cover, and cook until the lentils begin to soften, about 15 minutes. Add the meats, pushing them into the lentils, and additional water if necessary to make sure that the lentils are moist. Return the liquid to a boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a simmer and cook, partially covered, until the lentils are “al dente” and not too soft, 15 to 20 minutes more. Remove from the heat and ladle into four shallow soup bowls. Garnish with a generous grind of black pepper and a parsley leaf. Serve immediately with the mustard alongside. SERVES 4

SENSUALITY   Her hands push upward gathering the material from my shirt until it reaches over my head. Brushing her hair with my hand I stare deep into the lambent ecru of her eyes as hints of russet and jade glimmer across them both. She gives into me reaching for me while moving her lips down my torso. Carefully removing each layer that is slowly loosened we now find each other completely unguarded as our arms do wrap tightly around one another. Her arms and hands glide and slide naturally in such a graceful performance that her movement does seduce every part of me. Here and now we have become bare as we embrace this method of nearness that unfolds one another’s secrets. Holding her inside of my gentle embrace I marvel every elegant strand from her karakul-like ringlets that fall down beside her face and shoulders. The splendor of her darling features give charm to that undulating delirium that she induces. The edges of my fingertips find their way down the muscles of her back in the way that a drop of rain finds itself traveling across the wet colocasia leaf. Looking into her eyes they do manifest to me again that she is the one whom I’ve been searching for all this time. She is the one I have waited for to whom I do give the great pleasure of showing me how. I’ve wanted every part of me to belong to her and no one else, knowing here and now that all of me will truly become her very own.

Watching the old lady’s fingers, and hoping it wasn’t going to taste vile, May nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Having removed the stopper from the first jar, Primrose picked up a set of measuring spoons threaded onto a leather thong and searched for the one she wanted. Into a stone bowl, she then measured four quantities of what looked like dried leaves. From the second jar, she added a similar amount. To May’s eyes, the contents of both looked identical. Once stirred together, Granny Beer tipped them out on to a square of paper, folded the corners together and then twisted the top tightly closed. ‘Equal parts nettle and dandelion. Enough for a week. Nettles are rich in iron. Better than that, they contain all the vitamins needed to get it into your blood.’ May conveyed her understanding with a nod. ‘All right.’ ‘Nettle by itself is prone to being somewhat potent, which is why I’ve made it up with dandelion leaf, which will also help with getting it into your body.’ ‘I see.’ ‘Two teaspoons into a pot. You got a little teapot over yonder?’ ‘Um, actually…’ May pictured the contents of the dresser. There was really only the Brown Betty. ‘Here,’ Primrose went on, opening the door to another of her cupboards and bending to look inside. ‘Take this ’n.’ Into May’s hand, she pressed a small pot painted blue and white. ‘Two teaspoons in there, boiling water to fill it up, steep for five minutes with a stir halfway through. Strain it into a cup, let it cool a moment. No sense scalding your tongue. And then

The magic wishbone spell that she taught me that afternoon is the following. Take a wishbone from a chicken that your family eats. The person for whom you are making the wishbone should also partake of some of the meat of the chicken. If that person does not eat with your family at the meal where the chicken is served, some of the meat can be saved for him or her. Dry out the wishbone after removing all of the meat from it. Now set the wishbone on a small clay dish, like a saucer, which is to become its home. Take some red wool yarn, and wrap it around the right half of the wishbone while praying that the wishbone may be used to bring good things into the life of the person who uses it. Now sprinkle the wishbone with a small amount of mullein leaf that has been ground up to a powder. This powder is also known as wishbone powder. It is what is used to “feed” the wishbone. Then give the wishbone, sitting on its saucer, to the person who is to use it along with the instructions for its use. The instructions are as follows. When you firmly know what it is that you want, you should take the wishbone and, holding it in both hands, tell it exactly what it is that you desire. Then sprinkle a pinch or two of the mullein leaf (or wishbone) powder on it. Now repeat your request to it as it lies on its plate or saucer, and when you have done so, replace the wishbone in the dark place where you keep it. It must be kept out of sight, and you should not ever tell anyone else that you have a magic wishbone.

Convergence is ubiquitous and not limited just to the external appearance or morphology of animals. It is also widely observed and documented in animal behavior and in plants, fungi, and even bacteria. Let’s start with behavior. What do you think these four species—a cobra, a stickleback fish, an octopus, and a spider—share? There is no convergence in body form here, unlike the Caribbean anoles. But a behavior has converged among them that has led to the success of each of their species: the females of the species guard their eggs. One of the best examples of convergent behavior is observed in humans and—hold your breath—ants! And I have witnessed this convergence with my own eyes. When I was on a family vacation in the stunningly beautiful Peruvian Amazon, I stumbled upon the tiny creatures that had beaten our human ancestors to the discovery of agriculture by many millions of years: the leafcutter ants. I had waited years to witness the miracle, and there it was in its full linear glory. A long single column of thousands of large green leaves appeared to be miraculously moving in perfect synchrony of their own volition on the forest floor. Each large leaf was being carried by a single tiny ant, who purposefully disappeared underground to pass on the booty to her specialist sisters. These ants chew the leaves to grow a fungus garden used for food for the entire colony. Not unlike human farmers, these ants produce fertilizers (amino acids and enzymes) to aid the fungal growth, remove contaminants that can hinder the agricultural output, are highly selective in what they grow, and continuously tend to their enormous gardens.8

What if Ronodin or the Sphinx get a new phantom to help them?” Calvin asked. “They need the ointment to come in here,” Seth said. “And they needed me to recruit the phantom. Neither of them can charm the undead.” “It would be a serious risk to remove the Everbloom,” Calvin said. “I bet it could destabilize the volcano.” The phantom laughed darkly. “Any fool could see that much.” Seth shook his head. “Why am I not surprised they didn’t warn me?” “Ronodin is usually so helpful,” Calvin said. Seth walked over to the edge of the island, above the rich red lava. Even with the help of the ointment, the proximity made it almost unbearably hot. He could look at the lava directly for only a couple of seconds at a time. “Is this as good a place as any to drop the token?” Seth asked. “Yes,” Dezia replied. Seth released the leaf and watched it seesaw down onto the lava. A brief flame flared up, and it was gone. “Thank you, Seth,” Dezia said. “Follow me.” Seth gently patted the pocket with Calvin in it. “Ready to get out of here?” “So soon?” Calvin asked. “I thought a sleepover could be fun. Another time, maybe. We can go . . . as long as you do the walking.” There are foul beings in the mist,” Mizarine warned.

he needed to find some way of getting past what they were doing to him, and yet he had no idea how to look beyond what was taking place. It was tied to the dragon. More than anything else, he knew it was, and it was tied to holding on to that power, to the strange leaf that the dragon had given him. More than ever, he felt certain he had to master the power within that leaf, but what would it take? He sat back, leaning against the wall. As he did, he couldn’t help but wonder if the wall was even real. What had he done to remove the chains? It was a matter of focusing on the iron dragon, using that heat and trying to burn through the chains. But then, if it was an illusion, and if his mind believed it was real, then drawing upon that power might have freed him, but it wouldn’t have changed anything else. All of this was almost too hard for him to wrap his mind around. Jason took a seat. He rested with his hands on his legs, and he held the leaf in his hands. He swayed back and forth again, thinking about the dragon, about the way she’d shimmered

DAWN TREADER SOUP When Caspian, King of Narnia, in the company of Reepicheep the mouse knight, Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace, decides to go in search of the lost Lords of Narnia, he sets sail on a ship called the Dawn Treader. The crew experiences many adventures at sea and on land, and have to live off the food on board and what they can find around them. This soup was a particular favorite of Eustace…. At least, until he turned into a dragon! This recipe can easily be made on board a ship, using produce from the sea and supplies from the hold. INGREDIENTS • serves 4 1 lb 2 oz clams 2 3/4 oz smoked bacon 1 shallot 1 1/2 oz butter 3 sprigs thyme 1 bay leaf 1 T flour 2 cooked potatoes, chopped into chunks 1 3/4 oz crème fraîche or sour cream Salt and pepper PREPARATION TIME • 15 mins COOKING TIME • 25 mins Collect the clams on the island of Felimath, rinse them carefully, and place in a cauldron with about 4 oz of water. Boil them for 2 minutes, until the clams open, and discard any that remain closed. Drain the clams, saving the juices, and remove them from their shells. Strain and reserve the juices through a piece of cheesecloth. Chop the bacon and let it brown for a few minutes in a nonstick frying pan. Drain off the excess fat and set the bacon aside on paper towels. Peel the shallot, sauté it for 5 minutes in the butter without browning, then add the bacon, thyme, and bay leaf before the ship reaches the Dark Island. Sprinkle with the flour and let the shallot and bacon cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Slowly add the clam juice, stirring at the same time to prevent lumps forming, then add the potato chunks and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove bay leaf and purée with a blender until the soup is quite smooth. Add the clams and the crème fraîche or sour cream, reheat for 2 minutes, season with salt and pepper, and serve. Note: Reepicheep likes to add a handful of samphire to nibble with this soup.

In hindu tradition, before removing the herb or root from the original plant, they will do rituals called mooligai prana pratishtha, meaning any curse or impurities on that herb, the prana pratishtha will be done in such a way that even after the root is removed, it will continue to have life in it. A dead leaf cannot heal you. Only herbs with life can heal you.

Pasta Fazool, from the region of Puglia Warm 4 Tablespoons of fruity extra-virgin olive oil in a large saucepan and gently sauté 1/ 2 onion, chopped, a peeled and chopped carrot, a rib of chopped celery and some minced garlic. Open a can of cannelini or Jackson Wonder beans and drain, then add to the vegetables along with 4 chopped plum tomatoes, a pinch of fresh rosemary and 2 cups boiling water. Bring back to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for thirty minutes. Transfer about half of the beans and their liquid to a food processor and process to a thick purée. Stir the purée back into the beans. Add 1/ 4 pound of ziti (or other pasta) and another 1-2 cups of boiling water to the beans in the pot. Cook, stirring constantly, until the pasta is tender, about 10-15 minutes. Remove from heat. Add salt and lots of black pepper to taste. Serve in warm bowls, garnished with a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkle of chopped flat-leaf parsley and some parmigiana.

Carrot, Ginger and Turmeric Soup Prep Time: 10 minutes Cooking Time: 30 minutes Servings: 4 persons Ingredients 1 ½ pounds carrots, chopped roughly 2 tablespoons vegetable oil 2 sticks celery, chopped roughly 1 onion, chopped roughly 1 bay leaf 2 teaspoons turmeric 1 ¾ pint vegetable stock 1 - 2-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and sliced thin 2 cloves garlic, sliced thin For serving 4 scallions, sliced 4 teaspoons sesame oil Handful coriander, chopped 1 green chili, chopped 2 teaspoons lime juice Directions Add the oil to large pot and heat. Once hot drop in the celery, onion, bay leaf and carrot stir together and cook for 10 minutes. Next, stir in the turmeric, ginger and garlic cooking for a further 5 minutes. Now pour in the stock, stir and heat until it begins to boil. Turn down the heat and cook on low for 15 minutes or until the carrots become soft. When ready take out the bay leaf and remove from the heat to cool slightly. Place the soup mix into a blender or you have a stick blender use this. Pulse or blend until it becomes creamy and smooth, then return to the stove to reheat. Place the serving ingredients into a dish and mix together. Add the soup to the serving dishes and sprinkle over the garnish. Serve and enjoy.

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Seth removed the skillet from the heat and then added a prohibitively expensive cup of chicken meal and brown rice dry dog food. The kibble Seth buys is so expensive I am surprised it doesn’t come with gold leaf.

braised pork shanks with borlotti beans stinco di maiale brasato con fagioli borlotti beans ½ pound dried borlotti (cranberry) beans 1 whole garlic head, cloves separated 1 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 Onion Brûlée (recipe follows) 1 carrot, peeled and diced 1 celery rib, diced 4 ounces bacon, cut into large dice 5 fresh flat-leaf parsley stems 3 sprigs fresh thyme 2 sprigs fresh rosemary Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes 1½ quarts chicken stock 1 tablespoon kosher salt 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar brine 1 pound kosher salt 1 cup honey 1 sprig fresh rosemary 5 juniper berries pork Four 1-pound pork hindshanks ½ cup vegetable oil 1 carrot, peeled and cut into large dice 1 celery rib, cut into large dice 2 cups dry white wine ½ cup Stewed Tomatoes (Chapter 3) 1 quart veal stock or chicken stock to serve 1 tablespoon unsalted butter 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 To prepare the beans, in a large pot, soak the beans in enough cold water to cover by 2 or 3 inches for 6 to 12 hours. Change the water two or three times during soaking, if possible. Drain and set aside. 2 Use a broad knife to crush the garlic cloves, still in their skins. 3 Heat a saucepan over medium heat. Add the olive oil, onion, carrot, celery, bacon, parsley, thyme, rosemary, red pepper, and half of the garlic cloves to the pan and cook, stirring, for about 7 minutes, or until the vegetables soften. 4 Add the drained beans and the stock and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 40 minutes, until the beans are tender but not so soft that they lose their shape. 5 Add the salt and vinegar. Stir to mix, remove the beans from the heat. Taste the cooking liquid and season to taste with salt. Let the beans cool in the cooking liquid and then refrigerate until ready to use. 6 To prepare the brine, in a large pot, mix 1 gallon of water with the salt, honey, rosemary, and juniper berries. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until the salt and honey dissolve. Remove from the heat and let the brine cool to room temperature. 7 To prepare the pork, submerge the pork shanks in the cool brine, cover, and refrigerate for 3 hours. 8 Preheat the oven to 300°F. 9 Lift the shanks from the brine and pat dry. 10 Heat a large ovenproof casserole or braising pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, put the vegetable oil in the pan and sear the pork shanks for 6 to 8 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. 11 Add the carrot, celery, and wine and the remaining garlic cloves and bring to a boil. Cook over medium-high heat for 8 to 10 minutes, or until reduced by half. Add the tomatoes and stock and bring to a boil.

red wine–braised short ribs with garlic mashed potatoes costatine con purè di patate Four 12-to 14-ounce boneless beef short ribs Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 cup vegetable oil 2 carrots, cut into large dice 2 celery ribs, cut into large dice 1 yellow onion, cut into large dice 2 tablespoons tomato paste One 750-ml bottle dry red wine 2 cups port 3 sprigs fresh thyme 1 sprig fresh rosemary 1 bay leaf 2 quarts veal stock or chicken stock 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 2½ cups Garlic Mashed Potatoes (Chapter 8) 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 Lay the short ribs in a single layer in a shallow baking pan and season generously on both sides with salt. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours. 2 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 3 Rinse the salt off the ribs and pat them dry with paper towels. Season the ribs with pepper and a light sprinkling of salt. 4 Heat a casserole or braising pan over high heat. When the pan is hot, put the oil in the pan. When the oil is hot, sear the short ribs on both sides until golden brown. Lift the short ribs from the pan and set aside. If the oil is dark, discard it and replace with fresh oil. 5 Reduce the heat to medium-high and add the carrots, celery, and onion to the pan. Cook, stirring, for about 8 minutes, or until the vegetables brown and caramelize. 6 Stir in the tomato paste. Reduce the heat to medium and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Add the wine and port, raise the heat to medium-high, and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the liquid reduces by half. 7 Return the short ribs to the pan and add the thyme, rosemary, and bay leaf. Pour the stock into the pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Lay a sheet of parchment paper directly on the food and transfer the pan to the oven. Cook for about 2 hours, until the meat is fork tender. 8 Remove the pan from the oven and discard the parchment paper. Add the vinegar. Let the short ribs come to room temperature in the braising liquid. 9 Lift the short ribs from the liquid and set aside on a large plate or bowl, covered, to keep warm. 10 Strain the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois into a saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, reduce the heat to low, and cook for about 15 minutes, or until reduced by a quarter. Using a skimmer or large spoon, skim off any fat that rises to the surface. Season to taste with salt and pepper and pour the sauce over the ribs. 11 Serve immediately or allow to cool to room temperature and then cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. (If you are serving immediately and the ribs and sauce are not hot enough, reheat gently over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes.)

fish fumet makes about 3 quarts 2 pounds cod bones or other nonoily fish bones 1 cup dry white wine ½ onion, chopped ½ fennel bulb, chopped 10 fresh flat-leaf parsley stems 2 sprigs fresh thyme 1 bay leaf 1 Chop the cod bones into manageably sized pieces and rinse with cool running water. Transfer to a bowl and add enough cold water to cover. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours or overnight. 2 Preheat the oven to 350°F. 3 Drain the bones and pat them dry. Spread them on a baking sheet and roast for about 20 minutes, or until they are cooked through but have not colored. There will be no fish remaining on them and the bones will be white. 4 Transfer the bones to a saucepan and add the wine, onion, fennel, parsley stems, thyme, and bay leaf. Add 1 gallon of water and bring to a simmer. Simmer for 30 minutes, remove from the heat, and set aside to stand for 10 minutes. Strain and use immediately or cover and refrigerate. The fumet will keep in the refrigerator for up to 7 days. It also will keep in the freezer for up to 1 month. mackerel escabeche with new potatoes sgombro escabeche con patate marinade and vegetables 1¼ cups cider vinegar 1¼ cups dry white wine 3 tablespoons sugar 1 tablespoon kosher salt 4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced 4 shallots, thinly sliced 2 celery ribs, cut on the diagonal into ¼-inch pieces 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced 1 carrot, thinly sliced ½ fennel bulb, very thinly sliced ½ cup chopped green Cerignola olives or other green olives 8 saffron threads 1 sprig fresh thyme 1 bay leaf 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper potatoes 1 pound new potatoes 1 bay leaf ¾ cup crème fraîche 2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper mackerel ¾ cup extra virgin olive oil Four 6-ounce skin-on mackerel fillets to serve 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 1 To prepare the marinade, bring the vinegar, wine, sugar, and ¾ cup water to a boil in a pot over high heat. Add the salt and bring the liquid to a boil. Cook at a rapid boil for about 5 minutes, or until reduced by a quarter. 2 Remove the pot from the heat and add the garlic, shallots, celery, bell pepper, carrot, fennel, olives, saffron, thyme, bay leaf, and black pepper to the liquid. Let the marinade cool to room temperature, and then let it stand for 4 hours at room temperature. 3 To prepare the mackerel, heat a sauté pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, put ½ cup of olive oil in the pan. 4 When the oil is hot, sear the mackerel, skin side down, for 2 minutes. Turn the fish and cook for 1 or 2 minutes longer, or until cooked through.

sicilian tuna sandwich panino con tonno siciliano 8 slices whole-grain bread 1 fennel bulb, trimmed and shaved ¼ cup drained capers, rinsed Twelve ½-inch-thick tomato slices 8 leaves romaine lettuce, ribs removed and leaves halved 3 cups Tuna Salad (recipe follows) 1 Lightly toast the bread slices. 2 Place a slice of bread on each of 4 serving plates. On each slice, lay a quarter of the shaved fennel, 1 tablespoon of capers, 3 tomato slices, and 2 romaine leaves. Top with equal amounts of the Tuna Salad and then the remaining slices of bread. Press down gently and then cut each sandwich in half and serve. This sandwich is as much about the tuna as anything else. The salad is pretty classic, made with celery, scallions, and pickles, but when you make it with imported Italian tuna, it takes on a new dimension you may not have experienced. Sure, you can make this with any canned tuna you have in the cupboard, but once you taste the imported Italian tuna, which is far richer than other types, you will recognize it for the treat it is! You could buy good pickles to use in the tuna salad, but I hope you’ll try making your own. Get some really good cucumbers and go to town. It’s surprising how easy pickling is, and yet it’s almost a lost art.  serves 4 tuna salad makes about 3 cups Three 6-ounce cans tuna packed in olive oil, drained and chopped (see Note) 3 tablespoons finely diced celery 3 tablespoons minced House-Made Pickles (Chapter 2) 3 tablespoons sliced scallions 3 teaspoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 3 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon 3 teaspoons snipped fresh chives 6 tablespoons Rick’s Homemade Aioli (Chapter 2) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

halibut steamed in parchment paper halibut al cartoccio Four 6-ounce pieces halibut Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 fennel bulb, very thinly sliced 4 shallots, very thinly sliced 1 garlic clove, very thinly sliced ½ cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling ¼ cup dry white wine 3 lemons, halved, plus more lemon juice for drizzling if needed 1 large or 2 medium tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and diced ¼ cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves ¼ cup celery leaves 2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives 2 tablespoons finely sliced fresh basil 1 teaspoon crushed coriander seeds 1 Preheat the oven to 400°F. 2 Cut 4 good-sized pieces of parchment paper or aluminum foil, each about 9 inches long, and shape into heart shapes by folding them in half and then, beginning at the bottom of the fold, cutting a half-heart shape, using most of the paper. When you open the folded paper, it should be in the shape of a heart and about 9 inches long. Lay the open hearts on the countertop. 3 Put a piece of halibut on one side of each heart and season to taste with salt and pepper. Put a tablespoon of butter on top of each piece of fish. Arrange the fennel, shallots, and garlic evenly over and around each piece of halibut. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of olive oil, 1 tablespoon of wine, and the juice of ½ lemon on each fish. 4 Fold the parchment over the fish and crimp any open sides by folding it back onto itself to seal the fish inside the packet. Transfer the packets to a baking sheet or shallow baking pan and bake for 12 minutes. 5 Meanwhile, toss the tomatoes with the parsley, celery leaves, chives, basil, and coriander seeds in a bowl. Season to taste and dress with the remaining ¼ cup of olive oil and the juice of 1 lemon. 6 Remove the baking sheet from the oven. Gently cut open each parchment package, taking care because the steam can be very hot, and set each portion on a serving plate. The fish can stay on the parchment or not. 7 Top each piece of fish with a quarter of the salad. Drizzle with more olive oil and lemon juice, if necessary. Delicate fish is often cooked in parchment in Italy, which allows it to steam gently in the paper. When you open the parchment, a dramatic whirl of hot, moist steam escapes—a true delight for the senses! For this recipe, I follow another Italian culinary custom and top the fish with dressed salad when I serve it. The hot fish brings out the flavors in the herbaceous salad.  serves 4

branzino in salt crust branzino in crosta di sale 1 whole 4-pound branzino, sea bass, striped bass, loup de mer, or red snapper, cleaned and scaled Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ½ cup extra virgin olive oil ½ lemon, sliced ½ orange, sliced 3 sprigs fresh tarragon 3 sprigs fresh oregano 1 bay leaf 1 garlic clove, sliced 2 pounds kosher salt 1 tablespoon fennel seeds 1 tablespoon black peppercorns 8 large egg whites 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon 1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil 1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 4 lemon wedges or slices 1 Preheat the oven to 375°F. 2 With a pair of shears, cut out the gills of the fish, if necessary, and wash the inner cavity. Season the cavity to taste with salt and pepper and drizzle with about ¼ cup of olive oil. Put the lemon and orange slices, tarragon, oregano, bay leaf, and garlic in the cavity of the fish and gently press the two sides of the fish together. 3 In a large bowl, stir 2 pounds of kosher salt and the fennel seeds, peppercorns, and egg whites to a paste-like consistency. You might find it easiest to mix this with your hands. 4 Spread a ½-inch layer of the salt paste over a shallow baking pan, such as a jelly roll pan, large enough to hold the fish. Put the stuffed fish on top of the salt. 5 Pack the rest of the salt paste around and over the fish so that it is completely encased. 6 Bake the fish for 30 to 45 minutes, depending on the weight of the fish. A full 4-pound fish will require 40 minutes; a fish that weighs a little more than 4 pounds will need 45 minutes. Do not overcook. 7 Remove the pan from the oven and let the fish rest, still encased in the salt, for 5 to 8 minutes. Using a mallet or the handle of a heavy knife, crack the salt. If the fish is cooked through so that the flesh just flakes and is opaque, remove all the salt using a knife and spoon to lift it off. If the fish needs a little more cooking, rest the chunks of salt back on top of it and return it to the oven for 5 or 6 minutes, or until done. Let it rest again for about 5 minutes before removing all the salt. 8 Drizzle the fish with ¼ cup of olive oil and sprinkle with the chopped tarragon, basil, and parsley. Serve with a wedge or slice of lemon. This is one of my all-time favorite recipes—partly because I love the drama of cracking open the salt shell and exposing the fish, but mainly because it tastes so good. The salt case keeps the fish perfectly moist but does not make it especially salty. In fact, the fish is perfectly cooked and flavored. Cooking fish this way is a technique as old as ancient Rome, and for all its tableside drama it’s surprisingly easy. It’s important to begin with a 4-pound fish (or one slightly larger). I like this

green olive tapenade makes about 3 cups 2 roasted red bell peppers, peeled and finely diced (see Chapter 1) 1 cup pitted and chopped green Cerignola olives 2 anchovy fillets, drained and crushed 2 tablespoons drained capers, rinsed and smashed 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil ¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley Freshly ground black pepper Kosher salt 1 In a nonreactive glass or ceramic mixing bowl, combine the bell peppers, olives, anchovies, capers, and vinegar. Add the olive oil and parsley and about 1 teaspoon of black pepper and stir gently to mix well. Season to taste with salt. 2 Cover and refrigerate for up to 7 days. homemade giardiniera makes about 6 cups 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 bay leaf Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes Pinch of dried oregano 2 cups apple cider vinegar 1 cup white wine vinegar 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 fennel bulb, trimmed of fronds, diced 1 large red onion, diced 1 celery rib, diced 1 large carrot, peeled and diced 1 large red bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 large yellow bell pepper, ribs removed, diced 1 jalapeño pepper, halved and seeded 1 cup cauliflower florets 1 cup pitted and halved Queen green olives or other large green olives 3 pickled peperoncini, sliced (see Note) 1 fresh sprig thyme 1 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 In a small, dry skillet set over medium-high heat, toast the black pepper, bay leaf, red pepper, and oregano for about 1 minute, or until fragrant. Slide from the pan to a plate and allow to cool. 2 Lay a 5-to 6-inch square of cheesecloth on a work surface. When the herbs are cool, pile them in the center. Gather the corners together and tie with a length of string to make an herb sachet. 3 In a large pot, heat 2 cups of water and the cider vinegar, wine vinegar, sugar, salt, and herb sachet over high heat and bring to a boil. 4 Add the fennel, onion, celery, carrot, bell peppers, jalapeño, and cauliflower. Let the liquid return to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the firmer vegetables (carrots, peppers, cauliflower) are al dente. 5 Remove from the heat and let cool. When the mixture is cool, add the olives, peperoncini, and thyme. Stir to mix, and then stir in the olive oil. Use right away or cover and refrigerate for up to 1 month.