methinks I should hear with indifference if a trustworthy messenger were to inform me that the sun drowned himself last night
1.03.2014
a more rapid blossoming
...Thoreau's Journal: 03-Jan-1842
It is pleasant when one can relieve the grossness of the kitchen and the table by the simple beauty of his repast, so that there may be anything in it to attract the eye of the artist even. I have been popping corn tonight, which is only a more rapid blossoming of the seed under a greater than July heat. The popped corn is a perfect winter flower, hinting of anemones and houstonias. For this little grace man has, mixed in with the vulgarness of his repast, he may well thank his stars.
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3 comments:
I LOVE this post! I have thought about it ever since you posted it. What an observation, a century and a half before microwave popcorn, to see such a thing? My husband and I make popcorn on the stove, and when I made it last night, I thought of Henry's words. A more rapid blossoming under a greater than July heat. It does, indeed, look like a winter flower! He's amazing. Thank you for keeping this blog up. :)
The sound of popcorn on a cold winter night, when it is the only sound in the room, is a treat as well. And then there is the smell, and the greasy feel of melted butter and salt. I wonder if the way we eat it -- often with salt and butter -- has changed from Thoreau's time.
My wife tells me that in Spanish, popcorn is palomitas de maiz, which translates literally as "little doves of corn." Nice, no? Little doves of corn. I like it.
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