October 2025

Journal 10.29.25

Menu thoughts racing I toss and turn there’s the grilled duck yes but I’ve got raw fish on my mind: golden tile with pickled peppers and yellowfin tuna with Napa cabbage and rockfish with sumac sorbet and I drift to sleep…

I’ve no interest in Western fine dining. It’s not the appropriate expression for me there’s too much and it always wants more. I’m looking for a simple dish of a lovely fish. And I could go on about humility (or lack thereof) and ego and money but I’ve no reason to stain this glorious autumn day. The fire is crackling the bread is rising the fish and fowl are waiting for me to make good on their sacrifice. Though ultimately it may be my sacrifice, no? I have blood on my hands… I must act remarkably to pay this debt.

Journal 10.27.25

I’m driving along as I do moseying down country roads and the landscape fills me with wonder as it does. Red and yellow and orange and crimson deaths shimmer off trees in breeze. I pass the ongoing soy harvest. I pass rolls of hay. I pass towering stacks of hay—a cooper’s hawk is resting there. And I pass Guernsey girls sunbathing in pasture. I’ve ventured off the beaten path and am rewarded: a pair of bald eagles by the roadside take flight at the rumbling of my tires. And we soar together for a time before they head into the clearing. And I too break free from the canopy of trees and see Canadian geese in flying-v above the sorghum field. Yes soon the shotguns will sing. As my rooster crows. Frost will be on the grass and my warm breath. I’m looking forward to it… though the fire burns strong within me now fueled by Autumn morning air.

And inside I have smoked black tea and the wood oven crackles and pops and the week is hanging from me waiting to be released and windswept to return to Time. And I could let it go yes I could and will though how lovely this is sitting here in quiet and peace before I have failed a dozen times. But when the tea becomes tepid it’s time to go.

Journal 10.25.25

Quiet moments in the soy field. Wandering through river reed. Cattails. Soft cold ground. Still Pond dressed in autumn morning sun like demi-glace. I could stretch the nine-minute drive from my front door to the restaurant into hours. And I have. I watch the land unfold and blossom and retreat into herself to rest to create again. Is this place miraculous? No. The miracle is that I have the pleasure of witnessing it

Journal 10.24.25

I feel dried up. Tired. I haven’t taken much time off and it caught up with me a while back. I’m pushing through. I went from the country to the city for a few days then back to the country then back to the city for a couple more days and I’m back in the country again and it was too chaotic yesterday in the city and too chaotic the day before much too chaotic I need to restore order now. I need to sit in the middle of a harvested cornfield beneath the autumn sun and meditate MAY I BE SAFE AND HEALTHY. MAY I BE FILLED WITH PATIENCE AND COMPASSION AND KINDNESS. MAY MY FAMILY BE FILLED WITH HAPPINESS. MAY I BE AT PEACE. Repeat for 10 minutes 30 minutes one hour. I’d like to take my wife and little ones out for dinner on the water to soak up the last of this season’s shimmering tide. There must be room for that in this world that I’m creating for myself. Room for happiness. Lightness. I like to carry things on my back. But I’m tired I don’t have much energy not even to step more fully on the gas pedal so I pull off onto the grass and let the white sedan pass me and I watch the field of dried brown soy. It moves. And I feel sick. Nauseated. Something hard is trying to come up it’s at the base of my throat and I can breathe just fine I’m breathing and breathing but there’s no air. I pass these old little homes in Still Pond cars parked in carports at midday yards well-kept and all I can think is why have I done this to myself? My wife needs help there’s no child care and she has payroll and bills and bookings and shows to schedule and accounts to balance and things to order and things to repair and people to train and people to pay but there’s no money there’s none and that’s never driven me but it’s all gone and we’re over-extended and there’s no room on the credit cards and my debit card declined when I tried to buy a coffee and I smiled at the teenager behind the counter and removed the ten dollar bill I’d stashed away for emergencies. And I’m stuck working all day and every day from morning to night while my wife is trying to put on a good face for our little angels she’s trying to hold everything together and there is every reason to doubt everything I’ve taken on. And I’ve stepped out onto the restaurant deck and a bald eagle soars over me and I breathe and I breathe and everything is still there inside me the turmoil the stress no it hasn’t faded but there’s this majestic bird soaring and I’m not angry I’m not yelling at anyone I’m not blaming anyone I’m patient and I’m trying I’m trying and he’s in the distance now I can’t tell if he’s flying toward me or away and it reminds me of everything I’ve taken on I don’t know which direction it’s going but there’s nothing to do but continue.

And it’s a new day and I’m back at the counter with tea and nothing has changed though I slept and am rested and I know that the work I’m doing is good. I’m not thinking of the future I’m not thinking of tomorrow I’m not thinking the it-will-all-work-outs I don’t care for that today. I want to make pie and butcher fish and I’m going to do it well and I may take a photograph or two and I will jot down a note here and there because I have my thoughts and I have the truth and they’re both worth keeping.