This morning I was watching Gordon White’s tribute to the recently-departed Peter Carroll. I’ve never read any of Carroll’s books and I doubt I ever will. I was watching for the same reason I read or watched nearly everything Gordon produced: you never knew when he would drop some jewel of knowledge or practice. He ended the video with a prayer that Carroll would be seated as an ancestor of practice.
Patrick Joyce, Remembering Peasants: How little we know about these bodies, these bodies that do the eating! Our ignorance is fed by our assumption that peasant bodies were the same as our bodies. They were not. The difference can be summarized thus: we have bodies, which we carry about in our minds, whereas they were their bodies. The head had not yet won victory over the medieval notion of the bowels as the centre of the body.
Patrick Joyce, Remembering Peasants: And here we might step back a moment and consider that something of great weight may be going on here, with this matter of the morality of ordinary life, and with the word ‘grace’ in particular. For a word that is traditionally applied to the lord seems equally and perhaps more applicable to the peasant, one who is decorous, courtly even. Where does being civilized really reside?
“The man with an experience is never at the mercy of the man with an argument,” said the Holiness preacher. This line keeps coming back to me this year. It can and did indicate anti-intellectualism. I prefer to frame it, however, in terms of anti-rationalism, the critique of the idea that the rational mode of thought is, or at least ought to be, the clearest path to truth. Fresh out of Holiness churches during my cage stage Lutheranism, my parents, Rachel, and I were having Sunday dinner.
Having read the beans section of The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery, I went in search of heirloom seeds. Behold, the Sustainable Mountain Agriculture Center. After a bit of poking around, I settled on Doyce Chambers Greasy Cut-Short and some Pine Mountain Greasy. The former because they have a solid reputation and the latter because Pine Mountain is not all that far from my ancestral Kentucky counties. They both should be good for either cooking in the pod or drying as soup beans.
Pete at Just a Few Acres Farm is signing off YouTube. I’m genuinely sad to see him go. Also, unsurprised: being a human being and not an influencer, he’s struggled with the perversities of the platform for years. I’m thankful for the hours of pleasure he’s given us. I’ll keep watching re-runs.
Traditional Irish prayer quoted in Remembering Peasants:
With the powers that were granted to Patrick I bank this fire.
May the angels keep it in, no enemy scatter it.
May God be the roof of our house.
For all within
And all without,
Christ’s sword on the door
Till tomorrow’s light.
Patrick Joyce, Remembering Peasants: [In Irish houses of the old style] it is bad manners to knock and for the host to keep you waiting at the door. You go into the house to the fire, the fire the centre of the hearth, the hearth the centre of the kitchen, the kitchen of the house, the house of the farm (‘the home place’), and so onwards goes what Glassie calls a culture of centres, one around which cyclical time revolves.
We were visiting with my in-laws this evening, talking about all sorts of things. Eventually the conversation turned to our worries about caring for my mom. My mother-in-law had been talking about her experience caring for a relative when, at one point, she launched into the most powerful two-minute sermon about trust in God I’ve ever heard. I had tears in my eyes. If she would have made an altar call, I would have responded.
Not going to be a lot of work on projects this weekend. Yesterday I met up with Todd for lunch in Edinburgh and had a great time. Today will be some family visits, being Mother’s Day. I did, however, get the serpentine belt replaced on the truck. Very easy and far cheaper than a mechanic’s bill.