all hands to the poopdeck!

It's again the time of year that tempts the body into hibernation. As the days get shorter and the temperature drops, so do tolerance and desire for the outdoors. The sun has retreated behind the grey skies and the early sunsets.

It's cold and wet out there this morning. The leaves in the yard can wait.

Evil cat and I have the house to ourselves. A warm blanket and the couch call a lot louder than do the garden and its tools. Screw the compost, I can't wait to curl up with my sweetheart. . .

So naturally, evil cat's supervillian godfather, Pappy, stops by. For coffee. And some lunch.

As is always the case when Pappy's around, the conversation covers a varied and diverse range of topics. At one point, he tries to convince evil cat and me that President-Elect Obama has chosen Michael Pollan to head the Department of Agriculture.

We both respond with as much excitement as incredulity. "You're kidding," I exclaim. . .

Pappy, a well known bullshitter, waves his hand next to his ear and replies "He offered himself up for the post, anyway." Evil cat and me exchange a quick, knowing glance and blow Pappy off.

"Whatever."

Later that afternoon, I ran across this open letter to President-Elect Obama written by Michael Pollan and printed in the New York Times.

It's nine pages of standard issue Pollan that I hope Mr. Obama, or someone near him, has read and understood. Food policy could change the course of the century ahead. Just try to to fry up a stock certificate for breakfast:

[W]hen we eat from the industrial-food system, we are eating oil and spewing greenhouse gases. This state of affairs appears all the more absurd when you recall that every calorie we eat is ultimately the product of photosynthesis — a process based on making food energy from sunshine. There is hope and possibility in that simple fact.

Humankind made a huge mistake when we stopped worshipping the elements and started worshipping stupid gods cast in our own image and imbued with our own desires.

I'm ready to cast my lot back in with the sun god.

All hail Sol! And Pappy, I suppose.