Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins, Pied Beauty
A favorite poem and even so, I find myself yearning to make pie puns - bad enough I have searched my photo files for dappled deer. I will blame the hunger (now I sound like something out of Twilight) as dinner is not until five-ish and the smell of turkey and my husband's to-swoon-for-stuffing is making me a little woozy with want. Yes, I contribute - my mother's amazing cranberry relish recipe and my lumberjack appetite that thrills all cooks who like to watch people tuck in. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving all - and hopes for peace and warmth and joy for the start of my favorite holiday season.
