How but in custom and ceremony
Are Innocence and Beauty born?
—William Butler Yeats
Review of WHITEFOOT
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Her name was Peromyscus leucopus, but she did not know it. I think it had been a long time since the mice around Port William spoke English, let alone Latin. Her language was a dialect of Mouse, a tongue for which we humans have never developed a vocabulary or grammar. Because I don’t know her name in Mouse, I will call her Whitefoot.
Wendell Berry is widely recognized as a great American writer and poet and a defender of agrarian values. Whitefoot is his first foray into children’s literature, but grown-ups will be glad to eavesdrop on this quiet, well-crafted tale. (Adult readers of Berry’s Port William series will recognize passing references to the fictional town, and the shared themes of work, order, and patience.)
She worked according to an ancient, honorable principle: Enough is enough. She worked and lived without extravagance and without waste. Her nest was a neat small cup the size of herself asleep.
Berry’s poetic but economical prose is well-suited to the story of this mouse. Whitefoot believes she lives at the center of the world, until a springtime flood carries her far away from the forest edge she knew as home. Berry does not anthropomorphize the little white-footed mouse, who doesn’t talk or even think in human terms. Still, her discovery of a wider and dangerous world, and her ability to survive within it, is a lesson that will resonate with us humans.
Readers are helped to enter Whitefoot’s tiny world by twenty illustrations. Te Selle’s densely detailed drawings are unsentimental and beautiful, and depict life an inch above ground. We emerge from the book with a restored sense of place and proportion.
To imagine the life and adventures of Whitefoot, you must compress your mind to her size. Think of going about with your eyes only an inch or two from the ground, among grass stems thicker than your wrist, maple and oak leaves that you can slip under and hide, trees that touch the sky.
Some children might be bored by the lack of talking animals or relative action. Though written for children, the language does not condescend; many young children will not understand all the language or subtext, but will enjoy the calm action and perhaps be emboldened by Whitefoot’s acceptance of life and ability to survive. This compact little book of sixty pages is ideal for nature study.
If you enjoy this book, you might also enjoy—The Art of the Commonplace (Wendell Berry), The Lay of the Land (Dallas Lore Sharp). ❖
History
January 1, 2013 Originally published as “Review of WHITEFOOT” on the blog Linnet on the Leaf.
© Copyright
Samantha Little holds the copyright for the article “Review of WHITEFOOT” and other content of this site. Readers are welcome to print this page for personal reference only, or to share the URL with others. Please do not reprint or modify this article without written permission from the author. Thank you for your integrity.
Brussels Sprouts with
Mustard Caper Butter
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
“One should never feel merely obligated to eat Brussels sprouts,” writes Deborah Madison in her cookbook Local Flavors: “They’re good.” Brussels sprouts are the poster-child for vegetables-that-make-children-cry, and they certainly are awful when boiled to a smelly mush. This is a disservice to a vegetable that becomes a delicious show-stopper when properly prepared—by roasting, steaming, or boiling al dente—before seasoning.
Baby brussels sprouts are especially darling: they look like flower buds or tiny green fists. A brief simmer brings out their lovely green, and their mild sweet-bitter taste carries a flavorful sauce well—the zing of garlic and mustard, the saltiness of capers, and the brightness of lemon and marjoram. This dish tastes excellent with fish.
Brussels Sprouts with Mustard Caper Butter
2 garlic cloves
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 teaspoons Dijon-style mustard, more or less
1/4 cup drained capers, rinsed
grated zest of 1 lemon
3 tablespoons chopped marjoram
2 pounds baby Brussels sprouts
Pound the garlic with 1/2 teaspoons salt in a mortar until smooth, then stir it into the butter with the mustard, capers, lemon zest, and marjoram. Season with pepper. (The butter can be made a day ahead and refrigerated. Bring back to room temperature before serving.) Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add salt. Add the brussels sprouts and cook until tender, about eight minutes. Drain, shake off excess water, then toss with the mustard-caper butter. Taste for salt, season with pepper, and toss again. ❖
History
January 1, 2013 Recipe from Deborah Madison’s cookbook Local Flavors adapted for publication in the e-magazine Maidens of the Master, Vol. 3, Issue 1, Winter 2013.
January 1, 2013 Published as “Brussels Sprouts with Mustard Caper Butter” on the blog Linnet on the Leaf.
© Copyright
Samantha Little holds the copyright for the article “Brussels Sprouts with Mustard Caper Butter” and other content of this site. Readers are welcome to print this page for personal reference only, or to share the URL with others. Please do not reprint or modify this article without written permission from the author. Thank you for your integrity.
Samantha Little enjoys writing essays, reading poetry, researching health topics, and teaching children. If you want to share a word with this quiet “Listener,” follow the sound of Baroque music played too loudly, or send her an email. You can also visit her blog Wrestle with the Angel, or visit the archive of her previous blog Cabbages and Kings.
The blog Linnet on the Leaf is updated once or twice monthly with essays, reviews, recipes, and lesson plans. It takes its name and motto from the poem by William Butler Yeats entitled “A Prayer for My Daughter.” He prays that his daughter would be like a flourishing green laurel in which her thoughts are a singing bird.
Essays
My essays are attempts indeed.
Going in Circles
Bound to Be Beautiful coming soon...
Love’s Lovely Duty coming soon...
Room to Work coming soon...
Health
Whole Health for the Whole Woman coming soon...
Parenting
Table Culture
Table Culture coming soon...
Bonus Libri
Book reviews are arranged according to author.
Berry, Wendell (American, 1934-)
See under “Tender Green” for books about health, under “Larkrise” for books about education.
Musica Vita
Writing about music may be like dancing about architecture; one day I’ll choreograph a dance about Gothic cathedrals.
Albums
Bedtime Beats coming soon...
Leave Your Sleep coming soon...
Artists
Transatlantic Sessions coming soon...
Single Numbers
Florida Suite coming soon...
Tender Green
My health research is shared for education only.
Baby
The Nocturnal Dyad coming soon...
Botanical Beauty
Dry Body Brushing coming soon...
Herbal Deodorant coming soon...
Herbal Hair Rinses coming soon...
Lavender Toner coming soon...
Case Studies
Green Clean
Kitchen Apothecary
Herbal Bath coming soon...
Herbal Syrup coming soon...
Herbal Tincture coming soon...
Book Reviews
Nutrition
A Grain of Salt coming soon...
What Counts coming soon...
Recipes
Spring Menu
Summer Menu
Chocolate Mousse coming soon...
Autumn Menu
Stuffed Onion coming soon...
Winter Menu
Larkrise
Lesson plans are arranged according to subject.
Bible Study
Creation Week coming soon...
Book Reviews
Never Too Late coming soon...
The Sense of Wonder coming soon...
What Do I Do Monday? coming soon...
Public Trust
These stories and essays are in the public domain.
Stories
When Queens Ride By coming soon...
Bookmarks
These are websites I have found most valuable.
Ambleside Schools International
Online Etymological Dictionary
Three years she grew in sun and shower
Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
....
She shall be sportive as a fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
...
The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
from Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower, William Wordsworth
May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.
My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there’s no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.
from A Prayer for My Daughter, W. B. Yeats