PUMPKIN SOUP

Last night I laid my head thankfully on the pillow, secure in the thought that Montana was a "blue" state. But chauffeuring my grandson to school this morning the radio shattered my smugness: red, by 3%. Returning home I scanned an article by a noted Sufi writer that encouraged meditation during commuter drives. It wasn't really meditation; his mind was not truly moving in the realm of sacred stillness. He was repeating his sacred phrases. I thought of Marx' proclamation that religion is the opiate of the people. Is becoming at one with commuting continuing the lifestyle that deeply deprives the planet and most of it's people of basic needs? I wandered around the kitchen wondering what I might prepare ahead for dinner tonight and spied the pumpkin soup recipe under the refrigerator magnet. I vowed if the pumpkin on the front porch was still good, I'd make soup. Reviewing the directions, in bold I read "30 minutes prep time." Not true, I noted. The first instruction was to roast pumpkins (after cutting and seeding of course) for 40 minutes. The pumpkin was in excellent shape, and standing at the sink separating the slippery seeds from the pulp, I mused on the purity of my task. Nothing to do but this, no where to hurry to, only saving the life force of a locally grown pumpkin. Some of the seeds would dry at the windowsill, ready for planting next year. Some would be salted and roasted, ready for grandsons looking for snacks. No tricks, no scams, no surprises. And tonight? Pumpkin soup and garlic bread with fresh greens salad.