Field Note No. 8

The Peanut Butter Era

During my first stay on the island, I survived almost entirely on peanut butter sandwiches.

I remember this clearly because my husband does.

According to his records, every single butter knife we owned remained in the sink at all times. Dirty. Coated in peanut butter. Preserved exactly as they were used. No attempt at rinsing. No rotation. Just evidence.

At the time, this felt reasonable.

This season, I have evolved.

I have learned to introduce variety.

Granola. Yogurt. Little Debbies. A carrot, maybe.

Foods that require minimal effort but offer the illusion of balance.

All things in moderation. All things within reach.

I am proud of this growth.

I have also learned something important about tools.

Butter knives, it turns out, are recyclable if you simply allow them to rest on the edge of the sink long enough.

Eventually, they return to circulation on their own.

The island teaches many lessons.

Some are spiritual.

Some are practical.

Some are about peanut butter.

All are survival.