Mappings for This Morning

First On the To Do List

2012-01-27T12:22:00.000-06:00

Enough said...

I Love You

2012-01-21T09:26:00.000-06:00

It is a quiet Saturday morning. I have had my coffee, settled with my morning readings and quiet time and prayers, and added my daily five things to my gratitude journal. Frequently, one or all three of these little girls appear in that journal - their laughter, their singing, their joy and generosity. I don't have to write Skye or Maddie or Jordann for them to be on my mind and in my heart because they are always there. But there is something about writing the thought down that pins it down in a collection of beautiful memories. I love them deeply, and I know they love me. They also love each other. Maddie and Jordann live 5 hours away, and here are leaving to go home with their parents. What an expression of "parting is such sweet sorrow!"

I have a dozen items on the to do list, getting ready for another surgery for Joe next week, but starting them can wait. I am going to make a couple of phone calls!

Joy

2012-01-13T13:37:00.001-06:00

Today is our oldest son's birthday. Sean Paul Parker, born on January 13, 1968, was not only our first son, but my parents' first grandchild. In this photo, my Daddy, Howard Teal, and Sean are enjoying reading The Night Before Christmas, with Sean illustrating "up the chimney he rose!" I love the pride which gleams in my father's face. I love the unbridled joy showing in my son's smile. Happy Day, Sean! We wish you this much joy today!

Beginnings

2012-01-12T16:05:00.000-06:00

I guess the beginning of a new year is a time for thinking about beginnings of all kinds. This little box is a recipe box. Joe painted and decorated it for me for our first Christmas after we were married. It was pretty empty for a long time because I didn't have many recipes. The only thing in the box was a small note pad on which I had written menus and my grocery lists for the first six weeks we were married – our beginning meals! I even kept tabs on how much I spent for groceries – part of our beginning budget!

I enjoyed cooking and learning to make new dishes, but I was definitely a beginner. The little white box was, too. As I collected recipes from friends and family, the box filled until it needed tabs and labels for indexing – the beginning of a large cookbook and recipe collection. I think all these beginnings led to the start of a lifelong love of cooking and joy of hospitality. I am grateful for the beginnings.

I am sure I do not have to tell you - not all beginnings have happy endings. That same Christmas I knitted Joe a green mohair sweater. He was proud of it but the sleeves were twice too long and the yarn (purchased on sale for such a good price!) was so itchy he could not bear to wear it. I still love to knit, and have produced lovely baby shawls, warm capes, and colorful scarves... but I have never tackled another sweater.

I Choose You!

2012-01-06T13:21:00.001-06:00

I have so many reasons for loving Christmastide! Faith and family are intertwined during these days in powerful ways. As we gather at Christmas and live the days (all twelve!) to Epiphany, today, January 6 - we make choices, year after year. Clyde Reid's book You Can Choose Christmas is one of a number of books I enjoy reading each year; it lies on a table beside my chair right now. It is true, we can choose Christmas...that choice lies within us. We also make choices in relationships, the most important ones in our marriage and family. When Joe and I were married on December 28, 1963, the vows we made to each other used some important phrases beginning -" I will" and " I take" and " I do" that are really saying "I choose. I choose you." Since our anniversary always falls in the middle of the week between Christmas and New Year's, it is always a special time for remembering that choice. So, last week marked 48 years of saying "I choose you!"

Christmas 1963

I remember a blur of travel, anticipation, last minute preparation.

The memories rush by like scenery from a train window.

family and friends gathering, arms open

happy voices

bells

church

prayers

the color cranberry

boughs of green

candlelight

gifts in fat boxes with shiny paper

white ribbons

a muff where I hid my hands

a dress I sewed with lace and tiny buttons

Mother's sweet smile

Daddy's shaking hands

chocolate covered cherries under the Christmas tree,

his gift to me each year.

In 1963, he gave me

To a man who said he would love and honor me.

My love gave me my new initials.

1963, the year of my Christmas wedding.

Come Into My Christmas House

2011-12-31T10:52:00.002-06:00

As this year comes to an end, I am thinking of joys we have shared in our journey as a family, just as the blog subtitle suggests. This year has included many changes as Joe had surgery after surgery and has bravely met challenges of severe pain and limited mobility. Our outings have been mostly to medical appointments, and gatherings have been different. The joys of this journey are nonetheless vividly apparent. The love and caring concern of our sons, daughters in law, and granddaughters is lavish and intense. They have helped with household chores from changing lightbulbs to moving furniture. Meals have been joint ventures. Phone calls "just checking on us" are frequent. Little hands have helped set the table and take trays to Papa. Michala gave Joe his medicine. Teion worked on the broken dishwasher. Skye read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever to Maddie and Jordann. Kristen played dominoes with Maddie. Jeremy played the Indonesian shell game with Lauren. Ben gave Jordann rides on his shoulders. Sean started a fire outside to roast marshmallows. It is not that these things never happened before, it is that they are intensified now, and deeply appreciated. We decorated together, cooked together, prayed together, and even if our meals were not always around Grandma Terrell's table, they were family celebrations and joyful occasions. So, come into my Christmas House, and share the joy of our journey as a family. Winter is upon us, but Spring is on the way. I am grateful. "With" is a powerful and joyful thing.

December 24

2011-12-24T13:19:00.000-06:00

December 24

December 24, 1959

Daddy bought roman candles

to celebrate Christmas Eve.

My little sister and I knelt on the ground watching.

Each pop and whoosh threw red and green trails

into starlit sky.

We thought it was how he liked to spend Christmas eve.

Mother never joined us, staying inside,

then coming to the screen door

“Come fast, guess who has just been here?”

Santa came and we always missed him

but gathered our presents and drank hot chocolate -

No visions of sugar plums when we dreamed because we already had them.

December 24, 1963

I gave Joe a tiny red book

with poems about love.

He fastened three pins on my jacket

three letters: M, A, and P

my new initials.

We were married three days later.

December 24, 1964

In Oregon, our tree was a tiny Grant pine

cut from a friend's farm.

hung with snowflake cutouts and lacy string balls

I knitted a green sweater,

sleeves twice as long as his arms.

He painted a recipe box

“Good Things You Can Fix”

December 24, 1965

Planning a time full of surprises.

driving four hours on Christmas eve.

Our gift would be an announcement,

a grandchild!

Good news faded, pain exploded,

no tree in the operating room, no joy in the telling.

December 24 1968 and 1970 and 1973...

Lights shining in the eyes of a new baby.

Is there anything more beautiful?

What better time to celebrate birth and babies?

Christmas carols make wonderful lullabies.

December 24, now.

We go to church on Christmas eve

Once it was snowing when we came back outside,

something that never happens in South Texas.

We danced in the snowflakes.

Then we came in for mulled cider and tamales.

Licking the Spoon

2011-12-14T14:40:00.001-06:00

Licking the Spoon

Sliced red apples sweet and crisp

to dip in hot caramel

Pumpkin Bread and Gingerbread

Candy Cane Cookies, Thumbprints, red jam in the middle

Toffee with almonds spread quickly to cool

German Butter Balls rolled in powdered sugar

Peppermint Bark

Fudge cooked in an iron skillet, the old fashioned way

poured onto a buttered platter

Cranberry Crisp

Turkish Delight

Pecan pralines tasting of brown sugar

Haystacks – butterscotch and chow mein noodles!

Sweetest of all -

Licking the Spoon.

Stirring Moments

2011-12-10T14:50:00.000-06:00

Among all the wonderful together times at Christmas, some of my most favorite are those I spend in the kitchen with my family. In this picture, Skye was only four years old. She just celebrated her 9th birthday. We enjoy cooking together. I am happy to make cookies, candy, and a gingerbread house just like I did when her Daddy and my other sons were growing up. I love remembering happy times past, and love even more making new memories. This afternoon, no one is in the kitchen with me, but as I turn up Andrea Bocelli's Christmas CD, turn on the oven, and pull out the baking pans, my heart is singing. And remembering.

The Little Golden Book Story of Christmas With Its Own Advent Calendar

2011-11-30T11:55:00.000-06:00

The Little Golden Book Advent Calendar

One window at a time, our sons opened the view to Bethlehem,

from the Little Golden Book Story of Christmas with its own Advent calendar

I found the book on sale in Cokesbury, downtown Dallas

displayed with all the wonderful children's Christmas books.

never knowing it would become a treasured vehicle

for keeping Christmas as three boys grew strong and tall

In the beginning a story was read from the book and they took turns (reluctantly)

opening windows, naming what could then be seen

Years passed, they read their own story.

How did those little cardboard windows last?

They were not always opened slowly or gently!

First page, first image –sad swirls of darkness, clouds

As windows and story opened more -

angel, donkey, closed door, open stable,

cow, shepherds, sheep, one star

kings, camels, presents

Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus

Tiny windows in Bethlehem, opening one by one

counting down the days to Christmas.

telling hope and mystery and miracle

singing He is coming, He has come.

Story not finished but beginning! Jesus, born once more

entering our world bringing light and life.

Christmas does not come all at once.

One window at a time, we open our eyes to Bethlehem.

One step more and we are home.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T09:28:00.000-06:00

I am thankful. The most important things are not things...God's great faithfulness and provision, His gifts to me of Joe, our beloved sons, and, now, their dear wives and children. My granddaughters are a joy. It feels like an unbroken circle when I consider how my own grandmother and I enjoyed each other, picking blackberries, giving the ferns a drink with a watering can, making teacakes.

Among my reminders of her is a yellowed sheet of tablet paper on which she wrote the following poem. No credit is given, and although I was unaware that she liked to write, several things tend to make me think she wrote the poem herself. She was a woman of deep faith and a reader, especially of her Bible. There is an occasional misspelled word and strike through which would be unlikely if she copied it. The phrase "sweet simple things" is used by Laura Ingalls Wilder, who was Grandma's contemporary. Whether she herself authored the poem, the fact that I have it written by her sweet wrinkled hand that served and loved her family so well makes it precious to me. Where possible, I have left the spellings and irregularities.

Thanksgiving, as recorded by Mary Clyde Terrell

For simple things I thank thee most of all;
Such things as daily bread and homely talks;
A small green dooryard and a popular tall,
The Joy of lending aid to one who asks;
For wholesome love of kindly common friends
Who stay my faith in all humanity;
For Home lights beconing when days work ends -
For the ones who wait to welcome me.
for simple childlike faith that yet believes -
Our God is real, and heaven waits us still
And that in spike of darkness that deceives
men still may find a Saviour if they will
The majesty of Storm clouds lighting rent;
The surging seas and star bejeweled Sky
Have always stired men's hearts to wonderment,
They stir me - yet a simple Soul am I.
And while thy wondrous works since ancient days
Thrill me profoundly Lord; my heart still sings
a song of gratitude and humble pride -
more than all else - for life's sweet Simple Things.

Content

2011-11-14T17:44:00.000-06:00

Today is my 71st birthday. I am content. Just like Angel and Bella, I choose my spot in the sunlight and find peace. My circumstances are not all that peaceful, to be sure. We spent the morning going to medical appointments for both of us. Joe has three doctor's appointments this week, and will very soon have another surgery, totaling 14 for both knees. I have made to do lists for this week which will undoubtedly be unfinished by the next. Thanksgiving is next week! The first Sunday in Advent is 3 days later, with Christmas on the way! And although I love all the special ways we celebrate and decorate and participate, these are busy days. My contentment comes from choosing to be in the light of God's love and being given the peace that only comes from Him. November 11, 2011: a very happy birthday.

Remembering Indonesia

2011-11-08T10:09:00.000-06:00

I was recently asked to talk about the country of Indonesia to some groups of children at my granddaughter's school. I guess a picture really is worth a thousand words, because it would take me more than a thousand to tell the stories behind the objects shown here. After almost 20 years, I am surprised that the time we spent in Jakarta, Indonesia came to mind so vividly as I showed them dolls and puppets, played gamelan music, passed around rupiah, shared photos and books and spread out batik. To finish, we shared a snack of pisang, nanas, and krupuk (bananas, pineapple, and shrimp crackers). Since we had family birthdays to celebrate the next weekend, our youngest son, Ben, grilled sate and and made nasi goreng for us to eat while we watched old videos of Jakarta and Bali. It was a time long ago and far away, but we remember.

Angel

2011-11-02T22:04:00.000-05:00

Maddie wanted to be an angel for Halloween. I don't know what she wore to trick or treat. But when she was here last weekend, she put on an angel robe I wore when I was her age, some feather wings from the dressup box, and of course, a halo! Here, she makes heavenly music!

Apron Strings

2011-10-24T13:14:00.000-05:00

As I browse catalogs from my favorite kitchen stores (Sur le Tables and Williams Sonoma) I am noticing the appearance of items that would make my mother proud. Aprons! Ruffled, pocketed, colorful aprons . Some have bibs and tie at the top as well as the waist. Some are cute little hostess aprons like the one above. These are way different from the chef style aprons that never went completely away, especially for barbecueing. In fact, they are replicas of the vintage aprons collected by some which were always worn by women in the kitchen in generations before mine. I have aprons that were sewn by and worn by my mother and grandmother. Both women would be shocked at buying one, particularly at the prices at which they are advertised. After all, they made theirs out of leftover fabric from other sewing.

I like looking at all those pretty aprons. But I don't want one of them. I am happy to pull on the soft bits of history on the hook in my pantry. I am after all, tied to my mother's apron strings.

Well Dressed Gardeners

2011-10-18T10:39:00.000-05:00

The cousins stayed still only long enough for last week's post photos, then they were off to continue helping me get the garden in shape. Here, they are planting flowering kale and cabbage. Everytime I water the plants, I close my eyes and thank God for my granddaughters. I love gardening, and they do too.

Hats

2011-10-11T17:02:00.000-05:00

It wasn't Easter, but the little girls paraded in new hats last week. The pictures make me happy. I hope they work that way for you!

Jordann's saucy cloche had us humming Charleston.

Skye's crocheted beret suited her smile.

And Maddie charmed us all with her jaunty plaid cap.

Cousin Tea Party

2011-10-05T10:04:00.000-05:00

Instead of two for tea, there were three this weekend as Maddie, Skye, and Jordann asked to have a tea party. No pretend tea this time. We took down the tea pot, heated the electric kettle, and brewed afternoon tea. What fun the cousins had together. I love the sights and sounds of little girls!

It's Good to Be Back

2011-09-26T17:37:00.003-05:00

We broke alot of records recently in Texas. June, July, August and right into September found us with the most days without rain, the most days of temperatures over 100, the most damaging wildfires, the highest water and electricity bills, and the least happy roses, among other plants and grasses. In an effort to be a better steward of the water we are blessed with, I started saving water that I had used to wash vegetables and collected the bits of leftover water from drinking and cooking to take out to the plants. I even took the iced tea pitcher out to water the ferns with leftover tea, something I remember my grandmother doing.

Cooler mornings and more reasonable, if still hot days in the past week are bringing some old friends fresh growth and a few tentative blooms. Our pink Peggy Martin, the antique rose with the reputation of being a survivor of Katrina has a few small clusters of buds. This less hardy climbing rose is named Crepescule, an old French old rose. Its name is not so pretty, but the blooms that are beginning are lovely and fragrant, reminding me once more why all the work and watering is worth it, and that we all need a little more nurturing in drought, whether it is of the weather or the heart.

Headed for Fall, Remembering Summer

2011-09-20T16:00:00.000-05:00

At the beginning of the summer, when the herb and vegetable garden was producing plenty to pick every day, Maddie and Skye loved helping with the harvest. One day they asked if they could have a farm stand in the front yard. They had the sign all ready to go: Tomatoes were 50 cents each, bunches of Basil were advertised at 10 cents, and mint for 2 cents per handful. Peppers were 30 cents, and underneath the large "OPEN and SALE!" lettering was the enticing "1 Free Water with each purchase!"

A couple of neighbors helpfully shopped from their market, and they happily counted their proceeds as they chattered about how much more fun that was than a lemonade stand.

Now, at summer's end, I think about our long hot Texas summer with record breaking drought and am thankful we had those weeks of bounty before the garden said "no more." I pick up the sun hats they wore that afternoon, and move the little round table to a spot until they are ready to use it for another project. And as grandmothers do, I carefully put the sign in a good place for keeping.

Rescued

2011-09-14T14:32:00.000-05:00

In 1982, our family lived for a time in a three story Victorian house with halls and nooks and crannies as well as rooms that swallowed the furniture we brought with us when we moved from a suburban home back to the small town where both Joe and I grew up. Living there and working on the home's restoration was both fascinating and flabbergasting. Part of the hard work and happy times we had there was giving myself an occasional afternoon for prowling in second hand and junk shops for pieces to restore and use in the house. One day I found this rocker stuck in the middle of a pile of discarded tables and chairs. The fanciful curlicues and swirls drew me to look closer at the wicker weaving on the back of the chair but when I looked down I saw straight through. There was no seat, only some tattered strips of rotting burlap hanging to the frame by the tenacity of dozens of tiny rusted nails. A few pieces of trim curls were missing, the color was best described as dirty, and mud dauber nests clung to the underside of the arms. I believe the shop owner laughed as he watched me load the chair into my truck as he stuffed the $20 bill he had required as payment into his pocket!

My youngest son, Ben, was game to help me pry out over 200 nails from the seat of the chair and scrub it down to get rid of the insect homes and cobwebs. I had never done caning, but I ordered a piece of cane webbing, spline, chisels and glue which cost more than the chair had. We soaked the webbing, pounded the spline into the groove of the shaped seat and watched in amazement as it all dried and began to tighten to make a new seat. We got more white paint on us than on the chair, but began to feel a sense of pride as this beautiful Victorian rocker emerged to take its place in our new old home. When I rock a grandchild in it or tuck a pillow in its seat, I still have a sense of all the stories it could tell me. One story would be that of a rescue.

Squash Baby

2011-09-05T16:33:00.000-05:00

Sometimes a vegetable hides under its foliage until it is beyond edible. Jordann found this yellow squash and obviously loves it, warts and all! Seeing her cradle it reminds me of a zucchini I displayed in the same fashion a few years ago. I come from a long line of farmers. When I was Jordann's age, we often used surplus cucumbers and squash from the garden to make a menagerie of animals with toothpick legs and button eyes. I still create with these fresh treats, but now it is in the kitchen. Today's produce prices at the supermarket are making me expand my list of vegetables to grow in the coming season. Tomatoes are in and finally beginning to grow as temperatures come down from triple digits. Soon we will plant collards, swiss chard, and bok choy which winter well here. When possible I find heirloom seeds and plants to use. I am thankful for my garden, and I delight in seeing my children and grandchildren becoming gardeners, too.

Feeling Real

2011-08-31T17:25:00.001-05:00

Summer 2011 may be the time I remember as the hottest and driest on record in South Texas, but it will also be one more time in my life when I am reminded that I am real. Joe has had his 12th knee surgery . It is hard to see him in so much pain and for so long. Two hospitalizations, surgery, medical appointments and all the in betweens has been exhausting for him, and challenging as I care for him. His faith and courage and spirit persist and inspire me, but I know he is worn out. Today, Skye has been here with her quick smile, tight hugs and good company. She was looking at a picture of herself that is on my kitchen desk that shows her at three, thanking God for her bowl of chicken soup. As we talked, I thought to myself that of all the things I enjoy doing and being with her, one of the best is conversation. Listening to each other. She helps me know I am real. She helps Joe remember that he is, too.

“Real isn't how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. It doesn't happen all at once...it takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily or have sharp edges or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand.”

~ from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Marjorie Williams (one of our all time favorite children's books)

For Love of a Sunday

2011-08-22T15:07:00.000-05:00

The Terrell home place rested at the top of a hill, accessible only by forked red dirt roads lined with wild blackberries and purple phlox. On Sunday afternoons after church we took a ride out to the country to visit. On the way, we watched for flashes of color in the woods, and sang “Red Bird, Red Bird, in my sight! Hope we get to Grandma's before it gets night!”

As we drove up one side of the entrance to where the iron rich clay ended in sand under an ancient oak tree, I felt I could not get there fast enough, loving the first sight of the white house with its sagging swing on the front porch and sprawling, fragrant yellow rose at the front window. But we always went on to the back, leaving the car to walk past the well and beds of Old Maids and Marigolds. I adored my Grandma's bosomy, talcum-scented embrace and Papa's toothless laugh. As he threw open the screen door, we went straight to the kitchen, sniffing baking cookies. These were pillowy tea cakes, redolent of vanilla and cinnamon. We ate them warm, often with a red watermelon, cut in half so we could dig with our spoons for bites, never minding the juice running down our chins.

In the wide front hall, my sister and I sat cross-legged to play jacks on blue linoleum with white stars. Sometimes, we were allowed to go into musty darkened rooms where my great grandmother had lived before she died. This area held shelves with jars of fruit and vegetables my grandmother put up, a trunk full of quilts, stacks of books, a tiny wicker rocking chair, an oval frame holding a portrait of an uncle who died when he was 13, a spinning wheel. Treasures.

I wanted to keep it all.

But Sunday afternoons changed.

I left for school, then marriage. Papa died. Grandma broke up house and moved to a tiny apartment in town. The house burned to the ground. I found a melted door knob to save.

The only smell was smoke.

A Celebration

2011-08-16T17:13:00.001-05:00

I am celebrating a 5th anniversary! Not a wedding anniverary (that will be number 48 this year). This is a celebration of sight. Five years ago I had two cornea transplants that changed my vision and my life forever. In late 2005, I was diagnosed with a degenerative corneal disease, Fuch's Corneal Dystrophy. Changes came quickly. Within a few months, my vision became so poor that I was advised to have transplant surgery on both eyes. In May 2006, I received the gift of a donor cornea for my left eye. Two months later, the procedure was repeated for my right eye. I recovered quickly from both surgeries, and receive follow up exams and testing every 6 months.

Yesterday was one of those medical appointments. Afterward, I drove myself to another appointment, read a book while I was waiting there, joined the heavy freeway traffic on my way home, and picked up my mail to read when I got there. I saw a hummingbird at the feeder by my kitchen window while I was preparing our dinner. I finished blogging for my other two blogs http://www.stonesandfeathers.wordpress.com/ and http://www.kitchenkeepers.blogspot.com/. I read the thermometer when I took my husband's temperature. Every single one of the things I just wrote about was possible because of two donor families who said yes to organ donation. Because of 2 complete strangers and their families, the skill of a dedicated doctor, and Grace, I can see.
Yes, I am celebrating! I am thankful.

These words are dedicated to awareness of organ donation and to vision research.

Glimmers from the Past

2011-08-08T18:34:00.003-05:00

I was recently asked what country or regions my birth family came from. I have some answers and alot of blanks!

I only wish had early known the questions I now have and asked them while those who might have answered were still alive! There are, however, glimmers from the past, and some apparently accurate passing down of ancestral origin. I was born to Opal Terrell Teal and Howard Teal in Tyler, Texas in 1940. My father's mother, Ida Mayfield Teal, took care of her parents until their death, and only then married, "late in life" was the phrase I always heard. My father, the oldest of 4 children was born when she was 41. I know very little about her background save that she drilled a hole in a memorial coin (given to her father William Mayfield in the Spanish-American war) put the coin on a string for her babies to teeth on! Her husband, my paternal grandfather was a stout man, deaf as a post, red faced and according to family story, Irish, and Protestant.

The information about my maternal grandparents is definitely more detailed and full of stories. I have an ancestral chart which shows my maternal grandfather's maternal line back to the Mayflower and beyond to England and Scotland. I have heard many stories about my Methodist Great Grandfather, John Wesley Terrell. He was an East Texas farmer with a large family, but he was known for generosity.

My maternal grandmother was born to Ernestine Matilde Augier Curley, who was born in Marseilles, France, and immigrated from southern France with her parents, Bienvenue Pascal Augier and wife Clara Orthinet to a southern Parish in Louisiana when she was a child. Their Catholic past is evident from a small holy water font that was passed down and currently rests in my china cabinet. Just yesterday I was sorting through the stacks of family papers and memorabilia. I can only do this in intervals, a little at a time. Partly because I feel a deep connection to all these letters and kept things and feel a heaviness of decision making as I sift through. I think "if my grandmother and my great grandmother kept these things, who am I to decide they are or are not worth keeping?" I am approaching my 71st birthday and have been avoiding all these boxes and stacks for one reason or another for far too long. I need to organize, pass on what is meaningful, and store in the most efficient way what needs to be kept for the time being. But lest I sound resentful, let me say there is great honor in being the designated keeper of these things, and there is story in nearly everything I touch. Yesterday I unfolded a long piece of delicate handmade lace from the box I marked "Great Grandmother Curley's Things" many years ago. It was probably used as a covering for a library table or dresser. I haven't yet made myself put it away. Touching it evokes a world of question. Did she make this lace, or did her own mother, who would have been my French great great grandmother? As I think these thoughts, I know I will wait until my granddaughters are here so that I can show it to them. Think about it....holding something that your great great great grandmother loved and used.

When they are ready, I will tell how this grandmother lived through a traumatic period in her adopted country's history: the Civil War, Reconstruction, the Spanish-American War, World War 1, and Hitler's invasion of Europe. How during this time, she birthed 10 children by 2 husbands, neither of whom lived to see all their children born. A story is told that her second husband, James Curley, (my great grandfather) was later found to be a fugitive from justice, but no word of what he had done to claim that status. They were married only 5 years, but 3 babies were born during that time, including twins one of whom was still born. My grandmother, Mary Clyde Curley Terrell, was born shortly after his death. When Grandma Curley could no longer live alone, she lived with my grandmother and her family, but she was present at the birth of every grandchild. With 10 children, that is alot of grandchildren!

"Grandma, I look at your picture. You look so stern and strong. I know that you loved to crochet and do fine needlework because I have boxes of intricately patterned crochet and lace pieces that you used for "go-bys". Even though you died when I was 3 months old, I was told that you rocked me and held me and loved me. I see in my own granddaughters some of your independence and ability to endure. You modeled faith and faithfulness. They have a deeply rich legacy."

I am indebted to my cousin, Jane Hill Pirtle, for much of the information here. She included this in a story about her own grandmothers published in Filtered Images, women Remembering Their Grandmothers.

Moon Flowers and Morning Glories

2011-08-01T14:16:00.000-05:00

These fat Moon Flower buds stay tightly furled in our daytime triple digit heat but when the sun sinks low, they begin their slow revelation of white tissue petals and yellow star centers. Growing on the same trellis, Morning Glories begin their deep purple show just as the Moon Flowers are folding up again. Here, I stand on the outside of my kitchen window to catch their image. But when I am inside, standing at the kitchen sink, I marvel at the vines and their ever changing art at my window. I think that is why they call it a window frame.

2011-07-26T17:01:00.000-05:00

Last night Joe and I were invited by our youngest son, Ben, to share a meal with him and his wife Kristen in their new home. Ben promised to make us one of Kristen's favorite dishes, Leek and Two Cheese Quiche. We brought some homemade gazpacho and an arugula salad. The table was set beautifully, with wedding goblets and a huge bunch of basil from their garden. Just as I was thinking how special they had made our evening, one more realization gave me a smile as well as a tear.

As I picked up my spoon, I recognized a piece of vintage silverplate. Not a fancy pattern, but simple, beautiful, and achingly familiar. We didn't have a lot of fancy kitchenware when I was growing up – no matching pots and pans, no crystal, mostly mismatched plates and bowls and glasses,stainless flatware, miscellaneous plastic and wood handled spoons and serving items. The knives and forks and spoons we used for every day meals were in a shallow drawer on one side of the short kitchen counter. But the spoon I held in my hand was kept with a matched set. This was my mother's silverplate, the pieces she kept in a box she had painted light green to match her kitchen at one point. She had a set of butter yellow china that she kept on a high cabinet shelf. The silverware box sat by itself at the end of the counter. This flatware she pulled out for use for special or holiday meals, or when we had company.

When my mother sold her small house to move into a still smaller apartment, she gave many things to my sister and me, and to her grandchildren, who call her Nana.

She gave Ben the green box. In the years to come he kept the box and its contents on his own kitchen counter. He made Sunday after-church dinners and a Mothers' Day lunch to which Nana was invited. She noticed his use of her silverware, and bragged on his cooking. Now, he and Kristen have given the delicately traced knives and forks and spoons a place of honor in a drawer of their beautiful china cabinet. I felt Nana nodding and saw her smile last night as we began to fork bites of Ben's delicious pastry. I know she approved. Her spirit and her spoons continue to bless the gathering of family.

Jacksonville,Texas: The Tomato Capitol of the World

2011-07-18T19:34:00.001-05:00

Joe and I both grew up in Jacksonville, Texas. Recently a number of facebook threads of conversations as well as a website have provided pictures of years past in our hometown. I like this picture because it shows a line of women packing tomatoes in the tomato sheds for which Jacksonville was famous. My mother, Opal Terrell Teal, worked packing tomatoes in the 1930's. The picture is not of her, but I can see her, discarding imperfect tomatoes as "culls", which were sold at reduced prices, and wrapping the select tomatoes in tissue paper as the conveyor belt rolled them down the line in boxes to be shipped.
http://www.tomatocapital.com/photos/packingtomatoes.php

Imagination

2011-07-12T20:19:00.000-05:00

My younger granddaughters know what they want to do when they come to visit. The dressup basket is always the first stop after I claim my hello hugs and kisses. On a recent visit, Maddie modeled glamor with one of my old skirts, a garden hat, sunglasses, and glittery purple ribbon,picking this outfit out of all the scarves, jewelry, tutus, aprons, and yards of fabric in the basket. Skye and Jordann joined in the fun as they modeled for us with a fashion show. I love watching them choose and create and pretend. There are so many toys and games to choose from in the market today. Many of them are fine choices, educational, and challenging. But too many of them offer children little choice, squelching imagination in an electronic stupor.

Maddie, and Skye, and Jordann, keep on creating! Here's to your imagination!

Red, White, and Blue

2011-07-04T11:50:00.000-05:00

We celebrated with a Fourth of July breakfast this morning. A Dutch Baby (puffed pancake) with blueberries, rasperries, and strawberries. We enjoy a variety of pancakes of various origins, but this may just be voted family favorite. Nearly 25 years ago, our friends Bob and Dorothy Thomas made this. Once I tasted it, I hastily scribbled the bones of the recipe on a torn piece of paper, which is still the one I pull out when I get ready to make it. Even though I know the simple ingredients and preparation by heart, I like to connect with the memories by handling this tattered little note. It may be simple, but because it rises and puffs and is always beautiful with any assortment of fresh fruit, it is a great way to make guests feel special, whether served at breakfast, brunch, or a lovely dinner dessert.

                                                                  1/3 cup butter
                                                                   4 eggs
                                                                   1 cup milk
                                                                   1 cup flour

Begin heating oven to 425 degrees. Put butter into an 8 inch round iron skillet and place in oven. While butter is melting, put eggs, milk, and flour into blender jar and mix throughly. Take hot skillet out of oven and pour batter directly into melted butter. Do not stir. Place back into oven for about 20 minutes, or until puffed and browned. I cut it into fourths and top with fresh berries or peaches and sprinkle lightly with powdered sugar. If you wish, add a dollop if whipped cream. Garnish with a sprig of mint.
Optional: Add vanilla or a dash of nutmeg for flavor. We like it plain.

Together, Alone

2011-07-01T10:00:00.001-05:00

I enjoy participating in an online reading group. We take turns leading a book each month. For July, I am moderating discussion questions for this book. I bought the book and Susan signed it at a Story Circle Network conference in Austin shortly after it was published. During my second reading, Together, Alone draws me once again to examine the power of place in my own story.

The Eggplant Chronicles

2011-06-27T13:10:00.002-05:00

I have always enjoyed foraging - looking for what looks good whether it is in my pantry or available fresh vegetables and herbs, then planning meals around that. I believe cooking for two or ten is an art project in which I create the healthiest and most appealing foods. Our weekly share of CSA produce delivered from an organic farm an hour north of Houston has changed my habits of planning meals. Since I don't know what I am going to bring home until I get it (a little like looking in your Christmas stocking) I wait until then to plan the next week's food fare. I love the fresh vegetables, but it can be challenging to provide variety.

We have received alot of onions, tomatoes, squash, and eggplant. I made Eggplant Parmesan. I made a huge dish of classic French ratatouille with fresh basil and thyme for Father's Day weekend. As I checked out recipes online, I realized there was a similar dish in many cultures, particularly Mediterranean. There are slight variations. Spanish Pisto is served with a fried egg on top. The Greek dish Briam contains white wine and is seasoned with mint and basil and dill. Turkish Torlu is sweet and savory with potatoes and chickpeas and has cinnamon and cilantro as well. Alboronia (Andalusia) has paprika and vinegar. Samfaina, from Catalonia calls for the vegetables to be chopped fine and caramelized. There was a recipe for Soufiko (from the Greek Island Ikaria). But they all contain eggplant. I think I have alot of new dishes to try.

I still enjoy foraging, this time for recipes, and their stories.

A Week with Maddie

2011-06-20T16:36:00.000-05:00

My granddaughter, Madelyn, has been here for over a week. She loves to cook as much as I do, so we have baked cupcakes, made Amish Friendship Bread, mixed up egg salad for a picnic, used the vegetable spiraler on zucchini and cucumbers, and enjoyed making Papa's dinner. That doesn't mean she didn't have time to catch tadpoles, pick dozens of bouquets, raid the dressup basket for fashion shows with her cousin Skye, cut herbs, and harvest every tomato, okra, and cucumber that wasn't hiding under a leaf. This list hardly begins to tell all the fun we had. One morning when she woke up and ran in to give me a hug, she asked what I was writing. I showed her the little journal and told her every morning I write down 5 things I am thankful for. She wanted me to read her what I had been writing all week. Every day had her name written...Maddies' songs, Maddie's smile, snuggling with Maddie, reading with Maddie, Maddie's prayers. She took the pen and asked if she could write something in the Gratitude Book and asked me for a little help with spelling. When she gave it back to me, I read I AM THANKFUL FOR GRANMARY. I don't know if she will always remember this week, but I know that I will. Thank you God for Maddie!

8 Ball Squash

2011-06-06T14:24:00.001-05:00

I was only recently introduced to a new vegetable. I have been eating different kinds of squash all my life, but who knew there was a zucchini called 8 Ball? Named for its perfectly round shape, this squash can of course be cooked like any of the other summer squash. However, it is beautifully designed to be stuffed. I admit this is a little more trouble than slicing and steaming. But the results were pretty enough to photograph, and tasty enough to write down the recipe. I took a short cut by purchasing a frozen risotto with asparagus and mushrooms from the local supermarket, but it would be even better with a rice mixture made from scratch.
The old idiom "behind the 8 Ball" definitely does not apply to this dish!

Stuffed 8 Ball Squash

2 Medium to large 8 Ball Zucchini
1 package frozen risotto mix (I used Asparagus and Mushroom risotto from HEB)
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
1/2 cup sliced Kalimata olives
1/3 cup grated Parmesan
1 Tablespoon butter

Slice off tops of squash, scoop out centers, but do not discard. Melt butter in saute pan, add mashed up squash centers. Cook, stirring to break up the squash, for 3 minutes. Add risotto mix, nuts and olives, and stir to mix. Add parmesan, mix, and stuff squash shells, pressing down then mounding stuffing slightly. If desired, use the squash tops which were trimmed off to perch on top like little hats.

Note: Instead of the prepared risotto mixture, use cooked rice to which you can add grated cheese, raisins, chopped green onion, herbs, and nuts.

Congratulations to Lauren

2011-06-01T11:58:00.000-05:00

Our oldest granddaughter graduated from high school a few days ago. One of my gifts to her is a book of pictures we gathered in a photo session in our back yard. As she went from porch to path to pond and I stopped to receive images of her, I was taken back to times when her running, skipping, dancing feet took her home from first grade to an after school snack in my kitchen. Blessings for the path that lies ahead, Lauren!

Homegrown Flavors

2011-05-23T16:31:00.001-05:00

In spite of the severe draught in Texas this spring, we are managing to harvest an abundance of tomatoes, peppers, and herbs. Even if I didn't cook with them, they make a beautiful still life, and are as pretty as a bouquet of cut flowers to sit on the kitchen counter. My current favorites are Gypsy peppers and Cherokee Purple tomatoes but I use herbs in almost everything I cook. I love the several varieties of basil for pestos, and adding brightness to the flavor of pasta sauces, soups, and roasted meats. Rosemary is the herb known for remembrance, so I won't forget all the ways I use it, too. Herbs thrive in our hot summers if we don't over water them, and that is certainly not a problem this year. We have plenty of different mints, too, and give cuttings to anyone who will take them. A sprig of mint in iced tea, or as a smoothie ingredient is refreshing. A delicious way to include mint is in a the following recipe..

Citrus Salad with Mint Sugar

3 grapefruits
4-5 large navel oranges

1/2 cup fresh mint leaves
1/4 cup sugar

Cut peel and white pith from grapefruits and oranges. Cut between membranes to release segments. Combine fruit in large shallow bowl. (Fruit can be segmented 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

Place mint and sugar in processor. Using on/off turns, blend until mint is finely chopped, occasionally scraping down sides of bowl. Sprinkle mint sugar over fruit; serve. (adapted from an Epicurious.com recipe)

Focus on Foccacia

2011-05-17T10:39:00.002-05:00

The previous posts clearly show I like making bread and my family likes eating it. Without thinking twice, I can tell you the all time favorite any of us would name. Years ago I found a recipe for Focaccia Bread in a Southern Living magazine which was attributed to Eva Royal from Evening Shade, Arkansas. I have used her recipe with success, changing size of loaf and what I put on top of it according to how I will use the bread and which herbs are currently flourishing in the garden. We love the taste of sundried tomatoes, so I add more, plus garlic and Kalamata olives. I also occasionally use whole wheat flour for part of the flour requested.

Foccacia is kin to pizza, with almost as many ways to dress up. The main differences are toppings and the thickness of the dough. Traditionally, once the dough has risen and been punched down, it is shaped and dotted with indentations that catch olive oil and salt as they are drizzled on before baking. These little reservoirs are wonderful catchments for chopped fresh basil and rosemary or oregano and chives plus a generous addition of kalamata olives. The fresh herbs contribute texture and delicious flavor and fragrance.

My daughter in law Kristen helped me make dozens of dinner roll size loaves for a family celebration last year. We have made them into sandwich buns which can also be stuffed with fillings. But most often, we make two rustic rounds that disappear very quickly. You will love it, too.

10 pieces of sundried tomato (1/2 cup or more, according to your taste)
1/2 cup boiling water
1 cup milk
2 Tablespoons butter
31/2 to 4 cups bread flour, divided
2 packages active dry yeast
2 Tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 large egg
1/2 cup chopped fresh chives
4 cloves chopped garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
1/3 cup shredded fresh basil
1-2 Tablespoons chopped rosemary, stems discarded
1/2 cup Kalamata olives, roughly chopped
optional: 1 Tablespoon chopped fresh oregano.
(if you don't have fresh herbs, remember that 1 teaspoon dried herbs can be used to 1 Tablespoon fresh)

Add tomatoes to boiling water in small pan and let stand for 30 minutes. Drain, reserving liquid. Finely chop tomatoes and set aside. Stir milk and butter into reserved liquid and heat until temperature reaches 120 to 130 degrees.

Combine 11/2 cups of the flour with yeast, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Gradually add liquid mixture, beating at low speed with electric mixer. add egg, beat 3 minutes, stir in tomatoes, garlic, chives, and enough of the remaining flour to make a soft dough.

Turn dough out onto a floured surface and knead for 5 minutes. Put dough into a well greased bowl, turn to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place free from drafts for 2 hour or until doubled in size.

Combine herbs and olive oil in small dish. Punch dough down. For round loaves, divide in half and shape each into a 10 inch round. For sandwich buns, divide into 12 balls, and shape into 3 inch rounds. Place on ligtly greased baking sheets; flatten slightly, curving fingers to poke little wells into the dough. Brush with half of the herbs and oil, sprinkle olives, cover, and let rest for 10 minutes. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes, brush with remaining herbs and oil and bake an additional 5 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on wire racks.

This has never lasted long enough for me to photograph!

Good Eats

2011-05-10T12:16:00.000-05:00

I am not just borrowing from Alton Brown's Food Network TV show title...the kale, onions, broccoli, squash, turnips, and broccoli arrived on my kitchen counter this week after I picked up my CSA (community sustainable agriculture) share from Home Sweet Farms in Brenham, Texas. Along with tomatoes and herbs from my current garden production, we indeed have good eats. So far I have made a roasted beet and swiss chard salad, roasted the turnips and cooked a medley of squash and onions. Tonight we will have Zuppa Toscano using the kale and more onions along with spicy Italian sausage and potatoes. This recipe is modeled after Olive Garden's tasty soup by that name.

ZUPPA TOSCANA

1 lb ground Italian sausage (we like hot and spicy, but you may use mild)

1½ tsp crushed red peppers

1 large diced white onion

4 tbsp bacon pieces

2 tsp minced garlic
10 cups water

5 cubes of chicken bouillon

1 cup heavy cream

1 lb sliced small red potatoes

several leaves of kale...more if you like

Brown Italian sausage and crushed red pepper in soup pot, drain and refrigerate. In the same pan, sautee bacon, onions and garlic for approxiamtly 15 mins. or until the onions are soft. Mix the chicken bouillon and water, then add it to the onions, bacon and garlic, bringing to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until fork tender. Add cream and heat through. Stir in the sausage and kale to heat.

Buon Appetito!

Baking Bread

2011-05-02T16:27:00.001-05:00

I love making bread from scratch. The kneading and punching are therapeutic, and the results are always gratifying. The family favorite, Focaccia, with its dimpled surface brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt, olives, and fresh herbs from the garden might get made 2 or 3 times a year . A few months ago, a gift from Jeremy and Michala arrived: a shiny white bread machine that takes all my time honored ingredients and literally gives them a new twist. I will still bake bread the old fashioned way occasionally to keep my kneading knack, but this is really fun! I have not purchased bread at the grocery store since I tried it the first time! Part of the fun is picking which bread to make next. I have made Banana Oatmeal Bread, Honey Wheat, Egg Bread, and am working my way down the list of rye breads. So far, we vote Russian Black Bread and Black Forest Pumpernickle our favorites, but Dill Rye and Sauerkraut Rye were delicious, too. I made a sweet bread with mangoes and one with flaxseed. It is amazing to pop the ingredients in, get it started and wait for the tantalizing smell of homemade bread to fill the kitchen. Nutritious ingredients, no preservatives, and endless variety. I have shared my kitchen with alot of appliances that have only occasional use, but this is one that keeps its place on the counter.

Harvesting Bok Choy

2011-04-27T13:48:00.001-05:00

Maddie and Jordann hunted Easter Eggs this weekend, but they also helped their Dad harvest the late Bok Choy crop in our garden. Now I am hunting recipes to add to our family favorite, Bok Choy salad tossed with sunflower seeds, almonds, and toasted Ramen noodles drizzled with a spicy soy vinaigrette. This is not a vegetable that freezes well, so we will share some as well as having stir fry and trying bok choy kim chee.

This year, the girls have their own vegetable and herb garden at their house so stay tuned for more "girls in the garden" pictures.

Palette of Tomatoes

2011-04-18T14:29:00.001-05:00

A favorite gardening project, growing tomatoes has taken wings the last couple of years. Not only are we growing more tomatoes, but most of them are heirloom varieties. I am intrigued with being part of sharing history and story. Heirloom vegetables are grown from seeds passed down by many generations in a family and shared. Last year, our family voted one heirloom our all time favorite. It is one of the very first known "black", or deep dusky rose colored tomatoes, and is called Cherokee Purple. It was named in 1990 by. Craig LeHoullier , who received seeds of an unnamed cultivar in the mail from J. D. Green of Tennessee. Mr. Green indicated that the "purple" tomato was given by the Cherokee Indians to his neighbor "100 years ago".

We love the color and taste of this tomato, and enjoy thinking about others who have liked it enough for over 100 years to share it with others and save the seeds. We have at least 2 dozen tomato plants. Some of the other heirlooms are named Black Plum, Brown Berry, and Purple Russian. Did I hear you say you thought tomatoes were red?

Invitation

2011-04-11T16:48:00.000-05:00

I read in home and garden magazines about creating different spaces in the garden that are like different rooms. Our garden has a variety of plants and paths that lead to herbs and vegetables, roses and fruit trees, flowers and vines. Then there are what we call our "sitting spots". A small table and chair, benches, stone walls, and tucked into the shady background here, child size chairs with cushions for the little girls who call us Papa Joe and Granmary...our invitation to come sit awhile. There is so much rushing about and working to mark the next thing off a list. The sitting spots call us to just be, doing nothing but breathing a prayer of gratitude for garden beauty.

In Love with Lavender

2011-04-04T14:07:00.013-05:00

Spring cleaning has not happened yet inside my home, but we have been hard at work Spring Cleaning the garden. Pruning, wood-chipping, composting, tilling, mulching, cleaning out all the debris left in winter's wake and making room for new growth has resulted in sore knees, aching backs and glad welcome for the return of a palette of greens and rainbow colors. As we put in fresh herbs, we picked plants for flavor, color and fragrance. I learn more and more about herbs, and use them many more places than my kitchen herb bed. We plant several different kinds of lavender for foliage and fragrance, as well as their lovely stalks of bloom. There is English, Spanish, and French lavender, Godwin's Creek lavender, and Fern-leaf lavender. I have a number of recipes which use lavender. We use it to make potpourri, and have made salves and tea. Our few plants bring us joy, but on my list for "someday" is a visit to the lavender farms in the Texas Hill country. If you are traveling near there in the next few months, be sure to visit and tell me all about it. The Unlikely Lavender Queen: A Memoir of Unexpected Blossoming, would be perfect reading for your trip!

http://www.blancolavenderfest.com/

Texas Bluebonnets

2011-03-28T16:07:00.001-05:00

One of the most beloved gifts the month of March brings to Texans is the lavish spread of bluebonnets along the sides of highways and neighborhood roads. As historian Jack Maguire so aptly wrote, "It's not only the state flower but also a kind of floral trademark almost as well known to outsiders as cowboy boots and the Stetson hat." He goes on to affirm that "The bluebonnet is to Texas what the shamrock is to Ireland, the cherry blossom to Japan, the lily to France, the rose to England and the tulip to Holland."

Although seeds have been taken to grow in other places, the two predominant species of bluebonnets are found growing naturally only in Texas and at no other location in the world. When I was growing up in East Texas, we watched for the first bluebonnets, usually accompanied by other Texas wildflower color, especially the complimenting colors of Indian Paintbrush and Crimson Clover.

I don't have a Stetson, can't ride a horse, and cowboy boots make my feet hurt. But I am glad to be a Texan, and love bluebonnets as much as the lady bugs on these I photographed just down the road.

In Gratitude

2011-03-25T10:01:00.000-05:00

March 25, 2011: The redbuds are blooming, and I am remembering a grandmother's birthday. She has been physically gone from me for 34 years, but she is part of me and will always live in my heart and in the way I live my life. Mary Clyde Curley Terrell was born on this date in 1887 and lived until just weeks short of her 90th birthday. She loved me lavishly, taught me much of what I know about taking care of home and family, the gifts of hospitality and gardening. Her faith in God never waivered, throughout years of growing sons and a daughter (my mother), during which she endured the tragic death of her first son at age 13, loosing home and household to a fire, working ceaselessly as a farmer's wife to "make do". She never drove a car, did not have indoor plumbing until she had to move from her home to a small apartment when she was in her 80's. But she knew how to spread her table with a white cloth and gather flowers in a jar and make fried chicken Sunday dinners for her preacher and our family. She made patchwork and crazy quilts from clothing scraps that are still kept and passed on. She knew how to give a skinny litle girl good night kisses and tuck her into a feather bed. She made tea cakes and cornbread and chow chow. Near the end of her life on earth, sharing a room in a small nursing home, she saved her morning snack cookies and wrapped them in a napkin so she would have something to offer me when I came to see her. I saw the face of God in her face and felt His hands in hers. Thank you, Grandma. I am your namesake. You do live on, not just in me and in my sons, but in their children. I see the Redbud trees and greet another Spring, a precious reminder of ongoing life.

Grace Upon Grace

2011-03-21T12:09:00.000-05:00

When family and friends gather in our home for a meal, we hold hands and say grace. My earliest memories include my Daddy’s quickly murmured prayer of thanks. My grandfather could hardly be understood the words ran together so fast. I cannot remember the exact words used, but I remember their bowed heads and their humility, and their gratitude for simple food. I do remember the words were the same every time, spoken with a cadence I did not hear in their voices at other times. Through all the years of my own marriage and family, in many different places and situations, that early example and teaching prompted gratitude and recognition of God’s presence at our table. I am grateful for those early influences. When I have cooked a meal for two or twenty, I love that moment when the work stops, hands reach out, blessing is asked on people and the food we share. It feels right to express our connections to God and each other in this way.
G.K.Chesterton reminds me that all the things on my list for today may be marked for significance in the same way.

"You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
- G. K. Chesterton

So, thank you,God... for these plants and the earth in which I place them. Thank you for the book I read and the person who wrote it. Bless the person who will use these towels I am folding. Bless these words as I write them. For these and all your bounty, I give thanks. Be present at our table, Lord. Be here and everywhere adored.

Fragrance

2011-03-14T12:33:00.001-05:00

“One should garden for the nose, for the eyes will take care of themselves.”
Robert Lewis Stevenson

So soon after pruning, some of our antique roses are loaded with buds and blooms. The first blooms surprised me, almost as if saying "Fooled you!" Commonly called Butterfly Roses, Mutabulis rose bushes leap high and wide and announce that they are back. These single petal roses change in hue as the bud opens, so that at any time there are usually pink, yellow, dusky rose, and apricot blooming at the same time like a swarm of butterflies covering the bush. Like all old roses (antique, or "found") they have a distinctive but unique fragrance that I can identify with my eyes closed. Breathe!

Maddie's Redbird

2011-03-07T14:24:00.000-06:00

After we saw a cardinal in the tree in our back yard last week, Maddie drew a picture for me. Thanks to the technology of scanning, email, and blogging, here is her gift for you to enjoy, too.

"Grandparenting is a gift between two people at opposite ends of their journey."
~Judy Ford

Mother's Music

2011-02-28T10:53:00.000-06:00

The title may suggest lullabies, but these photos tell a different story. This music is from a collection of sheet music my mother, Opal Terrell, used when she was sweet sixteen and a very sassy seventeen! The young men who vied for her attention brought her music instead of candy or flowers. On several pieces she has written their names. Eventually there was only one who brought her music: Howard Teal, my Daddy. He asked her father if he could marry her and was given permission only if they would wait until she was 18. Opal celebrated that birthday on October 20, 1931, so on December 28, 1931 they drove over to a neighbor's house. The preacher from their little Baptist church was having Sunday dinner there, but he came out to the car before they could get out and go in, so the ceremony took place in the front seat of a Model T!

When I turn the yellowed pages and play the lilting melodies, I remember Mother's hands at the piano, Daddy's grip at the wheel of his pickup truck, and the way they held hands for over 50 years of marriage.

The music plays on.

French Knots and Daisy Chains

2011-02-21T14:44:00.000-06:00

My mother and grandmother taught me to embroider by the time I knew how to read and write. I have some of the iron on patterns, colorful skeins of thread, and needles that they used when they embellished clothing, table linens, and pillowcases, like this one that I still use for my favorite bed pillow. It has been washed so many times it no longer needs the ironing they once would have done before carefully folding it and its mate (pillowcases were always done in pairs). The thin cotton is so soft and worn it is in danger of becoming kept instead of used. I love running my fingers over the blue flowers with their bumpy french knot centers and remembering how swift and deft their fingers were as they threaded kneedles, loaded embroidery hoops and began piercing with the needle, pulling it up at just the right spot, drawing out the thread, knowing which special stitch would achieve the right effect. There were feather stitches, blanket stitches, and feather stitches for borders and trims, but those used to bring the pattern lines to bloom were the ones that fascinated me. Running stitches, chain stitches, daisy chains and french knots brought the designs alive. I have enjoyed similar needle work: crewel, cross-stitching, and have loved crocheting and knitting. All of which I owe to those two women who were patient enough to teach me.

Valentine Trees and Treats

2011-02-14T09:39:00.000-06:00

You are right. I did not pack away all my Christmas stuff. This tree was a lovely woodland bird tree with strips of music from the Carol of the birds tucked into the branches, along with birds of every feather, acorns, and tiny red glass berries. I removed the music strips and tucked in red tissue paper hearts for this Valentine tree. Appropriately, a photo of me and my Valentine (married for over 47 years now) is in the background.

This transition from December to February has grown from simply keeping out a few red candles to multipurposing several holiday decorations. Another tree with heart has stayed in my dining room. This tiny tree, a teacup tree with smaller hearts added to miniature teacups and my late mother-in-law's collection of tiny spoons, sits on- what else - a tea tray.
Today, I am decorating Valentine cookies to add to the heart shaped basket. Happy Valentine's Day!

Learning Something New

2011-02-07T12:50:00.000-06:00

While browsing blogs this week I came across a post which introduced me to a new art form. I never heard the word Zentangle before much less made one, but after checking some guidelines and looking up a few tangles, here is the result. In its simplest description, a Zentangle is a deliberate doodle in which you paint spaces with patterns. It is sometimes called yoga for the brain. Now that I have tried it with the materials I had on hand (a sketch pencil and fine tipped pen) I plan to shop for supplies and practice some more. Mine are obviously beginning attempts, but that is one of the plus points for these 3 1/2", one of a kind squares of line drawing and pencil smudges: no right or wrong! It is hard to do just one!

http://zentangle.blogspot.com

Let it Snow

2011-02-01T14:11:00.001-06:00

February has ushered Winter right to our front door. We woke this morning to howling winds and plummeting temperatures. Predictions are for snow before the end of the week, and a hard freeze every night this week. I went outside to cover some plants, moved others inside, and came back in even more thankful for the warmth and shelter of home. I think Bella just opened one eye and agreed with me.

Putting It All Together

2011-01-24T10:53:00.001-06:00

I love introducing good people to good food. That is one reason I am cooking soup one Wednesday night a month for over 50 people. Our weekly church suppers give me a chance for a favorite meet and greet. This week we will have Mexican Chicken Stew, served with cheese quesadillas and greens tossed with apples, walnuts, and apple cider vinaigrette. With help from loving family and good friends (many hands make light work), the large steaming pots of stew will warm a cold evening. Even better, as we gather around tables to enjoy eating together, hearts are warmed, too. As I put on my favorite apron, and begin to chop and simmer, putting it all together - I stir with a spoon that belonged to my father who, with my mother, ran a small cafe in a bus station in East Texas.

When the soup is ready, I will ladle it into bowls with a ladle that he also used in the cafe. He put delicious foods together, and had customers who came back time after time for his home style cooking. My earliest memories include aprons and spoons and feeding people. I enjoy new recipes, new kitchen tools, and new opportunities to cook for others, but I will always love using Daddy's old spoon and ladle.

Making the Gifts Last

2011-01-17T11:38:00.000-06:00

When our temperatures threatened to drop significantly below freezing a few weeks ago, we stripped our pepper and fall tomato plants and brought the harvest inside to add some flavor to our winter soups and omelets. The tomatoes obliged by ripening a few at a time. Habanero, Jalapeno, and Gypsy peppers were beautiful in bowl or basket, and have been welcome heat! Only a few remain, and I find myself counting them and thinking they are almost all gone. I am keeping a gratitude journal this year. So I will write that I am thankful for the gifts my garden has given me. Long past the time the plants have withered and faded, the fruit they produced nourishes and delights us. Our lives can be like that too.

Packing the Christmas Dress

2011-01-08T11:13:00.000-06:00

When my mother was growing up, they never put up the Christmas tree until Christmas eve. All the festivities and celebrating came after Christmas. They celebrated the 12 days of Christmas beginning with Christmas day. Now that we decorate our and trees much earlier (ours is usually done on Thanksgiving weekend) we have longer to enjoy our house with its Christmas dress on, but I still don’t like to take anything down until Epiphany. As I pack away ornaments and manger scenes, I remember that I am not putting away the Christ-light. Nearly 30 years ago I wrote about “undecorating”.

The mantle seems lonely without the little manger scene.

The house looks plain, bereft of red and green.

The tree is down, the front door bare.

No wreath or garland festooned there.

Our mailbox no longer yields its daily harvest of cards.

The lights and Santas are gone from all the yards.

We packed away the manger scene,

But not the shine of the star!

For His new birth within us, no time or season can mar.

Because He was born, we have Christmas.

Because He died we have life.

Because He lives we have new years

No matter what serves us with strife.

We thank Him for peace and for promise.

We thank Him for love and for sight.

We thank Him for meaning and purpose.

We live to show darkness the Light.

Definitely older, hopefully wiser...I sing along to Andrea Bocelli's Christmas album, allow a few tears to fill my eyes, and am aware that the gifts of Christmas continue.

A Fresh Pot of Tea

2011-01-01T10:55:00.000-06:00

I believe in enjoying Christmas gifts right away! This amazing tea flower opens as a fresh pot of tea is brewed: fragrant, lovely, delicious! I would never have known how beautiful this could be if I had not opened the present, looked inside the box, removed the strange little ball of leaves, placed it in the tea pot, and added the boiling water. Without taking the illustration too far, allow me to say this may be a lesson for our new year. Let's open our gift, learn all we can, believe beyond first sight, use what we have received, and be astonished at unexpected beauty. Here's to tasting 2011~

Vintage Postcard Cookies

2010-12-30T11:32:00.001-06:00

Most of my Christmas baking is chosen from long time family favorites: German Butterballs, Candy Cane Cookies, Pumpkin Bread, Thumbprint Cookies - although I bake less each year. Last week, with the help of my daughter in law, I tried something I never even heard of, much less had done before. I made large, card sized molasses cookies, frosted and decorated with wonderful vintage images that might have graced postcards in my grandmother's time. These are printed on wafer paper and applied in a very simple way, completely edible, and a beautiful addition to our Christmas dinner. The photo gleams back at you due to a pearlized finish applied as the last step. If you are a baker, try www.fancyflours.com for these and other ways to add fun and fanciful finishes. OK, I confess, I already ordered some for Valentine cookies.

Joy to the World!

2010-12-26T20:38:00.000-06:00

"Come on, ring those bells, light the Christmas tree! Jesus is the King, born for you and me...come on,ring those bells, everybody say: Jesus, we remember this your birthday!"

Remembering a Gift

2010-12-24T14:28:00.000-06:00

I don't remember most of the gifts I was given at Christmas when I was growing up. I recall sweater sets, a doll, books, and I still have a stuffed Rudolph that may be one of the first sold when the song came out. But one present I could count on to be the same every year was a box of chocolate covered cherries from Daddy. For many years after his death, I would buy a box for myself and remember. This year, chocolate covered cherries have returned! Skye came over last night to help make Christmas mice, my old favorite in new form. Don't tell the cats.

Making Bread, Making Memories

2010-12-23T13:29:00.000-06:00

Maddie baked Cranberry Bread with me on Thanksgiving morning. This is the way we do this:
1. Read the book. When her Daddy was just her age, he and his brothers loved a book called Cranberry Thanksgiving by Wende and Harry Devlin, the story of a little girl and her grandmother and a famous cranberry bread recipe. We still have the book! It has the recipe on the back cover. 2. Assemble the ingredients (more fun than an Easter Egg hunt!) 3. Find our bowl and measuring "things". 4. Let the mixer do most of the work except the important things like cracking the eggs, adding everything, and licking the spoon...all Maddie's jobs.

Handwriting on the Wall

2010-12-07T14:52:00.001-06:00

On a wall in a small shop I recently saw these words. The shop owner is an artist. She has great talent for creating, but she knows who makes her day.

Lord, create a Genesis week from my chaos. Let me not get so busy with Christmas lists that I fail to fully attend to being aware and attentive and astonished at the gifts you give me every day.

My Room with a View

2010-11-30T14:04:00.001-06:00

I confess, I tend to think of the kitchen as my room . I do spend alot of time there, mostly by choice, doing what I love (cooking) and things I need to do (cleaning up). But also because by standing at my kitchen sink I can look out this window. Beyond the glass I look at the crepe myrtle in changing seasons with its backdrop of mossy weathered wood. Looking down at the ground I can see pepper bushes which have had a fruitful season. But the most special part of the window is gathered there on the ledge, my small kitchen altar, full of reminders of faith and family, the here and now and the there and then. The piece of stained glass joined the family when we were in Indonesia. I love its rich glowing colors and the Trinitarian candles. Now, at the beginning of Advent, I add a small nativity scene and a candle.

Smile!

2010-11-15T09:03:00.000-06:00

The smiles on their faces are mirrored in mine as I thank God one more time for these two! Maddie in my hat, Skye in her Papa Joe's, kept everyone smiling a few weeks ago when we went to Texian Days Market at George Ranch, just down the road from our house. George Ranch is a living history museum, a working ranch. http://www.georgeranch.com/ . In order of preference, the girls enjoyed climbing to the tree house, riding hay bales, joining a banjo band, eating cornbread and funnel cakes, spinning hoops, watching spinning and weaving, going up in a cabin loft, and a civil war reenactment.

My longtime friend calls her grandchildren "grandjoys". Well said, Jane!

Home

2010-10-19T10:14:00.000-05:00

Eudora Welty said that “One place understood helps us understand all places better.” and “There may come to be new places in our lives that are second spiritual homes closer to us in some ways, perhaps, than our original homes. But the home tie is the blood tie. And had it meant nothing to us, any other place thereafter would have meant less, and we would carry no compass inside ourselves to find home ever, anywhere at all. We would not even guess what we had missed.”

I am grateful for my growing up place, within a family helping me understand people will always be more important than place. Odd, because that family of origin mostly stayed in one place: rural and small town East Texas. Important, because after I left home at 17 for college, so many places would take their turns in becoming the place of home. One brief passage of time the leaving and the return intersected to be called home. I do believe we make our homes where we are, but there are times when we have a more intimate connection with the place of home. My favorite place happened to be at that intersection,one which my family occupied for only slightly more than a year. But I still have pictures of it hanging on my wall and a doll house replica that my grandchildren love. I think each of us would vote it our favorite house.

When my sons were 13, 10, and 8, we bought a 100 year old Victorian house on 3 acres of oaks and magnolias and pecan trees in East Texas. It was in the hometown where both my husband and I grew up, so both his mother and my parents still lived there at that time. There had been some renovation to the house in the 1940's, but not much since, so there was much that was necessary to live there safely and comfortably. We restored, repaired, renovated, and resuscitated in ways we never knew we had any skill for. We stripped the staircases to find tiger oak, pulled up carpet to find lovely wood floors, added wood burning heaters, updated plumbing and electricity and found ways that old houses need you that amazed us. It was a wonderful adventure.

During the time we were there, I did the research and writing necessary to acquire state historical landmark designation for the house, which was built for John Wesley Love in 1904, to house his wife and 13 children. He had 700 acres of peach orchards adjacent to the house, which was built near the railroad tracks. We discovered that my father and uncle had picked peaches in the orchards, and that Joe's Daddy had painted and wallpapered there in the 40's. It has been 26 years since we lived there, but I can still feel the sway of the porch swing and smell the fragrance of the wisteria dripping from the trees. It was work to live there, but it was magic.

The planned changes in my husband's job did not happen, and we knew our boys needed a father at home more than they needed a certain house, but oh, we loved it. Since we went back there for visits to relatives, we went by the house every time, and I cried every time for years!

Strangely, it took another turn of events in our family life for me to honestly say goodbye to it. Over 15 years after we left it, with the house having gone through several owners, it was very expensively refurbished and opened as a venue for receptions and weddings and other events. When my son and his fiancée planned their small wedding, we arranged to have it there. The bride’s dressing room was Sean's old bedroom! The gathering room for guests was our master bedroom. The ceremony was held in front of the fireplace in the parlor where we had celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary in 1982. The wedding was wonderful; the house was grand in her new finery. She didn't need me anymore, and I felt a closure I had been unable to achieve before. Neither Joe nor I have any living relatives there anymore, but I still say hello to the house when go back to our hometown. I can almost see the 3rd story cupola window wink back at me.

I am glad that although a sign now marks it as commercial offices, that place speaks home to me. I am even more glad that after many years and many moves, I am rooted (not root bound) in my present place. I love being at home.

Wild, Wonderful, Crazy Art

2010-09-30T09:08:00.000-05:00

I have missed writing here, but I have been writing, and taking some online courses which I have loved.
Story Circle Network chose a piece I had written for Story of the Month for October. I am posting it here with an apology for being absent so long from the blog.

Definitions of "art" vary widely in focus and scope depending on the research source . I like the wrap-around description that art is "the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance." This approach to thinking of any field using the skills or techniques of art., or skill in conducting any human activity broadens our concept, especially of ourselves as artists.

When my 70th birthday arrives, this year, I am thinking I will look back on my 60's as the most creative and productive period in my life...in my poetry, in my family narratives, in the widening of my circle of interest in literature and gardening and art (I do consider gardening an art!). BUT my twenty somethings were my forte for forging a foundation of education, shaping my choices for how I would spend my life, and with whom. My late twenties and thirties were my most creative and productive in bringing wonderful, unique, and precious human beings into the world. Nothing I ever write or read or experience will ever rival those moments of birth and breastfeeding and mothering.

My forties found me moving all over the world and increasing the most in my world view and understanding of other cultures. I grew a great deal in tolerance and understanding and navigating the rough rocky waters of teenage rebellion and spousal crisis! Did I get tired and throw up my hands at times? You bet. And I still do. But in my marriage, in my mothering, and now my grandmothering and in my relationships with my son's wives, I am crafting the most crazy and wild and wonderful art in the world...and I revel in being a woman. Whether I am gathering herbs I have grown to create a delicious and "work of art" meal, or bringing roses in to grace the table and fill my home with fragrance, caring for a husband recovering from surgery, managing a business, gathering people around my dining table, or building a memoir, I am filling my life canvas with rich color and depth of imagery and story.

I know I have choices. I can say no to keeping a two year old and her 4 year old sister for a week (I said yes to that last week). But when I say yes, and it means putting a story on hold or not blogging for a week, I don't feel like I have made a bad choice or that I am somehow deprived of my "real" work as an artist. It is just all part of my life, and my relationships. If I didn't have that I am not sure I would have the "want to" to write, craft or create And when I sit with those little girls and read book after book, sing with them, chase butterflies with them and help them learn about growing and picking and cooking with herbs from the garden, I am not only having the time of my life, I am passing a torch. If I never finish the memoir, I have written it. Making the memories is even more important than recording them. Who knows, Skye may be the one who eventually publishes an audiobook and podcasts about the filtered images of a grandmother. This week, she is enjoying learning to chain stitch with a crochet needle that belonged to her great grandmother. Maddie could be the one who composes music that we started making together. When she sits in my rocking chair and sings to me, the chair that holds her once held my mother and grandmother as they rocked me and sang to me. Jordann may paint many more works than my odd canvas of color. She cradles her doll, not knowing at all how many nurturing women, her grandmothers long generations back, have done the same. Lauren went to her first prom this weekend and came by for me to see her in her finery. Already, a beautiful young woman who is headed into choices that perhaps hold a part of me in the story. She wanted to see pictures from my high school proms, and pronounced me beautiful in the dress my mother made for me.

Just a note, though, I may pass the torch, but I am not quitting the race. And I am excited about every tomorrow I will have. What have I said? Maybe, just that it is in relationship (with my Creator, my family, my friends) that I experience the deepest level of creativity and the wildest surge of motivation. In the weaving of this rich tapestry of relationship....wild, wonderful, crazy art.

More Blessings

2010-07-09T09:32:00.000-05:00

More blessings, in the form of additions and corrections for my previous post, are due to being married for 46 years. We really do finish each other's sentences and fill in each other's blanks. Joe remembered Sean Burke well, and reminded me that Dr. Sean Burke was a professor at St. Mary's College in San Antonio. He had a Sunday morning radio program that we liked. And we agreed that his sign off was always the Irish blessing as sung by The Priests in Armagh Cathedral, with the ending: "and may you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead!"

An Irish Blessing

2010-07-08T09:03:00.000-05:00

In 1967, as the birth of our first son approached, Joe and I were fond of a San Antonio radio announcer who signed off each day with this Irish blessing. Although I can't remember his surname, I do remember his given name because that is the name we chose for our son, Sean, who is now a father himself and still loves all things Irish. Signing off for now...

Texas Spring

2010-05-21T09:09:00.000-05:00

In late March and early April (late this year, but with conditions perfect for an unusually lavish display), our Texas Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush spread over fields and roadsides in a vivid blanket of color. I love the mounds of Bluebonnets stretching as far as I can see. I love the contrast of fiery Indian Paintbrush. Looking for the first spots of blossom has delighted me each Spring for as long as I can remember. When we moved to California, and then to Indonesia in 1987, there were 5 years when Texas Spring was only something to read about or remember. After my son Jeremy came back to the U.S., he sent me a letter with 2 small pressed flowers. Underneath, he wrote "Texas Spring". I framed the piece of folded paper with his words and the dried wildflowers. The paintbrush and bonnets have gone to seed for another year, but I still have that 20 year old reminder. Thank you, Jeremy!

Who Is Happiest?

2010-04-20T09:44:00.000-05:00

When our sons were growing up, one of our Spring things was purchasing little net bags of damp straw holding hundreds of ladybugs to set free in our garden. This project had double benefits: the ladybugs would feast on some of our garden pests, and the boys loved dancing in the swarm of the lady bug launching, letting them land on their arms and hair. The tradition continues as their daughters experience the joy of releasing something created to fly away free. I think Maddie's smile answers the question, "Who is happiest?"

What Is Your Name?

2010-04-19T12:10:00.000-05:00

It is a cool cloudy day following our rains yesterday, so I planted the pepper plants Joe and I bought a few days ago. 19 of them!! Green and yellow Bells, Gypsies, Anchos, Habaneros, Cayennes, Mucho Nachos (giant jalapenos) and Chili Pequins (tiny, but 8 times hotter than a jalapeno)...all levels of the Scoville scale. We already have tomatoes setting fruit. I like planting heirloom varieties. This year we put in Paul Robesons, Tliacolula Pinks, Black Cherries, Money Makers, Cherokee Purples and Juliettes. The only hybrid plant I put in is a Better Bush. It may give me a more predictable harvest but I love the different shapes and colors of the heirlooms. Truth be told, I love the names, too. Whether it is a rose or a vegetable, the name calls me first.

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

2010-04-09T09:49:00.000-05:00

My Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow bush is not yet blooming like this, but it will be soon. This picture is from last year (Yesterday). Its current season of blooms (Today) will bless us all these different colors as the blooms appear and fade. It will bloom again. (Tomorrow). My dear friend Debbie brought me the bush the week before they moved from Texas four years ago, as a reminder of enduring friendship. In this week after Easter, I am grateful for past and present and future Grace. Everlasting.

See the land, her Easter keeping,

Rises as her Maker rose.
Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping,
Burst at last from winter snows.
Earth with heaven above rejoices.”
~Charles Kingsley

Palm Sunday

2010-03-28T22:04:00.000-05:00

Children waving palms, drums beating, handbells ringing, choir singing...all processing in for this morning's worship service to reenact and remind that Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem is the beginning for our holy week. Sean had a drum. Skye joined the children and sang "Could it be?... Isn't he?" Kristen and I rang handbells. I had my regular place in the choir between bell presentations. My heart filled with gratitude for the significance of the day as the beginning of Holy Week, for my family's participation. Our children and grandchildren who live in this area were all present and part of the experience.

Tea Time

2010-03-23T10:26:00.000-05:00

Maddie celebrates her fourth birthday with a tea party for a few friends. "Tea for two, and two for tea. Me for you, and you for me....can't you see happy we will be?" Be sure to wear something fancy!

Crazy Quilt Art

2010-03-18T18:48:00.000-05:00

In our area of Texas, school children of all ages enter art projects in a Rodeo art competition in the weeks leading up to the rodeo in Houston. Skye won a ribbon for her entry, titled Crazy Quilt. I have always loved crazy quilts, and have a few pillow covers and one quilt made by my grandmother in this fashion. I like the stories told by the various scraps of fancy fabrics. I like remembering my grandmother's hands when I trace my fingers over the feather stitching and briar stitches outlining the quilt patches. One day soon, I will show Skye the art fashioned by her great great grandmother.

Thank You Note

2010-03-18T18:35:00.001-05:00

Our granddaughter, Skye, is a 7 year old Daisy Girl Scout so this year she had her first experience selling cookies! At this age, marketing is limited to friends and family so no door to door sales. Family, of course, did not let her down. The cookies are good, and we have plenty to share. But the best part of this venture is the thank you note she included when she delivered the cookies. It reminds me that no gift is properly acknowledged without a handwritten note. Our gift to her in purchasing her goods is excelled by her gift to us in appreciation. I think I need to write a thank you note!

When the Birds Go North Again

2010-02-17T10:31:00.001-06:00

I am sorting through some very old files of poetry and kept stuff. It is slow work because I keep stopping to read this or think about that. But today is the first day of Lent, an appropriate season for reflection. I feel winter in my bones this morning. It has been a heart winter as well. When I picked up the page with this piece of poetry, I felt as if the woman who wrote it (who died the year I was born) was speaking to me. I know that God was.

"Oh, every year hath its winter,
And every year hath its rain--
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.

"When new leaves swell in the forest,
And grass springs green on the plain,
And alders' veins turn crimson--
And the birds go north again.

"Oh, every heart hath its sorrow,
And every heart hath its pain--
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.

" 'Tis the sweetest thing to remember,
If courage be on the wane,
when the cold, dark days are over--
Why, the birds go north again."

~Ella Higginson, a poet from the Northwest

2010-02-16T11:37:00.000-06:00

A year ago when I began this blog, I wanted to learn, but actually knew nothing about the "how". I am still learning, and now have two blogs! At one time I thought I would merge the two into one. Gradually I began to see they really were different kinds of containers, so I have maintained them both. In these blog posts, I have collected family stories, my grandmothering pleasures, and other memoir and nesting style writing. My other blog began in a more contemplative style, and features some of both my husband's and my photography, particularly in our garden. But the words I post there today could go in either blog. If you are curious, you can see this at http://www.stonesandfeathers.wordpress.com/

By the Book

2010-02-04T10:26:00.000-06:00

"It is a good rule...to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books." ~ C.S. Lewis

If you asked me how I spent my summers when I was growing up, I would not tell you "at the beach" or any typical vacation. The only times I remember our family going out of town for a week were a few summers when we went to stay near a clinic that offered hot mineral baths which my father took to ease his arthritis pain. Those days we spent in a tiny motel with a kitchenette where we prepared our meals, certainly not remarkable by today's standards of getaways.

My main source of adventure and recreation for those hot Texas summer months was a small, plain stone building in a park near the center of our small town. This was the Jacksonville Public Library. I was allowed to go often to check out books. I remember dark wood floors and the stacks of books lined up waiting for me to slide them from their shelves to pick my maximum allowed volumes to take home. Today, my home is full of books, but I still go to the library, often taking my granddaughter along. When I open a brand new book, I love the smell and the feel of the fresh pages. But there is story in holding and reading a book others have held and read. The Lewis quote reminds me beyond that, the new and the old are more than age of the paper and binding. I try to balance my reading by including long loved classics as well as the newly written must reads.

Off to a New Start

2010-01-23T13:23:00.002-06:00

The first three weeks of the year have kept us guessing about what season it really is. First, we had the most severe and prolonged freeze in over 20 years. It apparently killed a ficus tree we inherited after our son's home was burned in 1994 that flourished on our back porch. I called it Phoenix. In spite of coverings and lights, the extended cold zapped it as well as ferns, fig leaf plants and other container plants too heavy for me to move inside. Then came a week of warmer weather but heavy rains. The last few days have seen short sleeves...Spring?

An English proverb says "A fair day in winter is the mother of a storm." I'll keep my coat and scarf handy. Meanwhile, in the vegetable garden, the broccoli and cauliflower thrive. I don't think I have ever seen baby cauliflowers. I like these little survivors.

eve of 2010

2009-12-31T11:42:00.001-06:00

"The strongest and sweetest songs yet remain to be sung." ~Walt Whitman

I Still Do

2009-12-28T07:15:00.004-06:00

Forty-six years ago the organ chimes rang seven times and I walked down the aisle of the church where we both grew up to meet the love of my life and make vows in that beginning which was called a wedding. In all the changes and challenges in my life, the promises we made to each other and to God have held fast. In joy, in sadness, in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth (both of pocket and spirit), in the face of what at times seemed insurmountable difficulty, we have moved through the years to this day of celebration. Grace is still at work in our lives. Among many reminders of memories made in our home is a small framed copy of this prayer which we asked to be read at our wedding. It is my daily prayer.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred..let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt...faith,
Where there is despair...hope,
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness...joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may
not so much seek
To be consoled....as to console,
To be understood...as to understand,
To be loved...as to love,
for
It is in giving...that we receive,
It is in pardoning, that we are pardoned, It is in dying...that we are born to eternal life.
~St. Francis of Assisi

There's No Business like Snow Business

2009-12-27T16:43:00.003-06:00

Our granddaughters who live in North Texas had a White Christmas! Maddie made snow angels and snow balls. Santa had to leave the wooden playhouse in pieces because he had trouble putting them together in the heavy snowfall. No snow for us in South Texas, but I did watch White Christmas! Our family here gathered for the day, enjoying cooking and eating and gifting and singing around the piano, with a number of telephone conversations with the snow angels and their angel parents.

Recipe for Remembering

2009-12-23T16:30:00.004-06:00

I have been doing Christmas baking and candy making the last few days. As I got out my recipe box and files to choose which meals and treats I would make this year, I realized one more time how many of these are traditions in our family, but also the numbers of friends and family who passed these recipes on to me. Most of the recipes are handwritten, and include the name of the person who gave them to me originally. As I read through them, and particularly as I cook that special food, I think of those names, and am grateful for all the ways they were and are part of our family story. A few reflect a family experience that resulted in the collection of the recipe. This year I made a list of 18 recipes and contributors and smiled as I realized most of them I have been using for 40 years or more! Some of them were:

Dr. Pepper Bread: this came from a booklet handed out at the Texas State Fair in 1978! A family trip to the fair resulted in a recipe we have used ever since.

German Butter Balls, courtesy of my friend Nancy Johnson in San Antonio in 1970.

My sister in law, Iris' recipe for Toffee.

Candy Cane Cookies, clipped from a Ladies' Home Journal in the late 1960's This is an alltime family favorite, and the one my grandchildren like best to make as well as to eat!

Ice Box Cookies, my mother's recipe and a cookie I remember eating for well over 60 years!

Thumb Print Cookies, from Pat Tarver Taylor, our good friend for over 40 years.

Mexican Stack Up: given to us by C.W. and Mary Bess, a dear pastor and his wife, in a book of Christmas recipes in 1982.

All Bran Yeast Rolls, from Billie Housman in 1963.

Orange Spiced Wine, from Georgie Ingram, 1972

Poppy Seed Dressing for fruit salad, from Opal Carl. She was my Public Health Professor in Nursing School in 1962.

Chicken Tetrazinni, from Jean McGuire, our neighbor in San Antonio in 1966.

I am grateful for friends past and present. I love remembering with recipes.

It looks like Christmas!

2009-12-22T12:34:00.003-06:00

Skye and her doll Molly have matching Christmas dresses. Our house has its Christmas dress on too. The outward preparations for Christmas start Thanksgiving weekend although I always give myself the gift of beginning to listen to my favorite Christmas music on my birthday two weeks prior to that. Once I get the bins of decorations into the house from my garage, I am always eager to get everything "out and up". I find it takes me longer these days, so here it is only a few days until the 25th and I am still tweaking the tree...trees, actually. Skye is here in the afternoons after school and she has helped with getting ready. We have a small kitchen tree with handwritten recipes from my mother and cookie cutters I have used since I was a child. The tiny tree in the dining room has small china teacups and saucers for decorations plus a few tea bags and the pieces of Joe's mother's spoon collection that came to us. The decorating is only a sign of what goes on inwardly for me. Advent is a time for making my heart ready.

2009-12-05T09:24:00.007-06:00

Snow is seldom forecast for the Texas Gulf Coast. Yesterday, December 4, 2009, we had the earliest snowfall ever. For hours, we had huge wet snowflakes that began to blanket every rooftop and garden, transforming our everyday views into Christmas card works of art. I kept coming back to the window and the porch to watch it. I gathered squash, greens, tomatoes, peppers and herbs that I did not want to freeze since our temperatures for the night would drop to the low twenties.

SHATTERING

2009-11-20T11:10:00.002-06:00

When remembering my grandparent’s old house on an East Texas Hill, my thoughts reenter the red dirt road up to the house. We never went in at the front, but always drove around to the back, parked under the oak trees and, flinging open car doors, we ran to open arms and an open screen door in the back. That door took us into the large room known simply as the sleeping porch. It had windows all across two sides , was furnished with a big feather bed, the curved front bureau that now lives in my own front bedroom, some rocking chairs, a heater, and the oak dining table and china cabinet we now call ours.

I can picture going into the small kitchen just off the sleeping porch. There was a wood stove, a bucket of water with a dipper, and there Grandma produced peas and cornbread, fried chicken, homemade blackberry jelly, and my favorite treat, tea cakes. From the kitchen a door led into one of 3 front rooms which were separated by a long hall that had speckled blue linoleum dotted with white stars. On one wall sat a long chintz covered quilt box. That box is here in my house, too. On its surface sit family pictures, generations beyond my grandparents, but none of whom would have been possible without them!

At the end of the hall, the door opened onto the front porch. Two things pulled me there. One was a porch swing where I could sit and swing and read. The other was a large rose bush, planted at the corner where the house and porch met, just outside a bedroom window. It was a yellow rose, with large fragrant petals. My grandmother often filled a jar with these roses to put on the kitchen table. She didn’t have a car or an indoor bathroom, but she had roses. We would bury our noses in their softness and fragrance and thank God for this gift to us. When these roses had blessed us with their beauty for a brief time, and began to drop their petals on the table cloth, Grandma called this “shattering”. “Those roses have shattered,” she would say. I know that we use the same term for broken crystal and failed dreams, but in today’s bouquets, the shattering of the roses always brings a tender smile and a remembering of Grandma’s yellow roses.
Lord, I want to bloom today. Keep me together. Help me not to shatter.

PUMPKIN PARTY

2009-11-16T09:02:00.002-06:00

I feel very celebrated! Ben and Kristen gave me a birthday party on November 14 that has to be the most unusual in 69 birthdays. We may not have had 69 ways to enjoy pumpkins, but it was close. Pumpkin seeds, pumpkin spread, pumpkin scones, pumpkin popcorn, pumpkin bark, pumpkin candy, pumpkin soup, pumpkin lasagne, and the work of art pumpkin cake! Decorations were, of course, pumpkins - small, medium, and large. Charlie Brown may not have a corner on the Great Pumpkin anymore!

Lemon Harvest

2009-11-06T09:45:00.004-06:00

Our Meyer lemon tree had a bumper crop this year. The tree is small and the branches were drooping all the way to the ground with the heavy fruit. The basket full of golden globes begs me to find ways to use them. We have already given bags of them to friends and family. An online article from the LA times advises me of 100ways to use Meyer Lemons! But the best use in my opinion is enjoying them in a variety of delicious recipes. These lemons are slightly different from regular lemons, presenting an edible peel and a sweeter flavor. The sweet tart citrus fruits are perfect for desserts, stuffing for chicken, or making simple sweet lemonade. Try this for a delicious autumn supper:

Meyer Lemon Risotto
Makes 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients:
1 yellow onion, chopped
2 shallots, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon sea salt
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups pearled barley
1 cup dry white wine
6 cups vegetable stock
Grated zest of 4 Meyer lemons plus juice of 2
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup creme fraiche
1 cup spinach, chopped
Handful of toasted pine nuts, for garnish

Directions:
1. In a large pot over medium high heat, saute onions, shallots, garlic and salt in olive oil until onion softens.

2. Stir barley into pot and pour in wine. Let mixture come to a simmer for 3 to 4 minutes. Add 1 cup of stock at a time, while letting the barley absorb the liquid (this will take about 30 to 40 minutes). Stir often while adding liquid.

3. When barley is tender, take pot off heat and stir in lemon juice and zest, cheese and creme fraiche. Mix in spinach and top with pine nuts.

Which Witch?

2009-11-03T08:18:00.002-06:00

When two of my grandchildren came to my house on Halloween dressed as witches, we made witch cookies with green faces, beady eyes, hooked noses and wild hair. Credits go to chocolate chips, cashew nuts and chow mein noodles for the bewitching features.

Soup's On!

2009-10-31T17:46:00.002-05:00

Soup can warm your body, fill your hunger, boost your immune system….but it also can warm your heart, fill a need, and boost your spirits. I am of the opinion this can happen not only when it is eaten, but when you prepare it! There is something about the gathering of healthy ingredients, the chopping and dropping, the fragrance of herbs and the sounds and sights of a simmering, steaming pot that cheers the cook long before it is tasted.

Our family’s favorites have been made many many times, some of them for over forty years. The roots go back much further, because I learned to cook from both my parents and my grandmother. Chicken and Dumplings would have been a favorite at my grandmother’s table. I serve it at the same table, and cook it in one of the same pots.

There are many resources for soup and stew recipes today, but these are some of the ones enjoyed by the Parkers. You need little more than some hot bread and in some cases a few condiments to make a satisfying, healthy meal. I employ artistic license in my cooking…I feel quite free to add or substitute ingredients, and many favored variations of these same recipes exist. Why use dried herbs when I have fresh ones growing outside my kitchen door? If I have vegetables in the crisper that aren’t in the recipe, they will probably wind up in the pot. When those with dietary preferences are at my table, I will substitute turkey for meat, or omit a certain spice. Old recipes tend to ignore today’s low fat recommendations. Healthy improvisations are wonderful. The important thing is to have a starting place, and to enjoy cooking a great meal.

Great Soups to Try
German Lentil

Tomato Basil Soup

Vegetable Soup

Chicken Noodle

Gazpacho

Corn and Crab Chowder

Barley Burger

Chicken and Dumplings

Curry Soup with Chopped Apple

Cheese Soup

Chili

NOW AND THEN, ALWAYS FRIENDS

2009-09-29T10:53:00.009-05:00

Skye missed her friend. Anna’s family was in Chicago for the summer. Skye longed for Anna’s return, only to learn that when they came back it would be to pack and move. Anna’s Dad was being transferred to Calgary, Canada! For three years Skye had answered “Anna” to questions about best friends. Anna answered “Skye” to the same questions. Now, in two days, Anna would go with her parents and her brother, Jack, to the airport where they would fly to their new home. This would be too far away to come back for play dates or even birthday parties. They would start first grade next week in two different countries! But today they would have fun doing all the things they had enjoyed doing together, their favorite things.

First, they chose scarves and hats from the dressup basket in Granmary’s front bedroom. Purple chiffon and leopard spotted satin floated from their shoulders. Tutus and capes and jewels hung here and there. Anna chose a comb with a tall feather to put in her hair, while Skye peeked out from a red straw hat. Angel and Bella, the cats, ran under the bed. The sight of the fashion parade to the tune of giggles made Granmary smile.

Skye took Anna outside to show her the fairy house she was making. It had a real door painted yellow and pink and green. Twigs and rocks and sparkling bits of broken jewelry surrounded it. They picked flowers and ran on the paths in the garden and fed the fish in Papa Joe’s pond.

Skye set the small round table and stools in the hall while Anna stacked the tea dishes. Granmary gave them a red checkered square for the table and brought tiny peanut butter sandwiches and tuna salad with apple juice to pour in the teacups. After their tea time, they went outside for a few minutes to dance in the rain! Then they watched a movie about a mouse who loved books and ate popcorn.

While Granmary watched Skye and Anna, she thought of her own best friend when she was just the same age. Mignon and Mary Ann dressed up and dressed alike. They played with their kittens and with their dolls. They had picnics and parties. They giggled. And when Mignon moved to what seemed like a whole country away, although it was only to Houston,they kept being friends. So Granmary smiled again and thought about her old friend. They were both grandmothers now. But they were still friends. She thought to herself “I will call Mignon and we will have lunch this week, so I can tell her about Skye and Anna.” Then she helped Skye and Anna string some tiny silver beads on a stretchy cord. The two bracelets were exactly
alike. The beads in the middle had their initials and said: SP FRIEND AL, but they wouldn’t really need the bracelets to remember.
~I wrote this story for Skye after
she and Anna had their goodbye for
now day at our house last month.

Place of Grace

2009-09-24T10:42:00.002-05:00

"I am a home-oriented person, one who is striving to be a homemaker, a people-builder, a steward of things in whatever place come together as family and friends.

If I cannot be at the locality we normally call home, then I find I instinctively try to make a home wherever I am. I find tremendous satisfacton when I am able to create pockets of safety and encouragement for those who are close to me at any given time. A place of grace, if you please."
~Gail McDonald

2009-09-07T10:11:00.003-05:00

July's finish, then the days of August have passed like bands marching by in a holiday parade. These days, going past in an accelerated rhythm, have not waited for me to get in even one August blog before the calendar turned to September. But September is a month for beginning again. So, as the children begin a new school year, and new vegetables go into the ground for my fall garden, I am back!

I have kept journals for years, and find this 2009 variation has many of the same considerations. One of my favorite authors, Luci Shaw, discusses some of the benefits of journal keeping. She mentions the collection jars we used to put lightning bugs in when we were kids and likens a journal to one of these collection jars! I like that. A journal, or a blog is a place to keep impressions or experiences so they are not forgotten.

"Such solace at a phrase just written down,
Relief that now it's firmly pinned in place-
An insect stilled that recently had flown
but snagged its wing in this dark brainy space
to be subdued, place marker for collections
of other airborne words, termites, or humming bees,
for me to sort and shift and make selections.
When the assortment's fixed the writing flies."

~Luci Shaw, in A Syllable of Water

2009-07-13T10:43:00.003-05:00

If you would have a lovely garden,
You should have a lovely life.
—Shaker Saying

Summer Snow

2009-07-10T08:42:00.003-05:00

When Maddie and Skye were playing on the back porch a couple of weeks ago, they walked along the sitting wall which made them eye level with the overhanging branches of the white crepe myrtle that are heavy with blossoms. I had so much fun watching them swatting at the bloom clusters and squealing when the petals showered over them and floated to the ground. Summer snow! When all the available blooms were harvested, they had the snowflakes in their hair and on their shoulders, and the porch was covered with petals. Time for a snow cone? Summer heat, summer treat!

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

2009-06-07T19:03:00.003-05:00

From peanut butter and polka dots to puppy dogs and paper dolls!

2009-06-07T18:52:00.004-05:00

Dance With Me!

2009-06-05T16:04:00.002-05:00

This is Maddie and her new friend, Roxie. They hear the music!