One Cat

This is our cat Angel, who loves to pick a pretty spot and pose.  We have had other cats like that. Once we had a Persian cat who loved to pose on our only Turkish rug. Another cat preferred to curl up in an antique wash bowl with a turquoise rim that matched his eyes.

A few weeks ago, Angel's playmate, our cat Bella, disappeared - we looked and looked but there is no trace of her.  We miss her but for now, Angel is our one cat, and I think she likes it that way.  Goodbye, Bella.  If Angel knows where you went, she is not telling.

Legacy

The roses covering this arbor are Peggy Martin Roses, also called the Katrina Rose, because this rose was the only one of hundreds owned by Peggy Martin and her husband before the flooding and destruction caused by Hurricane Katrina.  Surviving after being submerged under 20 feet of salt water, this plant endured.  It reminds me of the quality of endurance I consider my legacy exhibited in my great grandmother's story.


    I have included stories about my great grandmother, Ernestine Curley, in past blog posts, but recently wrote this poem.  I believe her legacy of  deep faith, strength, perserverance, and fortitude showed in both my grandmother and mother.  I am thankful for them all.


 Legacy of Endurance

Clara and Bienvenue Paschal Augier boarded a ship in the south of France

Sailed with their children to the port of New Orleans,

 Charles, Josephine Antoinette and little Ernestine Matilde

who began to speak English when she was three

Her mama never learned

Her papa was a saddle maker

trapped in a burning building

he jumped to his death

then the family moved -

 Old Finn Castle, Henderson County in Texas

Ernestine went to school

with a handsome boy named Matthew

October 30, 1872 they were married.

Six children were born

William, Charles, Ozark and Osro who were twins

Othinet Josephine they called Jessie,

Matthew Ann

this youngest a baby girl with a boy's name

December 1979, Matthew, shot

while on a hunting trip by his best friend,

never saw his youngest.

His dying request was that the baby

Ernestine carried be given his name,

and, if born a girl, to be given to

his sister Victoria.

Young, widowed, with

6 little children

Ernestine married again

a man rumored to have been

a fugitive from justice

Three more babies conceived

When James Curley died

six years later, once more

Ernestine again buried her husband

 while preparing to birth another child.

Two husbands, neither of whom lived

to see their last child born.

She moved the the

five living children from her first marriage

and three children of second, pregnant again,

to her sister's home.

She knew about endurance.

While these battles happened in her life,

she witnessed  traumas of her adopted country:

 the Civil War,

 Reconstruction

the Spanish American War

World War I

Hitler's invasion of Europe

Ernestine's strength and goodness shone

One son said she was the best woman

he ever knew

With so many children, there were

many grandchildren.

She was present at the birth of every one.

Bringing hand stitched caps and blankets.

When Ernestine could no longer live alone,

she moved in with her youngest daughter, Clyde

She knelt at her prie dieu everyday

Treasured a tiny holy water font

She patched and mended pants, shirts, and socks

turning collars and darning heels

Her tiny stitches could hardly be seen.

She taught her granddaughter Opal to say

Yes Ma'am and No Sir

She rocked her great granddaughter Mary Ann.

Tribute

The year 2006 was a year of both great loss and great gain for me.  My mother died in September of that year, which is a loss I am still acutely aware of.  But in the months before her death, even as I helped to care for her and ease her transition from this life to the next, I received two immensely important gifts, gifts of sight. Only a few months earlier I was diagnosed with a degenrative corneal disease which quickly robbed me of a great deal of my functional vison.  I had Fuch's Corneal Dystrophy, for which there is no treatment or cure.  The only option was to have my own corneas removed and replaced with corneas from a donor:  cornea transplants.  This week marks the 7th anniversary of my first gift.  On May 15, 2006, I had surgery to receive my first cornea, in my left eye.  Two months later, in July, I had the same surgery for my right eye. I am eternally grateful to the families whose choices made that possible for me, and I urge all who hear my story to consider electing organ donation and making that known to your family.

The very first realization I had that my surgery had indeed been successful came as I sat in the shade by the little fish pond in our garden. All landscape had been blurry for long enough that what happened was quite like pointing my camera lens, zooming, and focusing.  I suddenly became amazed that I was seeing with brilliant clarity, and the object was a small purple iris a few feet away.  I was and am so thankful to see. In tribute to my donors and to all who are challenged with impaired vision, I am sharing some more garden photographs with you.  These flowers grow in the gardens at Antique Rose Emporium near Brenham, TX.

        

Magnolias

When the Magnolias bloom again each year, I reach to pull a creamy cup down and inhale its sweetness. I may cut a few to bring inside and float in bowls, but they brown and wither soon.  They show off best in their  boughs of waxy green leaves.  They remind me of the trees that lined the edge of my elementary school yard, which happened to be adjacent to my own yard.  We often played in the shade of the trees, loving the spectacle of their blooms.  When the petals dropped, leaving cones with scarlet seeds, we played with those, creating, imagining, giggling.

In 1963, a bank of magnolia leaves was the only floral decoration at our December wedding. Many years and many places later, I stood by a Magnolia tree in the gardens of a sultan's palace in Bogor, Indonesia, and wondered if its twisted trunk and sprawling branches flowered.  Now, once again, my yard fills with the fragrance of Magnolias in Spring.  They seem to grow sweeter each year.

Our Garden

April showers might have brought May flowers, but so far May is bringing record setting low temperatures. Here on the Gulf Coast of Texas, by this time we are usually working to keep cool instead of wrapping up to stay warm.  Yesterday another cold front literallty blew in.  Wind gusts took my patio umbrella up and away, and tree branches have been whipping so hard the new leaves are hanging on for dear life.  I put on my coat and did a quick walkabout to check for garden damage, and am pleased to say it is slight.  Here is a photo walk through!

As in the photo of above, our antique roses are thriving in the cooler temperature. The colors are intense.

             Petunias, not to be outdone by the roses, but they will never muster that kind of fragrance!

      Tuscan Kale and Swiss Chard - ornamental, but also edible. Organic gardeners, we can eat our        borders!  We already have tomatoes on the vines, and a big bed of hot peppers.

       These flowers make a tasty addition to salads.  Nasturtiums, a favorite in my herb garden.

Daylilies hold up their reputation of blooming in spite of temperature - but usually that is a reference to hot!

This amaryllis has had more blooms this year than anytime since I planted it.  

Look at the blooms on this Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow bush my friend Debbie gave to me.

Sweet little nosegays of Forget-Me-Nots

This pot of geraniums on the porch makes me smile.

There are tiny Meyer lemons, the Satsuma is blooming, and the fig tree bravely sports baby figs!

Post a comment and tell me what is greening and growing in your garden!   

Greening Continued

A new coat of paint can do wonders for old stuff.  Our outdoor furniture was way beyond shabby chic.  Nearly 20 years of Texas sun and wind had almost stripped it of any orginal finish.  It was clear something needed to be done if we were going to be able to keep using it for outdoor dining and sitting.  Several cans of spray paint gave it renewed approval from everyone.  In the process, I wore a good deal of the paint myself!  On one trip to get more paint, I remembered on the way in that I had forgotten to write the name of the paint down.  By this time all I could remember was the paint I had used on the porch swing a week earlier.  The mission was accomplished when I proudly held up my arm and pointed to the splotch of green there.  Spruce Green, that was it!  Sometimes being messy is not a bad thing.

before

                                                                             after

Now all we need to do is pour some lemonade and enjoy our "new" furniture.  By the way, the paint did wear off - no one has asked me about my green feet in days.

Nana's Recipe for Chewy Crisps

No, I didn't mix up the posts for my blogs.  Although this might seem to have been intended for  Kitchen Keepers, my cooking and recipe blog, it is posted here intentionally.  Today, just like most other people, I print out recipes from websites, or save them to my documents file for use at a later date.  I do still prop up a cookbook (I have many more than I have shelves to store them) or lay a printed recipe nearby when I am cooking.  I like being able to use my mini Ipad to bring up a recipe I know I have already posted.  That is very convenient, and portable!  But my most cherished recipe collection is handwritten, like the one above.  Chewy Crisps were peanut butter treats my mother, Opal Terrell Teal, made in our kitchen on Sunset Street in Jacksonville, Texas when I was growing up. I could enter it in my computer and print it out (and may very well do that for other reasons) but I thrill at being able to hold it in my hand, trace Mother's lovely, even, measured handwriting, and cook from her "book."  This recipe has a checkered ribbon threaded at the top since I use it, along with a few others, every year on a small kitchen Christmas tree where it hangs along with Mother's cookie cutters, the first ones I ever used.  I cherish other recipes written down by my Grandmother, or my mother's best friend Gertrude, our neighbor Mrs. Adams, even one from Mrs. Fay Martin who was mother's friend when they lived in New Orleans over 70 years ago. Recipes on the back of my 4th grade spelling test, an  envelop, a paper napkin.   I have some in my own handwriting, a collection of family recipes made as a third grade art project, complete with a fabric cover edged in blanket stitiches.

Next time you are asked for a recipe, why not write it down with your own pen?  Someday, there may be someone else who collects more than cookbooks and cooks with a heart beyond the cooking channels on TV!