The snow is falling softly outside, and for the first time the scene from my window looks like I should be planning for Christmas. Instead, I slip back to reality and shoo those visions of sugarplums from my brain. It’s January and a brand new year and time to pack away the lights and glass ornaments and the snowflakes that were cut so carefully by Cassandra’s hand. They’re delicate paper treasures and they’ll be brought out with all the finery each Christmas season.
Oh, but that snow outside is so lovely and the flakes like tufts of cotton candy and almost as sweet on the tongue. I wonder to myself if it’s possible to keep track of the number of times that we try to catch
snowflakes on the tongue. I suppose not, and take another sip of my Earl Grey. Snowy days are meant for such musings. Earl Grey is meant for such snowy days.
The number of needles that can fall from a dry tree is in a word alarming. It’s the tree’s one last hurrah. “Take me from the woods where I was comfy will you?? Have a look at what I can do!!” In an instant each needle answering a silent cue leaps from a dry limb and then winds and wriggles itself deep into carpet fibers. There are a special few that are chosen to work their way into unsuspecting slippers; others still have the coveted position of infiltrating work gloves meant to keep them out!! Keeping two little girls and one curious cat away from the sea of green needles is a chore. As Erik removed ornaments, I was putting them away into boxes. When it was time for the lights to come down, the needles made their move!! Undaunted and all the while dodging little green spears, Erik told me not to worry and “that’s what vacuums are for!!” You are my hero honey.
With the tree gone and the lights put away, the living room feels a little empty; a little hollow. I’ve decided that new curtains are in order. I have a good length of a handsome dark blue fabric. I think it will lend a homey look to the room. I’ve come to the conclusion that a new project is a good thing for a brand new year. We’ll share a photo when they’re completed!!
*~*~*
Erik and I have become Grandparents. Now, I know that may sound remarkable considering that the girls are a mere 6 and 10 but bear with me. For Christmas, Santa Claus brought Rebecca a baby doll named Lissy. As modern dolls go, Lissy is behind the times. She doesn’t do anything except for opening and closing her eyes. Even that has to be prompted by laying
her down and sitting her up. Whatever Lissy does comes from the imagination of a 6 year old. It’s been amusing and oh-so-entertaining to watch. Without a doubt however, Rebecca can duplicate a baby crying with deafening accuracy. This said, when ‘Becca became a Mommy, Erik and I became a Grandpa and Grandma. Sigh. How time flies. Why it seems that just yesterday…
“Grandma, would you like to hold Lissy??”
“Oh, I’d love to Sweetheart. Thank you.”
“She is fussy tonight Grandma. You should rock her.”
Grandma obliges and rocks her first grandbaby. A watershed moment in my life has just occurred.
“She’s a very pretty baby Rebecca.”
“The elves made her. Did you know that??”
“Why yes, I suppose you’re right!!”
“You can’t even see where her ears are attached.”
“They must be smart elves.”
“They’ve made a lot of baby dolls, haven’t they??”
“Yes, they have.”
“None of them are as pretty as Lissy though.”
I know that over the years Rebecca and I will have many a conversation. Some will be casual and quiet; some will be of great consequence but I will always treasure the pure innocence in her voice and the tender looks towards Lissy. Santa’s elves did good.
*~*~*
Heavy rain has washed the snow away, and once again our world is green. It will be short lived, but a balmy day in January is a gift and like any gift, one to be enjoyed. I decide to open a couple of windows and give the house a proper airing while it’s the warmest part of the day. Scooter gives me a look of disbelief as the cool breeze washes over him. Not one to pass up sitting in an open window, he makes a mad dash and a flying leap. Cody – the neighbor dog – is only too willing to bark and run lending himself as entertainment for an attentive cat. Cody is a white dog of unknown origins. And, Cody is more ham than dog. It is I think a welcome change for an indoor cat to sit in an open window in the month of January when the most exciting part of his day is simply choosing where the next nap should be.
With the house smelling fresh I hunt up a couple of letters to be mailed and turn a blind eye to the two stamps in my drawer. Such a day calls for a trip to the post office, or anywhere at all for that matter!! At the post office a woman offers a complaint to the man behind the counter that $18.74 is far too much for a parcel to go to her son in Indiana but she supposes she has no choice. I’m convinced she didn’t open her windows to let fresh air in. It’s sad when we miss the little blessings.
*~*~*
January 16, 2005
I had planned to make some Banana Nut Bread today, but find that I have no eggs. We did in fact have the last of them yesterday for breakfast. I add eggs to the grocery list and then check for any other ingredients that I might need. The air outside is cold and the thought of warm Banana Nut Bread with some hot tea this afternoon is a pleasant one.
I have a generous collection of recipe books. Some were gifts over the years; some purchased at library sales and the like. There are those that I return to time and again for specific recipes. On page 118 of “The Cotton Country Collection” (Over 250,000 sold!) is such a recipe. It’s titled simply “Banana Nut Bread”. I always find it a little disappointing that it isn’t labeled “Aunt Thea’s Banana Nut Bread” with a little picture of Aunt Thea beside the title. Now the way I see it, Thea was a pleasant round woman who never married but had a bevy of nieces and nephews who would come and stay with her on school vacations and at holidays. With her peppered grey hair in a soft bun and her sensible shoes she whisked about her kitchen filled with classic green Fiestaware and never once ran out of eggs. Could she cook?? Oh, Thea was a wonderful cook. She taught all those nieces, don’t you know. Alas, there is no mention of Thea, her Fiestaware or even her nieces in The Cotton Country Collection. The recipe was in reality submitted by a Mrs. A. E. M--------, Sr., and I doubt she had an Aunt Thea either.
I am nonetheless indebted to Mrs. M-------- for this basic yet hearty recipe, and give all the credit to her.
*~*~*
Banana Nut Bread
¼ cup shortening
¾ cup sugar
1 egg
2 cups flour
½ teaspoon soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
3 Tablespoons sour milk
2 large mashed bananas
½ cup chopped nuts
Cream sugar and shortening. Add egg. Sift dry ingredients together. Add remaining ingredients with dry mixture to sugar and eggs. Pour into a greased 5 x 9 inch loaf pan. Bake 1 hour at 350 degrees. To make sour milk: Mix 1 cup milk with 1 Tablespoon vinegar. Let stand for 15 minutes until it turns to clabber.
*~*~*
When the January cold settles in, the birds are more active at the feeders and I find myself saving the last bits of the cereal from the boxes and mixing the last of the peanut butter with a bit of saved bacon grease. These are the most thankful of dinner guests and they don’t mind one little iota that there are leftovers at the table. They in fact sing for their supper and I realize what a lesson in thankfulness and humility we could take from these little creatures.
About four times a year we make a trip to a feed store that is about an hour north of us. Although we don’t have to go that far to find birdseed, it’s a fun trip for all of us and the girls especially covet going to a store where you can find bins of birdseed and horse tack all under one roof!!
There are those times that simplicity isn’t always the easy route. Sometime we have to work at the simple, finding it along the way. Homemade isn’t the easiest way to have Banana Nut Bread, nor is traveling over an hour for birdseed and yet it is the simple pleasure found in just such things that brings balance into our all too busy lives.
We’ve experienced some mild days over the past week, so much so that winter jackets had to be set aside for something on the lighter side. While it feels an odd thing at this time of the year we always have a warm period about now and it’s a welcome relief from grey days, blustery skies and sloshing through wet snow.
While the sun is shining today and above is a canopy of hoping-for-spring blue, there’s a north westerly wind to remind us that winter is still very much a part of our lives for a while longer. As I write this, I can look out my window and see the tree line in the distance. Each of them sways softly in their slumber to nature’s own song – the wind. Like each of us, they sway at their own pace; the pace that is theirs alone. Like us, each the same, each different.
It’s Friday and the end of yet another week. The days rush one another along, and I silently chide my younger self for wishing to grow up fast. “Too late schmardt” – isn’t that how the saying goes??
Friday is date night for Erik and me. It’s a time that we set aside as just our own. While some of our days are rushed and chaotic, Friday evening is ours to relax, make sweet plans for “tomorrow” and simply treasure the time spent together. We talk and we listen. It is so important for couples to connect like that…to set aside a time to simply be alone in the company of the one that you love. The pace of life is such that a man and a woman need to become each other’s safe harbor. If only people would realize this truth, what a kinder world this would be. It makes sense to me that when the home is happy, balanced and content, the community is happy, balanced and content and so on. I like to think that I don’t hope in vain that one day people might follow this path.
Neal!
Karen and Cassandra
We’re celebrating Chinese New Year tomorrow evening with Neal and Karen. Erik and Neal have been best friends for a very long time. Erik was, in fact, best man at their wedding. Neal is one of the happiest people I’ve ever met and I’ve yet to see him without a smile. Karen is kind-hearted and outgoing. I’ve noticed something about her. Every time we talk, she is genuinely interested in what I have to say. That’s a rare quality in a person.
We’re taking the girls (who adore Neal and Karen, by the way) and looking forward to the eight or nine courses in the traditional New Year’s meal.
2005 is the year of the rooster according to the Chinese Zodiac. A rooster is a fine feathered beast and I wish him well during his year!!
Monday is Valentine’s Day and the very thought of that prompts sweet memories of red construction paper and white lace doilies and tiny cinnamon hearts. I realize that there are those of you purists that cry “Chocolate!!” for Valentine’s Day but I will always have a soft spot for those spicy red hearts. When I would go downstairs to the breakfast table on February 14th every year of my childhood, there on the table at my place was a plastic heart container (red on the bottom with a clear hinged lid) filled with cinnamon hearts. I would start off by putting a bunch in my mouth and holding them there as long as I could. My eyes would water, but I would never give in. After that yearly “baptism of cinnamon”, I would have one at a time and then convince myself that they would last the whole year.
My Mom enjoyed giving those little candies as much as I enjoyed getting them. In the days before Valentine’s Day you could see them in a display at Woolworth’s Department Store. If memory serves, they were 50 cents each. A little heart-shaped box filled with cinnamon hearts is all that it was. Years later however as I hold one of those candies on my tongue memories of my Mom fill my mind. I see Mom’s smile in my mind’s eye now and I wonder if she ever felt as if the days sped by. If she did I don’t remember her saying so. I think that Mom and Papa both faced trials and challenges in the day to day but they had that special ability to face each morning with a renewed spirit.
What I know of love, they taught me. Theirs was an unconditional love and that’s something I didn’t see until I was grown. That is however the nature of unconditional love – it asks for nothing in return.
Dear Mom and Papa…thank you.
And what can I tell you about Erik?? He has a gentle soul and a kind spirit and what I forgot of love, he showed me once more. That is the sweetest gift.
When I was a girl, I remember the saying, “If March comes in like a lion it goes out like a lamb. And if March comes in like a lamb it goes out like a lion.”
Now to a little girl, this seems like more of a riddle than anything else. I would ask Papa. That’s what I would do. Papa always knows, and he always tells me.
“Well, Skeeziks,” he would say, “it’s like this…”
I sat attentive and waiting for the truths that would ‘splain all.
“…it’s just like it says.”
I sat puzzled. So far, this wasn’t helping.
He continued, “When the weather is like a lion, it’s wild. When it’s like a lamb, it’s gentle.”
“If it’s like a lion Papa, does the wind blow loud??” I asked.
Papa smiled.
He went on, “You see if it starts out snowy and windy (like a lion I thought to myself) then there’s a pretty darn good chance it will end up mild (like a lamb I thought, welling with pride and my newfound wisdom).
When you’re little and your Papa (who knows everything) explains things, there is nothing you can’t imagine or tackle.
At this point in the conversation I’m sure that I walked away content in the knowledge that my Papa knew everything there was to know about weather and winds and lambs and lions. It’s important that little girls believe that their Daddy holds all the mysteries of the universe. It is this belief that carries them through cold days and winters to come. It is this belief that makes all future springs possible.
Those days seem like a lifetime away, and yet if I close my eyes, I’m there still. I see my Papa as he sits in his chair in the living room. My hand reaches out and I can almost touch his calloused hands. Well, almost. Such memories are as fresh as winter air and as welcome as crocus in the spring.
Like that seasonal crossover, our memories are the bridge that takes us from our past into all of our tomorrows. Sometimes, we live in that past—that winter—and we deprive ourselves of all the joys that our own spring holds. We must experience each to appreciate both.
The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.
When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here.
-Author Unknown-
This year, March came in more like a lion than a lamb. Here in the Hudson Valley, we had another 8 inches (more or less) fall with the coming of the new month. It wasn’t a loud wild storm that came through though. While we got snow, it was a beautiful snowfall that covered trees and made the world look fresh and clean. If it was a lion, perhaps it was a tired old circus lion; broken tooth and shaggy fur—giving a roar, but just a little one. Once done, he lay down for a nap, pleased with himself but too tired to make much of a fuss. Tired, after all is tired, and when you’re a lion, you need not explain yourself.
I will keep track of the days this year and see if March goes out like a lamb. I wonder to myself if it will be a gentle lamb or a rambunctious one.
Today, the winds blow and the trees dance a winter’s dance that trees have danced for hundreds of years. The rhythm is steady and no beats are missed. It is a dance passed on from the grand matrons of the forests to the youngest of the seedlings. The sky is dull silver as the clouds decide what they should do.
The birds are gathering seeds and filling tummies just in case those clouds decide to lighten their loads. We’ve had a pair of sparrows who’ve claimed squatter’s rights in our birdhouse this winter. One bird leaves and the other sits at the “door” awaiting the return. This continues throughout most of the day. It’s amusing to see one or both sparrows sunning themselves on the slanted roof only to zip inside and peek out and survey their little realm.
Despite the snow and the cold, we know that spring will come. Yesterday, Erik spotted some crocus pushing their way through the hard frozen earth. They are the first harbingers of spring and that first sighting is coveted. We know that our cold days aren’t over yet, but those days are numbered. I always rely on my Aunt, Ginger to tell me the precise day when “winter’s back is finally broken”. Ginger has been a countrywoman for all of her adult life and she’s learned seasons. She’s one of the wisest women that I know.
I think Hal Borland said it best:
“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”
