A Taste of Home

We received a big surprise in the mail last week; a time-capsule of sorts, in the form of a file folder chock-a-block full of old family recipes from my mother-in-law's recipe box (it was a BIG one!). My husband's sister cleaned out a cabinet and came across some real treasures, she decided to bag them up and send them on their way. We went through them for hours on end, there was so much to discover and reminisce about. I found a note that I had written to my not-yet in-laws when they accepted a job transfer and moved away from my home town in 1973. Included, also, were recipes that my mother-in-law jotted on the backs of deposit slips out of her checkbook (she would copy them out of magazines when she sat under the dryer at the hair dresser), she had lovely and distinctive penmanship. Some of the recipes were identified as coming from certain family members and church friends (Aunt Tillie, Cousin Em, Mrs. So-and-So), these were names distantly familiar to my husband. She was of Swedish descent, a great number of these family and church recipes are for delectable pastries and desserts made from scratch.  A few of the recipes were mine, copied for their Grandma by my own children when they were small. It's the handwriting, on all of these, that goes straight to my heart. Mom had a unique "rating" system on these recipes designated by a series of *s. A rating of *** was, by all means, a recipe to repeat! I pulled a few of those top rated ones and ran to the grocery store for ingredients. I made a chicken dish for dinner that Mr. G. is still raving about! "So, you like it?", I asked, "it's like a taste of home" he replied. I have a few more surprises for him planned for this week. The best comment, written by my mother-in-law, at the bottom of a asterisk-free recipe for Taco Salad was this one: "better not fix this again!" I'm still laughing over that comment; why didn't she simply throw that one away?  

We'll never know, but I'll take her advice and forego fixing this one.

But, I simply cannot throw it away!

😉

Life is Good!

Back To School...

... a long, long time ago. There were days, even in the not so distant past, when back to school meant physically going back on the day after Labor Day, that's the way it was when I was a kid. This is me, back in those days, my fourth grade school picture. We were lucky enough to be able to take a trip back to those places where I attended elementary school last week. We have been FaceTiming with my family in New England since the COVID crisis began, but we really needed to see them in person, even for a very short time. This trip up there took some doing: COVID tests to make 100% sure we were negative and then self-quarantining until it was time to leave. We packed our food and gallons of sanitizer in the car, no stopping; (except for bathrooms and fuel) and drove straight up to their home- 865 miles. It was great to be able to hug my mom and dad again! We arrived on the 6th and drove back home, in identical fashion, on the 11th. Whew, it was a fast-paced, jam-packed few days! One day, last week, the decision was made to make a trip down to my hometown (also my Dad's). Mr. G and I, along with Mom and Dad, jumped in the car for the two hour drive back home. I thought that our road trip was fun, but there's much truth to the old saying that "you can't go home again". My Dad had hoped to see his old homestead, my grandparents home; much has been renovated and changed in the last year but the trees and shrubs have grown so large surrounding the house that it was almost impossible to see the place at all, that made him sad. My mother was very disappointed in our old house, next door to my grandparents home, where I grew up; the exterior paint color has changed and other alterations have occurred since they sold it. Time marches on, but it's hard; and especially so as one grows older. 

I thoroughly enjoyed the day visiting my old schools. Sadly, the biggest thing missing last week were the sounds and sights of children inside and outside the schools. The physical appearance of the buildings has changed dramatically, except for the school where I attended second grade, that school housed three second grade classrooms back then. Two were upstairs, one to the right and one to the left of the front door. My classroom was downstairs on the back of the building. sadly, those windows have been boarded over, thwarting my hope to peek inside. I was able to look in the window of the back door and remembered going up and down those steps, it looks exactly the same as it did in my mind, the cafeteria was downstairs there too, on the other side of the lower level (the building now temporarily houses the town's library). That oak tree behind the school where I spent the most number of years looks the same too, except for the fact that there used to be a bench built all around that tree; I recall that we would race out the door at recess time to claim spaces on that bench! The school where I attended sixth grade was brand-new when I entered for that single year before moving on to Jr. High. Those double doors were the main doors back then, there's a new entrance and another wing has been added in the last 55 years-- ha, imagine that! I did speak with the school secretary here. She came outside and introduced herself, she wanted to see why an old lady was photographing the school! She had questions about the way things used to be that I could actually answer. We commiserated about the current state of things; she, too, misses the students!

We spent Labor Day doing something quintessentially New England in my parents backyard; 

and, yes, it was as every bit as delicious as it looks.

Friday morning, bright and early, it was time to bid good-byes; always the hardest part, and hit the road once again. We have no idea what the fall will bring and when we'll be traveling again, but we made the most of our time together for a few, brief, golden days. I'll have a few more posts this week about our northern adventures. Thanks for joining me today on my trip down memory lane, it was such an enjoyable trip to take and one that's always more fun with friends along. 

💗

Life is Good!

LOVE

My Mom and Dad went on a little get-away in Maine last week. A town square see-saw there provided this too-tough-to-ignore temptation. I understand that Mom was the instigator for this quick trip back to the joyful playground days of their childhood.  There simply aren't enough heart emojis or love buttons to fully communicate how much I adore this photo. I dare you not to smile along with me.

Life is Good!

Forty One-derful Years!

From this day forward... 

Forty one years later and we're still eating cake.

I don't mean to brag, but this is the truth: my veil still fits exactly as it did in 1975!

Life is Good!

New Is A Matter Of Perspective

Everything old is new again! I received an email with this picture attached touting it as the "new" bootie style, just introduced. Really? I wore shoes exactly like these when I was in college, then they were known as chukka boots and I think I wore out two pairs in two years. They went with everything. Well, it was college, all I wore were blue jeans but these went with every pair of jeans I owned! The only thing "new" about these are the tassels on the laces, these are extra fancy (and the price, that's new!)! But, I'm here to tell you... these aren't NEW at all, simply reintroduced. They're still cute though. So, what's "new" with  you?

Life is Good!

My Magnificent Mentors

Marianna ~ one of my magnificent mentors,
circa 1992.

I started quilting back in 1982; the first class that I took was at a small fabric/quilt shop from a wonderfully kind lady who remains a dear and treasured friend to this day, her name is Ann.  Ann encouraged me to join a local quilt guild, it was there that I first met the magnificent mentors. These ladies may not have even realized how important they became in my life as the years progressed. There was Fannye, I have blogged about her and her legacy here before; then there were the Pfafftown Four. The Pfafftown Four were ladies who demonstrated nothing but pure and honest appreciation and love for quilting; Lib, Zola, Natalie and Marianna were masterful quiltmakers whom I admired, respected and looked to for guidance and direction. They quilted with open hearts, always willing and eager to sit and show me how to accomplish any little trick or technique if I even suggested I might want to learn how to do what they were doing. They were just those kind of ladies, through the years I have remained grateful to each one of them for their kindness and enduring friendship. One by one, they've left their earthly homes for a place in Heaven, taking a small piece of my heart each time. On Monday Marianna joined them, what a glorious reunion the magnificent mentors must be having!  I attended Marianna's memorial service yesterday, it was a loving tribute to a beautiful lady in every sense of that word; several of her quilts were on display at the reception afterwards, I am still in awe of her miniscule hand quilting stitches and flawless hand applique, there is a void now that can't ever be filled.  I am suddenly face to face with the fact that I am one of those older generation quilters now, the responsibility associated with that is a heavy one. I'm not all together sure that the next quilting generation is as sponge-like in their quest to absorb knowledge as I was. With the proliferation of classes, books and you tube videos today's young quiltmakers are equipped with everything they need to be successful from their very first project; there's value in that, but, from my perspective, they're missing out on the very best part... the intergenerational relationships that add incalculable worth.  Think about this: who do look to as a mentor (in any regard, not necessarily in quilting) today? And now, think of the flip side of that question: to whom can you act as a mentor right now? What skills can you offer freely from your own heart and hands? Personally, I know that so much has been handed down to me; others saw fit to preserve and protect what was of greatest value by passing down that torch personally; it's too heavy to hang on to by myself... out of loving respect to my magnificent mentors I want to reach out in kind wherever I can. My heart may be heavy this evening but my gratitude is overflowing, I am deeply thankful to each and every magnificent mentor who has touched my life along the way with love, kindness, friendship and the desire to be the very best that I can be in whatever I set my mind to do.

Life is Good!

Pressing Matters

When I was a little girl I stayed at  my grandmother's house while my parents worked. I remembered my Nannie's "ironing day"; there was a ritual about the whole event.  She would set up the ironing board in the kitchen and would sprinkle all of the the shirts and articles of clothing to be ironed, with water from a re-purposed soda bottle; it was fitted with a perforated top held into the bottle by a corkstopper. The sprinkled clothes were then methodically rolled and placed, one at a time, into a large zippered plastic bag.  I would sit on a stool in the kitchen and watch this weekly occurence as the zippered bag grew smaller and the freshly pressed row of shirts hanging on a hook over the kitchen door grew and grew. To me it was all magic, I loved the order that was created. I've always had an affection for ironing. I love irons, ironing boards and all of the related paraphanalia. Lately, however, I've let the inventory in my own ironing basket grow and grow until it held a mountain of ironing that was threatening to avalanche. Why? I can't tell you. I took the bull by the horns the other day and worked my way through it all... piece by piece. The feeling of accomplishment was amazing. This morning I was greeted by an unfamiliar sight in the laundry room when I entered, an empty ironing basket! All of a sudden I felt connected to those days, long ago, when my grandmother would tirelessly work her way to the bottom of that plastic bag full of damp, sprinkled, rolled-up clothes; I can only imagine how good she must have felt to have her work done... at least for an all too brief bit of time!

Life is Good! 

  

Evoking Permanence

per·ma·nence

noun

1. ...the state or quality of lasting or remaining unchanged indefinitely.

The road that we travel to reach the interstate from our rural home takes us through a small town where the road is lined with small, brick, mid-century ranch style homes. There is one stretch of the road where each home has an aluminum storm door adorned with an initial; this, along with the style of the home, hearkens back half a century and, in my mind, evokes permanence. I remember as a small girl riding in the back seat of the family car when we would go visiting. One time my Dad was looking for the home of an ages-old friend on a busy road. The man's last name was "Standing", I spotted a screen door with an "S"in the middle... bingo! Of course this was his home, no one ever moved back then. I can recall very few friends in elementary school whose family ever moved away, the sixties were a different time for sure. Something about these personalized doors brings comfort to me and every time we drive down this small town road, I think about the family, or more likely the aging couple now, who might live behind these doors; I think of how their children, once upon a time, would run in and out of these doors... the big intial slamming behind them. I also believe these identifying doors to be warm and welcoming: "Yes, it's us, you've found our home... please come ring our doorbell".  I've assigned names to the families who might live here; this house belongs to the Millers. The Youngs and the Dixons would be their neighbors.


I realize that I am conflicted over this affection for personalized inanimate objects because following one of these drives me nuts.

Why on earth would anyone place a monogram on their car window?

It's beyond me.  Maybe the personalized license plate they wanted was already spoken for.

It makes no sense, I know.

So, back to the houses and my comfy-cozy reminiscing of days-gone-by. Take a look at the chimney here; this is taking permanence to another level entirely. When your initial is built directly into your brick home the owner never plans on leaving. I mentioned my inner conflict over such things... this personalized "E" chimey is on the very same house with the "M" front door pictured above! Hmmm. The only way I can rationalize this is to imagine that the Emerson's, who built the house, left it to their daughter who married a Miller and she still calls this house her home... after all, how could she ever leave? Like I said, these objects bring comfort to my mind, just so long as there aren't any of those ridiculous monogrammed rear windows in any of these driveways I'm good.

Life is Good!

Goodbye, Summer!

Today, as I sit here wearing a pair of white slacks for the last time this season, I am thinking about how quickly the summer has sped by and stare in disbelief at a newly turned calendar page... how on earth can it be September already?  Back in April, when my parents were visiting here, they bought us a small Black-Eyed Susan plantling... I remember the anticipation associated with its potential blooming as I set it into the garden. Well, that little plant took off and grew and bloomed with complete and glorious abandon; it didn't happen overnight but slowly, one day at a time, it got bigger and brighter and better! This plant turned out to be so much more beautiful and vibrant than I had even dared to hope; that's the same way I feel about this summer's passing. Let's face it, all time seems to speed by at breakneck velocity the older we get, but these last few months have been filled with happy days and priceless moments that defined my summer of 2014 as one even better than I had ever dreamed possible! Labor Day has always represented a major shift in my mind; either it was the end of summer for me and a new school year or it was that for our children when they were still at home. New schedules for fall, new classes, and the end of lazy, summer days used to bring a certain and distinct sadness to my heart and mind.

This is a photograph of my own daughter in 1981 on her first day of Kindergarten, looking at it, even today, still brings a lump to my throat.  My own children returning to school was always a bittersweet day for me when they were growing up, I wasn't a Mom who looked forward to summer's end, not one bit. Tomorrow my oldest grandson will sit in a Kindergarten classroom and this little girl, now the mother, will experience those same emotions that I felt back on this day 33 short years ago. Change happens, it's inevitable, but it happens ever so gradually, every single day! There are those markers that signal the transitions in a BIG way... like Labor Day screaming "summer's end" in our faces, or the first day of a new school year, but also happening at the same time, almost invisibly, are those quiet, daily, transitions as each hour and day slide one into the next. All of a sudden I've become acutely aware of time's passing as I stand, looking back at a string of yesterdays and realizing how precious every day, month and season has been... and how, just like that multi-bloomed Black-Eyed Susan demonstrated to me, they slowly combine and evolve to produce memories of days-gone-by that are so much more wonderful than I had ever even hoped that they would turn out to be!

Embrace today, change will occur tomorrow... it might be a big one or you may barely even notice it, but it will happen. This evening I'll hang my white slacks back in the closet one last time, it's my way of telling summer good-bye. I'm not sad anymore, though, today I am grateful. Why? Because today, on this last "official" day of summer, I find myself looking forward eagerly; ahead of me are a string of tomorrows that each hold the promise of something so much better than I can even imagine, or dare to hope.

Happy Labor Day... it's all good!

Life is Good!

The Price Of Postage... And More!

I bought a card the other day; the envelope had "extra postage required" printed in the upper right corner. Okay, I thought, I will need to stop at the post office on my way home from running errands and have this weighed before I send it on its way. When I did that, the postal clerk felt the envelope for any lumps or bumps and pronounced her verdict: "it can go for just 49 cents!" That's when it hit me, I wasn't even certain how much, exactly, a first class stamp cost anymore! Was her emphasis on the word "just" to imply that it would require only one stamp and no additional postage? I have been affixing Forever stamps on my outgoing mail for so long that I have failed to keep up! Am I alone? While being aware that stamps have been going up in price, the exact amount for one stamp had escaped me somewhere along the line. Yes, that was why she had said "just"... that's the price for one first class stamp. It doesn't seem that long ago, to me, that I was well-acquainted with the price of every, single, stamp! The mailbox was my friend when I was a poor college student and sent love letters to another college student half a country away (yes, that would be Mr. Goodneedle!). I washed dishes in my dormitory cafeteria for spending money back then, most of it went toward books of stamps! I have stacks of these letters tied with a ribbon that remain hidden away in a drawer; this is one of them. I can't decide which is more interesting to me this morning, the price of that stamp or the cancellation that reads: "PRAY FOR PEACE". Can the US Postal Service still promote prayer? I doubt that.  Anyway, you may be wondering when this particular letter was cancelled, it's been awhile: 15, 555 days ago!  This stamp may be obsolete now, but today I am going to PRAY FOR PEACE! Here's a timeless reminder that's as relevant today as it was way back on September 7, 1971; and it's still free to do, that price hasn't changed, not one bit!

Life is Good!

Hairdos (And Dont's) Through The Years...

I was talking with a good friend on Saturday and she mentioned to me that she has had the same hairdo for the last forty years. She's the second person to tell me that in as many weeks; I cannot relate. The last forty years have seen many different styles atop my own head; some were good, some that I recall were a royal pain to maintain, and some were from the "what was I thinking?" era. Recently I have been reacquainted with all of them through my self-imposed "this is your life" photo-organization journey. I thought it appropriate to post this one today, on the 26th anniversary of my 34th birthday... I would love to gather the children and recreate a modern version of this snapshot; we'll skip re-doing that hairdo though... it was one from that "pain to maintain" category!

I thought, since we were on the subject of 1987, you'd enjoy these two photos (another view of that hairstyle!) as well. Back then, I volunteered to spend time working with a 5th grade class at the local elementary school; they wanted to construct a quilt depicting lifestyle changes over the two hundred year span of the United States Constitution. The students drew, and hand appliqued, each block themselves! I recall working with them over a few months' time and then guiding them through the hand quilting and finishing process. Here they are, with their teacher and the finished quilt. I am amazed to see these photos once again and still, after all these years, marvel over what an incredible job these ten and eleven-year-olds did on this project. I remember these days quite well... looking that young, however~ not so much!

Life is Good!

Under The Weather...

Forced "down time" today is leaving me with a depleted energy level but ample opportunity to skip around and visit blogs that I've been missing. I have no idea what hit me but it was swift and complete. What started off with a raging sore throat and cold-like symptoms quickly escalated into something akin to food poisoning with a case of severe chills thrown in for good measure! All of this occurred in a 24 hour time period and I am happy to find myself greatly improved today, just wrung out. Bummer.

Lots of fun things have been going on around here. Remember that storm that wiped out trees and tore up the woods surrounding our home back in June? Mr. Goodneedle finally got the big  logs separated out from all the debris and hired a man with a portable sawmill to come out last Saturday and cut them up into boards. This is a new twist on making lemonade from the lemons we were dealt. We got approximately 1,600 board feet of oak and cherry; that's a whole LOT of lemonade!

This photo gives some good perspective to the size of the logs to be cut as they lie-in-wait, just outside the garage door.

Hannes, helping.

These two photos, above, capture the set-up and the workings of the sawmill. It was fast and efficient!

Once cut, the boards are stacked where they will remain in our garage while they dry. Our basement smells like a lumber yard; no complaints, I do enjoy the fragrance of fresh-cut wood... good thing!

Speaking of sawmills... I've been watching back-to-back episodes of "The Waltons" on the Hallmark Channel when I'm home in the afternoons sewing or quilting; I was really surprised to learn that on the later episodes John Boy was portrayed by a different actor than Richard Thomas... did you know that? Did you also know that in those same later episodes Olivia's character went to a sanitaruim in Arizona to receive treatment for tuberculosis? Her cousin, Rose (played by Peggy Rea), moved into the farmhouse to help John care for the family. I don't know where I was in the early 1980's when those major TV family changes happened... oh, I suppose I was too busy caring for my own family back then to even notice! 

Our daughter-in-law had a birthday on Sunday; we took her, and the family, to Firehouse Subs for a birthday lunch after church. On the way out to the car Gregory spotted this relic and, of course, asked the normal Gregory questions: "what's that?"..."how works?"... which begs an even greater question: "how many of these are still in existence?" He'll be able to count on one hand the number of these he sees in his lifetime!

Life is Good!

 

Blueberry Cake

I try not to let a summer, or a blueberry season, pass without making my Grandmother's Blueberry Cake. This "cake" can easily be served for breakfast as well as for dessert, for it's not "cake" as much as it is one large blueberry muffin baked in a square baking pan. My copy of this recipe is hand-written, and the measurement amounts are a bit unusual in today's language; but it bakes up, and tastes, every bit as good today as when I ate it at my Grandmother's table 50 plus years ago. It's still summer... enjoy!



BLUEBERRY CAKE
2 C. sifted flour
3 level tsp. baking powder
scant tsp. salt
Sift all three ingredients, above, into a mixing bowl.
Rub in softened butter the size of a walnut (2 rounded TBSP).
Add scant 3/4 C. sugar and mix well.
Beat 1 egg in a cup and fill up with milk to 7/8 C. add to dry ingredients.
Fold in lightly one heaping cup of blueberries.
The mixture will be quite thick, so spread in prepared 8" square pan evenly.
Sprinkle with a mixture of cinnamon and coarse sugar.
Bake in a 400F oven for 35-40 minutes.

Life is Good!

Sad News From The Treasure House And Other Updates

This archive photo is dated 1979.

I grew up watching Captain Kangaroo, Mr. Green Jeans and Dancing Bear in the Treasure House,  I loved every minute of  it! Sadly, I learned that
actor Cosmo Allegretti passed away last month in Arizona at 86. He was working as a set painter on a brand new kid’s show when the producer decided he didn’t like a particular puppet. So Cosmo volunteered to fill in. And that’s how Bunny Rabbit and Mister Moose and Grandfather Clock and so many other beloved “Captain Kangaroo” characters were born. Cosmo Allegretti was every one of them. He was also known as character Dennis the Painter on Captain Kangaroo.  What happy memories I have, to this day, of eating cereal while sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, in front of our large console TV! And, speaking of television sets:

Life is Good!