18 Years

In case I haven't mentioned it, I love snow.

Eighteen years ago yesterday, I was in 6th grade. I went to school as usual and my mom headed off with my youngest sister to do Christmas shopping after dropping me off. By noon there was three inches of snow. Now in some places, that is just a light a pleasant dusting. But here, where 1/2 inch of snow means school and road closures, 3 inches in four hours is serious business. School ended early that day and I had a lovely (if chilly) walk home. My mom made it back just in time. In the morning, there were six more inches--and no more school until after Christmas. We took out the toboggan and went sledding at the local elementary school and golf course. We rescued people who had been stuck in their cars and generally had a great time.

Yesterday, I went to work with a rapidly melting 1/2 inch or so on the ground and mostly clear roads. Buses were late and chained up but I made it. After watching some of the heaviest and most consistent snowfall that I have seen in quite a while (eighteen years, maybe?), I and the others that were relying on bus transportation to get home, left. Never have I regretted my lack of forsight in not wearing my boots so much. Two hours later, I was home and warming up--just in time to go for a much more enjoyable and appropriately bundled up walk with Jonathan. We got about 5-6 inches altogether and the temperature never got above 27 degrees.

Today, there is not yet more snow but iced-over roads mean cancellation or limitation of most bus routes and, for the first time since I have worked there, a reduced staff level at work. Snow day!

The Oaks At Home

My family has a drop-in mentality. When we are in the neighborhood of family or friends with a little extra time, here we come. Obviously this works better for some people than others and some seasons of life than others. I personally like to come bearing gifts, usually the edible variety, to provide an excuse to say hello even when the time isn't good for visiting.
Due to a couple of unfortunate episodes early in our marriage (and a busy schedule), my family has not been able to drop in while passing as much as they (and we) would like. Hence, our At Home.
This terminology is reminiscent of Oscar Wilde's London but what I mean is a time when everyone knows that we are open for visitors to stop by without worrying that they will be interrupting or imposing and know that we will even be there.
So, we decided, quite arbitrarily, on the second and fourth Thursdays of each month to be At Home. If you are in the area, feel free to stop by after 7:00. We will serve you tea and you can help us put up our Christmas decorations.

Happy Veteran's Day

Thank you to all of the veterans who have faithfully protected the helpless, promoted justice and fought to bring freedom around the world.

He Hideth my Soul

I transplanted these hens and chicks into our rockery at the end of the summer, hoping that they would create a more refined look than the dead grass and blackberry sprouts that were growing there at the time. They have established well, although it is probably too early to expect them to spread. I have high hopes for future rocky elegance, though.

Tendrils

Desert Bloom

It has been a year of babies for friends and relatives.
These were made for my college roommate who recently gave birth to her little desert flower in Arizona.

Saguaro

Barrel Cactus

Asters

Poppies

Legacy

My grandmother recently moved into an adult family home, necessitating a downsize from her apartment. As the embroiderer and tea-lover in the family, I chose a few handmade linens and the Japanese teapot that my grandfather brought back from occupied Japan.
I also chose her recipe box.


It is everything that a recipe box should be--well used and well worn. Cards that are grease-spotted, wrinkled, both typed and hand written. Recipes copied from magazines and cookbooks and gifts from friends. Glimpses of the church and neighbor communities within the directions for upsizing for potlucks and notes on baby showers. A lifetime of friends and family sharing food, raising families and celebrating.


An appalling number of the recipes contain some variety of flavored gelatin. Some of them are clearly dated with their emphasis on canned or prepackaged ingredients and references to an obscure substance called spry (a brand of shortening that was sold in the 1930's to 1950's). A number of them reflect her Scandinavian background with names like Fattimunda, others simply reflect the times (Lemon Fluff, anyone?).


Her Danish Brown Sugar cookies have been a fixture in my holiday baking ever since I was able to make sense of a recipe that called for the ingredients in pounds. This year I may have to add Delia's zucchini bread and Minnie's (my great-grandmother) Spanish Cake.

I am well into creating my own lifetime recipe box even though I have moved the cards into a notebook for easier access. There are cards from friends and family, made-up recipes too good to let fall into oblivion and experimental recipes from online cookbooks--a truly contemporary twist on recipe-sharing. The things that I collect will change over time--from exotic treats to plain and frugal family meals to Fifty Ways to Use the Forty Pounds of Blueberries that we just picked.
I hope that I can also incorporate not only some of my grandmother's recipes into my cooking routine but also some of her love and dedication to serving those under her care.