Ode to Perfect Pears
(To the tune of: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear)
They came upon a day so clear, those glorious pears of gold;
From angels living on the earth to touch our holler so cold.
Pears on the earth, good food for all, from Harry and David’s they’re sent.
Then we begin to anticipate the perfect pear tasting moment.
For lo the days, they pass so slow, as on the pears we wait.
When with a tender gentle touch we know this time is great.
And, with a friend, we taste the pear, juice dribbling down our chins.
Our grateful hearts give thanks to God and to our generous friends
Singing of Cinnamon Rolls
(To the tune of: Carolina in the Morning)
Nothing could be finer
Than Josie’s homemade designer
Sweet Cinn-a-mon rolls.
Dunk ‘em in my coffee
It feels just like a party
Those cinn-a-mon rolls.
It’s true – I have an obsession with food. I love to touch it, taste it, cook it, can it, smell it, and serve it. I know I should be five hundred and fifty pounds. I guess I’m just blessed with good metabolism.
I had another wonderful day preparing for Christmas. I began with baking fruitcakes. You can laugh if you want to about there only being only one fruitcake ever made that’s passed on from generation to generation as a doorstop. But, since Rachel loves my fruitcake, all our visitors will have the opportunity to taste it.
I do have to confess that the first time I fed Rachel’s then boyfriend, now her husband, Larry, my fruitcake, he threw it off the second story deck to keep from eating it. No one is forced to try my fruitcake, but everyone should be aware that it’s quite well-marinated in sherry and brandy. It might be worth a try.
While the fruitcakes were baking, I got a call from my newest soul sister, Julia, that I met on retreat in October with long-time soul sister Gayle. She has decided that, rather than accept our Christmas holiday invitation to visit, she’ll come in the spring when the mountains are in bloom. Her call and the anticipation of her visit are both special Christmas gifts to me.
Even though Richard is still recuperating from the flu, he managed to wrap a couple of gifts and put together our new Christmas tree. There are no ornaments on it, yet. But at least it came with pre-installed lights. It now stands proudly aglow in our front window.
I did finish sewing Sarah’s gift; it awaits Josie’s artistry to complete it, and then Richard can do his exquisite wrap job. I lined up cute, energetic Cassie to help me clean on the day after Christmas. It may not yet be Christmas, but at our house in the holler: All is calm, all is bright (though still messy).
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
What a Lovely Way to Spend a Day!
I’m working on a Christmas sewing project for Sarah, and Josie agreed to assist me with it. I walked into their home greeted by the heavenly scent of fresh cinnamon rolls, which Josie was in the process of baking. Can a home get more welcoming than that?
I presented Adam with a perfect pear for him to tend until it ripens. Even though I included an instruction manual for care of his pear, he suggested that Richard should make house calls to assist with what Josie refers to as “proper pear preparation.” Richard has his own pears to hatch, a skill that he should have, since he grew up on a chicken breeding farm. Unlike eggs, thank goodness, we don’t have to turn the pears; just watch and wait.
Josie and Adam have an absolutely glorious studio that serves as her craft center and his office. With windows on three sides, light pours into the space which is completely covered in pine: pine floors, pine walls, pine cupboards. The whole room glows with warm shades of gold.
Adam made café au lait with real Café du Monde coffee and chickory. As we sipped our coffee, Josie was back and forth from her cutting table to her computer to her cozy kitchen; at the same time, working on my sewing project. Within an hour, she had figured out the solution to my problem, baked several pans of cinnamon rolls, three loaves of challah, and a loaf of cinnamon bread. Talk about multi-tasking! Adam couldn’t take it any more, so he left to retrieve lunch.
When fellow crafter, Jenny, arrived Josie pulled out boxes of fabric swatches for Jenny to peruse. I had met Jenny on several occasions, and had purchased one of her lovely carved signs for Gayle’s garden. As we chatted, Jenny shared with me that her deceased psychologist husband had written a book on personal spirituality, one of my favorite topics. She’s looking for an agent to help sell her copies of the book. I’m looking forward reading his work, with the hope that I’ll be interested in representing it.
As we moved on to other topics, Josie pulled out several purses she’s making, along with the buttons that she’s made to adorn them. While we chatted, Josie sanded and polished her buttons. Adam was due back with lunch, so I took my leave. I still haven’t put up the first Christmas decoration, and we’re supposed to have rain for the rest of the week.
Before I left, Josie gifted me with a pan of cinnamon rolls. She and Jenny were going to work until two, when Josie goes down for her nap. When she rises, she’s onto even more creative projects. She’s an exceptional nature photographer, in addition to her culinary, seamstress, clay work, and quilting talents. Now wonder she needs a daily nap!
I got the porch lights and garland up. There’s hope for a tree before Christmas, if I can just finish Sarah’s gift…
I presented Adam with a perfect pear for him to tend until it ripens. Even though I included an instruction manual for care of his pear, he suggested that Richard should make house calls to assist with what Josie refers to as “proper pear preparation.” Richard has his own pears to hatch, a skill that he should have, since he grew up on a chicken breeding farm. Unlike eggs, thank goodness, we don’t have to turn the pears; just watch and wait.
Josie and Adam have an absolutely glorious studio that serves as her craft center and his office. With windows on three sides, light pours into the space which is completely covered in pine: pine floors, pine walls, pine cupboards. The whole room glows with warm shades of gold.
Adam made café au lait with real Café du Monde coffee and chickory. As we sipped our coffee, Josie was back and forth from her cutting table to her computer to her cozy kitchen; at the same time, working on my sewing project. Within an hour, she had figured out the solution to my problem, baked several pans of cinnamon rolls, three loaves of challah, and a loaf of cinnamon bread. Talk about multi-tasking! Adam couldn’t take it any more, so he left to retrieve lunch.
When fellow crafter, Jenny, arrived Josie pulled out boxes of fabric swatches for Jenny to peruse. I had met Jenny on several occasions, and had purchased one of her lovely carved signs for Gayle’s garden. As we chatted, Jenny shared with me that her deceased psychologist husband had written a book on personal spirituality, one of my favorite topics. She’s looking for an agent to help sell her copies of the book. I’m looking forward reading his work, with the hope that I’ll be interested in representing it.
As we moved on to other topics, Josie pulled out several purses she’s making, along with the buttons that she’s made to adorn them. While we chatted, Josie sanded and polished her buttons. Adam was due back with lunch, so I took my leave. I still haven’t put up the first Christmas decoration, and we’re supposed to have rain for the rest of the week.
Before I left, Josie gifted me with a pan of cinnamon rolls. She and Jenny were going to work until two, when Josie goes down for her nap. When she rises, she’s onto even more creative projects. She’s an exceptional nature photographer, in addition to her culinary, seamstress, clay work, and quilting talents. Now wonder she needs a daily nap!
I got the porch lights and garland up. There’s hope for a tree before Christmas, if I can just finish Sarah’s gift…
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Perfect Pears
Forget about partridges in pear trees.
On this day of Christmas
Our good friends sent to me (also addressed, for some unknown reason, to Mr. and Mrs. Warren)
Perfect pears
In Harry and David
Padded packing boxes.
Richard and I were napping when we heard the postman’s horn. As I rose from the bed, it occurred to me that the postman may have been here to deliver the pears promised by the Sterlings. If this was the case, I knew I had to hurry to the porch to retrieve them before Gypsy adopted the box.
Gypsy has a habit of retrieving anything thrown on our driveway or left on our porch bench. We’ve found important Fed-Exed documents in several of her special hiding places. The advertising newspaper she treats as her weekly dog toy gift, she carries to her lair for her reading pleasure. We would have been sorely distressed if she carried off our pears, especially since human food gives her the runs. What a waste of a precious natural resource that would have been, especially since we can’t use dog poop as garden gold.
We were told before we adopted our Great Pyrenees from the shelter that she wandered and stole things; we, therefore, named her Gypsy. What we didn’t know is the wide variety of things she’d bring to her various lairs. We’ve had to collect from her dead and dying squirrels, birds and moles; huge dead limbs off our various trees; garden and other work gloves – she has a special fondness for leather – anything made of plastic, particularly old milk jugs; and snow boots and shoes left on the porch to dry. We just couldn’t give her a chance at our perfect pears!
I ran to the window, and threw up the sash. (Actually it was the door, and I opened it.)
There on the bench, what should appear?
But two Harry and David boxes,
And,thank God, there were no deer (munching on our pears).
I tenderly lifted the boxes, and with great reverence, carried them to the kitchen and placed them on the table. I went to take my shower, the whole time drooling as I envisioned my first bite of the first perfect pear of the season. Should I enjoy it alone or with cottage cheese, or maybe a bit of both? How many pears would I share with Richard, and did the Christmas spirit dictate that I share them with anyone else? I could, virtually, taste those pears as I pulled on my t-shirt and headed to the kitchen.
As I entered the kitchen, there stood Richard with a box cutter in his hand, looking so forlorn. He began sadly shaking his head. “They’re not ripe.” He exclaimed. “They came packed with instructions for ripening them.” I carefully removed each pear and tested each as prescribed by the instructions. Not a ripe one in the bunch.
Richard says that pears have only a fifteen minute window between being so hard you can’t eat them and the time they turn to compost. We intend to keep watch over them until each one is ready, so as not to miss a morsel. We’re debating who will take first watch after midnight.
On this day of Christmas
Our good friends sent to me (also addressed, for some unknown reason, to Mr. and Mrs. Warren)
Perfect pears
In Harry and David
Padded packing boxes.
Richard and I were napping when we heard the postman’s horn. As I rose from the bed, it occurred to me that the postman may have been here to deliver the pears promised by the Sterlings. If this was the case, I knew I had to hurry to the porch to retrieve them before Gypsy adopted the box.
Gypsy has a habit of retrieving anything thrown on our driveway or left on our porch bench. We’ve found important Fed-Exed documents in several of her special hiding places. The advertising newspaper she treats as her weekly dog toy gift, she carries to her lair for her reading pleasure. We would have been sorely distressed if she carried off our pears, especially since human food gives her the runs. What a waste of a precious natural resource that would have been, especially since we can’t use dog poop as garden gold.
We were told before we adopted our Great Pyrenees from the shelter that she wandered and stole things; we, therefore, named her Gypsy. What we didn’t know is the wide variety of things she’d bring to her various lairs. We’ve had to collect from her dead and dying squirrels, birds and moles; huge dead limbs off our various trees; garden and other work gloves – she has a special fondness for leather – anything made of plastic, particularly old milk jugs; and snow boots and shoes left on the porch to dry. We just couldn’t give her a chance at our perfect pears!
I ran to the window, and threw up the sash. (Actually it was the door, and I opened it.)
There on the bench, what should appear?
But two Harry and David boxes,
And,thank God, there were no deer (munching on our pears).
I tenderly lifted the boxes, and with great reverence, carried them to the kitchen and placed them on the table. I went to take my shower, the whole time drooling as I envisioned my first bite of the first perfect pear of the season. Should I enjoy it alone or with cottage cheese, or maybe a bit of both? How many pears would I share with Richard, and did the Christmas spirit dictate that I share them with anyone else? I could, virtually, taste those pears as I pulled on my t-shirt and headed to the kitchen.
As I entered the kitchen, there stood Richard with a box cutter in his hand, looking so forlorn. He began sadly shaking his head. “They’re not ripe.” He exclaimed. “They came packed with instructions for ripening them.” I carefully removed each pear and tested each as prescribed by the instructions. Not a ripe one in the bunch.
Richard says that pears have only a fifteen minute window between being so hard you can’t eat them and the time they turn to compost. We intend to keep watch over them until each one is ready, so as not to miss a morsel. We’re debating who will take first watch after midnight.
Monday, December 21, 2009
God’s Sugar Shaker
Driving home was quite a delight.
God had a sugar shaker out last night.
The trees were all dusted with wisps of white.
The mountain tops glistening were a beautiful sight;
Their snow-covered peaks all clean and bright.
As I rounded each curve, my heart fairly took flight;
I’ll make it home before the fading of light.
My soul mate will greet me,and we just might
Share a toast, and a light supper bite.
The fire in our hearth that we’ll ignite,
As the glistening becomes soft moonlight,
Will complete our feeling that all is right.
Knowing that there’s nothing to warrant fright,
We’ll wish each other a peaceful goodnight.
God had a sugar shaker out last night.
The trees were all dusted with wisps of white.
The mountain tops glistening were a beautiful sight;
Their snow-covered peaks all clean and bright.
As I rounded each curve, my heart fairly took flight;
I’ll make it home before the fading of light.
My soul mate will greet me,and we just might
Share a toast, and a light supper bite.
The fire in our hearth that we’ll ignite,
As the glistening becomes soft moonlight,
Will complete our feeling that all is right.
Knowing that there’s nothing to warrant fright,
We’ll wish each other a peaceful goodnight.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Simply Sensational
Rachel’s a primary school teacher, and she’s always researching her environment and how it works. She loves learning from her girls who are both in gifted classes. In addition to the math discussions with Rebecca, I was party to a science and technology debate between Rachel and sixth-grade Sarah – this with my morning coffee.
Larry’s viewing of an educational program about water usage in Nevada sparked Rachel’s questions about whether hydrogen-powered automobiles will be ultimately good or bad for our water ecology. She suggested to Sarah that this would be a good question for Sarah’s science teacher. As usual, Sarah began to search her existing data base in her brain for the answer, providing a running commentary on what she found there. I learned all kinds of things about water and run-off and separation of hydrogen and oxygen, but I’m still curious about the answers that real scientists have come up with, thus far. I can’t wait to pose Rachel’s question to Richard, my own Mr. Wizard.
I was amazed at how relaxed their family seemed in light of the hoards descending on them in just a few hours. At a certain point, Rachel declared it time to work, and we all sprang into action, with Rachel as officer and the rest of us enlisted. It was such a pleasure to see Rachel’s family working as a well-oiled machine getting ready for their Christmas party. They’ve done this party for eight years now; everyone seems to know their party role.
There’s file gumbo, jambalaya, and meatballs in the steam table. At least eight varieties of homemade cookies, and smoked salmon with all the fixins’ are displayed with Rachel’s to-die-for crab dip, sundried tomato/basil/cream cheese and cranberry/pecan/ cream cheese spreads with a half dozen types of crackers. The scent of homemade spiced cider was wafting through the house.
Even last minute touches like lighting the candles on the front steps, and getting the fires lit in the indoor and outdoor fireplaces were done on cue. Larry began the slide show of this year’s family photos on their TV. When the guests start arriving, the family members were all in their places: the girls in their respective rooms, ready to entertain their age group children; Rachel in the kitchen ready to dip cider; Larry on the deck, ready to dispense cold beverages. It’s showtime!
Larry’s viewing of an educational program about water usage in Nevada sparked Rachel’s questions about whether hydrogen-powered automobiles will be ultimately good or bad for our water ecology. She suggested to Sarah that this would be a good question for Sarah’s science teacher. As usual, Sarah began to search her existing data base in her brain for the answer, providing a running commentary on what she found there. I learned all kinds of things about water and run-off and separation of hydrogen and oxygen, but I’m still curious about the answers that real scientists have come up with, thus far. I can’t wait to pose Rachel’s question to Richard, my own Mr. Wizard.
I was amazed at how relaxed their family seemed in light of the hoards descending on them in just a few hours. At a certain point, Rachel declared it time to work, and we all sprang into action, with Rachel as officer and the rest of us enlisted. It was such a pleasure to see Rachel’s family working as a well-oiled machine getting ready for their Christmas party. They’ve done this party for eight years now; everyone seems to know their party role.
There’s file gumbo, jambalaya, and meatballs in the steam table. At least eight varieties of homemade cookies, and smoked salmon with all the fixins’ are displayed with Rachel’s to-die-for crab dip, sundried tomato/basil/cream cheese and cranberry/pecan/ cream cheese spreads with a half dozen types of crackers. The scent of homemade spiced cider was wafting through the house.
Even last minute touches like lighting the candles on the front steps, and getting the fires lit in the indoor and outdoor fireplaces were done on cue. Larry began the slide show of this year’s family photos on their TV. When the guests start arriving, the family members were all in their places: the girls in their respective rooms, ready to entertain their age group children; Rachel in the kitchen ready to dip cider; Larry on the deck, ready to dispense cold beverages. It’s showtime!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Cooking and Cuddling
I drove through cold rain all the way to Atlanta, but it was well worth the trip. Fifteen-year-old Rebecca had aced her classes and was able to opt out of several final exams, so she had me pick her up from school before lunch. We picked up country cooking and took it to Rachel’s school. I got to observe Rachel with her class while enjoying Rachel’s daughter’s company.
As we ate, Rachel and Rebecca discussed complicated math constructs with great gusto. I loved listening to my girls chatting about math when so many women I know can only manage discussions about outfits and home décor – not that I was really familiar with what they discussed, mind you. I just like listening to brainiacs.
Rebecca is generally so busy with her fast track to success, that I hardly ever see her. She’s taking International Baccalaureate Classes, which require endless hours of study; is active in her church; plays soccer; and runs cross-country. There’s not much time left for cuddling or cooking with Granny.
Even though Rachel is a wonderful cook, Rebecca has little interest in kitchen capers. I worry endlessly that, when she goes to college, she won’t know how to cook anything nutritious to feed herself, other than Easy Mac and chicken parmesan. Last time we were at her home with a little leisure time, I took it upon myself to teach her to make lasagna. We got a good laugh out of distracting each other so much that I layered it wrong. She said, “Great Granny; you finally get to teach me to cook something, and you teach me the wrong way. Good job!” To which I replied, “I guess we’ll just have to plan another lasagna lesson.” Always trying to work those angles…
It was a special treat to be able to have Rebecca all to myself for a full afternoon. We decorated and baked Christmas cookies, giggling like little girls over our anorexic angels and corpulent candy canes. She wanted to get her gift buying for her sister, Sarah, and her mama out of the way while they were otherwise occupied. We ran and road through the rain to get to Target, where Rebecca succeeded in completing her shopping and tried on a sweater that was perfect for her. It was fun to watch her weigh the pros and cons of the sweater purchase, which she ultimately decided against.
After a stop at Publix for mini chocolate chips, we returned to Rachel’s house where Rachel was waiting to put the kibosh on our cookie icing plans. We had to content ourselves with turning the peanut butter cookie dough into chocolate chips held together with a bit of peanut butter cookie dough. Our first batch looked like soccer balls, but they got better after Rachel got involved.
Meanwhile, Sarah helped put the finishing touches on holiday décor after she and I played a little Wii; and Rachel and I worked on completing her chicken and sausage gumbo.
What a lovely day it turned out to be, even with the wet winter weather.
As we ate, Rachel and Rebecca discussed complicated math constructs with great gusto. I loved listening to my girls chatting about math when so many women I know can only manage discussions about outfits and home décor – not that I was really familiar with what they discussed, mind you. I just like listening to brainiacs.
Rebecca is generally so busy with her fast track to success, that I hardly ever see her. She’s taking International Baccalaureate Classes, which require endless hours of study; is active in her church; plays soccer; and runs cross-country. There’s not much time left for cuddling or cooking with Granny.
Even though Rachel is a wonderful cook, Rebecca has little interest in kitchen capers. I worry endlessly that, when she goes to college, she won’t know how to cook anything nutritious to feed herself, other than Easy Mac and chicken parmesan. Last time we were at her home with a little leisure time, I took it upon myself to teach her to make lasagna. We got a good laugh out of distracting each other so much that I layered it wrong. She said, “Great Granny; you finally get to teach me to cook something, and you teach me the wrong way. Good job!” To which I replied, “I guess we’ll just have to plan another lasagna lesson.” Always trying to work those angles…
It was a special treat to be able to have Rebecca all to myself for a full afternoon. We decorated and baked Christmas cookies, giggling like little girls over our anorexic angels and corpulent candy canes. She wanted to get her gift buying for her sister, Sarah, and her mama out of the way while they were otherwise occupied. We ran and road through the rain to get to Target, where Rebecca succeeded in completing her shopping and tried on a sweater that was perfect for her. It was fun to watch her weigh the pros and cons of the sweater purchase, which she ultimately decided against.
After a stop at Publix for mini chocolate chips, we returned to Rachel’s house where Rachel was waiting to put the kibosh on our cookie icing plans. We had to content ourselves with turning the peanut butter cookie dough into chocolate chips held together with a bit of peanut butter cookie dough. Our first batch looked like soccer balls, but they got better after Rachel got involved.
Meanwhile, Sarah helped put the finishing touches on holiday décor after she and I played a little Wii; and Rachel and I worked on completing her chicken and sausage gumbo.
What a lovely day it turned out to be, even with the wet winter weather.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Life’s Strife
We’re jammed up and jelly tight.
I will be able to sleep tonight.
We’ve got lots of jams for you:
Blackberry, blueberry, black and blue.
Richard cleaned my mess for me;
We hope you can plainly see --
Richard and I are a team,
Even though we’re not everyone’s dream.
We are just happy to be alive --
Waiting for guests to arrive.
We hope our outlook on life
Will help soothe some of your daily strife.
I will be able to sleep tonight.
We’ve got lots of jams for you:
Blackberry, blueberry, black and blue.
Richard cleaned my mess for me;
We hope you can plainly see --
Richard and I are a team,
Even though we’re not everyone’s dream.
We are just happy to be alive --
Waiting for guests to arrive.
We hope our outlook on life
Will help soothe some of your daily strife.
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