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“There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.”

November 24, 2013

Last night the wind blew then blew some more and whistled and shook the house. It was tremendous.

Today is bone-chillingly cold. Patches of blue dot the sky. The wind is not as strong as last night but it is still whipping the bare branches of the pines and oaks. The sun shines weakly for a while then disappears and leaves behind a bleakness, a wintry feel to the day. Outside is not at all inviting.

I have always believed Thanksgiving is more about family than any other holiday. I remember the Thanksgivings of my childhood and being home together the whole day biding our time until dinner. My mother always woke up in the wee hours of the morning to stuff the turkey then put it into the oven. The huge oval turkey pan was blue with small white dots. Sometimes the turkey was so big it just fit into the pan. I can still see my mother straining to pull the shelf out of the oven so she could baste the turkey. She always took a taste of the hard outside crust of the stuffing before she’d push the turkey back into the oven. Her stuffing tasted of sage and Bell’s Seasoning. It is still my favorite stuffing of them all. The windows were always steamed from the heat so my mother would open the back door to cool the small kitchen. While she worked on dinner, we sat in front of the TV and watched the Macy’s parade. She always put out the same snacks for the parade. There was a bowl of nuts to crack and eat, M&M’s and tangerines. I always like the tangerines because they were so easy to peel. The nuts were fun to crack.

When we were young, the menu didn’t vary much. Mashed potatoes were one of the highlights. I remember the big glob of butter my mother would put on top and how it would melt down the sides of the pile of potatoes. I always made a well in my potatoes where I’d put the gravy. I am still a huge fan of mashed potatoes. Creamed onions were on the menu because they were one of my father’s favorites. Peas were mine. The green beans came from a can because all our vegetables did. My father cut the meat with great ceremony and we all watched. He cut plenty of white meat because it was our favorite, but not my father’s. He was a leg man.

Dessert was always the same. My mother made an apple pie, a blueberry pie and a lemon meringue pie, my personal favorite. Pumpkin  pie was added when we were older.

Leftovers seemed to last forever.

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“June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold..”

November 23, 2013

The weatherman says to expect a cold front starting tomorrow. I just bought a new hat, a wool knitted hat with ear flaps, so bring on the cold. I think I’m going to look quite fashionable.

This morning I watched leaves fall one at a time from the big oak tree by the deck. They fluttered as they fell. I watched the birds at the feeders, mostly drab gold finches, eating thistle and sunflowers seeds. When Gracie comes in from outside, her ears are cold. The other morning a thin layer of ice-covered the water in the bird bath. I don’t hear people outside any more. Winter is coming.

Winter brings back memories. I remember the hissing of the radiators in the house where I grew up and how the windows in the morning sometimes had a thin layer of ice on the inside. I’d use my nail to write my name. We always wore warm pajamas and sock slippers. For breakfast my mother made oatmeal and added milk and sugar. The walk to school was quickest in winter. The worst part of the walk was passing the field where the wind whipped across and seemed to go through every layer of my clothes to touch my bones. Getting to school was always welcomed. It was warm.

In winter there was never enough space in the cloak room outside my classroom. Winter coats were bulky and the hooks were small. I’d stuff my mittens and my hat in my sleeves then try to get my coat to hang. Sometimes it stayed on the hook while other times it was held up by the coats around it all jammed together. On the coldest days I’d leave my sweater on. The nuns didn’t care. They sometimes wore black ones with buttons.

Getting coats to go home was always done in rows. The nun would announce our row, and we’d get our coats and bring them into class and get dressed there while the other rows went and got theirs. Sometimes the nuns had to zipper coats. They never seemed to mind. I conquered zippers early though sometimes it took two tries. The hat came next and the mittens last. We’d stand in a line in the classroom until the bell was rung to dismiss us then we’d walk to the door and into the cold.

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“A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.”

November 22, 2013

When I was in the eighth grade,  it was the first time that anything political had my attention. John Kennedy, my own senator, was running for president. I didn’t know the difference between a democrat or a republican, but I knew I was a democrat because John Kennedy was. The Kennedy headquarters in my town were in what had been a vacant store. It was there I got my Kennedy pins. I still have them. One says, “If I were twenty-one I’d vote for Kennedy.” The other has Kennedy’s face and a third says Kennedy for President. I wore them proudly. For that whole fall, I followed his campaign. I watched the debates. The only thing I remember about the debates is an easel on which was a map of the islands of Quemoy and Matsu and Nixon disagreeing with Kennedy on their defense. On election night I stayed up as late as I could watching the results as they trickled in, but they were too long in coming and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I found out that my senator was going to be President.

I watched the inaugural. I remember the top hats, and I remember Robert Frost and the poem he recited from memory. Kennedy’s inaugural address didn’t make a big impression. I was in the eighth grade and speeches didn’t hold my attention all that long. It wouldn’t be until I was older that I understood the greatness of his speech and the importance of his words.

It was a Friday. We were having a dance that night in the gym. I was going to stay after school to help decorate. I was in the cafeteria when one of the serving ladies told us the President had been shot. We sat there stunned. When the bell rang, we went upstairs to our classrooms, and I turned on the television in mine. Sister Ernestina came in and right away wanted to know who had turned on the TV without permission. I told her I had, and I told her the President had been shot. She sat down without another word. We watched even after school would have been dismissed, and I remember Walter Cronkite announcing the death of the President. The only sound in my classroom was the sound of crying. It wasn’t just the loss of the President but the loss of our President, the senator from Massachusetts, and the loss of our own innocence though we would’t realize that for a while.

We had no dance. Almost everything was cancelled. I spent the weekend glued to the television. I saw Lee Harvey Oswald get shot and couldn’t believe what I had seen. I watched the funeral and the salute and the riderless horse so spirited. I remember how tall De Gaulle looked walking behind the cortege. I remember the tears of the crowd. I will never forget.

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“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”

November 21, 2013

I am fine. Yesterday I even had my car serviced and then treated myself to a stop at William-Sonoma. I figured I deserved it. Had I not been tired and hungry, I’d have made a few more stops. ‘Tis the season for Christmas shopping.

The nights are cold now, snuggle into the down comforter cold, and the days aren’t much warmer. I was out filling the bird feeders this morning and my hands got cold, but I was rewarded when the birds descended en masse. The red spawn appeared a while later. I saw him from the kitchen window, and I swear he checked the back door before he decided to stay on the deck rail. I ran out, and he got caught on the deck and was running back and forth. Gracie joined in the chase. Finally the spawn leapt onto a branch, a far away branch, and went from branch to branch into my neighbor’s yard. That is the only spawn which can get at the squirrel buster feeder because it is so small and lightweight. He jumps up, grabs a seed then sits on the deck to eat it then does that over and over. He keeps the birds away. My other nemesis, the grey spawns, haven’t been around. I see them racing in the yard and on trees but not the deck.

When I was outside this morning, I could hear the birds and I could hear the tapping of my downy woodpecker. He comes often to my suet feeder. I like watching him eat as he does so with such enthusiasm.

I watered the upstairs plants this morning and was rewarded by finding my Christmas cactus in bloom. Last week it was close to blooming, but I forgot about it, all the better for today’s surprise. The cactus has both red and white flowers, and they cascade from the green stems and hang over the table. I sat on the bed for a bit just looking at that plant. It is so beautiful. I always think of a Christmas cactus as a gift from the season. It is winter’s only flower.

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“Be not sick too late, nor well too soon”

November 19, 2013

Where you might wonder are today’s musings?  Well, they are still in my head and my memory drawers waiting for another morning. I just don’t feel up to par as my mother would say, though she was never a golfer. Today I will do nothing though that’s not really a novel way for me to spend the day.  I’ll be back on Thursday.

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“Coloring outside the lines is a fine art. “

November 18, 2013

I am not in favor of busy mornings. Today was a busy morning. It was all medical, scheduled stuff, which took over two hours. I am glad to be home. Slippers are back on as are my comfy clothes. I am done doing for the day.

61˚ here right now. The sun was here earlier hiding behind a cloud. It comes and goes. The sky is blue in spots and white cloudy in other spots. The day is a nice one. Chillier weather starts tomorrow.

We used to color a lot when I was in elementary school. This time of year it was turkeys and cornucopias though I had no idea that’s what they were called. The classroom was quiet when we colored. It took concentration to stay inside the lines especially if the crayons had dulled. I always tried to do the best coloring I could knowing my pictures were destined for the refrigerator art gallery. My nephews gave me some of their colored turkeys. I put them on my fridge art gallery every Thanksgiving. The pictures are from their pre-school days when lines were arbitrary.

Soon enough I’ll pull out my old wooden nut bowl with the silver nutcracker and silver picks for pulling the meat from the shells. My mother always put her nut bowl out before thanksgiving. We used to open the nuts while we watched the parade. I remember shells flying and a pile of them on the table. I liked Brazil nuts. Walnuts were too dry.

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“One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.”

November 17, 2013

The dog’s snoring and my back screaming woke me up this morning. I’m not sure what was worse, but I’m leaning toward the snoring. It was relentless. Each snore had different levels of multiple snores and on a couple of spectacular snores her jowls fluttered. I could take the noise only so long so I dragged myself out of bed. Gracie is now on the couch beside me, and yes, she is snoring but single snores, quiet snores. Those I can handle.

As for my back, I think it had to do with the way I was sleeping with my body contorted and curled around the dog and cat. I don’t start out that way as we all go to bed in our traditional spots, but when I’m asleep, they usurp. Gracie is the worst.

Yesterday my neighborhood was a hub of activity. The house on the corner was getting a new roof. From my deck, I heard the sound of the old shingles being removed. There was an odd scraping sound then a short interval then the scraping again. The time between the sounds was always the same length as if the man was working from a score. I heard the rhythm of the nail gun. It was four notes, a pause then four notes again repeated over and over. I was hearing the symphony of work.

The birds are many today. My chickadees are back. Several were at the big feeder while another was at the suet feeder. I love that I can see those feeders from my kitchen window. I usually wash my favorite cup and glass so I can have them the next day, and the birds are my amusement. Washing dishes is never work. It’s bird watching.

As one of my birthday presents, my friends gave me wooden books ends with a zebra on each end. I carried them around the house looking for a spot knowing that when I add anything, the domino effect comes into play. My house has no empty spots so it becomes a question of where does everything go when you add something. I put the bookends on the microwave and then searched for and found 5 or 6 cookbooks of African food to go between them. One of them is Ghana Chop, the cookbook Peace Corps gave us. To put all of this on the microwave, I had to move a double enamel coffee pot, a cup and saucer with a candle, a very small candelabra, a small glass with a candle and two other large glasses with candles. I walked around the house carrying them trying to figure out spots for their new homes. The two large glasses went back on the microwave, the small one on the butcher block, the cup and saucer also went on the butcher block and the coffee pot went on the floor beside the bookcase; however, I had to move an old glass milk bottle to make room. That last one stymied me. It just didn’t fit anywhere so I ended up hiding it behind something on the bookcase. It was my only failure.

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“Autumn is the hush before winter. “

November 16, 2013

Last night I went to bed early, my early around 10, and slept in this morning until 9. My back feels much better so a day of doing nothing and a good night’s sleep did the trick; of course, a day of doing nothing isn’t novel to me. I am a lover of sloth days and never need a reason to enjoy one.

Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I went outside to the deck. The air had the unmistakable smell of fall. It was earthy but not like in spring when the garden smells of newness. It was the smell of brown leaves on the ground slowly rotting away. Musky might be the better description. I didn’t need to see Gracie. I could hear the sounds of her paws as she ran on the crispy leaves under the trees and I knew exactly where she was. Leaves cover the back of the deck, the part under the trees, and I kicked a few over the side. I could have been eight or nine again and kicking the leaves      piled beside the sidewalk’s gutters. Yesterday’s leaves separated and flew to the ground, two stories below the deck. I could see my neighbor’s house and my friends’ house at the end of the street though the bare trees. The privacy brought by leafy trees is gone now until late in spring. A few birds ignored me and stayed at the feeders, mostly gold finches. I saw a woodpecker at the suet feeder. He has to eat upside down and doesn’t seem to mind. The thistle feeders had three or four gold finches all at one time. They don’t like to share on the big feeder but they don’t seem to mind sharing thistle. I cleaned out the bird bath of its leaves and pine needles then went inside the house. Gracie stayed outside.

I haven’t anything to do. There’s clean laundry to bring up but one more day won’t hurt; wrinkled is wrinkled. I have amassed a mountain size pile of catalogues so I think I’ll go Christmas shopping. The day is cloudy and uninviting so inside is the perfect place to spend the day. I feel good today about me and the day.

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“… food is not simply organic fuel to keep body and soul together, it is a perishable art that must be savoured at the peak of perfection.”

November 15, 2013

No sun today and a fairly strong breeze, but the day is warm for November, in the high 50’s, and will be the same all week. One day may even reach 60˚. I’m thinking the deck with my face to the sun.

My back is screaming loudly from my over-doing. I am not a slow learner but just figure I can do what I always used to do. I can’t. Yesterday I hauled out the heavy litter. It is biodegradable pine litter which turns into sawdust when wet, and the bag was heavy. I carried it downstairs, outside to the car and then lifted it into the trunk. I also went shopping for my dinner ingredients and toted three heavy bags of groceries into the house. I left the stout in the car and thought I was being cautious. I wasn’t. I spent the whole middle of the day and the afternoon getting dinner ready. All of the dishes were ready to cook, and because I just had to put two of them into the oven and reheat the carrots, I got to spend the evening sitting with my friends rather than in the kitchen. I thought getting everything ready was a great idea. I was wrong. I never thought about all that standing while I worked.

Dinner was perfectly planned from appetizers to dessert. I, however, didn’t plan for my back, but luckily for me my friends did the clean-up. I just sat and gave directions. It sort of made me feel like the lady of the manor.

I slept little last night between Gracie’s snoring and my back aching. I didn’t even go upstairs until 2 AM. I most decidedly see a nap in my future.

I have wonderful leftovers for dinner tonight.

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“Well, many’s the long night I’ve dreamed of cheese–toasted, mostly…”

November 14, 2013

The weather is quirky. Snow fell the other day, but today and the next few days will be in the 50’s, tolerable weather. The nights will be cold but that’s November, and that’s why I have a comforter on the bed and animals who snuggle.

The bird feeders need filling and the red spawn needs to be shot. It has defeated my squirrel buster feeder by being small. It jumps from the deck to the feeder, grabs some seed then sits on the deck rail to eat it right in full view of me. I run out to scare it away but it knows when to come back. I’m thinking some acorns, a bit of irony probably lost on the spawn, or small rocks as ammo stored upstairs. I’ll open a window and aim though the sound of the acorn hitting the deck should sent that spawn running. He knows he is targeted. Think hose and last summer.

Much to do today. My friends are coming to dinner, a very late birthday dinner. They both have their birthdays in September and mine was August, and we have yet to give each other our gifts. I have to shop so last night, to save time from today, I set out all the dishes and silverware. We’re having pork tenderloin with an herb crust, smashed potatoes baked in the oven and glazed carrots. I’ll make my Moroccan appetizer, muhammara, and put out cheese, to me the most versatile food of all.

I am a cheese lover except for gorgonzola and blue. They even smell bad to me and blue always looks as if it has been around too long to eat. Cheese is a staple in my fridge as many of my meals are just cheese with bread or crackers. Brie is a huge favorite.

Ghana has no cheese because it has no milk. Ghana has cows but no Ghanaians drink milk. When I went back to Ghana, I was forced to use evaporated milk in my instant coffee just as I did in 1969. Ghana is not a place for coffee lovers or cheese lovers for that matter. If I were in the Peace Corps there now and still lived in Bolga, I’d find the Fulanis who tend the cows, buy milk from them and make my own cheese. It isn’t difficult.

In 1969, I figured everything was just part of the experience as did most of my friends, but when we got together, food always became part of the conversation. We all mused about what we missed the most. In Accra, we’d spend money at Kingsway Department Store to buy bruni food, white people’s food, to bring home. We’d travel to Lome, Togo because you could get ice cream, pastries and yup, even cheese. Lome was a volunteer’s paradise of food. One wonderful memory is when a bunch of us from Ghana were together in the Peace Corps hostel in Lome, something that didn’t happen often. We had all bought stuff to bring home, special stuff you couldn’t find in Ghana. Well, we had a huge party for no reason except we were together, had food and loved parties. We ended up eating just about everything.

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