Spring is nearly here! It’s cold this morning, 30 degrees (that’s -1C to the rest of the world. Honestly, Celcius makes so much more sense, 32 for freezing seems so arbitrary) but sunny. The past weekend was an appetizer, (in the Toot household vernacular) a horse doover, meteorlogical snack, just enough to whet the appetite and get a body’s juices flowing and anxious for the Main Course, full-on Spring Time!
Spring is the longest season here in Deepest South Georgia, starting with the blips and jonquils of late January and beginning in full force by early March and lasting until mid-June. The oppressive heat and humidity of summer starts mid-July and lasts until early October, Fall is a joke, winter is a weekend, and there’s fresh roses and camellias on the Christmas dinner table…then it’s Spring again. I love Spring. I love the South and am willing to endure 98% humidity (good for the complexion), water moccasins, and The Junior League just to have 5 months of Spring.
I count the seasons here by what’s blooming:
Winter=Camellias, first the sassenquas with their small, rose-like blossoms, then the hybrids all shades of red, pinks and stripes.
Spring= first the red maples, then redbuds, dogwoods, cherries, plums, peaches, then roses, Oh…the roses, Happy is the day I cut that first fragrant bouquet to set on the dining table.
Summer=everything. Morning glories, all the annuals, salvias, cannas, every day has something blooming, color somewhere. If the day is awful, if someone is being mean or stupid, I can go sit amongst blooming things and know God loves me and the rest of the world, why else would He give us so many lovely things?
Morning glories
Fall= cherokee rose (not a rose at all, but a 20 foot tall variety of hibiscus), clematis, goldenrod, joe-pye weed, those harbingers of cooler days
Winter…here we go again, a big vase full of camellias, holly berries, and that errant never-say-die deep red Cascade rose. Oh and the luscious, many-varied reds of all those maple trees…on into December.
Japanese maple
When life gets tough, and it does, it’s the blooming things that keep me going. It’s the satisfaction of sticking something small, hard and dead-looking into the ground, and 2 weeks later a shoot comes up, curling tendrils around a trellis, a promise from God that no matter what happens, some things are never changing, the course of the Earth, that after Winter comes the Spring. No matter what humanly ridiculous event, whether it’s a war or a child refusing to be sensible, the peas will sprout and the daffodils will bloom. Thank You God, for that comfort.
Daisy hath returned, covered in mud and visibly annoyed at having missed several meals. I don’t know what sort of Houdini act she pulled,but her harness is gone. She gave me a casual “oh hi” as she made a beeline (in her trademark rushed mosey) toward the (empty! WHAT?!) foodbowl.
Now she’s doing her level best at keeping the couch from floating into space. I’m telling you, the 22 pound dog triples in weight when she’s sleeping.
Filed under: food
Every household needs a fall-back meal, something made from whatever’s in the fridge/freezer, that can be put together with little or no measuring or thought. today has been spent worrying about the missing dog, fretting about Terry’s need for glasses, chewing on upcoming dental expenses, pondering chucking it all and moving into a teepee in the woods somewhere. Anyway, my last great fall-back-forgot-to-make-menus-what’s-in-the-freezer recipe is Mexican Cornbread.
Start by browning half a pound of your favorite sausage
Then make a batch of your favorite cornbread mix by the recipe on the package
Then chop an onion
Into the cornbread batter, mix the sausage, onion, a cup or so of frozen corn, a cup or so of shredded cheese (whatever you like), and a cup or so of your favorite salsa.
mix it all together, pour into a greased casserole dish, and bake at 350 until done- like an hour or so. Serve with whatever you’d put on a taco, salsa, sour cream, chopped cilantro, avocado…whatever.
Easy peasy!
oh where o where can she beeee?
So #4 took the dogs out for a walk last night, and in the confusion/mayhem (4 dachshunds, right, comes with the terrortory), Daisy got loose and we haven’t seen her since. We spent a few hours hunting for her in the woods where #4 said she disappeared, and all along the golf course, hollering and shining flashlights, driving up and down the road, looking in ditches for her sad and mangled corpse…no sign
I slept poorly, waking to wondering where she might be, if some wild animal was making supper out of her, convinced that she was being mauled by rabid racoons.
See, Daisy’s a creampuff. She’s overweight, lazy, addlepated. Sweet tempered to people she knows, snippy with people she doesn’t. So I fretted and worried and slept poorly.
Terry reminded me at lunch today that dachshunds are notoriously opportunistic, disloyal, and…y’know…opportunistic. She probably found another family of sucke…I mean…kind hearted people up the way a bit, who’ve been taken in with her big moist brown eyes and grub-like physique.
Anyway, I’ve posted signs on the entrances of the neighborhood that read:
LOST DOG
FAT DACHSHUND
(912)XYZ-ABCD
I’m realizing in retrospect there’s probably someone taking offense, that I should have said “rubenesque” or “Zaftig” or “pleasingly plump” and that might inhibit their desire to return her to a family with so little regard for her…oh well
Anyway, if you see a homeless but well-fed black and tan standard dachshund looking annoyed at having missed a meal, she’s probably mine.
It's small, but it's MINE
This weekend was one of those miraculous times, the reason I live in the Deep South. It was a couple of days that made the scorching, oppressive days of August worth living through. 65 degrees, sunny, birds singing, and all the menfolk of the household willing (maybe not eager, but one takes what one can get) to pitch in their strong arms and backs, and HELP.
Gardening time. Yes folks, in mid-February in South Georgia it’s time to get cracking on the vegetable garden.
So Saturday, Terry and I went to Home Depot (not the usual choice but we had a couple of gift cards) and bought supplies. Bags of dirt…excuse me…Garden Soil…and a basket full of PVC fittings and lengths of pipe, because I wanted a cold frame and Terry wanted to build something. It’s nice when 2 desires meet and creativity blooms.
Sunday, after church, all 3 household menfolk conspired to move a raised bed out of a shady spot, 2 feet over into a sunny spot. It’s funny when such a short distance makes that much difference, but it does. So they moved cinderblocks, compost, and a heap of dirt. Now I have a clear, shady spot in the little garden for maybe a table and chair, or a small swing, or something. I got all complicated and made noises about perhaps a small brick patio type thing, and I’d still like that, but in the future, maybe. Right now, a chair.
Trellises were assembled, the cold frame is ready save for the visquine that Terry will liberate from work (at $20 a roll, he decided liberating some from work would be more cost effective, and since he’s working 14+ hours a day he thinks of it as…y’know…a bit of something due, particularly since he’s the boss of the plant where it’s located and no one will say anything). Peas were planted on the trellises, salad greens in the cinderblock holes, and other good stuff (beets, peppers, eggplants and tomatoes) await warmer days and coldframe assemblage.
And it all looks so pretty! All I lack now is raking up pinestraw to cover the pathways, there’s plenty of that in the front yard, and figuring out what to plant in the teeny flower beds alongside the gate. Right now a riotous rose (Belle Story, gorgeous flowers but Thorns From Hell) commands the fence to the left, and a tame and sedate thornless rose (Zephirine Drouhine- raspberry pink blooms that smell like lemon sherbet) to the right, #4 bought morning glory seeds, and I’m thinking zinnias might be cheerful.
It’s like having another room, all my own, to do with whatever I please. I can fill it with flowers and delicious vegetables, and have a peaceful place to sit and read, commune with God and nature, or the neighbor over the fence, with sky above and birds providing the soundtrack.
Filed under: Dewicate feewings, In The Garden, oh you self indulgent hussy!
Last night I dreamed about cooking, all night long. I’d wake up and think “ooh, that sounds good I need to remember it.” Then I’d fall back asleep and dream about something else. I dreamed of eggplant (fresh from the garden, #4 wants to grow some this year), with tomatoes (fresh from the garden) and basil (ditto), baked with parmesan cheese. And macaroni and cheese, the kind Terry made a couple of weeks ago, with cream and munster cheese and a sprinkling of cayenne pepper. There was a pork loin sometime last night, but I don’t remember how I fixed it, only that I was visiting a friend who lived in a very dangerous Chicago tenement when I did it. (where did that come from? I don’t have a friend in Chicago). Beets, cooked and chilled and shredded in a salad, gorgeous burgundy beets with their earthy-sweet flavor and silky texture.
I’d wake up and think “YUM!” and go right back to sleep. I wasn’t hungry- last night’s supper was quite satisfying. I guess my mind just works in that food sort of way.
The vegetables in particular. I know exactly where that came from. We went to Home Depot and bought bags of Miracle Grow Garden Soil to rejuvenate the raised beds, and Terry got the goods to make a cold frame (YAY!) so I can start stuff from seed instead of buying plants. (YAY!). It’s a way cool frame too, made of pvc pipes and I can take it apart and store it in a small box. Pictures when it’s all done.
I told #4 he could have one of the 4 beds as his own, to grow whatever he likes, and he (this surprised me) wants eggplants, the kind with the huge purple fruits. He also wants watermelon- I’m going to encourage him toward the small sugar baby type- and sunflowers. Terry requested an assortment of peppers, and we picked out cubanelles (to pickle), poblanos (for the making of chiles rellenos) and long cayennes (for pepper sauce). I’m going to put in tomatoes, lemon cucumbers (an heirloom variety, they don’t taste like lemons, but are roundish and yellow), snow peas and english peas. #4 LOVES the peas, and I LOVE that they’re a vegetable he’ll go out to the garden and eat straight off the vine. I’m the same with tomatoes and cucumbers. There’s always at least one Sweet 100 tomato vine, and I eat them like candy.
There’s no one so optimistic as a gardener in the early Spring.
So While I’m looking hard and heavy at the furniture, also running in my mind is the idea of accessories, bits of color that won’t be as permanent (or pricey, I hope) as the big pieces. So, investigation into Arts and Crafts (love the flowy organic vibe) upholstery commences.
And I find these:
Alas, expensive at $75-$200 a yard. Even at the most self-indulgent, spending that much on a throw pillow just isn’t happening. Granted, the fabric is 56 inches wide, and I could get probably 4 out of a yard, 4 just alike isn’t ideal, and you have to buy a whole yard. And they don’t sell remnants or bolt ends. *sigh*
MAybe I’ll check Ebay. The Arts and Crafts style really is pretty, tho, and would look so nice with the severe lines of the mission furniture.
Filed under: Dewicate feewings, home and hearth, oh you self indulgent hussy!, spouse
I want new furniture for the living room. A couch and a couple of chairs, specifically. The end tables, etc are all just fine- antique things but the couch isn’t even Vintage yet, just Old and Ugly, a 1967 Ethan Allen hand-me-down that I have been reluctant to replace with anything finer simply because people have this unpleasant (but understandable) propensity for flopping down on it to watch the race or whatever. Anyway, as the Floppers are pretty much moving out, with only one left and he’s a relative lightweight, I am ready for something NEW.
Ideally, Terry would build them. He would locate quartersawn white oak and build the couch and 3 chairs I covet. They would be upholstered in stout analine dyed pebble grained leather (in a chestnut color), the wood stained a medium golden oak, and I’d locate some kinda fancy curvy stained glass lamps to soften the severe lines of the mission style I love so much. Throw pillows, too, in Arts and Crafts style, also curvy lines and soft colors.
I don’t know if he’ll be able to do that, tho. Between working 6 day weeks (averaging…get this…14 hours a day…don’t get me started on that) and being too pooped to move on Sunday, I hate to ask him to do that even tho I know how much satisfaction he’d get out of it. However, I do have the furniture picked out, and I KNOW for a solid, natural FACT he could do it, so rather than harp on about buying it, I am going to hold on to the pictures and all in my head, and hope that one day I’ll figure out how to quit writing these awful run-on sentences. Ok anyway, I’m going to hold on to hope that he’ll have the time in the next year or two.
Here’s what I want:
One of these, this color upholstery and stain
two of these. I have footstools already. They recline!
One of these, Terry loves him a rocking chair, and this one's manly
Yeah I know, chunky mission isn’t everyone’s idea of lovely, but it certainly is mine. It’s sturdy and solid, and showcases the gorgeous refractive qualities of quartersawn oak. I love the look of wood, and despise delicate fru-fru stuff and intricate carvings that require so much maintenance. Give me a straight line I can swoop a dust cloth over now and then, and I’m happy. DO NOT give me cloth upholstery, patterns, prints, all that. Straight lines, solid colors, that’s what makes me smile.
So, I have this friend who makes incredible children’s clothes- you know the type (this is her web site). She called last night and wanted to know if I’d do some work for her- making boys pants. “I hate making pants” she said. Well, I know boys pants. I’ve made tons of them. What I hate doing is all that fiddly detail stuff, that she loves. So she tells me she wants to contract out making boys pants to me. And I’m all…you mean getting PAID to do something I do well and enjoy and get to work with someone who’s a nationally known children cotourier (however the heck you spell that) who I also happen to like? Like that?
Um…let me think a bit on it. ok, sure! And I get to work with seriously high quality fabrics like European batiste and Irish linen and dupioni silks and OMG! I’ll need to get teeny needles because all I have right now are big denim needles. and superfine threads….aaahhhhh I feel a trip to Savannah coming on!
(dances around the room! creativity! childrens clothes! wheeeeee!)
I had lunch with a friend today. El found some shirrrrrrrrOH! in her freezer she’d forgotten about, and wanted to celebrate. ShirrrrrrrrrOH! is a pasty stuff made from lentils, onions and tomatoes and the mysterious and intriguing berbere spice blend…like Mexican meets Thai by way of Morocco. Anyway, she felt like having a party so invited me for lunch where she made also the Ethiopean version of fajitas, that is, thinly sliced beef with more of the lovely berbere, onions and peppers all sauteed and served with injera (their flatbread, kind of like buckwheat sourdough pancakes) and she plunked it all on a platter in the middle of the table, and taught us how to eat neatly with our right hands (“left hands are nasty,” she said, “you don’t eat with them”) by picking little bits of the injera and using it to scoop up the shirrrrrrrrrrOH! and meat. Yummy stuff and here is it almost 5pm and I’ve got to fix supper for everyone else but am stuffed full (“in Ethiopea it’s rude to leave any food on the platter”, she said, “so you have to eat it all or I’ll be deeply offended and call you a {something unpronounceable} that means Pork Dog.” I asked her if she meant Pig Dog and she said “yes, I don’t know why you say pork and pig for the same thing it makes no sense to me.”)
Anyway, I played with her gorgeous 3 daughters, especially the 4 yr old and the just turned 1 yr old. Ok the 12 yr old is also gorgeous, I meant that I played with the other 2. The 12 yr old is quite grown up and sophisticated and too mature for silly chasing games, but quite the conversationalist. *sigh* girls. It was fun to lay with girls for an afternoon
Then she sent me home with a packet of injera, some shirrrrrrrrrOH! and berbere spices, so I can make a tasty Ethiopean feast for Terry. Naturally it won’t be truly authentic because I’ll probably provide a fork and plate, but it will be filling and delicious and pretty much guarenteed to cause digestive excitement and commentary the next morning.
