Aug 15, 2007 | From the Kitchen, This Life
It’s August and the smell of sticky sweet, nearly rancid blackberries permeates the air. It’s a smell I associate with the end of summer, but not quite fall. Time for one last adventure, time for few more late nights on the sun porch sipping coffee, and time for berry picking.
The boy and I headed out to our one of our favorite berry patches today, only to find most of the large Himalaya Giants far out of reach or picked over. However with a view like this, hunting for berries is hardly work! While the berries were thin, the spiders weren’t. Oh my, adolescent Orb Weavers. I try not to shudder. My child, completely oblivious charged right in only to be met with thorns. I have to admit, that all those wee beasties did me in a bit.
The other variety that grows with abandon out here on the edge of the world is the Evergreen Thornless. It won’t fruit until after labor day and has a completely different flavor than the Himalayas most of us know as blackberries. They are smaller and more work to pick, but with a flavor that is out of this world and no thorns… oh so worth it! However, I tend to forget about them, because August is blackberry month and by September I’ve moved on to apples.
And would it be too much of a stretch for a segue to say “speaking of moving on”? Because, while this photo is a wee bit blurry, I love the fact it catches my very busy boy in MOTION. He’s moving, and moving on, on so many levels. We see less and less of him (don’t pity me, he’s a homeschooled child and we spend PLENTY of time together still!) and I’m steeling myself for the inevitable. He steals his mother’s heart every time he suggests that college could be right around the corner if he continues at his pace. I tease and suggest I should flunk him a few grades, just to keep him here. However, when given the option to go berry picking with his mother, he jumped. There is at least that.
Moving on… I adore the photo as well because that t-shirt of his is actually black but looks the color of blackberry juice. The light caught him and his shirt just so… and that makes me happy. There are those moments where grace reaches out and touches you—sometimes you find yourself blessed to capture that moment for posterity.
It wouldn’t be summer without blackberries nor August without berry picking. All this means it’s also time for Cobbler. Below the jump is my grandmother’s recipe for Blackberry Cobbler. Everyone will tell you their grandmother’s cobbler is the best, but that’s just because they’ve never had MY grandmother’s cobbler.
The last time we ate cobbler together was at my graduation from SPU—I was whipping up a batch (using frozen berries, shhh, don’t tell!) and I hollered into the living room, “Hey Gram, what are the proportions again?” Every woman from my family shouted back, “1+1+1+1”. How could I forget that!
“And 2 tsps. of baking powder, not soda” my grandmother added. It’s really not much more than that and blackberries. It’s not low-fat; nothing in Southern cooking is, or should be for that matter. When you’re plopping that stick of butter into the baking dish, thinking about your arteries and cholesterol, just remember this, the recipe could have called for Lard!
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Aug 13, 2007 | This Life
Ok, so I spent a good part of yesterday answering back comments on this site. Whew, y’all have been talky and I’ve been, well, lazy. Unlike some of you (coughMarycoughVickicough), I’m quite capable of slacking the day away. I meant to update today, but in truth I’ve been absorbed by YouTube. By, not with; I’m no longer corporeal. Anyhow, maybe I’m late to the party, but I’m loving Kate Havnevik. Update tomorrow. Probably pictures too. You know, if I can find my body.
OVERHEARD:
Boy Wonder: “Hey guess what, I burped up a leaf today. I’d just eaten it, so it was still intact.”
IZ: “Well, I guess that’s why they call it ‘ReLeaf’.”
Aug 9, 2007 | This Life
Wondering: Why the postman still only delivers junk mail and bills in my pretty new mailbox? I think he missed the Whole point of the exercise.
Wishing: I could take a decent photograph this Week. For some reason everything is turning out Wonky.
Wasting: Inordinate amounts of time on Twitter. It’s official; I’m a sheep.
Weeping: Over this story. Sweet!
Willing: Myself to go work out again this evening.
Wearing: The same work-out pants I was in yesterday. Hoping Kathleen won’t notice.
Waxing: Sentimental thinking about my sweetie and the new house numbers he put up for me. S i g h.
Aug 7, 2007 | In Photos, This Life
Aug 6, 2007 | This Life
Yeah… so, no words or pictures today. Ok, no pictures, a few words. This is a trend… and there are reasons. I just don’t want to write them. You know? There is just only so much of my medical life I want to face right now–blogging it seems really, uh, to defeat that purpose. If I write it, I have to face it. Blech.
That being said, please don’t worry and leave urgent comments. It’s not urgent. It’s not anything, but part of my life and I don’t find it inspiring at the moment.
I will say this… our car was broken into a few weeks past and the losers took my music and left most of IZ’s. Heh. So, IZ bought me a few new CDs. This is a big deal around here. I’ll spend money on flowers without a thought, but new music feels like such a luxury. So, my list of music I want is HUGE…
Anyhow, Prince Charming lived up to his name and he even let me pick out the new music and didn’t mock me or chastise me for the language. For my part, I skipped the Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse, (and Franz Ferdinand and the Killers!!) and got a few releases I thought IZ might be willing to listen to with me because some of his music was stolen too.
I would like to note that I’ve taught Boy Wonder to use the first line of “Rehab”… he now runs around saying “She tried to make me clean my room, but I said ‘No, No, No.'” Heh. He won’t sing it, because he says, “I don’t sing, MOM!” in that tone of voice that just dares me to correct him. I refuse. I’m a lover not a fighter.
And so, in the midst of no words and no ambition and no real reason to complain, really, I’m listening to the incomparable Regina Spektor. If you’ve not heard of her, go take a listen to Fidelity. (The CD is “Begin to Hope”, in case you’re wondering!) Your cool quotient is going up just reading this… and I have to say, Fidelity may be the worst song on the CD! It’s just that stunning.
This is how it works
You’re young until you’re not
You love until you don’t
You try until you can’t
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else’s heart
Pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don’t get harmed
But even if it does
You’ll just do it all again ~~RS
And this is how it works. Sometimes words, sometimes pictures. And sometimes, nothing but music.
Jul 28, 2007 | This Life
I am approximately this shade of burned. Despite slathering up with sunscreen, I’m just a wee bit toasty. The lovely Ms. Kathleen and I got it into our collective heads that we should have a yard sale. Ok, I got it into my head and dragged poor Kath along for the ride. But Ms. Kathleen is a good sport and played along. So, we spent a lovely, almost rainless, day in the sun selling our wares. A perfect day for a yard sale! We didn’t sell as much as we had hoped as both of our husbands kept rescuing items for sale, but certainly enough to make it worth our efforts.
And oof, effort it was. Boy did we hop all day. Our darling little signs were made by Kath and I have to say, those little chicks surprisingly resemble my, uh, shape. Hee! But I love them, they’re just so cute. Sadly, my photo doesn’t do her signs much justice. We were just so busy I never stopped to take a photo of the madness until the sunlight had passed us by.
The day was full of lovely little moments as well as some truly frustrating ones. Early birds arrived early and got my angry face. But then, little people visited, pressing quarters into my hands, “Um, do I have enough money for this??” (yes, yes you do, you little darling, it cost exactly 25 cents!) Several people came by and told me that they had looked at my house when it was on the market, but for some reason hadn’t bought it. We had one elderly gentleman who so impressed with how we priced our items he couldn’t stop talking about it. At first I thought he was talking about our actual prices, but it turns out he just liked the ribbon and hang tags. I had a delightful conversation with a four year old who told me his full name and chatted with me about how he wanted a hamster and how his dog died and how his nails are painted red and his hair has red color in it to match and. . . and . . . and. . . and he reminded me so much of someone I know too well (coughboywondercough) I let him take home a fun Tonka interactive computer game for a song. Because I know he’s going to spend hours with it, just chatting along to himself as he goes. I can just tell.
But perhaps, the most amazing moment came when a long time reader introduced herself and her husband! It’s always a bit of thrill to have someone take a risk and let you know they’ve been reading your work. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when they like your work, either. Oh yeah, I’ve been on the other end of that introduction, where they tell you just what they think of you: awkward! Anyhow, it was really great to meet a reader and chat for a few moments. (Waving HI! to Michelle and Jeremiah!!) Of course, in a classic “it’s all about me, Wende move” I didn’t ask Michelle any questions about HER! I was just so excited, my manners were, uh, overwhelmed? Ok, it was poor form…no excuses. I’m so sorry, Michelle. Please do comment and tell me all about you, OK?? Meeting readers is really cool—but getting to know them is even better, I think.
Such was the day. Oh, the stories I could tell. And someday, I just might. But for now, I’m done in by the sun and just thankful for the day.(thank you, thank you Kathleen) It’s enough, really. I just read this back and I used the word “lovely” too many times, but that word really does sum up the day. Tomorrow is Sunday; but it seems like there might be a sermon buried in the loveliness. Too bad I didn’t take photographs.
