Sunday, March 8, 2020

GUEST BLOGGER

She's back.  

SWMBO (Judith Taylor) writes today about the food of her childhood:

Produce

When I was growing up in the middle of Indiana we lived on a four acre family compound consisting of my grandparents' house down a long lane toward the creek and our house up by the road.

We grew much of what we ate.  

Today, for some reason, I started thinking of all the things we took for granted.  

There were many trees that produced cherries, pears, yellow apples, red apples, paw-paws, peaches and  persimmons.  

There were also Concord grapes on an arbor and blackberries and raspberries in a briar patch.  

Asparagus and rhubarb came up spring after spring.

Then the hard work started as soon as the weather warmed a bit.  

Huge gardens were planted.  

Salads grew in our back yard, consisting of leaf lettuce, green onions, radishes, cucumbers and tomatoes.

We also planted old dependables: yellow onions, green peas, green beans, white potatoes, sweet corn, pumpkins, squash and cabbage.

Although they weren't on our four acres, if we went back into the woods in the spring we could sometimes luck out with a discovery of a big bunch of morel mushrooms which my mother would dip in beaten egg and flour and fry in lard.  

It was hard to wait for them to reach the table.

Throughout the summer, as things came ready, we canned everything that could be canned, looking forward to the long winter.

Pears and peaches were preserved in a light sugar syrup and my grandmother would drop a few Red-Hot candies into the jars of pears before they were sealed.  

They made the pears slightly pink and yummy looking.

Apples became applesauce before canning.  

Grape juice was bottled, but never became wine.  

Persimmons were turned into pulp and made into pudding later.  

Cucumbers became pickles and were saved in big crocks with heavy lids.

The root cellar at grandmother's house held bushel baskets filled with potatoes, apples and onions.

Bees made all the honey we could consume, right there in the orchard.

And we were considered poor.

OH, LORRAINE!


My favorite cook, SWMBO, made a Quiche Lorraine for our Sunday brunch meal today.


If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was French.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

TOWNES VAN ZANDT

I learned from reading The Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor that the legendary Texas song writer and performer, Townes Van Zandt, was born on this day in 1944.

One of his most well-known songs is Pancho and Lefty, which was recorded by (among others) Willy Nelson and Merle Haggard.

Before we hear it, though, listen to Van Zandt himself telling how he came to write it.




Townes was a troubled man, suffering from what is now known as bipolarism and addicted to alcohol and various illicit drugs.

He died on New Year's Day in 1997, at the age of 52.

In this video of Pancho and Lefty, he can be seen several times in cameos.

Friday, March 6, 2020

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Good morning Gentle Readers and all you other screwballs!

I hope your week was better, you look good in a mask, and you're about ready to have your lives disrupted with Daylight Savings Time.


As you may have guessed, it is time (heh-heh) once again for the Friday frolic.

Brace yourselves.








Okay, here come the puns:



And finally . . .


With those wise words, I shall wander willingly and wryly away, whooping wickedly, off to check Wall Street and the weather and wishing you all a wholeheartedly great weekend!

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .



Thursday, March 5, 2020

NATURE

I was struck by the symmetry of one of Mother Nature's children this morning.


And, across the way, some indications that Spring can't be far away.


Not any too early for me.

Wednesday, March 4, 2020

Monday, March 2, 2020

FUN-DAY MONDAY

SWMBO woke up about 1:30 this morning with a severe headache and pain in her left eye.

After several hours of wakefulness, then a few hours of sleep, she woke again with the pain still in her left eye, which was now red with blood.

When I looked at her I thought both eyes were red and she quickly made an emergency appointment at her ophthalmologist's office.

We both went and after about an hour and a half she finally saw a doctor who examined her thoroughly and concluded that there did not seem to be a problem with her eyes and that she appeared to have a sinus infection.

He suggested Sudafed to keep her pain under control until her regular visit with her primary care doctor on Wednesday.

So after a stop at a pharmacy and another for a fast food breakfast, we came home.

On the way over, by the way, she had commented on the clouds on the horizon.

I opined that they seemed tiny and unthreatening and informed her that the Weather Gods had not predicted any rain or snow.

By the time we were on the way home the clouds had thickened, bulked up and were touching the ground in several spots.

Over toward home the skies had turned dark blue and threatening.

We got home and a short time later this happened.


As I was looking out some white pellets began flying.

I said, "It's snowing!"

She said, "That's hail."

I said, "Oh, it's not either.  Look at those tiny snow pellets."

She said, "It's snain!"

That's a word for something in between snow and rain that she and her daughter have popularized.

I grumped back to my room and a short time later took this photo.


Whether it's snow or hail or snow pellets or snain, it covered the ground for a few moments before disappearing before the onslaught of our balmy mid-40's temperatures.

And so it goes, just another normal Monday around my parts.

What's the first of YOUR week look like?