Picasso pumpkins and pop quiz

Pumpkin carving and roasting salted pumpkin seeds are annual rites of Halloween for us. We were up to our elbows in pearly white, pear-shaped seeds as we scooped out pumpkin contents and cut out faces. This year's tours de force were quite cubist. My daughter drew the faces, from various angles on the same pumpkin, and I cut them out. Picasso would be proud of this four-year-old's post-impressionist interpretations. Next year, perhaps she'll inject some Monet inspired light play, or some abstract expressionism, Jackson Pollock style. Makes we wonder why we ever carved conventional faces before.

We also hosted our 12th annual Halloween Open House! By design, I created a ghoulish table of haunted delights WITHOUT SUGAR OR CANDY. Real food for unreal people. Old standbys were garlicky vampire repellant, crunchy turnip witches teeth (in water), paranormal pizza...

Here's a pop quiz to see if you can guess what other savory delights were, and to test your "talk backwards" abilities.

Fare: Bat wings dipped in gore, Fun: aslas dna spihc nroc eulb

Fare: Ants on sticks, Fun: selknirps etalocohc htiw rettub tunaep ni deppid slezterp

Fare: Troll tongues, Fun: edisni dellor eseehc maerc htiw staem iled decils

Fare: Octopus tentacle, jellyfish, and mermaid hair soup, Fun: sreppep toh decils dna smoorhsum ekatihs elohw seldoon daerth naeb

As always, the cupboards were bare by the time all the guests left. All that food fueled good humor and greater hauntings all evening long.

pictures tell the story

'Twas a fine gathering on the shores of Lake Erie to celebrate my parents' fiftieth anniversary and to help them move a block away to a somewhat smaller abode. It has been a couple years since we have all been together in the same place at the same time, so the festive atmosphere prevailed. I'll let the pictures tell the story.

Hanging pictures in the new living room...then hanging them again...and yet again...yes, the same ones.

Finding my great grandfather's beaver top hat circa ~1880 and my grandfather's bowler hat circa ~1910.

Toasting my parents with home made, home grown currant and raspberry liqueur.

Everyone laughing at photos in the memory album.

Wearing mom's velvet opera cape.

Outside the Hermit Club where mom and dad had their wedding reception, and featuring the black straw coat from Rome (middle).

Sweet little girls in velvet dresses.

a golden anniversary

The eternal optimist within me likes to think there is something momentous or outstanding about each day. Today needs to be magnified exponentially as it is the occasion of my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.

Married 10/4/58 – Still Married 10/4/08

When challenged with how to describe such a titanic event, my trick is saying it out loud so I get to the point quickly. Here are some favorite “out loud” stories I like to tell as memorable lessons I learned from my parents.

1. Know when to throw out the rules
My long-time bachelor father had three rules about selecting a wife: he had to like her family, she had to be a good driver, and she had to be a good bridge player. When he married my mother, he had never met her family, and she neither drove nor played cards. Way to go dad. Way to go mom!

2. Do it yourself
I grew up with a dad who could fix or build anything and a mom who could cook or draw anything. Strong memories of dad working are in the woodshop and house, not the law office. Our house is filled with rooms he built, artifacts he carved, woodwork he stained. Strong memories of mom creating are in the kitchen or at the “old family room” table with pastels and chalks. Sometimes it took time to appreciate her fine cuisine. My annual grade school dismay that mom always made rum cakes for the cake walk, quite unlike the other moms’ iced pastel fabrications, turned to pride when her cake was always selected first.

3. Let there be fondue!
Fondue is undoubtedly the iconic meal for our family. A good Riesling, the right combination of Gruyere and Emmenthaler, crusty bread, and some Elizabeth Schwarzkopf music are a recipe for family togetherness by the fireplace. Seriously, unlike many families we grew up with, we ALWAYS ate dinner together (except when dad was at the Hermit Club rehearsing for the Christmas concert). My husband and daughter and I virtually always eat dinner together too. A fine family tradition continued.

4. Speaking the native tongue
My sister and I were lucky to share a bilingual early childhood—German and English. This experience gave good perspective on words and meaning, and I have made a point to learn some of native languages where I have traveled for work—Russian, Bulgarian, Macedonian, Japanese, and a little Albanian. The story of my father meeting his German in-laws for the first time is priceless. A little tale about simply reversing “ie” and “ei.” He was invited to go boar hunting with my mom’s brothers. Schiessen is shooting. My dad, who had some high school german, said he was excited to go “scheissen.” You’ll just have to look that one up!

5. Be comfortable expecting the unexpected on vacation
I need to use a little shorthand here, but my family will know what I mean. Kind of like numbering favorite jokes and then calling out the numbers. Expect on their honeymoon in Ireland, my dad will get thrown from a moody white movie star horse into a pasture with an unknown angry bull. Expect that when everyone else is catching bass off Scudder Dock on Pelee Island, mom will catch a rare bowfin. Expect that my little brother will see our close neighbors in Teton National Park, 2000 miles from home, and act like it’s no big deal. Expect that the sheep will escape from the pasture and run through a christening at Walnut Hill Farm—three times. That was a long christening. Expect that the suitcase holding all of our camping gear will blow off the car in Paige, Arizona, and we get it back. Expect to wear rubber boots and raincoats the entire month we travel to Germany and Holland because it rains—every day—so we pick mushrooms and mussels—every day—instead of swimming. Ok, that’s enough.

6. Bring your own dictionary
It’s virtually impossible to have a conversation with my parents without looking something up in the dictionary or encyclopedia, especially my dad. This affliction has plagued me since childhood, and in fact today, as I took a walk with friends, I flagged three different things to look up when I got back to the house. There are several dictionaries at my parents’ house, which is helpful when several family members want to look up things at the same time. I was proud when I saw my parents’ passing on this vital tradition to the younger generation when we spent nearly an hour investigating the origins of the word of their choice,“booger.” Interesting etymology indeed!

I tried to select fond memories and stories from different time periods during the last 50 years, and what golden memories they are. Thanks mom and dad so very much for sharing these many lovely lessons and family love. My great love to you both. I can't wait to celebrate with you in person next week with the special liqueurs I made from homegrown currants. Love, m

Please join me in celebrating my parents’ anniversary by posting well wishes and thoughts.

haiku challenge

I have long been enamored with the elegant verse of haiku. The simple construction of five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables sounds so natural and is nice to say aloud. When I feel too busy to write, I often turn to the haiku to distill what it is I want to say without a lot of additional text. As these waning days of summer have been so full, I turn again to the haiku to illustrate overflowing thoughts, more than I can write about. Just a haiku. Plain and simple. Less is more, less is more.

On brewing liqueurs for a fiftieth wedding anniversary

a mad scientist

mixing ruby elixirs.

berry alchemy

You probably didn't notice that the title was in haiku verse either? But seriously, returning to the simplicity thesis...

Sweet Tresses

What do I love so

much about weaving little

girls' hair with flowers?

Canning

Green peels, steamed and stirred.

A garden harvest transformed.

Summer in a jar.

So, did you think the haiku challenge is for me? By thinly veiled subterfuge at the end of my poetic streamings, I reveal that the challenge is for you! I challenge you to respond to this post in haiku. Or if you prefer, send me a favorite haiku and I will likely post it in the new monthly haiku column.

backyard leopard

Last week, my husband and four-year-old were headed to the chicken coop when she stopped to play on the swings. When my husband came out of the coop, she burst out, "Daddy, I saw a leopard!" I know right where she saw it too, because I saw it in the same place the week before. Can you guess what our backyard leopard is? It's a shy bobcat (Lynx rufus). Lynx is the Latin word for "lamp," which refers to their specialized eyes with expanded irises that allow them to hunt effectively at night.

Since their mottled coats blend in perfectly with their habitat, we're both so lucky to have seen it. Even when they curl up and sleep, they are almost impossible to see, unless they are sleeping under our backyard apple tree. This gnarly ancient tree has been a bobcat beacon for years, and once a hungry bobcat treed our monstrous peacock in it.

Perhaps the bobcats have been using the base of the tree as a hunting bed, where they will crouch for hours waiting for prey to approach--in this case my chickens. This year, our beautiful leopard has already claimed two bantams: a blue belgian and a speckled cheswick. (My chicken connoisseur friends will know I made up that last name to describe my mysterious chicken hybrid).

Bobcat tracks are rarely seen, although I usually see them every year or so. I have an advantage here having worked for famous cat biologist Ted Bailey in Alaska. There, as a US Fish and Wildlife Service employee, I used radio telemetry and snow tracking to study lynx, wolves, and marten. My animal tracking skills get constant practice up here in the mountains.

Although usually nocturnal, bobcats are also known to be active in the afternoons. One year, we saw a bobcat on four succesive Friday afternoons between 2pm and 4pm, each time with a chicken tucked between its teeth. I don't mind losing an occasional chicken to a bobcat and much prefer that to the cache kill survival technique of weasels and mink. As I say to my friends who really want to see a bobcat, try getting some chickens.

Seeing the bobcat reminds me how lucky I am to live where I can see wildlife instead of reading about it or seeing it on TV (which we don't get up here). Often right in the backyard. Obviously, I did not take the photo seen above. To see some really incredible photos of bobcats, go to link: http://www.oceanlight.com/lightbox.php?x=bobcat__mammal__animal

I keep looking out the kitchen window hoping for another glimpse of our leopard under the gnarly old apple tree. The chickens are under house arrest for the time being. While our bobcat is not that much bigger than our wiley housecat, I'm glad this is one kitty that my daughter chose not to pet. Here kitty, kitty, kitty!

twist on a tea party

Recipe for Mystery Kid Tea

one rainy day, not too cold

five assorted glass jars

five different flavored tea bags, wrappers removed

plenty of hot steaming water

one qualified tea taster to test it

When it rains on your party, there's usually a recipe for fun. This recipe received the honored kid seal of approval recently. One of my daughter's favorite books is Kid Tea by Elizabeth Ficocelli. Each weekday, described by a sing-song daily poem, ends with the evening bath. The bath water becomes Kid Tea and turns the color of whatever fun they were having. Blue Kid Tea for berry picking. Green Kid Tea for grass clipping. Brown Kid Tea for garden digging.

We adapted Kid Tea to a more culinary, sensory, empirical experiment. I placed mystery tea bags randomly in glass jars, poured hot water, and enlisted the services of a qualified tea test taster. Our discerning tea sommelier carefully described impressions of each tea cup aroma, color, and flavor, as well as each dry tea bag appearance and aroma. A scribe recorded the utterly unpredictable results below.

YogiTea "Hibiscus Paradise"

Tea Bag appearance-red. Tea Bag aroma-white flowers. Kid Tea aroma-pear. Kid Tea color-red. Kid Tea flavor-pear.

Salada "Orange Pekoe"

Tea Bag appearance-blue. Tea Bag aroma-toast. Kid Tea aroma-tea. Kid Tea color-brown, or little girls. Kid Tea flavor-bears.

Stash "Peppermint"

Tea Bag appearance-ground green. Tea Bag aroma-mint. Kid Tea aroma-mint. Kid Tea color-orange. Kid Tea flavor-mint.

Organic Genmaiche "Green Tea with Roasted Brown Rice"

Tea Bag appearance-brown, no yellow. Tea Bag aroma-bread. Kid Tea aroma-bread. Kid Tea color-yellow. Kid Tea flavor-granola bars.

Chanakara "Blue Ginger"

Tea Bag appearance-not sure. Tea Bag aroma-candy. Kid Tea aroma-blueberry. Kid Tea color-blue. Kid Tea flavor-blueberry.

I hope you liked our twist on a tea party! It's good rain-rain-go-away Kid Tea.

petal revolution

I love cut flowers, so have treated myself to a flower share at a local farm each year. Each week for 10 weeks, I visit a towering, four-story, historic, white barn and stroll among the bins selecting brilliant flowers to display at the dining table where I can feast my eyes. Belles of Ireland. Lisianthus. Purple Coneflower. Teddy Bear Sunflower. The flower share follows in the vein of a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) share--a direct marketing practice--where you buy a share of weekly produce. In my town you can also get seasonal shares of lamb, beef, pork, and chicken, all of which spillover into our pastures from a neighboring farm at times.

This summer, a new flower phenomenon has evolved. The day after the flowers arrive, I've discovered that they have migrated. Small hands rearrange them elsewhere or replant them. Sometimes, I'll find most of them replanted under the birch tree, or tucked into the perennials, or keeping the lettuce seedlings company (see below). Sometimes they've been painted new hues. Recently, they have transitioned into still life in muffin tins, perhaps because we had a tea party for the dolls and made petal upside down cakes with grass and earth.



I've been searching for words to describe this phenomenon. Petal revolution? It's surely four-year-old performance art, with a constant succession of images. Altered states of still life? Except these still lifes readily migrate to other venues. I have not guided these creations, and I've been influenced by their wonderful and unexpected manifestations. I guess I'll just be content in knowing that bouquet deconstruction is creating a new beauty paradigm in my own backyard.