thankfulness on december 25

(at last moved from the paper archive to digital archive...)

Thankful for talent.  How precious to watch our five-year-old pull the wrappers from a home-felled white pine dollhouse.  Four stories high with slides for stairs, horse stables down below and an equipment shed.  Santa’s elves really showed their talent by building just what she wanted.  I wondered how I could get those elves to replace our stairs with slides.

Thankful for neighbors.  Our artist neighbor Aurora visited us for Christmas breakfast and brought us coffee cake and a tin brimming with home-grown garlic.  We sipped champagne, dipped home-baked Stollen in warm cups of coffee and admired ancient German ornaments on the tree.

Thankful for electricity.  It’s true that we lost electricity for an hour and a half, right in the middle of cooking Christmas dinner.  Our Yankee ingenuity spurred us to crank the wood stove a little higher and pull everything out of the oven and onto the wood stove under cover.  By the time dinner rolled around, we had lights to see what we were eating and everything tasted divine.

Thankful for music.  A couple friends and family joined us for dinner and brought their guitars.  We had fun nibbling, playing guitar, singing songs, trying to remember other songs, and dressing up in wrapping paper.

At the end of the day, I felt so grateful for all these wonderful gifts.  

I thought to post these two holiday remembrances after recently finding some Thanksgiving and Christmas stories I wrote about visits with our family friends the O'Grady's in the mid-1970s. 

big easy thanksgiving

(at last moved from the paper archive to digital archive….)

We spent another glorious Thanksgiving in New Orleans 2009 thanks to the tremendous generosity of our friends G and J on their fifth wedding anniversary.  Sample the flavor of our stay in this historic city from these snapshots.

(photo by Lajos)

The races.  The racetrack opens on Thanksgiving, so it’s a special day to go to the races.  We watched the horses promenade just before each race.  My small daughter was enthralled with the lively horses and colorful silks of the jockeys.  A small crowd gathered around her to bet on which horses she thought would win.  It was quite amusing when, after one of her horses lost, a dismayed gambler said anxiously to the assembled group, “Her horse lost, what does it mean?”

Thanksgiving feast.  A superb dinner was consumed at the Commander's Palace.  I had smoked goose and foie gras gumbo, shrimp and mirliton stuffing with redfish, bourbon pecan pie, and finished with chicory coffee.  Tasted some P&J oyster dressing, shrimp and tasso henican, and creole bread pudding souffle too.  It's hard to miss turkey and gravy with those flavors on the table!  We watched the sun start to set from our second-floor corner window overlooking the marvelous gardens at the Palace.

Aboard the paddle-steamer Natchez on the Mississippi R.

Paddleboat on the Mississippi. I confess that I really, really like taking the paddleboat Natchez down the Mississippa River.  Apparently, it’s the only true steam-operated paddleboat in North America.  Nice to glide by the two-mile long wharf, allegedly the longest dock in the world, and weave through freighters with their bright flags from all over the world.  The brass engine room is an engineer’s delight.  You can see just how low the ninth ward is and imagine how Hurricane Katrina waters gathered there.  The >90ْْ  curve in the river by Algiers Point is even more impressive from the water than watching from the levee!

Favorite carnival dress at the Louisiana State Museum!

Dress to the nines.  A supreme highlight for my daughter was visiting the Louisiana State Museum where many displays celebrate the parading that happens in the French Quarter.  Her eyes got wider and wider as she entered each successive room with all the sequined and feathered costumes.  I kept losing her until I figured out which were her favorite dresses.

Racetrack enthusiasts! (Lajos)

Good Samaritan.  On an early morning walk along the levee, I was turning around when a bicyclist next to me fell off his bike and smacked his head hard.  I thought he’d had a stroke as I dragged him and his bike off the trolley tracks.  I was doubly concerned when he said he was going to continue riding seven more miles…and he was an orthopedic surgeon.  I convinced him to call his family and waited with him 1.5 hours, all the while he was on the verge of leaving, all the while getting panhandled.  Finally, he realized he had a fractured femur, but forgot he hit his head.  I pointed out the gouges in his bike helmet… goodness gracious.

día de los muertos in vermont

A baton was passed at our house yesterday. After fifteen years of a creative Halloween party http://micabob.blogspot.com/2008/11/picasso-pumpkins-and-pop-quiz.html we started a new annual tradition—a Día de los Muertos party. This Mexican celebration combines Aztec and Mayan traditions honoring the departed with Catholic celebrations of All Saints Day and All Souls Day http://micabob.blogspot.com/2008/11/da-de-los-muertos.html.

The event blends remembrance with some irreverence. We prepared an ofrenda with framed photos of ancestors, smiling skeleton figurines called calacas, candles, and even authentic papel picado, thanks to the generosity of a worldly neighbor. My daughter and I shaped painted cardboard boxes into tributes to favorite pets and animals. She adorned hers with faux pearl earrings and three sparkly toothbrushes. Friends brought their own contributions. I loved hearing and telling stories about hats worn by missed family members, meditation stones they held, a red sox fan, an old whaler’s golden earring, a lost cat, a pie tin, a horse race, a favorite breakfast. It was lovely, and fun. Mariachi music played in the background.  Kids colored skull masks.

We feasted well. Rolled black bean, beef and chipotle enchiladas. Layered corn enchiladas with salsa verde. Spicy Spanish rice. Southwest chicken and lime soup. Outdoors we had a brick oven cranking so people could roll dough into skull shapes and bake it under the stars. The hot bread looked so tasty, I think everyone got slightly burned fingers.

This morning after cleaning up, I sat on the sunny porch outside drinking a hot cup and savoring the previous evening.   It was nearly 60 degrees F.  As my husband took apart the brick oven, a gentle breeze blew traces of ashes over my bathrobe.  I looked down at the ashes and thought that was a nice ending to our Vermont celebration.

bob marley and mary poppins

Today’s title seems an unlikely convergence of musical icons. Yet, this peculiar combination proved a recipe for recovery as my family fell like dominoes to influenza. Music and movies surely helped five days of severe fatigue, inertia, et al pass more quickly. If you thought a spoonful of medicine helps the medicine go down was the main attraction, you are wrong! Instead it was stir it up, little darlin’.

I often subscribe to naturopathy, so we had a mélange of flavors and concoctions to consume. Licorice tasting immune glycerite and tart tasting cough glycerite, freshly brewed by my naturopath, accompanied thousands of IUs of vitamin D to combat the virus. The trick was to get a small child to swallow these healing elements. That’s where the little medicine cups were handy. I have some sweet, tiny stoneware mugs. Add a little ginger ale and maple syrup to the herbs, and sing together stir it up, little darlin’! Worked every time.

I’m sure some of you quietly shuddering readers pictured this practice as something more like brimstone and treacle, a song by the anti-nanny from the Broadway version of Mary Poppins. It was a great ritual, really! Dessert was ultra-fragrant chicken soup delivered to the porch by a dear neighbor and pictured above along with the other accoutrements. After couch sitting and humming along through Mary Poppins many times, Bob Marley got us moving vertically. A reggae beat is truly the rhythm of influenza when you need to stand up and do something.  Let’s get together and feel alright!

halloween moments

The predicted Halloween downpour happened while we were strong-arming a small child to eat some dinner toast before trick-or-treating. That's why we got a late start. That's why her newly sewn kimono stayed dry and miraculously mud free. Our goal was to keep it simple and keep to Pleasant Street. This small street of 12 houses offers the best ever of small town Halloween. It's blocked off by the ambulance and fire truck so it's pedestrian friendly.  Kids can climb inside the trucks. The neighbors have bonfires, if it's not raining, and other, well, pleasant things.

My favorite is browsing candy while being mesmerized by live bagpipes and drumming. Fresh coffee and doughnuts. Giant gnomes over a pot of gold. One ancient woman with a long string of kids out the door asks each child what their costume is about and records the explanation and their name in a journal. Every year. My little Japanese princess made this year's list.

The evening ended at the local small coffee house where we were entertained by a ghoulish looking ten piece band playing Motown. No candy there, just tiny pieces of chocolate cake and a cup of warm tea. By the time we got to the pumpkin display at a local farm, a special little someone was fast asleep in the car. A perfect and peaceful Halloween evening.

dance du jour

After swim lessons, my daughter and I passed the windows of the adjoining indoor field house and witnessed an unusual synchronized affair. Seven people dressed in sport shorts and tees gracefully moving close together in an undulating wave through a miniature garden. Each had an arm outstretched, eyes half closed in meditation and concentration. It looked like a choreographed dance. I was baffled, because this was a…….dog show.

…with an obstacle course. Seconds later, I realized the dancers had two minutes to walk, or “wave” in this case, through the obstacle course before the competition started, dogs in tandem. As we stopped to watch the canines dance through the course, I wondered how I incorporate dance and grace in ordinary, daily activities. I tried to imagine grace at the office, picking up the phone with my feet perched on the windowsill, pulling a FAX off the machine. That was so wrong, wrong, wrong! So were the grocery shopping and laundry analogies.

Rather, the kitchen is my swan lake. On balanced tiptoes with hair swept up, I can stir the batter, roll the dough, press the garlic, peel the apples, braise colorful vegetables, grill savory meats, et al, and get a three-to-four course meal on the table nearly every night. I can practically do it with my eyes closed. My dance du jour. My forte. Truthfully, meditation and relaxation for me often involve reading cookbooks.

Dancing through life is something I aspire towards, to live with as much grace as possible, despite the obstacles. Dancing is how I got to know my husband. A friend snapped the photo above of us on one of our very first dates, contra dancing. You can see us spinning in the lower left corner. It was twenty years ago that we met. Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. I’m so glad that our daily life dances have lasted for twenty beautiful years. Keep on spinning all you dancers.

lost treasure

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about treasured daily moments. Today, the focus drifts towards other treasures. We have a barn full of mechanical treasures. A family of tractors and their kin. 1948 Ford 8N. 1957 John Deere 420C Crawler. 1989 John Deere 1070 4WD with a quick release bucket loader. 2000 New Holland LS160 skidsteer. 2002 Hitachi Zaxis 80 excavator.

All this equipment gets used regularly, and we often wonder aloud what we did without our mechanical friends. Imagine pruning apple trees without the bucket loader. Putting in asparagus without the excavator.

Still our tractor family was incomplete. For about ten years now, my husband has searched for a Massey Ferguson 135. Live hydraulics. Wet brakes. Hard to find. Early this summer, the search was over. He found one through an estate sale in Vermont. Bought new in about 1970 by an orchardist who recently passed away. It had a German-made Perkins diesel engine. Rare. Good price. A dream tractor.

He could barely wait for the day to go pick it up. With the trailer hitched to his truck, off he charged to get it. When he got there, he found that the tractor had been stolen. Broken lock on the barn. Tell-tale tire tracks across the grass where the tractor had been dragged away. Shock. Lost treasure. He left dejected as the police arrived to meet with the estate executors. Apparently, the estate would still like to sell him the tractor, however the police have yet to figure out where it is.....

Evenings have resumed endless web searches for other tractor treasures. Still, honing tractor knowledge is a respectable pursuit. Of course, there is this postscript perspective on the situation.

A man and his tractors. Inveterate.
A man who knows tractors. Erudite.
A man whose wife knows tractors. Truly sublime.