First day of March and I’m a week
off but I’m blogging from my phone while sitting in the dark in my granddaughters room. Some of the family already headed out to a swim meet.
Here’s the vein of memory sparked by these photos – not for certain when Presidents Day started but will google.
My mother had a small cookie cuter in the shape of a hatchet.
Baked sugar cookies and the skinny dough hatchet handles would break off so easily.
She also made a pie like dessert with canned sour cherries and every so often you’d find a pit. I remember her stirring the juice on the stove with cornstarch to thicken, a crusty biscuit on top, baked.
This pie, a purchased one, reminded me of her efforts to celebrate Washington’s Birthday when I was growing up.
I’ve baked a chocolate log for Lincoln when the kids were small.
For this impromptu photo op, I pulled out the Presidents’ teapot J gave me and then remembered my parents George plate in the china cabinet.
The year mark (77-78) and I lived in Philadelphia while his dad was in Korea, my mom or dad would rock Mark in the big wooden rocker( it’s in his office now) and he’d look up at the blue plate on the wall and say “George” when you’d ask him “who’s that?”
You may remember the “Dear Photograph ” post two Februarys ago.
My son Mark took this photo in my
living room where the red (faded to
Rose) couch sits.
My dad is holding him when the couch was in my parents’ living room in Philadelphia in 1976.
They are both so happy on this old photo.
Here is the series of “Dear Photographs” I experimented with a couple of years ago.
The shortest day of light in the year. No wonder everyone is wrapping tiny lights around bare branches, plugging in cords, and flipping the switch to make it bright.
Pulled over to capture the giant Santa and a car sped by
Old School Blow Molds, Illuminated
The Toy Soldier House
Today at 8 AM, Dan and his SIL Todd, came to install my new furnace. Their day ended about 12 hours later. Well done!
It is great to have efficient heat and not worry about carbon monoxide emissions from the old furnace. Come summer there will be AC, too. And it was great you knew I needed more amps of electricity first and a new box so all is safe.
This old house hasn’t been this toasty since I moved in here in ’91.
Thanks Dan, for letting me photograph you in my old school basement.
And thanks Mar and Erika for recommending Uncle Dan. He did a super job, just as you said he would.
When I came home from school on Friday, I found the unraked leaves with raindrops on the undersides of some of them. I saw the orange tree leaves glowing like embers, with the water drops at their tips.
My driveway needs to be raked.
But if it were raked, I would have missed these jewels.
The heart shaped leaves are from the Eastern Redbud tree.
the fronts of the leaves are wet all over. The backs of the leaves, the water beads up.
Below, a single leaf on the Eastern Redbud that Ginny planted as a memorial to my parents. A lone water drip at the tip.
When the Weekly Photo Challenge is sent out by WordPress on Friday afternoon, I mull it over, dig around in the archives and whittle down a myriad of choices. But on occasion I’ll shoot something specifically for the challenge.
This week it’s REFRACTION by Kevin Conboy so I played around with a crystal heart my parents gave me on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary (1939-1989) and a crystal swan and pyramid I have in my china cabinet from them also.
I could’ve used an assistant today to hold the crystal or pyramid.
And because I’ve had my rainbows up recently and the Freedom Tower in NYC with refracted light through the clouds, I’m going with the gallery of my refracted light experiment.
Hopefully not my nerves or the rope
I hang onto with my best grip.
I sleep with the comfort of the worn red calico and
yellowed muslin quilt my grandmother stitched decades ago.
. I told my friend V what the photo challenge word of the week was and she said,
“Fray? That’s an easy one. You start school Monday.”
In the living room at Mark and Erika’s house, Saturday of Easter weekend.
I pulled the iPhone out of my pocket. QUICK
The four males engaged with their devices or book. Oblivious to me.
Erika’s dad- Donald, grandsons Michael and Jack and my son Mark on the right. Pap’s birthday. April 19th.
I love this photo of the four them.
-or save them first and then heave them after they get a bit furry in the fridge.
Or eat them cause you feel it a duty, but not enjoy them wholeheartedly?
How do you feel about leftovers? Does it depend on the type of food saved?
Today as I drove home after school, I thought about the spaghetti sauce in the fridge and although freshly made pasta is preferable, warming up a bowl of leftovers with hot sauce poured over top was incredibly satisfying.
A little fresh grated cheese. Mmmm. Eating my way through winter…………..
Didn’t have to start a meal from scratch and it was a relief to know it was there waiting on a shelf in the refrigerator. I looked forward to eating it again.
I thought the spaghetti sauce tasted even better today.
Some people don’t enjoy leftovers or being served leftovers for supper.
And true, certain dishes are better than others in the leftover department. Chili seems to improve, the flavors marry as they say.
I know I have wrapped things up and put them away or I have saved food in a little plastic container and forgotten all about it and then when I unearth it, it’s inedible and needs to be pitched. Storing in clear glass is key to seeing what is there to eat.
Does gender make a difference in leftover preference? Do you have a limit as to how long you will keep a dish?
When I did some research on leftovers I found an article about how Americans waste about twenty pounds of food each month. Yikes, that seems like a lot and is a disgusting statistic. So wasteful.
Growing up you were encouraged to consume everything and clean your plate. My mother had a book as a child The Sunny/ Sulky Book and one of the naughty kids (the book could be turned upside down to read about the good children) always took more on his plate than he could eat. One night he was visited by a Fairy-Eat-It-All in a dream and given a spoon to consume the mountain of food he had wasted. Eyes bigger than his stomach situation I guess.
A moral tale.
One time I posted how to revive a piece of leftover cake
A few years ago this Mary statue was a curbside alert through the neighborhood listserve so I walked up to Winterton St. to save her from the trash.
She was peeling paint and looking a bit worn. Somehow it didn’t seem right to have her picked up by the garbage truck. So I put her in my side “garden” and called her Our Lady of the Weeds (due to my lack of gardening effort)
About the same time I hired a friend of a friend to come and do some master gardening, get rid of the weeds, plant something decent. And the skilled gardener took the Mary statue home with her and she was gone a couple of months. The gardener is an excellent puppeteer and brightened up the statue with new paint. In fact, when she was returned it took awhile to get used to her brightness and revitalization.
Then my neighbor restored the bird bath bowl my father gave me when I bought the house.
One day I came home and the Mary statue was perched in the now repaired bird bath.
It’s been a team effort to get me spiffed up around here.
This Spring I’ll take a new photo with the plantings and green surrounding her.