Talking about weather and the impact on our lives has taken a prominent role this season.
We’ve had enough of winter here and we’re not Boston. I see their photos of piles of snow to the rooftops. Ugh.
Not sure how they can stand it. What will happen when it all melts?
Dangerous driving, slick roads, walking warily. Ice you can’t see.
Grateful for a furnace and power. Everything seems more of an effort.
This post is not intended to be a whine or a rant, just the facts.
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?”
