'My Apologies' and 'If I had a Goose I MIGHT Have Cooked It.'

I have to apologize for my ramblings about the 'good old days' the last two blogs. I guess it comes from my frustration at not being able to complete the decorating on my new place. I kind of wander around trying to decide what to do about curtains and where to hang pictures. So instead of grasping the situation firmly and getting it done, I spend time reading philosophy and then more time philosophizing! Meanwhile, my 86 year old mother is telling me all her plans and accomplishments. (This week she is painting her shed - one side per day). Some day I'll figure out her secret. One thing - she isn't distracted by reading philosophy. Cookbooks, yes, but philosophy, no.

Yesterday, I was wasting time researching Michaelmas Daisies and came across information that there are all sorts of things associated with the name 'Michaelmas'. One of them is a harvest feast that usually includes a roast goose and things made from apples - apple stuffing, apple jelly, apple desserts. A goose used to be essential, but I found out that nowadays a chicken is considered more than adequate. This is a good thing - one Thanksgiving my Mom decided to cook a goose instead of a turkey and it was quite a project. It was a hilarious project! I'll tell the story in a future blog.

Well, anyway, since I hadn't planned dinner yet, I decided to make a Michaelmas feast (with a roast chicken). I went to my local market and found that all the whole chickens at the meat counter were frozen solid! The breasts were all frozen, too, but I did find some good looking thighs that were pot-ready. I picked up some apple butter and some bread that had a 'harvest time' look about it.

When I got home, I cut up some apples and put them in the bottom of a baking dish. I placed the chicken thighs on top, smeared them with butter and a little salt and baked them at 375 for an hour. I threw some baking potatoes in the oven, too. A tossed salad with lettuce,apples, dried cranberries, and nuts topped with a sweet-sour dressing was a last minute inspiration.

I must say that my 'feast' surpassed my expectations! It looked very 'harvesty' and tasted great! The apple butter on the bread was a great touch. We finished off with some pumpkin spice bars and a little cranberry wine from Wisconsin.

My feast wasn't planned, but sometimes serendipity works, too.

P.S. The fall term at Oxford is also called 'Michaelmas'; the spring term is called St. Hillary. See what useful info you can find when you waste time!

Michaelmas Daisies, G.K., and the Thrill of Monotony

Whatever happened to Michaelmas Daisies? I'm not sure, but I think that they are asters. Whether that is an old fashioned name for all asters or just for a particular variety, I can't say.

When I was a child, Michaelmas Daisies were a common feature of the gardens I knew. They were a delicate purple flower that bloomed in September and October. How nice it was that when everything else was fading, they were just coming into their own. They remind me of the passage in Ecclesiastes about there being a season for everything.

Several years ago, I bought a plant labeled 'Aster', but it bloomed in June and never came back! Can't have been the real thing. I'm going to have to take a drive around town and see if I can't spy some.

Last Sunday evening I saw a man portraying G.K. Chesterton. He quoted him about life being a 'dance' and not a 'race'. The dance stands for order - rhythmic and recurring action around a central thing whereby balance is kept. God built this balance and rhythm in nature - the days, the seasons, and the stars.

The 'dance' ruled in society and private life until 'the cult of progress' took hold in the last century. It was a new goofy idea in Chesterton's day, but a way of life now. "New is always better than old", "We must leave the past behind us" are two of the progressivists credos. Doing the 'same old thing' is truly a horror. It's just as bad as having the 'same old tired ideas'. "Change is what we need!" And finally, "God is Dead!" But the problem is, the progressivists have no clear goals for the race they propose. So, here we are, personally and collectively rushing toward unknown or undefined goals (healthcare is one of the latest) and all the world is thrown off balance by it. But if nothing else, progressivists say, "the race is more exciting than the dance!" Is it?

Let's ask G.K.:

"Because children have unbounding vitality, because they are fierce and free, they therefore want things repeated and unchanged. They often say, "Do it again", and the grown up person does it again till he is nearly dead. For grown up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps, God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes each daisy separately, but never got tired of making them. It may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."

From Bats to Buzzards

One of the great joys of life is to be tuned into the natural world that is all around us. Bird watching has been a favorite pastime of mine for 60 plus years. I've always had a garden and am well acquainted with all the gentle visitors that have shown up to eat at my flowers and feeders.

The first few days we were here, I didn't see ANY birds. I could HEAR some jays and finches in the woods at the side of our house, but never saw one. Then one evening as I sat on the deck watching the sun go down and waiting for the first star, I was introduced to my first visitors - BATS. It wasn't even dark yet, but there they were bombing all over the place.

The next visitors were crows - lots of them. Of course years ago we had crows stop by every now and then on garbage day, but the West Nile Virus had wiped them out in our area. So, it was fun to see them again and to watch their raucus antics.

While I was watching the crows, I began to notice smaller birds walking around with them. Kildeer! Actually, they are not so small, but were dwarfed by the crows. They really grow them BIG out here. Well, the kildeer are delightful. Eventually they came closer and even play in the puddles on the walking trail. The way they walk/run reminds me of the Road Runner.

At first, I didn't realize that there was a creek in the woods. J-man II took me exploring in there and I was amazed to find a 10 foot deep ravine with a creek at the bottom in a very dense wood. This has promise! It seems to be teeming with all sorts of wildlife. J-man says he's run into large snapping turtles. But, I'm not the only one who's noticed that there's life in there. A great-horned owl hunts there in the middle of the night and has a lot of fun sitting in a tree next to my bedroom window hooting for hours.

But the prized sighting goes to Mr. Bill. He had noticed a dead red squirrel on the road one day when he was going to the nursing home to visit his brother Tony. When he returned, he found a determined Turkey Vulture feasting on the carcass. He barely moved when Bill slowed down to go around him. That squirrel was HIS and nobody was going to contest it!

Yesterday I rigged up my bird feeder and put out my 'bait' - sunflower seeds. I'm hoping to lure some of my old gentle friends out of the woods and onto my deck. I can HEAR them, but I would like to SEE them, too.

Going on a Poem Hunt

The Friday after Thanksgiving Collette came to visit with the Princess and the General. We had a delightful Thanksgiving Tea, and a great discussion with the Princess about decorating her bedroom. This caused me to notice how 'grown-up' the Princess is becoming!

Now, there is a delightful little poem by Dorothy Aldis called Grown Up - but I could only remember the first stanza. So, this weekend I had to go on a poem hunt.

I looked through every possible book; I looked on-line. And although I could find others by Dorothy Aldis, I couldn't find the one I needed. So, I put out a call to the only other person left in the world who would know this poem - my daughter, Karen. AND SHE CAME THROUGH! Here it is:

GROWN UP

I'm growing up, my mother says -
Today she said I'd grown.
The reason why is this: now I
Can do things all alone.

And though I'm glad that I don't need
Someone to brush my hair
And wash my hands and face and button
Buttons everywhere,

Although I'm very glad indeed
To help myself instead,
I hope that I won't have to try
TO TUCK MYSELF IN BED.

I was delighted to find this old favorite. And all poetry lovers will understand why I NEEDED to find this poem.

(The picture above is from Allposters.com)

Castle for a King

Great News! The long awaited pictures of Collette's latest mural are here. Bad News: The pictures suffered in the translation from e-mail to blog. BUT you can still get a good idea of how they look. Since these pictures were taken, she has added more detail - hedgerows, cattails and such. Still to come, butterflies, birds and a frog prince and princess!

The Antique Bug

I had planned to make economics the subject of this post. Macro economics (the big picture) is the realm of Mr. Bill at our house and my forte is micro economics (sticking to the household budget). At the beginning of the year I decided to put my end of the finances on a fast (plan #2). The miscellaneous category had become gluttonous and was gobbling up way more than it should. Well, because of ‘technical difficulties’ I wasn’t able to post for a while and it’s a good thing. Just eleven days into the year the fast was over and I’m not going to brag about what a good budgeter I am. Here’s what happened:


About once a month or so a dear friend and I go out to lunch. Afterwards, we usually go on a short jaunt to either a fabric store or an antique shop. I have a list of things to hunt for - it adds to the fun. This month we chose antiquing and at the top of my list was a Cricket Stool. I knew the chances of finding one were slim because I’ve been checking e-bay and haven’t seen any. So, I felt financially safe, but it would still be fun to look.


Well, only two minutes into the store, I saw a spindly little leg sticking out from under a basket full of treenware. I lifted the basket and there it was - a grimy little Cricket! It was a tad too grimy and primitive for my taste, but nevertheless it was a Cricket Stool. Instantly, the possibilities flooded my brain. With some elbow grease and stain it could be the perfect stool I needed to go with the rocker, chest, oil lamp and braided rug grouping I envisioned in my sewing room.


The Cricket has one wobbly leg and I pointed it out to the store owner - a crafty lady with a German accent. She checked the tag and said that the price took that into consideration. I tried to play the game, and told her that I wasn’t definite yet and that I would look around. She suggested that maybe I wanted a better stool - a Victorian one that she had just set aside for herself, although it wouldn‘t be as ‘cheap‘. And then I made a blunder - I told her that I came in looking for a Cricket Stool and that’s what I wanted. I knew it was all over - I’d have to pay full price. I made a few more lame tries and then in the end I shamed myself and paid the price on the tag, $13.50. Thirty years I’ve been shopping there and this was the first time. I am really embarrassed.


I tried it out with the rocker as soon as I brought it home. It’s just the right height to rest my feet. AND, the Princess can use it to reach the faucet when she washes her hands. (I always have to think of at least two uses to justify a purchase). Now I only need to buy some wood glue, stain, and varnish. No more financial fasting around here. It’s no fun.


In case you’re wondering what a Cricket Stool looks like, here’s a picture of the antique bug:

Honey Butter from daughter K

A special treat that is exceptional on croissants... or rolls... or anything, really :>)


Cut and mix well in mixer: 1# butter.
On medium speed add: 1/4 cup honey, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla.
Beat five minutes.

You may roll them into two "logs" and put in fridge.
I mounded the butter into four soup- type mugs, and tied a little raffia around the handles.