Middle aged musings from farm & hearth
Look who landed on the feeder outside my kitchen sink window this morning. I’ll admit, I was grumbling about the mess in the sink. (Dish washing is my least favorite chore.) I looked up, and there he was.
Blue birds are my favorite of all the bird species. They don’t normally populate feeders, preferring berries and bugs along the edge of fields. This little guy, in doing something out of the ordinary, seemed to be sending me a message.
I’m listening.
Thank you to Beth of Be Yourself…Everyone Else is taken
for letting me steal this.
It’s a ridiculous thing I’ve been tormented by for most of my remembered life. I LOVE a good horror movie.. a ghost story, a haunted place. And yet… it all SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME. I still can’t watch The Exorcist all the way through, and I don’t even want to be in the same house as a Ouija board…. but it fascinates me still. I kid you not… on Halloween I used to keep rosary beads and holy water on my windowsill so Vampires couldn’t come in, or at least I’d be prepared if they did. Why the fear of Vampires? I have no idea. It’s probably not wise to tell you I finished all four Twilight books in nine days… NINE DAYS!.. but.. it put a whole new spin on the Vampire thing for me, you see.
Thank you, Stephenie Meyer.
What I’m really getting at is, I love Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday, and I think it’s because we get to step out of the box. Be something, do something, dress like something different. Anything! The sky is the limit. Nothing is really expected of you on Halloween.. it’s all for fun…and Candy Corn.
This year the holiday brings with it a little sadness. My kids are beyond trick-or-treating with parents in tow. My daughter is going to a Halloween dance at her college and my son will be heading out with a group of his friends. Last year they were dressed as a wedding party and I at least got to buy him an old suit at the Goodwill store. He actually came with me to pick it out! This year I asked if I could deck him out in Zombie attire and I just got an eye roll. Alas…. the proverbial apron string has snapped.
I already miss the evening walks with flashlights in hand, crunching fragrant leaves underfoot, and the glorious smell of woodsmoke in neighboring fireplaces while the kids dart ahead from door to door to door. Is it too much to ask if I still get to inspect and raid the stash when it’s dumped on the kitchen table at the end of the night?
Last weekend while driving through the Shelburne Falls and Greenfield leg of our Vermont day trip, we passed a church holding a pie sale. There were several older women standing at the roadside with one pie in hand, waving to passers-by. I knew those pies would be good, but my eager family didn’t want to stop just yet. So on we went.
That evening as we headed for home, we again came across the waving ladies and their pies… still smiling, still waving. I couldn’t pass them by again. We pulled over and I crossed the street and approached the first waving lady, the one with the biggest smile. I said ” We saw you this morning and you’re still here waving and selling pies!”… and she said ” We’re almost out, go grab one for yourself, they are divine! I’m smiling because I made alot of those pies and I know that I’ll be making someone happy today. My pies are that good, and our church and it’s people in need will benefit from this sale.” With that she gave me a big hug and said “Thank you for taking the time to stop by”.
When I got back in the car my son asked “Why did that lady give you a hug, mom? What did you say?” I told him I didn’t say much, she was just thankful for our simplest gesture of stopping to buy one of her pies. The money will go to a cause she believes in and we helped just a little bit for them to get to their goal.”
That hug from a stranger warmed me. Moments like these remind me, sustain me, fill me with hope. They don’t come often and there should be more of them. It doesn’t take much to contribute to the greater good of the world. I could easily fall into a black hole of despair over the state of so many things. I hate reading the news in any form, so much in the negative. What could I ever possibly do that might make a difference? But there are things each one of us can do.. little things, baby steps, moments of kindness.
When we arrived home I tore into that pie and boy, was it good. I noticed something else too…. those ladies probably made about 20-30 pies each before the sale… I’m guessing there were about 200 to sell. Notice the little leaf in the pie crust. When you’re cranking out a lot of pies… this is an unnecesary embelishment and it takes more work. An extra detail on each pie, just because. Another kind gesture, another hug.
For $10 I got a heck of a lot more than just a really good apple pie.
quote taken from the book
the gift of an ordinary day, by Katrina Kenison
Please visit this blog and give this young man your prayers and a birthday wish… today is his birthday and he’s fighting for his life. His sister keeps a blog… see below…
http://billy-cooter-mccotter.blogspot.com/
Krippled Warrior wrote a good post today that pondered the “nature” of color and its great gift to us. I’ve often thanked my lucky stars that I am only hearing impaired and not sight impaired. I am constantly aware of the beauty in things we so often take for granted…. things that don’t cost a cent to enjoy.
The rain feels glorious this morning. We’ve had a very dry, hot summer and the earth is thirsty. Autumn has definitely arrived, but the colors in the sugar maples are muted… I’m thinking it has something to do with the lack of rain.
I had lunch again at my favorite diner (twice in one week, the shame of it) and while there I asked if they’de be willing to give up their coconut chicken recipe. The waitress came back minutes later and said just this.. ” The cook said real simple. Dip the chicken cutlets in flour, then egg… then sweetened shredded coconut. Pan fry in a small amount of butter or oil until golden brown. Use any sweet and sour dipping sauce for a side.” They serve it with white rice, and I found another recipe that recommends marinating chicken cutlets in Coconut milk for a few hours beforehand. I also recommend using thin sliced cutlets. We gag on the fat ones around here. Really.
The guy on the right here is making me so proud these past few weeks… He’s doing a great job on his new Baseball team…he’s one of the rookies, for sure, and his game has improved tremendously. I just received his progress report on his first month in High School… a strick Catholic HS, no less…. and he is doing a great job there too. Big improvement from middle school and it’s been a huge effort on his part. He even ties his own tie now. Amen, brothers. And I mean that, with a hearty THANK YOU, LORD. Yes I am aware of my views on religion in my previous post and the occasional hypocracy I display here.
So, DUDE… great job, I’m so proud. And.. next time we go to the diner I’ll let you suck down all the creamers just once without scolding, because sometimes I’m cool like that.
I’ll go in to work today and begin packing up the remainder of the pottery. The rain is fitting of the mood. This gallery has brought so much to my life, all of it good, some of it difficult, a great learning experience and a difficult door to unhinge. That’s what it feels like I’m doing.
On Saturday night a group of ladies gathered on the hill at the Durham Fair to see a band from our youth perform some of their classics…”Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore”, “Keep on Lovin You” , “Take it on the Run”…. The band may be aging, but they still deliver and I was grateful for the reminder. I’m not talking about the obvious.. a reminder of my own youth and the heady feeling of group exuberance and excitement for the future. I needed a reminder that we are all still capable of coming together regardless of our differences in age, political affiliation, education, gender, societal status (is that a word? It is now) or race. There were very young people in the audience… very old people too… and plenty of us who are in between and remember REO in their heyday.
A friend and I had a brief conversation last night as I sat outside in the church parking lot waiting for my son to come out of the 5 pm mass, a requirement for his confirmation year. She asked why I hadn’t gone in, and I told her the truth – it wasn’t required of the parents and I had shopping to do.
I will make it clear here that I was brought up as a Catholic, but I am not religious. I do give my kids the same upbringing so that they can make those decisions for themselves. My religion is about doing right by others, helping where I can, being kind and considerate and generous where possible. I try to see the good in people,although I’m not always successful. Science makes more sense to me than what I was taught in my religion classes. It doesn’t mean I KNOW.. it doesn’t mean I have any more answers or that I’m right in my beliefs. Truth be told I believe that if I was like my friend and had a real FAITH, I might be more content with the state of the world. I don’t have that crutch and sometimes I envy those who do. I asked my friend what she gets out of her Faith… and she said simply “I have to believe there is something better than this… People are so mean, I have to believe there is something better”.
Saturday night on the hill at the Fair, while REO belted out their tunes… we all sang together, swayed in rhythym together, forgot for two hours whatever weighed heavy. It was my confirmation that we are all still capable. Thanks, REO, for the memories and the reminder.
Fun Facts:
Where did the Band get it’s name? “From a flatbed truck, first built in the early 1900’s. It was very high-speed and heavy-duty for its day, and was considered a milestone in the history of transportation. It was sometimes outfitted as a fire engine. The letters REO are the initials of Ransom Eli Olds, who went on to create the Oldsmobile.”
Where did the band get together?
“At the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana. Neal and Alan started it from their dorm, where they were roommates.”
Two years ago I stepped out of my life’s box and started a small artisan gallery with a friend. She and her husband had just purchased a large building in town, formerly a christmas shop, and she was in the process of moving her toy store business into a portion of that building. Off to the side, there was what we used to call “the ribbon room”…and the natural light wood floors and beams in the ceiling would lend itself nicely to a warm and inviting gallery. We jumped in with both feet, creating Fire & Rain Artisan Gallery & Gifts.
The name … Missy and I both love Martha’s Vineyard and music. We were looking for words that embodied elements you use to create things. One day while humming James Taylor’s Fire & Rain, we realized it just fit. Never mind how many times I’ve had a customer come in looking for fireplace equipment or James Taylor memoribilia.
Two years of meeting wonderful local New England artisans, and some as far away as California. Two years of Gift Show trips to New York, daily chatter with friends and neighbors, heartship, parental worry, triumphs and tragedies shared over morning coffee (and multigrain bagels with cream cheese from Dunkin Donuts!) and.. ok sometimes a baked potato pizza. If you’ve never had one, you’re missing sumthin. Two years of wonderful.
The media would have you believe the recession is over, but I beg to differ. Five shops in neighboring towns have closed down in the past few weeks…and I see vacant store fronts everywhere. A nearby KFC is now empty. If the colonel can’t even sell chicken, we’re in trouble.
So it is with heavy heart that Missy and I have made the difficult decision to close the doors. She has invested five years (and a hefty mortgage!) in her toy business, and together we’ve run Fire & Rain for the past two. Both were housed in the big barn, such an awesome space. There is simply not enough business to make a case for staying open, and the near horizon doesn’t show promise for change any time soon.
It’s time to turn another page.. but I’m sure going to miss the previous chapter. Thank you to all who have made it such a wonderful journey, and to my family who have given their unwavering support.
I keep telling myself “When one door closes, another one opens”… I just didn’t want to close that door.
