Past Blogs

My uncle was an intrepid world traveler. One rainy night my aunt found herself standing in the middle of a muddy field on a remote Caribbean island after the plane she and my uncle were on had skidded off the runway. She informed my uncle that his adventures would be solo ones in the future. He continued to skid off runways and stay in concertina wire protected hotels until well into his late seventies.

After his death, I handled my aunt’s affairs, which included their mail. I received my uncle’s International Traveler newsletter. Despite repeated attempts to inform the subscription department that my uncle was no longer traveling on planet earth, this publication arrived in my mailbox for many years.

International Travel News will win no literary or graphic design awards. Written and photographed by serious travelers, it appears to be aimed at those adventurers who collect countries the way birders find birds for their life lists. These folks don’t let a small insurrection, rampant tropical diseases or lack of potable water get in their way.

I must report that I found one article  that applied to my husband and me. To paraphrase:

Most travelers yearn for the new vista, untrod mountain or unique adventure. But a few folks (note the word “few” ) like to return to the same places and explore them in depth…..they crave details and intimacy.

Count us in this group. Set us down in a place like Amsterdam and we will be happy, again and again. The rings of canals and canal houses have enduring charm. The bakeries exude aromas that promise and deliver bliss. Dogs are welcomed in cafes, and cats occasionally share a table with the cafe patrons. Everyone loves music, art, flowers, cheese and bread. The populace exudes happiness.

I guess we are simply old fashioned hedonists.

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My husband started laughing at the breakfast table as he was reading the business pages, a section of the daily paper that is not known for its mirth inducing journalism.

“You won’t believe this,” he said.

“Try me,” I replied, ” I could use some comic relief.”

“It seems there is a new phone app to help guys match their socks. Since we tend to give more wear to the ones in the front of the drawer, this application assures equal wear for all the pairs. I’m supposed to buy 12 pair of identical black socks with built in microchips. Then I buy the phone app so I can scan my socks and always match the same pair. The app tells you ‘where your socks have come from, what their life has been like and who they belong to’ .”

In my opinion,this phone app might be the signature one that signals the decline of western civilization. But at least all the women will be laughing as we sink into irrelevance.

I would bet my net worth that a man designed this app. We women are too busy doing the wash.

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Many of us are losing our minds. We are entitled to do this. We live in a country where presidential campaigns last two years and cost billions of dollars. With a set up like this, we would be insane if we weren’t going crazy.

Fortunately, I have found an antidote to this madness. Browsing in a small art gallery and tea shop in Spring Green, Wisconsin, I discovered the art and wit of Minnesota artist, Sue Rowe. You might call her the bear lady, as droll bears appear to have taken over her artistic subject matter. At times her bears are accompanied by text. Sue generously gave me permission to quote one of her bears.

“I did finally get stuff figured out, but by then I didn’t care and I was hungry for pie.

So much for saving the world.

I will blame the power of pie…”

Now head to Sue’s blog (click here) to see her ursine creatures.

If you wish to follow the bear’s sage advice, I offer you this decadent recipe for pecan pie. We all may need it on election night.

Pecan Pie

1 unbaked 9 inch pie shell

1/4 cup soft butter

2/3 cup dark brown sugar

3 eggs, beaten

3/4 cup white corn syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup broken pecans

 

Cream butter, add brown sugar and beat until smooth.

Combine beaten eggs with corn syrup and vanilla. Add to the butter and brown sugar mixture.

Add pecans and turn into the pie shell.

Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes and then 300 degrees for 30 minutes longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The accordion is a much maligned instrument. Say the word and images of smoky beer halls and umpah polka bands might come to mind.

I almost married an accordion player but was saved by a hay bale. Let me explain.

My husband’s mother was an ardent fan of accordion music. She had three boys but could not inveigle the first two to take accordion lessons. Then came son number three, who was a quiet, thoughtful and kind boy. He was sent off to master the instrument with much hope on the part of his mother. The unfortunate facts that her son had limited musical ability and no interest in the instrument were overlooked.

Fast forward 55 years. My husband and I are enjoying a lovely dinner in a crowded but small European style restaurant. The large, happy family party next to us is being serenaded by a remarkably talented accordion player.

“That could be me,” my husband says. “As a kid I had to sit on a hay bale on the back of a pick up truck and play my accordion in a hometown parade. After that painful experience, I rebelled and quit my lessons.”

We live in a house without live accordion music. We do, however, not dislike accordion music. We both agree that the instrument simply needs to be put to good use playing zydeco music. Click here and then click the arrow to see if you agree.

Laissez les bons temps rouler ….let the good times roll!

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We are beginning to get a glimmer of understanding about gardening. Nature does most of the work and we are not in control. We do, however, have a role to play. For lack of a better word, we are tweekers.

Our gardening vision is of a large meadow with bird and butterfly welcoming plants, many of which are native species. Milkweeds, black-eyed susans, jewelweed and many others are volunteers, they plant themselves. We’ve added cone and compass plants, rose mallow, lobelia, bee balm,  prairie smoke, catmint, joe pye, anemones and asters to the mix.

Here’s the catch: we never know what is going to pop up from year to year. And here is where the tweeking comes in. We’ve learned not to let any one plant take over. Four hundred milkweed plants is probably more than we need, so I pull those that threaten to overrun the cone flowers. Queen Anne’s lace asserts herself as well, exactly like a real queen. We try to keep a delicate sprinkling of it, not a dowry. We are learning about biological diversity in the field.

Our first rule of gardening is to enjoy what nature and we have created every day and every season. We never look at our meadow and see work that needs doing…we see loveliness.

Paul Horgan, an eloquent writer and historian, offers this insight in his slim volume of stories, The Return of the Weed:

“Life runs inconstant, in a rhythm of change, tending toward growth.”

Click here to watch our garden unfold.

(Thanks to the Purple Martins for the music.)

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