Springtime Thinking

Tipper over at the Blind Pig and the Acorn blog recently wrote about drinking water from grapevines. I had never heard of that, and neither had Tipper until a trip into the woods with her father. Her article made me think about the spring activities we do almost every year--and take for granted that others do them too.

I came up with the following, by no means all-inclusive list. Some of you probably have things you could add to this list, and I'm pretty sure I've missed a few things myself.

1. Look for coltsfoot in the ditches and on roadsides. Coltsfoot is one of the earliest, if not the earliest, of spring flowers. Its bright yellow, dandelion-like face is a sure sign winter is leaving.



2. Eat a daylily sprout or two. Picked young (under 6 inches), these are as crisp and juicy as celery and I think they're tastier too. Daylily sprouts make a nice addition to a spring salad that might consist of the next items:


3. Pick wild greens. The earliest in this area are plantain, violet leaves, daylilies, and wild cress (or creasy greens or wild mustard, depending on where you live). Mix with garden lettuce for a gourmet treat. Later the young leaves of sassafras can be used too, along with silvey (AKA lambsquarters or wild amaranth), and many other later arrivals.

4. Nibble on flowers. Violet blossoms are nice, and some people make a jelly with them. Redbuds can also be used for jelly, as can rose blossoms.

5. Suck on a sassafras stick. Young sassafras twigs taste good--sort of lemony, I think.

6. Make sassafras tea for a bloodthinner--or so the old-timers claim. I just make it because I like it. There are some health warnings about sassafras, though, so I'm not saying YOU should drink it; I'm just saying I do.

7. Listen for the barn owl who begins calling in late March, far down on Bucket Run. His haunting voice echoes from hill to hill, a perfect accompaniment to the tree frogs, peepers and other springtime musicians.

8. Look for mollymoochers, or wild morel mushrooms. The very best in spring dining in my book.

9. Sip honeysuckle blossoms. Nip off the end of the flower, pull out the stamen and lick the sweet drop of honey at the end. eye-closing delicious.

10. Watch the stars. Some winter friends will leave and new constellations will take their place. It's time to get out the star book, grab a blanket and go up on the ridge to watch the heavens wheel above.

The First House

This wasn't the first house we owned, or the second, but it was our first house in West Virginia. Very briefly. Overnight actually. The house was in Walton, West Virginia. The next day we moved all the way back to Virginia again. I saw the house today as I traveled US 119 North to Spencer, and had to stop and take this photo and smile in spite of myself.

Maybe I'd better start at the beginning of the story.

I first saw West Virginia when I was twenty. It was my first husband's 21st birthday and we went on a little road trip. He kept talking about buying beer and I could not see why that was so important. For a guy, I guess this is a rite of passage, but since I didn't like beer I couldn't see the point. I suggested taking a picnic to Skyline Drive. He could get a beer on the way home.

So off we went in our little red Volkswagen Superbeetle with our two young sons, George and Jon, in the back (This was August of 1971). We got to Skyline Drive and found the traffic was terrible; apparently we'd hit a hot tourist day. We took off down Route 11 towards Harrisonburg, VA, then turned onto another little road, looking for a likely spot to spread our picnic cloth. The road became one lane, then dirt. We continued driving, up and up into beautiful mountains. We found a picnic table on the side of the road and had our very late lunch looking out over the green hills. We had no idea where we were and we didn't care.

After lunch we continued driving. And driving. And driving. The road snaked across the ridges and eventually we saw that we were descending into a little village because we could see rooftops below us on the mountain. Then we saw the sign: "Sugar Grove." I consulted my map and realized we were in West Virginia. I had never seen such a beautiful place and I vowed then and there that I would move to this state no matter how long it took.

It took three years. When my husband was finally able to get his job with Xerox transferred, it was not to the eastern side of West Virginia but to Charleston, many more hours away. I didn't care. I wanted to move so badly it didn't matter where in the state we lived. Now I see how reckless and uninformed we were. We didn't know about floodplains or coal mines, mud roads or unemployment. We didn't know how hard it could be to make a living here. We just knew we wanted to get out of the DC area and into the mountains.

My husband moved first, living with my uncle while looking for a place for the rest of us. I stayed in Manassas with our by then four sons, taking care of the house and hoping it sold fast. I couldn't drive so being there alone was a little difficult, since I was about five miles out of town. But I managed.

After almost two months, my husband called to tell me he'd found a house. It wasn't fancy, he warned, but it was only $50 a month. I called my brothers and sisters and got a caravan of pickups together to help us move.

We drove across Rte 60, then took what looked like a shortcut on the map across Clay County. Remember I said we knew little about West Virginia? We knew nothing about the roads of Clay County and we traveled some wild and lonesome country before arriving, just after dark, at our new house.

The moving-in began immediately. It was a bit later, when I got to the kitchen, that I saw what this house really was. A dump. No sink, no fridge. Old, old faucets sticking out of the wall. You had to unplug the hot water heater to plug in the light. The toilet didn't work. There was no water. Windows were missing. There was no source of heat. There were roaches.

I blew up. Now, I'm usually a pretty calm person and see most problems as challenges. But after a 10-hour drive with four restless boys, I could not deal with what I was seeing. I yelled at my husband, he yelled back and we had a right big argument with my brothers and sisters looking on, mouths agape. Poor things, they'd worked so hard. And now I was saying that absolutely I could not live in this house and we'd have to move everything back to Virginia?

They finally settled us down and everyone dropped wearily into sleeping bags. During the night it rained. It poured, actually. We loaded everything back into the trucks in the morning before eating breakfast. The first truck pulled onto the dirt driveway and immediately got stuck because by then the dirt was deep, rich red mud.

I will spare you the cussing, screaming, and yelling that ensued. It became funny after a while though, and we had a regular mud bog with three trucks and a van all getting stuck and eventually getting out. We were all soaking wet, covered in mud and hungry. Where was the nearest place to get breakfast? The map came out again and we drove south to Clendenin.

In Clendenin we found the only restaurant--closed. It was a Sunday morning and everyone must have been at church. We stopped by the old iron bridge that led into town and dug through our stuff to find anything edible. We found bread, peanut butter and warm beer. I made sandwiches and handed them around. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

My brother Tom popped a top on a beer and chugged it. He wiped his lips and looked at me. "Man, there's nothing better than a warm beer before breakfast on a Sunday morning in Clendenin, West Virginia." I stared at him; it took a minute for it to sink in that he was joking. We all doubled up with laughter and all the bad feelings, anger and frustration disappeared.

On our way back to Virginia, I asked my husband why in the world he'd rented the place. He explained that he'd looked at it at night and it didn't seem too bad. He'd had a terrible time finding anyone who would even talk to him about renting a place to us when we had four children. So in his defense, he thought it might be okay, and if I'd been older and less tired perhaps we could have made it work. We moved again the following weekend, to Ravenswood, a small town on the Ohio River where we rented a townhouse with three bedrooms for $91 a month, utilities included.

Every time I travel 119, I look for the house, my first home in West Virginia. It's been abandoned for about 20 years now, but the little place still stands, and I still wonder if we could have made it comfortable. It sure had some lovely flat bottom ground for gardens. And enough mud to have kept us stuck and spinning for years. I think in the end we were better off not staying there--even if it meant drinking warm beer in Clendenin on a Sunday morning before breakfast.

That's My Baby Boy!

My how they do grow up! This is my Tommy, who is venturing into the world of professional bodybuilders. He placed 4th in his class at the Northern Kentucky competition this weekend.

Tom is 23 and is into natural bodybuilding, meaning no supplements, just lots of exercise, weightlifting and a controlled diet. He's amazing and so disciplined. And he does this while maintaining a 3.7 GPA at West Virginia University. Not that I'm a proud momma or anything...

Here's part of the lineup of his class; Tommy is on the end. I think he stacks up pretty well against the others. (The photos are from a camera phone and I got them from Tommy's Facebook page, so please pardon the quality).

I am always surprised by the things my sons get into. That's the joy of parenting--seeing what your children do and the adults they become as they grow.

Junk In, Junk Out

My usual rule is that if I add something I have to get rid of something. With the recent changes in my kitchen I found that I just had too much stuff that wasn't getting used, too, so some things had to go. And then there were these recent finds:

for two years I have been searching for one of these--a Simplex copper tea kettle, made in England. Usually they go for around $70 on eBay, too high for me. This one with its spring-rimmed bottom that is made for use on gas stoves, was listed as "copper kettle" with no brand name and I was the only bidder at $24.99.

The funny part: I found another listed in a similar way for $13.49 so I bid on it too, figuring I'd lose on one of the other--both auctions ended at the same time. Up until two hours before the end, I was winning both! Then the other auction took off while this one did not. Whew! These kettles have built-in whistles and wood handles that do not get hot. Mine was pretty dirty, and you can see the water spots where I hadn't quite finished buffing it out after cleaning it. Some people like to the look of the tarnish, but I prefer the bright copper gleam.

This colander was another eBay find. I was looking for a gray graniteware colander actually, but was using a variety of search terms to see if one was listed, like the kettle, in a way that made it harder to find. Mis-spellings, incorrect placement of the brand name in the listing, or using wrong terms can make an item invisible to searchers. This turned up in a search on just the term colander, as a "Dutch" colander. It too was very tarnished but cleaned up beautifully. My kitchen now has the added glow of copper with these two pieces. And I'll have the added chore of keeping them clean.

With the reorganizing I've been doing, I've had to make decisions about what to keep and what to send down the road. While sorting my cooking tools drawer I was surprised to find I had two egg slicers, three cheese slicers, myriad wooden spoons, two meat thermometers, two biscuit cutters, three graters...you get the picture. The fun of buying odd boxes of miscellany at auctions is that you find all sorts of things you weren't expecting--and of course a lot of duplicates for what you already have.

Fortunately most of the dishes and other extra items are finding new homes with friends and family. I bought the Dazey butter churn in this photo for the jar--the top needs repair but I thought the jar would fit my current churn that does not have the Dazey logo on it, even though it is a Dazey churn. My daughter-in-law will take this one and Aaron will fix the lid.

The old colander with its bent leg is really not old--I bought it at a department store called Heck's in the late 1970's. It's small and chipped but it will find a home, I'm sure, with a happy Goodwill shopper. A few items in this box have already found homes. The rest will end up at my favorite donation center.

Are you doing spring cleaning and getting rid of stuff too? What's the oddest thing you've ever found as you sorted? I suppose mine is the broken foot from a milk glass cat figurine I've had since I was twelve. The foot broke soon after I received the cat as a birthday gift, and for over 50 years I've kept it, thinking that one day I'll glue it back on. The day just hasn't come yet.

Warm Meal for a Chilly Day

I've been working on reorganizing my kitchen since I now have the big pantry cupboard in place. What a blessing it is proving to be--the best part being that I can reach things! For a short person, that's huge. Often, especially in new houses, I find the wall cabinets are out of my reach, even the bottom shelves. My big cupboard is well within reach of all but the back of the top shelf. Perfect for me.

It's funny how when you make changes like this, you feel energized. With the cabinet and my much less cluttered kitchen (okay, for some of you it might still be cluttered, but for me it's a lot better!) I feel like cooking more. Yesterday I was browing through a cookbook bought at a used book sale called Cooking with Herbs (can't find it online, but I'll post a link when I locate it). Jaime and I found the recipe for Dilly Bacon Cornbread in there, and yesterday I found a recipe for Cheese and Chive Biscuits. My chives are just the right size for cutting, so the biscuits went on the evening's menu. Since it was a gray and drizzly day, I thought soup would be good and put together a Tomato-Herb Soup that went well with the biscuits. Dessert was homey Applesauce Cake (I posted the recipe here last year).

The biscuits are super simple. Just make your usual recipe for biscuits, but add 3/4 cup of grated sharp cheddar and 1/4 cup of chopped fresh chives before adding the milk. (You can use the biscuit recipe I posted last year. It works fine for this.)

Look at the cheese oozing out of these warm biscuits. Yum! Buttered with real butter, these were delicious, especially dipped in the tomato soup.

I didn't have a recipe for the tomato soup, but went by taste and what I had available. I chopped up and onion and a couple sticks of celery and sauteed them til soft and the onions were translucent. I added two jars of canned tomatoes, a clove of garlic, some red pepper, black pepper and salt, and about a pint of water and simmered for about 30 minutes. Then I added oregano, rosemary and basil, and simmered another 5 minutes. Before serving, I pureed about half of the soup in the blender and mixed it back in. I thickened the soup with about 2 teaspoons of corn starch mixed with 1/2 cup of warm water and brought to a boil for about a minute.

It. Was. Good. When I make it again I'll add chicken broth instead of water, and a bit more red pepper.

We tasted the applesauce cake but since company was coming for the weekend we left the rest for later.This cake is so easy to make and takes no milk or eggs.

The Pantry Cupboard

A peek inside:

I am almost finished organizing the new cupboard in my kitchen. Take a look:

I still have some work to do--all the big canning pots are not in place yet, so there will be more sorting to do as I find space for them. But goodness, all this space is so nice.

Now I have all my cooking things in one area, close to the stove and counter space. The wooden drawers are from a treadle sewing machine base we got at a yard sale for $1. There was no machine in it and the wood cabinet was not in good condition, but these little drawers are just perfect for storing spices and small kitchen tools and knives:

Aren't the drawer pulls beautiful? They're made of carved wood. We will remove the rest of the cabinet from the iron stand and use the stand as the base for an outside table, so we got good mileage from our dollar.

Almost Two Months Later

Sometimes we are fortunate enough to find a poem that speaks the words that we cannot find ourselves.

Sorrow

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain

Beats upon my heart.

People twist and scream in pain,--

Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,

Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;

I sit in my chair.

All my thoughts are slow and brown:

Standing up or sitting down

Little matters, or what gown

Or what shoes I wear.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mourning is a strange state. There are times, quite often actually, when I feel happy, contented and at peace. Some of those times I can think about Jon and still feel peace. At others, however, the thought of losing him swallows me whole. Sometimes I feel guilty because I feel happy--a strange state of joy mixed with wondering if I should feel this way when only so recently I lost my son. Then I am left in confusion, trying to sort out how I really feel.


Because how I really feel is something more complex than simply being happy or sad. I've learned that it is possible to be both, even to be both at the same time. As my daughter-in-law and I discussed a gravestone for Jon, we were laughing because her name will also be on the stone, and she's only in her middle thirties. Planning ahead we said, and laughed. Even as we fought off tears, considering which pictures would be cast in the bronze plaque that would define his life on this earth, the too-short years so filled with activity and vibrancy.

I still try to protect myself from those who just have to hug me and tell me how sorry they are. I appreciate their concern, but I am never really prepared for these encounters so I mumble "thank you" and get away as quickly as I can, avoiding eye contact.


Those who know me well simply let me be me. These friends come to talk, make an effort to make time, don't ask me how I'm doing, and make me laugh. They don't expect me to cry but are comfortable if I do. Since I'm not much of one to cry in public, they're usually spared the wet shoulder.


Comforting others seems to be one of my roles, trying to find words to help others deal with the loss they have experienced while my own loss weighs heavily on my heart. Each person who knew Jon lost him in a different way, and each grieves in a different way--but all feel the loss keenly.


Each passing day is a little better; it's a two steps forward one step back routine. Each day we get up and go about our lives and I puzzle over how this can be when one so loved is not here to do the same. There is comfort in knowing that even when they are far away, your family is carrying on as usual. Now one is missing and yet the rest of us must keep on going. Finding reasons and the enthusiasm to do so is a challenge that I meet better some days than others.


The thing is, this sorrow will never go away. It will be there, the river beneath all the happy occasions, the laughter and family get-togethers. It is not terrible--rather, it provides depths darker than any we've known to our lives, highlighting with bright light all that is good.

It will run quietly most of the time, murmuring his name. We ride the river together, and each trip will find us holding on to each other and safely on the shore. That's what families are for.

The Bunny Blog Hop Basket

It's a Bunny Blog Hop Basket! And a fitting follow-up to yesterday's post about rabbits.

Hershey's is doing something good, besides making great chocolate:

My thanks to Susan at Stony River blog for tagging me to become part of the Hershey's Blog Hop to benefit the Children's Miracle Network. Hershey's will donate another $10 to CMN for each blog post -- and they'll keep on donating as long as the blog-hopping continues, up to $5,000 to benefit kids.

The rules are easy:


HERSHEY’S BETTER BASKET BLOG HOP RULES

•Copy and paste these rules to your blog post.
•Create a blog post giving a virtual Easter Basket to another blogger – you can give as many Virtual Baskets as you want.
•Link back to person who gave you an Easter Basket.
•Let each person you are giving a Virtual Easter Basket know you have given them a Basket.
•Leave your link at BetterBasket.info/BlogHop comment section. You can also find the official rules of this #betterbasket blog hop, and more information about Better Basket with Hershey’s there.
•Hershey’s is donating $10 per each blog participating to the Better Basket Blog Hop to Children’s Miracle Network (up to total of $5,000 by blog posts written by April 4th, 2010).
•Please note that only one blog post by each blog url will count towards the donation.

Now, I need to pass this virtual Easter basket on to others:

Ellouise, Tipper, Becky, Janet, Jessica and Angela--will you join in and keep the basket hopping on your blogs?

Rabbitry

All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

William Wordsworth, from Resolution and Independence.

Spring, daffodils...and rabbits on my mind. This time of year the rabbits are coming out of their holes and looking around at the world, and my garden. Even with their thieving ways, I can't help but smile when I see them in the fields on my way home.

Most of you know that I'm a fan of saying Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit on the first of each moth. Why? Because, according to my English mother, it would bring luck and money my way. I've said it faithfully for years and while I'm not rich, I'm not destitute either. So maybe it works?

Wikipedia has a great article about this tradition, and includes the following information about rabbbits and luck:

As with most folklore, which is traditionally spread by word of mouth, there are numerous variant versions of the “rabbit, rabbit” superstition, in some cases specific to a certain time period or region. There are hundreds of variants, some of the most common of which include:

When the words, "Rabbit, Rabbit" are spoken to any person on the first of the month, for the rest of the month the speaker receives the luck of all who heard the phrase.

"In some parts of Lancashire and the adjacent counties, it is considered unlucky by some to shoot a black rabbit. This is because they were once believed to be ancestral spirits returning in that form.

In Somerset, white rabbits are said to be witches. That anyone really believes this now is improbable; nevertheless, white rabbits are not popular as children's pets, and they are sometimes left alone and not shot.

A luck-bringing custom found all over Great Britain is to say 'Rabbits' or 'White Rabbits' once or three times on the first day of the month. It must be said early in the morning, before any other word has been uttered, otherwise the charm loses its force. In some districts it is considered necessary to say 'Hares' or 'Black Rabbits' when going to bed on the night before, as well as 'Rabbits' or White Rabbits' in the morning. If, however, the speaker becomes muddled and says 'Black Rabbits' on rising, bad luck will follow. The looked-for result of all this is variously given as general good luck during the ensuing four weeks, or the receipt of a gift within a few days."

It is believed that saying "Rabbit Rabbit" on the first day of the New Year will bring yearlong good luck.

The converse: instead of believing that saying it will bring good luck, believing that not saying it will bring bad luck.

Being the first to say "rabbit rabbit" to a person on the first of the month will bring good luck.

Instead of saying “rabbit, rabbit”, saying just “rabbit”, or “rabbits”. Some also extend it to three rabbits: “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” which has some of the earliest written references.

The earliest referenced usage may be to saying “rabbits” three times before going to sleep the last night of the month, and then “hares” three times first thing upon waking, though just two years later, it was three “rabbits” in the morning with no “hares” at all.

Various ways to counteract forgetting to say it, most commonly saying it backwards (“tibbar, tibbar”) before falling asleep or saying "Moose Moose" upon waking on the second day of the month.

Making “rabbit, rabbit” be the last words said on the last of the month and the first words said on the first of the month.

Another variation is that the first person to say "rabbit, rabbit" on the last day of the month and "tibbar, tibbar" on the first day of the month wins bragging rights for the duration of the month.

Traditions also extend to saying on the first of each month: “A pinch and a punch for the first day of the month; white rabbit!” White rabbit is declared to be the “no returns” policy on the “pinch and the punch” the receiver felt. Origins of this saying is unknown. A small concession exists, for recipients of the "pinch and a punch," where white rabbit declaration (no returns) is not made. Recipients may in this case reply with "A flick and a kick for being so quick." In some areas, it is simply, "Pinch, punch, first the month, no returns back!"

Saying "White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits".

Around 1920 the following belief is common in many parts of Great Britain, with local variants: To secure good luck of some kind, usually a present, one should say ‘Rabbits’ three times just before going to sleep on the last day of the month, and then ‘Hares’ three times on waking the next morning.

In Ireland, children traditionally say "coinín bán" (Irish for "white rabbit") the first time they meet someone on the 1st day of any month.

In central Pennsylvania, the custom is to say "Rabbit" last thing before going to sleep on the last day of the month, and to say it again first thing on the first day of the month.

A folk law version of Rabbits 19th C - For luck, must be spoken before 12 noon on the first day of the month. "Rabbits Hot, Rabbits Cold, Rabbits New, Rabbits Old, Rabbits Tender, Rabbits Tough, Rabbits I've had enough." Origin UK, possibly London, Hampshire or Derbyshire.

Walter de la Mare references the idea of hares as witches in this poem:

In the black furror of a field
I saw an old witch-hare this night;
And she cocked a lissome ear,
And she eyed the moon so bright,
And she nibbled of the green;
And I whispered "Whsst! witch-hare,"
Away like a ghostie o’er the field
She fled, and left the moonlight there.

Walter de la Mare

Frank Stanton, in the following poem, seems to indicate that a rabbit in a graveyard doesn't seem to be a happy omen either:

Graveyard Rabbit

In the white moonlight, where the willow waves,
He halfway gallops among the graves—
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam,
Content to dwell where the dead men dream,

But wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.

Over the shimmering slabs he goes—
Every grave in the dark he knows;
But his nest is hidden from human eye
Where headstones broken on old graves lie.

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff,
Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!

The black man creeps, when the night is dim,
Fearful, still, on the track of him;
Or fleetly follows the way he runs,
For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones.

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
The soul’s bewitched that would find release,—
To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!

He holds their secret—he brings a boon
Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon;
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet
To whoever shall sever his furry feet!

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.

by Frank Lebby Stanton, 1890

Perhaps these poems are just reflections of the rabbit's folkloric identity as a trickster. In Africa, the American South, in Korea, Japan, India, China and many other places, rabbits are cunning, wise and not always so nice, as in this poem about Brer Rabbit:

Brer Rabbit You's de Cutes' of 'Em All

Once der was a meetin' in de wilderness,
All de critters of creation dey was dar;
Brer Rabbit, Brer 'Possum, Brer Wolf, Brer Fox,
King Lion, Mister Terrapin, Mister B'ar.
De question fu' discussion was, "Who is de bigges' man?"
Dey 'pinted ole Jedge Owl to decide;
He polished up his spectacles an' put 'em on his nose,
An' to the question slowly he replied:

"Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin',
Brer Fox am mighty sly,
Brer Terrapin an' 'Possum — kinder small;
Brer Lion's mighty vicious,
Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious,
Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all."

Dis caused a great confusion 'mongst de animals,
Ev'y critter claimed dat he had won de prize;
Dey 'sputed an' dey arg'ed, dey growled an' dey roared,
Den putty soon de dus' begin to rise.
Brer Rabbit he jes' stood aside an' urged 'em on to fight.
Brer Lion he mos' tore Brer B'ar in two;
W'en dey was all so tiahd dat dey couldn't catch der bref
Brer Rabbit he jes' grabbed de prize an' flew.

Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin',
Brer Fox am mighty sly,
Brer Terrapin an' Possum — kinder small;
Brer Lion's mighty vicious,
Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious,
Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all.

by James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938)
I imagine most readers immediately recognize this picture as an illustration from Beatrix Potter's Tale of Peter Rabbit. Written in 1902, the story survives as one of the classics of childhood. I remember our dog-eared copy well; it was a Little Golden Book, if I remember right. With our childhood books, rarely would have have called one "mine." Books in our house were for the most part share and share alike--many belonged to my father when he was a boy. I don't think our Peter Rabbit was one of those, although by the time we were through with it the book looked 100 years old.

Another classic rabbit story is this Aesop legend:

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.
A hare teased a tortoise because he was slow, and boasted of her own great speed in running.

"Let us have a race," replied the tortoise. "We'll run five miles, and the Fox yonder will be the judge as to who wins."

The hare agreed, and away they both ran. But the hare, because of her speediness, outran the tortoise to so quickly that she made fun of the tortoise. She was a little tired, so she took a little nap in a spot of green grass.

"If the tortoise goes by, I can easily catch up to hime and pass him by," she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, the tortoise plodded steadily on, passing the sleeping hare and continuing to the finish line. The hare woke up and took off running as fast as she could go, but she could not catch up with the tortoise and so the tortoise arrived at the end of the race first.

"The winner!" shouted the fox.

Poor hare. Every time I read this story, the hare loses. Maybe someone should write a different version where she has a chance to redeem herself?

Rabbits pop up in folk songs too. This one, a traditional tune, is of my favorites.

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, your tail is mighty white.
Yes, my lord, I've been gettin out of sight,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine.

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, your coat is mighty gray.
Yes, my lord, it was made that way
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine.

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, your ears are mighty long.
Yes, my lord, they were put on wrong,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine.

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, your ears are mighty thin.
Yes, my lord, they're a-splittin' in the wind,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine.

Mr Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, I'll bid you good day.
Yes, my lord, and I'll be on my way,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine,
Every little soul's gonna shine, shine.

And another traditional song about the lowly rabbit and his friends:

Raccoon's Got a Bushy Tail

Raccoon's got a bushy tail,
Possum's tail goes bare,
Rabbit's got no tail at all
Just a little old bunch of hair.

Raccoon is a mighty man,
He rambles through the dark,
You ought to see him hunt his den
When he hears Old Ranger bark.

Possum up persimmon tree,
Raccoon on the ground,
Raccoon says to possum,
"Won't you shake them 'simmons down."

Rabbit up in the gum stump,
'Coon in the holler,
Possum in the 'tater patch,
Fat as he can waller.

Raccoon's got a bushy tail,
Possum's tail goes bare,
Rabbit's got no tail at all
Just a little old bunch of hair.

You can find one that's longer with more colorful lyrics here.

Rabbit Stories, Legends, Poetry and More:

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Here you can find an entire book of rabbit poems, with illustrations by John W. Audubon and other public domain artwork. It's a beauty of a book.

A story about Rabbit and Fox, or if you prefer, a story about Brer Rabbit and Mr. Fox.

And here, the story of Bruh Fox, Doc Rabbit and the Tar Baby.

Rabbit legends can be found here. And here is a song in Arabic about a little rabbit and a fox that chases him.

Native American legends about rabbits at the First People website.

All about that strange creature, the Jackalope.

The strange tale of the Hare Dryer can be found here.

If urban legends are your thing, check out what Snopes.com has to say about rabbits.

An interesting thread of rabbit legendry and lore is here on Mudcat.

For an interesting read about rabbits as tricksters and in folktales, Terry Windling's website is a must.

Weekend

This weekend was family time. Aaron and Jaime came down to see us, bringing their two children, and Derek's girlfriend Amy also came over with Derek's daughters Haley and Hannah. Derek is away at training in Missouri so he missed the fun (and I'm wondering if he was where they had a foot of snow).

It wasn't all fun--we had work to do. Project #1 getting the cabbages, broccoli and early tomatoes transplanted and into the greenhouse. With Jaime's help, we got that done on Saturday before we got into the big cabinet moving adventure. The little plants look great.

Project#2 was something that had been holding since August. I'd bought this big pantry cupboard at a junk store then, but we had to move the antique oak buffet to Derek's house before we could move the cabinet in. It also required moving the sifter cabinet to a new location. I'd promised Derek years ago that he would get the buffet in my will. Recently it occurred to me that I'm almost 60 and not planning to leave any time soon, and he might be an old man before he got that buffet, so we gave it to him now. And I'm looking around to see what else needs some "advance disposal."

All that heavy furniture moving needed more muscle than we had--but with Aaron on the job it was easy.

Jaime helped level it up, because is anything in my house level? If it is I haven't found it yet.

The cabinet in place. Originally we planned to refinish it, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of using it as it is. I'll replace the knobs and maybe the hinges sometime and do a little cleaning on the outside, but otherwise I kinda like the way it looks.

We started putting stuff in it, just to get it out of the way, but later last night I took it all out again and redid. I decided I wanted this to be a pantry cupboard, with all my food stuff, mixing bowls and implements, and big canning pots in the bottom. I'm almost finished with getting it all rearranged--that project required emptying two other cupboards, cleaning shelves, etc.

The back of this cabinet was some kind of cardboard that was in terrible shape. Larry took it off and used a piece of plywood from our old porch floor to back it and I like the look very well--we just washed it down and didn't even repaint it. the worn paint matches the look of the cabinet, I think.

We took a photo break on Sunday morning. We have become aware these last few weeks of just have valuable our pictures are, as we've been remembering Jon through all the old photos we have of him. So we are trying to remember to take more, although I've found my interest in photography is intermittent at best these days. Many of these pics are from Amy and Jaime's cameras (shamelessly borrowed from their Facebook pages!)

Jaime and Amy--two great helpers who didn't run screaming at the dirt we found under those heavy cabinets!

Sunday we got into a few other things--like taking this renegade beagle back to its house. No stray dogs are welcome at my house since those ones that killed all my chickens a few years ago.

While we worked outside, the kids got out the craft supplies and got to it. This must have been early in the process because eventually they covered the floor with their projects.

Sunday morning after breakfast, Jaime had a little quiet time. We'd made bacon, fried eggs, grits and biscuits. I found out last week that to make the lightest biscuits that flake when you break them, use shortening instead of butter. yeah, I know. Yucky old white shortening. But boy are the biscuits wonderful. I also add a little more baking powder with the self-rising flour. I used big and small biscuit cutters, and the kids really liked the little biscuits.

I forgot to mention Saturday night's dinner. Here's a photo of the group-effort quiche:

I made the crusts and advised on ingredients, Amy cut up onions and sauteed them with mushrooms, Jaime grated cheese, chopped spinach, mixed it all up and got it in the oven. How was it? Delicious! We used Gruyere cheese along with a little cheddar.

While Jaime worked on that, Amy was busy making a salad and this:

Bread pudding! She used a lot of butter and eggs, and served it with fresh whipped cream, raspberries and almonds.

I'd found a recipe for Dilly Bacon Cornbread, so Jaime mixed that up while I ransacked the cabinets for dillweed. Guess I used it all, but I did have dillseed so I ground it coarsely in the mortar and pestle and we used that instead.

It was a delicious dinner, can you tell? We still have two of the quiches left, lucky me.

Oh yeah...the daffodils are finally blooming! Jaime dug up some white ones, and I dug up a couple forsythia starts and some peonies and daylilies for her too.

It was a good weekend, very busy but with plenty of time for just talking, relaxing by the firepit and having a good time together.

Next weekend--FFA Auction! Aaron and Jaime will be back to check that out with us. Expect some interesting (I hope) photos next week.

Winning Words

Here's the official winning list:

1. March (of course, the obvious!)
2. arch
3. arm
4. arc
5. am
6. a

7. charm
8. char
9. car
10. cam
11. cram

12. ham
13. harm

14. ma
15. mar
16. mac
17. mach
18. marc

19. ram

Many people included the following (Brenda's winning entry did too, but I did not count them):
ha
ah
rah
These are exclamations, but not considered words--at least by me and my dictionary.

I keep wondering is there were other words we could have made--isn't cham a word, for example? or har? Guess not.

Thanks again for playing, everyone.

And the Winner is...

Brenda Bryan! Brenda found 19 "official" words in March--amazing!

Fourteen people entered; three came in at 17 words each: Kate, Angela, and Brighid.

Two people had 18 words each: Carol and my granddaughter Haley--who is disqualified because she copied from a list I had written! Sneaky kid. But smart. Who knew she was reading my blog?

Carol not only had 18 words, she offered definitions for several of the more obscure terms. like marc--did you know that is the word used for "the refuse of grapes, seeds etc after pressing?" I didn't. Or that char is a "trout with small scales?" (I thought it meant what I do to dinner sometimes.) Or that cham was a Tartar ruler? Carol also included M as the Roman numeral for 1,000--I didn't count this as a word since it's technically a symbol, and Rh as the symbol for Rhodium in chemistry. And ch is an abbreviation for "chancery," which means "Of or describing a court of equity as opposed to a court of common law." O.Kay. Carol, your extra work earned you a CD as well, so email me your mailing address. Anyone who goes to that much trouble deserves a reward, don't you agree?

Thanks to all of you who played: Brenda, Katina, Carol, Kate, Theresa, Nance, Brighid, Angela, Angel, Cheryl, Jackie, Tipper, Daneille, and yes, even you, Haley! Now, did I miss anyone? If I missed your name, please let me know in the comments--I think I got everyone, but I think many things that turn out to be not so.

The visitor count is rapidly approaching 150,000, so stay tuned for another giveaway when we reach that magic number.

Early Years

While looking through old photos this weekend I came on this one.

The photo was taken in our first house which was about five miles out in the country outside Manassas, Virginia (well, it was country then; it's all built up now).

The house was built by a man named Ellis Crouch. Mr. Crouch worked for the CCC during the Depression and when he returned home, he built this log house for his bride. In his time it was a simple log cabin with a fireplace and wood cookstove for heat. When we bought it some 30 years later it had been remodeled by various owners who stuccoed over the logs on the outside and tacked sheetrock over the interior logs. We stripped the sheetrock off the logs and painted them, replaced the steel stair rail with a wooden one, and made several other cosmetic changes. It was a small house but for a starter home (and for $17,000 with an acre of land) it was perfect.

I got married when I was 17, and had my first son before I was 18. We moved into our little house soon after and within a year our oldest son George was joined by Jon. The two were immediate friends. When Jon was only six months old, George was down on the floor with him, showing Jon how to push little cars and make that vrooom sound--and Jon did both like an old hand.

Jon did many things early--first tooth at 4 months, first bottle of cold cow's milk at 4 and a half months, courtesy of my mother who thought he was older."Well dear, he's nine months, isn't he? Certainly old enough for regular milk now." Sorry, Mom. He was still on breast milk at the time but the sudden introduction to a bottle of ice-cold milk didn't bother him at all.

At eleven months he was almost walking. That was when he climbed up the steps of the sliding board and before I could reach him he was swinging, monkey-style, on the swingset crossbar. I nearly fainted from fright, but Jon was laughing and happy as could be.

About six months later I walked into the kitchen to find Jon on top of the refrigerator with his hand in the cookie jar I had stashed up there because he was able to climb onto any other surface in the kitchen. I learned that day that he could also scale the log walls to get to the cookie jar.

These two little boys were always busy and almost always outside. They played cars, dug in the dirt, played with our dog, talked to the neighbors whenever possible and were never apart. George loved to put Jon up to things, and Jon always did as his big brother told him. For example, one day George told Jon to pee in an electrical outlet upstairs.

Jon complied.

Now you know this is not a good idea. Why Jon didn't get the shock of his life I will never know. What did happen was that the outlet shorted out and the house was filled with an acrid burning smell. I was about eight and a half months pregnant with son number four at the time, and had been out hanging laundry. When I came in and smelled that odor, I knew something electrical was burning.

What to do? Call 911, of course.

Which I did. I explained the smell to the man on the line, and also that I'd removed the four fuses (the whole house ran on 4 fuses, imagine!). He promised to send someone out to check on it.

While we waited for "someone to come and check on it" I grilled the boys.

"What did you do?"

Finally they confessed--just as we heard the first sirens wailing on the road to our house.

"They're going to take us to jail!" Jon cried and the two of them ran for cover, all the way to the back of the yard where they hid behind some trees as four fire trucks, an ambulance and a police car roared into our driveway.

The boys were terrified. So was I. How was I to explain to all these men what had actually happened? I was a shy 22-year-old and there was no way I could tell them the boys had peed in the outlet.

I picked up Derek, who was about 18 months, and headed out to meet our visitors.

"Uh, my little boys poured some water into the outlet," I stammered, shifting Derek on my hip.

The fireman grinned. "Oh yeah? Water, huh? Hey guys," he yelled, "she says her little boys poured water into an outlet!"

Five grinning firemen marched into my house. They returned a short time later, reporting the all clear. Nothing was hurt, apparently, except the outlet.

My boys did not return from their hiding place until every police car, fire truck and ambulance was out of sight. They were mortified that they had missed the excitement while at the same time relieved that they had not had to go to jail after all.

And Aaron, son number four, arrived just a few days later. Think the excitement might have hurried him along? I think that he heard those sirens and was in a hurry not to miss anything myself.

Eco-Retreat

An exciting opportunity is coming up in Ohio:

The Third Annual International Environmental Storytelling Retreat starts Friday, April 9, 2010 at 6:30pm and ends Sunday, April 11, 2010 at 12:30pm.

Held in Yellow Springs, Ohio, the retreat is a learning opportunity for environmentalists, amateur and professional storytellers, educators, interpretive naturalists and anyone with an interest in telling stories to further our understanding of the natural world are welcome to attend.

The retreat is organized by the environmental discussion group which is a part of the National Storytelling Network. It is hosted and organized in the Vale community by storyteller Eric Wolf. A public performance on Saturday night of the retreat is a fund raiser for the Tecumseh Land Trust nonprofit.

The 2010 Eco-tellers Retreat is free... (did I read that correctly? Yes, it says FREE!) But limited to first 25 people who register. Related costs for attendees include transportation to the event, housing at the event (camping $24 a night or motel $59 a night) and dinner and breakfast on your own. The website says that "Currently lunch on Saturday is sponsored and we hope to sponsor more meals. Housing can be provided for anyone who is dying to attend and can not due to cost." You can't beat this for a weekend of storytelling, learning and being with like-minded people now, can you?

You can find more information and register on the event's web page. A schedule, directions, information on lodging, and a report on past retreats along with other information is also on the web page.

For more information contact Eric at (937) 767-8696.

Just for Fun: How many words can you make from March?

Someone landed on my blog by googling this very question, so now I'm curious too.

Just how many words can you make from the letters in the word "March?" There can't be very many.

Contest time to lighten up this rainy day! See how many words you can make from March and send your words in an email to susannaholstein@yahoo.com

I'd like to offer the winner a week's stay on a tropical island, but that's a bit beyond my budget.

Instead here's the prize: the winner gets a copy of my latest CD, Beyond the Grave: Ghost Stories and Ballads from the Mountains, or my small book of poetry called: Lives, Unheralded.

Rules:
1. Words must be in the version of the New Webster's Dictionary I own (2005 edition)
2. Words must be in the English language.
3. All entries must be submitted to my email by midnight Tuesday, March 16th, Eastern Daylight Time.
4. Play fair and don't use some computer program or whatever to do the work for you :-)
5. In case of a tie, the winner will be selected by a random drawing of the winning entries.


That's it! I'm ready for some fun. Bring on your words!

Good Days, Gray Days

As I drove down our road this morning, I realized that I was seeing things again--spiderwebs in the heads of dried Queen Anne's Lace that lined the road, the slant of early morning sun through fog and trees, a rabbit hiding beneath a bush. I almost stopped to pull out my camera. Almost.

Since Jon's been gone, I have taken few photos because little has inspired that "This is beautiful I've got to take a picture" feeling. I'm just not seeing it; what I see is my thoughts and memories, looking back to the past instead of into the present.

Sorrow is like a dark river that runs beneath the surface of every day, every night. It doesn't go away; it may run quietly and more shallow at times, but always I am aware of its current; it takes little to submerge me. Last night I struggled to keep my head above its waters as I tried to find words to comfort my granddaughter who is deeply mourning the loss of her well-loved uncle. Some people might think the young do not feel as deeply as an adult, but that is not true. Adults often have more tools to deal with pain; a teen searches for these tools blindly, usually turning only to friends who have even less experience. Like puppies, they huddle together, hiding from the rest of the world. The river runs in them too.

This morning the river was smooth, like glass, and I was floating on its surface. It was a peaceful feeling and I thought maybe this would be a good day after all.

I stopped to get gas and a car wash--the mud was literally dripping in big piles off my car, that's how sloppy it is up here right now. I figured I'd run it through the automatic wash and at least knock off the worst of it.

The clerk in the store recognized me when I went in the pay for the car wash. He'd been in school with Jon and my older sons, and he offered condolences. We talked a moment as he rang up my car wash and handed me the slip to sign for the debit card. I signed it and left.

During my morning break at work I pulled out my receipts to enter them in the checkbook register (yes, I do it the old-fashioned way; no Quicken for me--yet). As I did so I noticed that the slip for the car wash said $4.00. On the debit receipt, it said I'd paid $6.00 for the car wash.
I'd been had--while offering "condolences" the clerk blithely ripped me off for $2!

Now, it might have been an honest mistake. The car wash is usually $6 but with a fill-up there is a two dollar discount. He could have accidentally rung up the full amount and forgotten the discount, even though it was printed right on the car wash slip. Except...

This is the same store where a different clerk added her can of soda and candy bar to my receipt last summer. She rang her purchases in first but didn't total her sale; then rang up mine. When she handed me the debit receipt to sign, I looked at it and asked her why two bottles of water cost over $7.00. At first she looked at me like I was crazy and said that was just what it cost. So I added up the cost of the water, plus tax, for her. Then she admitted what she'd done and apologized. Was it truly an accident?

This morning's "mistake" ruined what had started out as a promising morning. The day turned gray, my nascent joy nipped back. It's silly to let such a small thing matter so much, isn't it? And yet there it is. The river boiled up and I spent most of the day at work trying to hold it in check.

In the afternoon a young man came in for an interview. His happy nature, clear eyes, and eagerness to find a job brightened the day and by the drive home the river was back in its banks, with sunlight glinting on the ripples.

But I sure did stop at that store and get my $2 back!

Found Words

While sorting through some old books, I found the following line on a worn bookmark:

'Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.' J. M. Barrie

Inside the same book was a greeting card from 1978 with this poem:

The beautiful in life...

some talk of it in poetry,

some grow it from the soil,

some build it in a steeple,

some show it through their toil,

some breathe it into music,

some mold it into art,

some shape it into breadloaves...

some hold it in their hearts.

Another bookmark held this: "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be." Abraham Lincoln

Words to think about.

Looking Ahead to May

Photos from last year's gardens:

grapes just setting on...
roses and lamb's ears...

tomatoes in bloom...

gardens burgeoning...

hills alive with sun and green...

iris and weigela scenting the air

and clematis sweetly climbing...

herb garden overflowing...

It will be here sooner than we think. And we'll be weeding, mowing, cutting, staking, planting so busily that we'll have to make time to look around and enjoy it all.

First Garden

(No, the house isn't leaning backwards, the garden actually sloped downhill but the crazy woman holding the camera leveled the garden and tilted the house)

Plowing the gardens reminded me of this photo, taken in late spring 1976. We moved to our land in August 1976, after almost a year of building on weekends. The house was nowhere near finished but we moved in anyway and pretty much camped in it for the next year.

We had few of the tools we needed to live in the country. My first husband bought the old truck you can see in the photo. It ran long enough to get to the farm and died. He also bought a 1952 Ford tractor with pretty close to the same result. We had some hand tools and a beasty rototiller that was a workhorse.

Our land was grown up in small trees, with a woodlot of about 30-35 acres. We cut back enough brush the first year to clear a place for our house and garden. The first garden was rough--lots of roots, rocks and briers. But we planted anyway, and had fair results considering we added nothing to the soil, which you can see was mostly clay, and highly acidic.

The boys loved living out in the country. We'd been two years in a townhouse in town and it was not for them after our little house in the country in Virginia. When we moved, they were happy as they could be. Our neighbor's boys, a mile away, meant they could take long runs across the hills to go play. No neighbors anywhere close meant no one watching over them or getting them in trouble, a problem for them in Ravenswood where there were so many eyes!

Looking at this photo, I realize how young they were when we put them to work. Jon is six, going on seven here, and Derek, in the background, would have just turned five. But look at them! I don't recall a lot of complaining, either. Of course, I was right there with them, and what boy doesn't like messing in dirt? It looks like they're both barefoot which was pretty normal. Now I look at it and think, snakes! copperheads! Oddly, we lived here for about 6 years before we saw a copperhead and it was dead in the driveway. God must protect fools because the possibility of poisonous snakes never occurred to me, even when we spent hours picking berries. So innocent.

This was over 30 years ago and looking at this picture, I see so many things that have changed. The house is as finished as it's likely to be, we have grass and a deck and porch, the briers are no more, the gardens are fertile, the brush is beaten back, the boys are grown and gone.

If I could change any of it, it would be to have my four mopheaded boys back again, running barefoot across the ridge, calling out to each other and laughing with the sun in their faces and the wind at their backs. Yes, I would like that.