The plan was just to go into my local Aldis, get the shredded cheddar and a half gallon of milk. I swear.
You know those big cardboard boxes that usually are full of watermelon at this time of year? Or all those bags of freezee-pops? Well, right inside the door was a big cardboard box of cherries. Bag after bag of gorgeous cherries and at a very good price I might add. I was powerless.
Yesterday I pitted all the cherries from one of the bags – chopped up the amount was exactly what I needed for a batch of cherry freezer jam – 6 and a half jars. Fairly quick but the messiest of all the jams I make. I ended up using my Vidalia chopper – it made just the right-sized bits for the jam and it also didn’t spew cherry juice all over the place.
But here’s the kicker; you all know that I didn’t just buy one bag of cherries. I’ve never actually made cherry jam before so wasn’t sure exactly how many cherries I needed. Well now I know. With YA out of town for work, it’s just me and that whole bag of cherries. I suppose I could make more jam but I’m already pushing the limit of how much jam I can eat in a year.
As I was leaving the gym yesterday morning, there was a large group of geese walking away from the building. I’m not sure why but all I could think of was a group of teenagers having just finished a quick basketball game at the gym, heading off for a burger and a pop. Made me laugh.
For a very short time in high school, I was on the track team. Very short. My trail leg didn’t quite clear a hurdle during practice and while it was a life-threatening injury, it was pretty gruesome and it ended my extremely short track career. That was my only foray into team sports.
I received a text from Daughter on Tuesday in a panic because it was 93° in Tacoma, her apartment was hot except for her bedroom, where she has a portable air conditioner, and her refrigerator had stopped working and everything in her freezer/fridge was melted. She had to throw out eight grocery bags of food. Only the cheese was salvageable.
I immediately went into problem solving mode, inquiring about rental insurance, repairs, etc. This was not what she needed or wanted. She just wanted me to commiserate and console. It turned out to be a problem with the fridge shorting out the fuse panel in her apartment. She just needs to keep an eye on it.
Very few people in the Pacific North West have air conditioning because it rarely gets that hot there. There have been unusual but increasingly frequent heat waves there. I am a person who is always cold, so no matter how hot it is, it rarely bothers me. I could probably do ok there. I remember how excited my parents were when we got an air conditioner installed in the dining area of our house when I was in about Grade 1. It only kept the livingroom cool, but it sure made them feel good.
I have never had to deal with a freezer or fridge that went on the fritz. I often wonder what we would do if we had an extended period of electricity loss given all the freezers we have in the basement. I think I would gets lots of ice to keep everything cold and get a gas powered generator to fill in for the loss of power.
When did you first have air-conditioning? Ever had to deal with a freezer or fridge that malfunctioned? What kind of help do you want when you are upset?
It’s been five years since we lost our Little Jail Bird, Edith. I think of her often and whenever I tell someone about her, I say what a hero she is to me, that she made a courageous decision to go ahead with the risky surgery rather than live the rest of her life with her illness (her words). In her memory, I’m running her most iconic posting on the Trail.
Until last fall, I had never been to Banning State Park. I had driven by it dozens of time, because when I head up to my sister’s house, I always turn off 35W and take Highway 23 into town. I didn’t know much about Banning, but when I was looking for a day trip, it seemed to fit my needs perfectly.
First, I wanted a park where I could drive there and back in one day without getting too tired. Second, I wanted a park that didn’t involve driving several back roads, because I knew that I would be driving in the dark due to the shorter fall days and my night vision and sense of direction is bad enough that I would get lost unless I kind of knew where I was going. And third, I wanted a state park because I had a state park sticker and wanted to use it as much as possible to get my money’s worth out of it. Banning fit all of those qualifications. Plus it has a waterfall, which is a big plus in my book.
So, off I went, one sunny morning in October. When I arrived, I stopped at the visitor center to get maps and ask where the best spots were. I was so excited. It seems that often when I go north, I am early for the fall colors and often find myself driving home just a few days before “peak” and this time I was not too early! I said something about that to the woman at the desk (while trying to not jump and down in excitement) and she shook her head woefully and told me in a discouraging tone, “You’re going to see LOTS of brown out there.” Gee thanks, way to burst my bubble.
Of course, since I drove all the way up there, I figured I better go on the hike anyway even if I would see mostly brown. I drove to the parking area and when I stepped out of the car and looked up, I knew it was going to be a good day (see header photo).
I hiked all the way to the falls and back and shot lots of photos. It was an incredibly beautiful day: that clear, deep blue sky that you only seem to see on autumn days and – surprise! – lots of colorful leaves on the trees. It can be a challenge shooting in bright sunlight, but I was so overcome by the beauty of it all that I just took that in my stride. There was that wonderful northwoods smell in the air – pine trees and dead leaves. Nothing like it! and nothing else invigorates me like that does.
It was getting pretty cool and the sun was going down quickly by the time I was heading back on the trail but the golden evening light only made things more beautiful and the colors more intense. I went home pleasantly tired and very happy and glad that the woman’s prediction of “lots of brown” wasn’t true.
Any comments / reflections on any or your heros welcome
Walking through Tangletown early last week I noticed what initially looked like a DVD case on a house’s front sidewalk. I didn’t think too much about it until I found the same things in front of other houses. Turned out they were books – two different books in fact. I was intrigued, not enough to pick up one of the books, but enough to while away at least an hour in cyberspace once the dog and I got home from our walk.
The author of the book is the member of a religious group, fairly fringe. The books are proselytizing products; apparently this guy is filthy rich and has blanketed other neighborhoods and cities with these tracts. His world view is fairly unappetizing and some of his beliefs are pretty unpalatable (to me anyway). I read a few excerpts from the two books and I can’t believe that they would convince anyone to join their organization.
But what intrigues me the most is the lackadaisical way the books are distributed, especially considering how much money is being spent on the effort. Most of the homes in this neck of the woods are on alleys; people tend to go in and out of their backdoors way more than their front doors. In addition, the books seem to be tossed willy-nilly on front walks, not closer to the homes nor on the front steps or stoops. It could be a long time before some of these tracts were discovered by their home owners. In fact, just yesterday on our walk, Guinevere and I saw several of them still sitting out, clearly ruined by the various rains the last two weeks. I don’t know all that much about marketing but this doesn’t seem to be a good ploy. Not that I want to encourage this guy by suggesting better methods!
What do you call a sidewalk that swindles you out of your money?
A couple of years ago, sometime in October, I decided it was time to bring my rosemary plant in. I was just kind of quickly grabbing plants – some would go down to the garage and a couple would stay in the house. I grabbed the rosemary plant and was stunned at what I saw. A fat, little tree frog snuggled up next to the stem of the rosemary plant!
It was cold! I was surprised to see him there, hunkered down next to the plant in the soil. He was about the color of the soil, very well camouflaged. He was already in a state of torpor. I knew a bit about the overwintering habits of tree frogs. I knew he needed to be in a wooded area, down beneath the thick leaf litter, maybe under a partially rotten log. I knew he needed to find that shelter himself and that he wouldn’t have time anymore, especially since he was already sleeping.
I considered my rosemary plant. I knew life would be just fine for me if I didn’t keep it. I knew his life depended on it. But how could I use it to make him a safe place for the winter?
I took the pot outside near my driveway. In the corner of the front wall of the house and the front steps there’s a terracotta sunny face and some prairie agates. This corner is sheltered and when the sun is out, it’s warm enough to melt ice even if the air temp is in the 20s. The corner also has an abundance of oak leaves.
I pulled all the leaves and debris out of the corner, set the rosemary plant in the corner, and gently buried it with leaves. Then I placed another empty terracotta pot upside down over the top of all the leaves. The frog was still in the rosemary plant when I buried him, sleeping soundly. I placed the terracotta sun face in front of it to hold it all in place. He had air to breathe through the loose leaves, even though he would be breathing very infrequently. He was covered and had plenty of shelter. He would freeze almost completely in the winter and thaw out again in the spring.
I asked my friend TeeJay if he thought the frog would make it. I also wanted to name it. TeeJay suggested “Herb” since it clearly loved the rosemary plant. He said he had no idea if it would make it or not, but the shelter I’d made might work.
I thought about Herb all winter. I wondered if the shelter would protect him. It got awfully cold and we had a lot of snow. Sometime in April I took the shelter apart and looked in my dead rosemary plant. Herb was gone. He’d gotten out on his own.
Disclaimer: I don’t know how to sex frogs. I have no idea if Herb is female or male. And the frog I saw sunning himself for several hours on my deck rail today may or may not be Herb. It might be one of Herb’s kids! There are lots of tree frogs here. I hear them calling a lot. I haven’t seen one since Herb left though. It was very nice to see Herb today! I know how silly it is but I thought maybe he was going to get too hot so I set him in my herb and flower garden. He can choose which plant he wants. For now, he’ll be catching lots of mosquitoes and flies. He’ll be getting fat for winter. I’m happy to have him here.
I really can’t explain how the idea for this post came together. All I can tell you is that I was sitting at my desk at work on Wednesday when The Song of Hiawatha, Lewis Carroll’s parody Hiawatha’s Photographing, and Husband’s plan to smoke a pork shoulder on the 4th all converged in my brain.
Husband has planned to get his smoker going for weeks, and he has been fussing about the fuels he needs, the type of rub and mop he would use, and the pork shoulder he intended to smoke. I guess that might have reminded me of Carroll’s parody of the photographer fussing to set up the camera and get the photo subjects to cooperate. My Uncle Harvey’s farm in Pipestone. MN bordered the National Monument where The Song of Hiawatha pageant was performed (my tall, blonde, cousins were often extras in the production), and my parents took me to see it several times.
I have never been a fan of Longfellow’s poetry. I also have a hard time reading epic poems like The Kalevela that have been translated into a sing-song cadence. It dawned on me that if I could write a parody of Longfellow, anyone could. Here goes:
Husband Chris got out the smoker,
Like an iron lung, the smoker
Filled it up with logs and wood chips
Double checked that it was perfect
Set the contents all on fire
Waited for the embers glowing
Then he made the pork roast spice rub
Covered all the roast with spice rub
Closed the lid and smoked the shoulder
Sat for hours by the smoker
Feeding logs and chips as needed
Doused the roast with special mop sauce
Drank some beer to pass the hours
I had to stop there. The eight syllable pattern was getting tedious. It could go on and on, just like Longfellow.
What are your favorite/least favorite epic poems? What activities turn you into a fuss pot?
She is afraid of little dogs, big dogs, medium dogs, the vacuum cleaner, the Roomba, the lawnmower, the hairdryer, paper bags, squirt bottles, the dog gate, noises close to her, when you wave your arms around, outsiders, things touching her without warning (pillow falling on her, towel slipping off a hook, toy tossed at her when she’s not looking).
But there are two things that Guinevere is NOT afraid of. Thunderstorms and fireworks. Unbelievable. YA and I used to do a few fireworks out on the front sidewalk but we quit because my last Irish Setter, Rhiannon was afraid. I suppose we could get a few things now that Rhiannon is no longer with us, but considering how many other dogs get scared, it doesn’t seem worth it.
So we’ll watch fireworks on tv and we’ll hear fireworks from the surrounding communities, with Guinevere snoozing at the end of my bed!
Doing anything fun today? Any fireworks on the schedule?
You all know I have a co-dependent relationship with my local library. Nothing new about that. One of the things I appreciate is that it’s on the right-hand side of the street, heading south from my house. This means that I drive by it on almost ever errand I run so stopping to return books or pick up something that is on hold is incredibly easy.
Two Saturdays back, returning a couple of books was the first item on my to-do list. As I was putting the books on the return belt I noticed that there were a bunch of Llama Llama signs along the garden side of the building as well as a massive banner across the front window.
I might have talked about the Llama Llama books back when I discovered them but in case I didn’t – they are kids books, a long series of them, about a young llama and his family. They’re quite cute. This is the first one:
Anyway, I texted YA as I got back in the car that they were having a Llama Llama reading. As I headed south from the parking spaces in front of the library, I saw that the parking lot was blocked off with some kids games. Then I saw a couple of tents. Then I saw the llamas. At the light I texted YA again that there were live llamas at the library. Her response… “You’re going around the block right now, aren’t you?” Aaah, she knows me well.
I know the head librarian so after I had waited in line (the only adult without a kid in tow), we chatted a bit about Llama Llama Day. This was the third Saturday in a row that one of the Hennepin County libraries had hosted the llamas. Apparently there are a few more scheduled over the summer. I asked him if the library system was moving the Llama Llama books around so that there were plenty to check-out at each library who was having the llama party. He was surprised that I knew that; I reminded him that I’m an event planner by trade.
I got to pet all of the llamas before I returned to my list of errands. Later when I got home, I pulled my Llama t-shirt out and wore it the rest of the day as I considered all the various events that I might have planned if I’d been a library planner instead of an incentive travel planner.
What book do you think would make a good library event?
It was a big weekend around here. On Saturday afternoon, my littlest neighbor Marie (5 years old) announced to visiting relatives during a cookout, that she wanted her father to take the training wheels off of her bike. Big sister Minnie had been getting a lot of attention learning to skateboard on the driveway so now it was Minne’s turn.
Surprisingly she caught on very quickly and despite the neighbors having a big driveway, it didn’t take long before everyone had to troop down to the sidewalk in front of the house so she could have a longer runway. And even though I had been a witness to some of this, when I went out to water on Saturday night, Marie hurried over to the fence to announce her big news.
Then on Sunday when I saw her, she announced it again, this time telling me how far she could go (almost 3 houses). Yesterday I got the news yet again when she saw me in the yard cutting the grass. This time she elicited a promise from me that when her dad came out to help her, I would come out on the front steps to watch. Getting ready for this big ride took a bit. Helmet, elbow pads, wrist pads and knee pads; when Dad was going to skin the elbow pads, Marie insisted since older sister had on a full set of pads for her skateboarding.
I remember learning to ride without training wheels. We lived on West Cedar Avenue in Webster Groves, just down the street from the local elementary school. I can still taste the exhilaration I felt when I realized that my dad wasn’t holding onto the back of my bike seat any longer.
Marie’s ride on the front sidewalk went really well. As expected Dad had to run the whole way behind her and had to help with the stopping. We have a slight incline/decline (depending on which direction you’re going) on our block and I did notice that Marie struggled a bit more to stay upright when she was coming UP the incline. But all in all, an impressive beginning for her biking career!
Tell me about a time you mastered something as a child that you were proud of!
Trail Baboon 