Lesson from a tree

There are no unsacred places. There are only sacred places and desecrated places.- Wendell Berry

This is one of my favorite quotes. We have a creek - well really two - that run along our property. They merge and flow on to the river, less than a quarter of a mile from our house. There is a weeping willow tree at the corner where they meet.

A couple of years ago, in the spring, we had some fierce storms. There had been a great deal of rain, and the winds pushed the willow out of her soil. Were it not for my husbands shed/workshop we would have lost her. The willow forked, and the heavier and stronger side was splintered off and lying against the shed. He took a saw, and completed the division. The most amazing thing happened.

The tree sprang back, and the root ball settled back into the waiting earth. He then took the amputated limb and planted it along the creek near another corner of our property. Roots took hold, and now we have two willows on the creek.

I believe that we learn best from life when we understand the contrast of the fragility and transitory aspects along side the ability of all living things to adjust and accommodate.

This is our miracle weeping willow. You can see where the division occurred. 

Our little creek has minnows and frogs and turtles and crawdads and snakes. We have squirrels here, all manner of birds and butterflies, and cats. We grow melons and grapes and vegetables and flowers. There is no aspect of this little ecosystem that is independent, they all nourish and devour, thrive and perish. For me, that is what life is. The difference, the fulfillment for humans is the ability to adapt, learn, exalt and contemplate in the midst of what was, is and will be without our input or neglect.

Re: National Day of Prayer

RE: National Day of Prayer  I "like" quite a few pages on Facebook, one of which was https://www.facebook.com/SouthernRecipes. I had "liked" the page solely because I am a middle aged Southern woman who loves to cook and eat. On Thursday, there was a promo for the National Day of Prayer. This was included :  For those of us of the Christian faith, today, May 3rd is the National Day of Prayer - visit the web site to find an event in your community: http://nationaldayofprayer.org/about/find-an-event/.

I commented on the post, saying something to the effect that there are other spiritual traditions in this country and that Christians are not the only ones that pray. 

My comment was deleted.

I commented again, cited the deleted comment and stating that the deletion disappointed me and as a result I was "un-liking" the page. 

My second comment was deleted.

Now I know that a Facebook pages content is at the whim and discretion of the creator/administrator. I have posted more than once that I have no compunction whatsoever at deleting or blocking and that if people do not want to see my posts, etc. they have the option of not reading or looking at my page. 

I am not ticked off by the removal of my comments.

I am amused, in a sad way, at the action of this woman. She has a Facebook page that more than 35,000 people have liked and a website as well. The stated purpose for both is Southern cooking and recipes. I wonder if this poor unfortunate soul actually thinks that:

a) only Christians pray 

b) only Christians can participate in the National Day of Prayer 

c) only Christians read her content on Facebook and the website she runs 

d) perhaps all of the above

I know she will never see this, and that is too bad. Because there are people of all ethnicities, races, religions, paths, cultures and persuasions trudging through the data on the internet every day who live full and productive lives (that may even enjoy the occasional food or drink from Mississippi) that she judged and condemned with the deletion of those comments.

There is such a dearth of understanding and inclusion in this country. 

May 4

Today is my sister's birthday. She is 55. Hard to imagine. It seems like only yesterday she was a sophomore in high school and I was putting on her knee-socks and stretching the tops because my calves have always been bigger than hers. I have always been bigger than her, taller, weigh more, talk more too!

We used to fight so bad, as only sisters can. I love her though, cannot imagine life without her in it. She is eighteen months older than I am. When we were small, Mom would get all upset when we argued, say she was so glad when I was a girl because Virginia Carol would not have to grow up without a sister. I understand.

I could not say Carol when I was small, and called her "Caugie" (I know!). Later it became Carr-ey, and I called her that until I was in my teens. Our younger brother always called her Sissy.

She and I were both married (my first, her only) in 1986, the year our father passed away. I always thought we subconsciously waited until after Daddy was gone before we married because he was THE man in our lives up until that point.

Two women could not be more different. She became a school teacher, and taught until she was able to retire from public schools. Now she works for Old Dominion University in their Distance Education program at our local community college. She never smoked or drank, has two exceptionally intelligent and well-mannered sons, and is well-respected in our hometown. She is blonde, and slender. She struggled with weight as did I, she won her battle.

Me? I have quit college, several times. Never held a job longer than 4 years, smoke, drink when the mood hits, have always been heavy.

She has been there for me when I needed her, every time. I have done my best to be here for her. I appreciate and admire the woman she has become.

I am glad she is my sister. This is me, Mom and Virginia Carol at Mom's on Christmas a couple of years ago (2009)

Hamburgers

I made hamburgers for supper last night. Roger said afterwards he does not care if he ever eats another restaurant hamburger again ... as far as he is concerned the best hamburgers are the ones I make. Makes a girl feel good, you know?

I have a complicated relationship with meat protein, going back to my childhood. Apparently, as a very young child I would devour any flesh willingly. My mother tells me that I was especially fond of the fat on roast. I know that I liked bologna as well because it was bologna that turned me off of meat for years. I had apparently eaten several fried bologna and mayonnaise sandwiches and gotten ill soon after. I refused to eat any meat at all, especially processed foods such as bologna and wieners. Even now, at 53, I do not eat bologna, hot dog wieners, kielbasa, summer sausage, salami and numerous other processed meat products. I also did not eat eggs for years, and still do not like commercial mayonnaise on a sandwich. {odd, isn't it, that my system knew mayonnaise was made from eggs?

Gradually over time, I began to eat red meat, and chicken. But no fat! Bacon has to be crispy, steak very well trimmed, roast and ham I pick apart like I am in tenth grade biology class. Hamburger has always been difficult for me. For years, I have preferred to purchase a roast, have it trimmed, and either get it ground at the market or grind it myself. I began doing this about 23 years ago.

Anyway, back to the hamburgers. Round roast, ground. Patties thin, fried in an iron skillet with a bit of bacon fat and butter. Seasoned with an all-purpose seasoning like Old Bay or Lawry's Seasoned Salt. Fry without pressing, moving around, or turning until they are very well browned, caramelized even. Turn, repeat. This will give you a moist interior and a crunchy good exterior.

Place the patties on the bottom half of a hamburger bun straight from the skillet, still hot. Top with your choice of cheese (provolone, pepper jack, cheddar, american) immediately. Our preferred toppings are sliced tomato (last night I used Roma), thinly sliced onion, sweet hot pepper rings* and either mayonnaise (Roger) or spicy brown mustard (Ellen).

Ah. Bliss.

*Sweet hot pepper rings. We purchase these at Sav-A-Lot, a discount grocery store. The brand is Bell-View. They are delicious. The same store has French Roast coffee, their brand, for 6.79. And it is just good as Folgers or Maxwell House.

There you have it. Oh, and I buy roast on sale and freeze it in patties or one pound portions after it is ground.

Iris In May

We have these beautiful Iris in a bed by the garden. Some flowers seem to just speak to me of my childhood and Iris is one of those. Both of my grandmothers had Iris in their flowerbeds, I suppose that is why.

Actually, the Bleeding Heart, Iris, Lilac and  Rose of Sharon we have all remind me of my childhood. Both of my grandmothers as well as my mother had a love of flowers. It is nice to be outside on days like today, with the song of life itself humming all around you. Insects, birds, the sound of the creek. There is a wonderful breeze blowing and the sun is warm.

So here I present to you 7 pictures of Iris and a picture of a spider as well.

In other news, I am feeling much more me, day by day. I am actually feeling anticipatory about future events, and that is a big step forward for me. Now, go outside and appreciate life. It is a nice thing to be able to do.

May Is Here

It has been a month since I blogged. I realized it had been too long when Roger asked me how the blogging was going. In his gentle giant, passive aggressive, conflict avoidance way he was saying it is time for me to blog.

We became aware about a month ago that one of the cats, LPG, had given birth. The mommas always wait to bring the babies out, so we waited as well. Experience has taught us that if we disturb the kittens they get moved. The pictures show the mother, three grey and white kittens that look like Momma, a solid grey kitten that already tugs at my heartstrings, Domino our long haired mostly white cat and TC - matriarch of the bunch. TC showed up soon after we were married, so she is almost ten years old. She is the source of the others. Grandmother and great-grandmother. The cat that was the mother of LPG and Domino met an unfortunate end in the road.

These are some of the plants that have come up thus far from Cushaw seeds Roger planted.

The melons are planted on a little island where the creek runs through culverts that take the water under John Simms Hill Road.

There is water on two sides of out property. The island is also home to cattails. The rocky brushy hillside you see is home to our kitty graveyard.

There is a non-venomous snake that lives by the creek in the rocks. Roger tells me there are at least three of these - I am not scared of snakes but I do keep my distance so I will take his word on these reptilian matters.

At the rear of the property the creek is deeper, and there are several drops and pools for the pleasure of the minnows, crayfish and such. I love this picture of the water bubbling across the creek bed.

We have Iris that have budded and will be in bloom any day. I will get pictures up when I can. The next few weeks look to be a bit busier for me, which is a good thing. 

Happy and bright May Day blessings to all. We are having a gathering by the creek this weekend, in the beauty of the full moon. Food, a fire, the creek, and friends. 'Twill be a fine time to be sure.

I Write

When I am stressed, upset, frustrated.

When I feel hurt, betrayed, unappreciated.

When I think I have been demeaned, belittled, misjudged.

But

I also write when I am happy.

I write about things, and people, that matter to me. I am too honest, often. I abhor secrets and subterfuge. Games like that I do not play well. 

I share personal intimate details about my life not because I want to sound "big". Many of the things I share on this blog and elsewhere are not events where I come off as stellar. I am more aware than anyone of how imperfect my life and actions have been, and there is nothing that can be said to me I have not said to myself already. 

But 

{and with me there is often a but}

Leave my family alone, leave my friends alone, leave my mother, my brothers, my daughter, my husband alone. I am a big girl, I can handle myself. I may cry, and shake. My blood pressure may spike, I may get stomach cramps and a headache, but I will handle myself.

Make me angry enough, and I will be sure that you rue the day you ever heard my name or saw my face.

Now that you can take to the bank.

That is all.