Potpourri
After I dipped my Fuji Apple in Caramel at lunch time, I returned to work and finished the Coconut Crème Pie that was leftover from my birthday.
I cringed when the afternoon sun cast my shadow across the parking lot. Ouch. Shade in the summer, heat in the winter.
Speaking of heat in the winter…we purchased a cord of wood last week in anticipation of some cool autumn evenings around the fireplace. Instead, we opened the doors every evening this week. Indian Summer.
Several times I’ve heard the cry of a Night Hawk and glimpsed it’s graceful pursuit of insects by the light of the street lamp. Maybe the cold front moving in will encourage him to begin his migration. I hope he doesn’t have to travel through southern
Tonight it might freeze. If it does, our yellows, oranges, and reds will turn to winter brown. Apparently, the length of the night has equal influence on the hues that paint the deciduous trees. I always thought it was the frost.
I remember studying about photosynthesis when I was in high school. That was many fall seasons ago. If I close my eyes, I can remember the smell of chalkboards and floor wax. The fall weather confused the heating system, so, by early afternoon the classrooms would be uncomfortably warm. If the teacher was boring, that after lunch class was a real head jerker.
I would wrap my morning sweater around my waist and stroll the 2 miles home. Then, mom warned me away from opening the outside door to the kitchen. She didn’t want any temperature change to influence the sealing process in the pears, her last fruit canning of the season. The house smelled of boiling sugar syrup mixed with the fumes from bleach water. Mom always scalded and sanitized her ‘mason’ jars. Once removed from the boiling water bath, the jars of fruit lined counters and tabletops. I kept track of the telltale pops as they sealed. If the numbers didn’t match up, Mom tapped the lids with her fingernail and listened for a certain resonance.
Freshly canned fruit was a wonderful treat with my bowl of Ruskets for breakfast. (*Ruskets was a cereal that came shaped like a biscuit of pressed wheat flakes.)
As much as I love fall, I think it’s the time of year I miss my mother most of all.
Comments
I feel bad to have missed it, but my blogging has been so hit and miss.
Hope you had a wonderful day.
xoxo
lovely memories though:)
(does that make sense?)
Beautifully written, Pamela.
dieter: you really hit the nail on the head. Smell = Memories (good and bad. glad your bad smell equals good memory)
Jeanette: Oh heck. When spring comes I'll probably say I like it best
Beccy: anxious to see what winter brings this year
kailani: strange as it may seem, I hope she is oblivious of the sorrows after her departure
jj: my work here is done )*:
Sally: how we take for granted to time with our parents
janet: thanks for stoppin' by again!
nikki: Lucky you -- I do get to see pictures and hear stories of my grandkids
Claudia: We should write a book. You take the pictures.
Ramblin: Good for Cheryl. I only occasionally make jam/jelly or sauce. Not often anymore.
Sandy: there was a time when "mom" could fix any problem
Gattina: no, you're crazy every day. giggle
Simply Jenn: kind of a write down my thoughts... not very well planned, but worked out okay.
Kar: oooooooh I miss buttercup, too
Susie: Life happens. And Life is best with Coconut cream pie. Thanks for the card!!! (:
Tigger: You have some writing material right there for nanowhatever it is next month!!! I can't wait -- like I said - You posting every day is going to be great
wolfbaby - I read yours today, and you made me cry
Junebug - you made me cry, too. Your loss is so recent. Hugs
Robin - That smell just sort of wafted into my thought process - and you are almost right
your past is A present. Already opened.
My favourite time of year is spring. Not too hot yet but still sunny days.
I haven't done much canning over the years, but I feel like I should. My grandma and great-grandmas would be appalled at my lack of canning skills. And sewing skills. My, how life has changed.
Your post was filled with such bittersweet joy. Beautifully written. I adore Fall but I do miss my Dad so much during this season. Those memories are priceless aren't they?
Have a sweet weekend dear Pamela!
Hugs,
Sue
And I could picture it all!
This is a beautiful post Pamela. Hugs to you!
Loved the memories, Pamela. No one in my family ever canned fruits but I had a friend whose mother did and I loved when the counter was lined like that also.
If only I could say the same.
*drooling*
Then, you bring me down to earth once again with fresh, NON-fattening fruit?!! You're torturing me.
I'll opt for the caramel apple....got any leftovers?
BTW I stayed on the rails in the car wash ! Fortunately !
Like so many others, I loved this post. Sometimes I wonder if all of the jams and canned tomatos and homemade bread that pours out of my kitchen isn't just the way I channel the full, safe days of my childhood.
Someone above said fall is the time they miss their dad, and it is for me, too. My dad died 24 years ago tomorrow, the day before my Gram's birthday. It's not so much that this is the time of year he died as that I know how much he loved the season, too, just like me. I think about how nice it would be to walk through the woods with him again, the autumn leaves crunching beneath our feet.
I am thankful for the wonderful people in my life, past and present, and the memories of them I'm able to carry with me even after they've gone.
will post next week
-vicki
I too have been missing my Mom. I have been dreaming of her so often. I'd like it, but they are sad dreams...
I never did learn to can fruit or veggies... wish I had.