Tuesday, November 30, 2010


Preparations or putting away? This could be from either perspective, and both have their charms---the anticipation like the glint of shining glass, or the contemplation of the moments just enjoyed, gleaming like just-polished silver in the memories.

This was from the getting-ready stage, with all the pretties set out, just to look at. It's like spreading jewelry across the table, with all the little bits and pieces from various places all strewn beneath the light, just because they BRIGHT me.

Our Traveler left early this morning, after a sweet family breakfast of cereal and bananas and toasty bagel-halves-with-honey beneath the little bright pool of light on the breakfast table. We had prayer and sang a bit, the four of us, and then hugged our goodbyes, until next time. He's flying his way back to California with our prayers, clean laundry, and a little bag of snacks---grapes, sticks of the rich golden Cheddar, crackers, and a Karo-pecan bar, made fresh by Caro last night. Whether he gets to enjoy those, or toss them into a bin at the screener's discretion is as sure as rain/sleet/snow for our coming week.

Today is soaky-rainy-chilly outdoors, with the drab leaves scattered to all corners of the yard, and just a shadow-shape of the Summer's beauty left---if you squint just so, you can see little images of green, or the swoop of grapevine, or even the brave white blooms on the hardiest petunias we've ever had---two pots of them are still going, despite the thirties of the past few weeks. I look out amidst the browns and tans, and there fly those little round flags, cheery and blooming their little hearts out.

Pools of light, streams of music, the righting of a counter, dusting of a shelf---linens to strip from the guest bed, the simmer of something warm and cozy for our supper, the cheerful chuckle of the percolator burbling up the second pot---all those will align my day, along with the bright little presence whose new red scooter may unhinge the entire process of things as it flies about underfoot.

We have our jackets and boots, we're all combed and brushed, and it will take only a moment to zip and snap us into warmth, as we go out to find an un-leafy sidewalk to try out this new toy.

I'll try to keep up, just as I'll be late as ever with details of Thanksgiving, trip, visitor, and even a little morality play stage-set and directed by Herself, for the entertainment and edification of everyone at dinner last night.

And so, moire non, with sparkle in your day, no matter what the weather,



Beverly said...

You, my dear Rachel, always bring a little sparkle to my day.

Now, tell me more about Karo Pecan Bars.

racheld said...

WAY down South where I lived for so long, you never said, "Pecan Pie"---and you certainly never said PEEEE-can, like Dear Miss Paula.

You said "KAAAY-Ro Puccon Pie." Caro made us one for Thanksgiving---fabulous.

And then she made her usual bar-cookie crust and topped the 9x13 with one recipe of the pie filling. Ditto FABULOUS. I'll have to get her to guest-write the process. Same works for Tassies, with more crust.

And you, My Dear, always sparkle ME, especially with your uncannily apt music selections.

Southern Lady said...

This was such a sweet post, Rachel ... and you never fail to "bright" ME!

Miss Paula's pronunciation of "Puccon" Pie has grated on my nerves for years ... lol You'd think she would know better having been born and raised in the South.

Kim Shook said...

I'll never forget being told by a lovely, silver-haired southern lady that "PEEEE-cans" were what truckers used and "Puccons" made sublime pies!

I want one of those bars, so a pretty please to Miss Caro for the recipe!