Sunday, April 27, 2014
Thursday, April 24, 2014
She was never mean in her little stories of the doings about town, never spiteful in the repeating of local gossip, nor did she ever raise her voice that I remember, except when Mr. Shug got on Her Last Nerve by getting out of the Jeep too full of “alky” to get himself into the house.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
The ladies all did themselves proud with all sorts of homemade goodies, potato salads and Summer salads and many a Corning Ware of baked beans and of Corn Souffle---that new standby that calls for an artery-clogging ingredients list of canned cream corn, cornbread mix, a cup of sour cream, a stick of butter, eggs, an additonal can, drained, of Mexicorn or whole kernel, and whatever little extras are usual to the cook---jalapenos or green onions or pimiento.
But one lady---Bless her Heart in the BEST way. She came in bearing a gallon jug clutched to her bosom, and indeed I'd have hugged it, too. I almost did, when I saw that it was at least a peck of cucumbers, sliced into a golden brine. I like that stuff every way it's made, so I lined up---I don't care if it's straight vinegar and salt, or a sugar-vinegar concoction, or some and all of both, with additions of most anything that will complement---garlic or dill or zingy bits of hot pepper. These were most likely LAST YEAR'S cucumbers, because it seemed like a
And the pickles were wonderful. We'd all been asked to bring a serving spoon for whatever we brought to the lunch, and her odd choice was a gray plastic, bulbously-unwieldy soup ladle, which made getting into the jug a breeze, but getting OUT with a scoopful of bounty difficult, without sloshing the accompanying ladle of juice---the red plastic tablecloth sported a tidy little moat all round the container, and fruitflies were happily spending their little life-spans drowning themselves in an ecstasy of brine.
And now, the ones in the fridge are calling my name.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Monday, April 14, 2014
A whole lush Summer of bloom and leaf stretched out, with a long-lasting Fall to keep their course, and the bearing season was full and rich and long.
Up here, things seem to KNOW that the time will be short, and they just sort of JUMP out of the ground, seeking the warmth and growing like mad. One day, a glance at our own small circumscribed horizon around the yard reveals drab, sere sticks with a far-view reaching through the angles.
Next day, the pale tint of green is a shadow on everything, and suddenly, leaves are shusshing and the little ears are budding out and it's all making a dash for its life, to absorb and swell and grow before the too-soon cold comes.
And I think the burst of this Indiana Spring can be seen almost in fast-motion---even more rewarding, as it's nearly like fluttering the pages of a picture-book, to see the images change color and form, with the little dog running through the gate and home.
And standing with my neck cricked far-far back, looking up into the universe of this great tree---that's like looking way far through a telescope into a world not traveled yet.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014