HATTATT

Y'all know I always enjoy sharing a new discovery, and I've recently been absolutely immersed in the loveliest blog:  HATTATT       They just appeared one day, having joined us at LAWN TEA, and when I went to say Thank You---I was captivated.     

The photos of their travels and their interests and gardens and sightseeing---Oh, My.     And you KNOW how I am about WORDS------theirs are absolutely mesmerizing.    They share their time between England and their other home in Budapest, and I've just been wrapped up in their touring and entertaining and all the rest    And I marvel that somehow, they manage to answer EVERY ONE of their hundreds of comments, and look in here, quite often.

I've been meaning to mention them, and today, the words were just so absolutely breath-taking, I could not resist---reminiscent a bit of du Maurier, or perhaps Forster, and painted such a vivid (albeit bleakly heart-touching) picture that I hope you'll look in.

Above is blog address, and the post is entitled "A Nightingale Sang," and it's WELL worth going to see.

rachel

 

IT DOESN'T NEED US

Just yesterday, I was mentioning to my friend Keetha that it's often surprising how well the world gets along without our constant attention.    She'd been on a long hike to some secluded waterfalls, and the hidden scenery, there for the taking, but requiring a good-sized effort, was a lovely reward.

In my usual side-tracked fashion, I thought of early-morning airports when I saw those pictures she took on the trail. When I take a before-daylight flight, I am always astonished that so much of the world is out there, busy and cheerful and going places, and WOULD be, even without my presence.. They bustle on, even on the 364 other days when I'm still stumbling for the percolator.

Those waterfalls and bluffs and beautiful secluded places reachable only by steep paths would be right there, have been, will be, without witness or hearer. What a treat to be able to share in something so timeless and primal.    And the micro-universes going on in our own backyards are equally stunning, equally awesome, doing their own thing for eons without contribution from any being.   

The honeysuckle trees of Spring have become the bright berry-bearers of Fall:

Last year, we picked a few of the little berries for garnishing a mud pie or two, but this time---grander things were in store:   We were picking great droves of the darling little glowing BBs for making a cake for Sarah, who has been much in conversation lately.   I don't know if she's real, but Sweetpea speaks of her often, and she's real enough for some studious work.    We stood and picked, stood and picked, and finally I handed her a little stem.

(And lest anyone think we're playing around with dangerous plants of any kind---it's hard for me to believe that the same stems which yielded the honeysuckle from which we greedily sucked the nectar back in the Spring to no ill effect, would have turned into some sort of toxic fruit, luring us in with its glowing beauty).  Besides, the birdie-blessings on the lawn chairs and patio plants attest that the berries ARE, indeed, edible, though we would not dream of it.

She sat on the warm asphalt with the genes of a thousand countrywomen in her knowing.    Sit and pluck, sit and shell, sit and peel---save the standing for something you HAVE to.

I noticed the lengthening of the shadows as the air grew chiller; we called her for a photo.    She kept to her work, not budging except to ask for another stem of berries, so we went to her.     She's WAY short in the pictures, for she just would not shirk her duty long enough to stand up.

 We discovered other things going on without us all around the yard---the tomato vines are heavy with what we hope will ripen before frost, but we'll keep watch.    This beauty hiding in the Weatherbush would fry up just LOVELY about now.

I always love seeing things through a child's eyes, fresh and new and full of hope.   And it's still rewarding past words to stumble upon them, through my own.

CHEESE, PLEASE!

Monday nights have become Cheese Plate nights, due to Caro’s lovely choosing of several nice cheeses for the last course of our dinner.    She’s always kept several really special ones in her fridge, or under the little bell, for a tiny bit of treat with some of her WW meals.

I was totally convinced that I DIDN’T LIKE Bleu Cheese.   It looked odd, it really didn’t smell pleasant, and since my my earlier experiences with it were of unexpected chunky globs in not-really-tasty salad dressings, or the unpleasant whoosh of air when a lid was opened on the box, I held firm.

Until one night a couple of months ago, she brought down several cheeses and cut us each a small bit of each onto pretty plates with a dab of our OWN just-made fig preserves and some dried fruits.    I took the little knife provided with my plate, sampled them all-but-one, and heartily approved.

Then, I experimentally cut the tiniest sliver from the TOP of the little wedge of bleu, avoiding the small flowerings of mold beneath---admiring their beautiful configurations, like millefiori in clay, but still a bit apprehensive about all the reasons I’d collected over the years NOT to like the cheese.

And it was simply divine.   Salty and rich and firm for a moment, then melty and soft and (dare I use the overused unctuously?) rich.    So now I’m hooked---I crave a taste of the Gorgonzola marvel every now and then, and will go up and unsnap the Tup for a teensy taste.   

Last night was cheese night, and after the char siu chicken, rosy and delicate as peach-cheeks, and gently perfumed with five-spice, the lo mein and the stir-fried cabbage, we had cheese, prettily arranged, and served with the marvelous Cherry Chutney which had been simmering away, sending its gentle fragrance of big maroon cherries and vinegar and Autumn sweetness through the house all afternoon.

From One O’clock:

Belletoile Triple Crème Brie

Morbier with ashes between layers

Dried date

Caro’s just-made Cherry Chutney

Dried Fig

Port Salut

Gorgonzola

Laudel Double Crème Brie

Center is Fontina

And a sweet little chapeau of Champagne Grapes

Naturally, he caught me wiping a drop of cherry sauce from the plate edge.  

RAIN REIGNS

photo:   Planet 99---Chicago

We had quite a lovely evening, with lots of togetherness, shouts of OPA! to welcome the flaming cheese, and great plates and platters of wonderful moussaka and spanakopita and olives and lamb, with  candles in the baklava.   

 Sweetpea came home with us to spend the night, and we've just now had breakfast.     We'll probably be hibernating a bit upstairs today, for the outside atmosphere is still WET.    We're right at that brown-leaves-on-the-ground, too much rain stage, with the lush greens of Summer fading, and not yet into the glories of October colors.

Everything on the patio is plastered with damp clumps of limp leaves, and we're gonna occupy ourselves with Dragon Tales, Little Golden Books, and maybe baking one of those lovely CARROT CAKES with cream-cheese frosting.    That should perk up our spirits AND the ambience of the house.

Perhaps today should be the get-out-our-own-leaves for hanging and festooning, and we'll bring a breath of clear, golden Fall in, in spite of its reluctance to arrive.

Happy Monday, Everybody!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++
PS AT 12.:30---We've been out for a long walk in this lovely SUNSHINE!!!   I must have lied about the drab skies, for we went out into golden rays and 60 degrees, and when we returned, some debris on the front stoop led us around to get the broom.

Which led on into great swoops and sweeps of the front eaves, the siding, the forgotten spider-lairs and hoblets' nests, THEN segued into another trip for the shears, to mow down all the expired, languishing dried stems of Queen Anne's lace.

Is it too early to prune roses?   I just did---probably six plants, whose long tentacles reached up from the great forest of past beauty.  Just one little pulling of a coupla weeds (out of multitudes) in the beds led to what looks like a pile of new-mown hay lying in the front yard.  (Separating the thorny stuff from the smooth stuff is one of the most important steps, when you're gonna grab at it).  

In for a thorough hand-and-forearm wash with Dawn, just in case there was a bad plant in there, and we're just BEING for a moment.  That's a thing of itself, and also important.

BIRTHDAY WISHES!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR CARO!!!

I think you’d love a trip to an Asian Market today, with a side-step into Penzey’s and then a bookstore or two.   We’ll head home early, for we’re meeting several of your favorite people for dinner:  

The elegant, genteel, well-spoken Miss Jane:

The gentle, kind good neighbor from Mitford, Miss Jan:

And that quirky, funny super-smart Miss Charlaine:

That should make for meaningful, interesting, hilarious dinner conversation---a writer whose heroines call their husbands,  "Mr." before and after they're married, across the table from one whose take-no-prisoners protagoness has a boyfriend who calls her "Sucky."

And then we're all invited out to wind down the evening at a really fun, interesting place:

Hope you like our plans!!

Love, 

Mama