Little Gifts
The leaves this year are spectacular. The past few years have been less so, a muddled brown mess, a disappointment to the people who travel hours to gawk at them.
Yesterday was a rainy, cold day. I looked out the window often, the color in the back forty at its peak. The grasses have all turned a golden brown with the rust colored ferns mixed in. The maples are wearing their scarlet jackets now, more brilliant with each passing day. The birches a bright yellow. Another week and it will all be gone for the most part, especially if the rain keeps up.
I have seen the leaves change every year for my entire life. Many years ago I was working as a photographer in North Carolina during foliage season and I flew home for a weekend so I wouldn’t miss it.
I have to tell you that I rarely photograph the foliage as it changes. I observe it, soak it in but I’ve found that photographs I’ve taken just blend in year after year. As I left the house in Rowe last evening I drove right past this. The pond is right in the center of town (of course the center of town is just a few buildings). There is a gazebo just to the left out of the photograph. The light was going fast, there was a heavy mist and the fog was pretty dense. I notice the tree right away and thought wow, how beautiful. I kept on driving but the tree was stuck in my head. As I continued down the road I first thought “I’ll take it during the week, next time up.” I then realized this was it – the only moment this would look like this. If it was still in my head a mile down the road I had to turn back. I did.
As I walked around the green I thought about the house that was once in this spot, abutting the road. I thought about learning to fish in that pond and doing it often from the shore with other friends all having ridden our bikes with our poles. I remembered Helen and Ray, creators and guardians of the the Rowe Historical Society spending their retirement years in the house on the pond.
Walking back to my car, my feet completely soaked, I wondered why I never really noticed that maple before. I think it’s just a little gift you get every once in a while. That tree flagged me down, told me to look at the exquisite beauty all around me, stop taking it for granted.
Little gifts, you just have to slow down long enough to accept them. The bonus is I got back into my car, scrolled through the images I had just taken and thought “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted.” A rare feeling indeed.
Soft Molasses Cookies
Baking season has once again arrived and I am one happy woman. A few years ago the girls gave me the King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion for Mother’s Day. This is one of the best cookbooks I have ever owned. Not only does it have recipes but it explains why things work the way they do. Much like the movie “Julie and Julia” I decided to bake my way through this book. It has notes written on recipes and batter stuck between some pages. It also has other recipes printed and folded in between the pages. That to me says it’s a great book when the “other” good recipes can be found stashed in it.
These particular cookies I come back too again and again. Soft Molasses Cookies are what I refer to as an “adult” cookie. They are highly spiced and not overly sweet – perfect with that afternoon cup of tea or coffee. They are good right out of the oven but they are better the next day when they’ve completely cooled and developed that chewy texture. They are rolled in sugar before baking which results in a crunchy sugar crust on the outside with the soft, chewy center. Mmmmmmm.
Now I have to tell you a little secret about these cookies (or any soft cookie you may bake). When you remove the pan from the oven hold it about a foot off of the floor and drop it so it lands flat. Yeah I know, sounds crazy but what it does is immediately compress the soft center of the cookie. By doing this they stay soft and chewy for days. I have a rug by the oven so they just come out and onto the floor. Yes, my family thought I was crazy the first time they saw me do it but the proof was in the eating.
These are the things you learn when you take the time to read your cookbook. It actually tells you to do this when baking soft cookies. Although I must confess the first time I did it I made sure no one was around to see me do it.
Weaving Wednesday 16 – Round Robin 2
The towel I wove this week is an undulating twill in 8/2 unmercerized cotton. This is done on a four shaft loom and weaves up pretty fast.
Another new experience for me was using tie-ups for the harnesses. I never have – I have a four harness loom with four peddles. I use both feet pretty much all of the time I’m weaving. I must confess that as I wove last night I felt like I was cheating somehow. It was so much easier. Hmmmm, makes me think about modifications to my loom. Actually, it makes me think I want yet another loom, smaller, 8 shafts, more possibilities.
This is a disease, truly.
A Side Note on Shared Experience
I had to post this, especially after the Nature vs. Nurture thing. This is one of the experiences that is mentioned to me the most by my father (and probably sister and brother as well). My father thinks it’s funny that Sue thought we were going to fire her out of the cannon. As you can see she doesn’t look thrilled. This was taken at Fort Ticonderoga around the first of July 1964. Forts were another of the “must see” on our family vacations. What I remember is the cannon was HOT. “Let’s sit the kids on the cannon in the midday July sun”. Probably had third degree burns but never complained.
It’s amazing how this one event has been talked about for almost 50 years – by all of us. These are the things that make us who we are.
Nature vs. Nurture
Joseph’s Coat
I have been thinking about my family (my mother, father and siblings) for the last few days. How we interact with each other, our senses of humor, our interests. I have always thought that people are who they are because of the lifelong bond they have with each other. The shared experiences. My sister, brother and I can relate to so many things because of the memories we have of situations that closely relate to what is happening now. Or how we saw our parents and grandparents react in different situations. We use our past experiences to make decisions on events or to figure out the social protocol within our social sphere. We also have the same sense of humor. It’s really more than that though, our minds all work alike.
My two daughters grew up spending most of their time with my husband’s side of the family. They have a lot of cousins their own age and we all spent most weekends together. They grew up with cousins as best friends. That’s not a bad thing. My sister has two daughters around the same age as mine. They did not spend a lot of time together because of the distance between us or later because of time constraints. It’s not like they didn’t know their cousins, they just didn’t have the same intimate knowledge of one another as they did with their father’s side of the family. They didn’t really know their aunt and uncle on my side well at all – only because every holiday we all spent with our respective in-laws.
A couple of years ago one of my nieces was home for the holidays. We hardly see her now – she’s lives on the other side of the country. My sister’s family came to spend the day with ours. They brought their dogs. We spent the entire day laughing. Once everyone had left my younger daughter said, “I’ve always felt as though I didn’t fit in, now I realize I was just hanging out with the wrong family!” She had found her place. The place where you really understand your roots, or why you are the way you are.
This was the beginning of realizing that who we are may be more genetic than environmental. For years I tried to fit into my husband’s family but they are not who I am. What we have in common is our children.
Since my son and I have reconnected this realization comes home so often that it is fact to me now. He has never known his biological family until this past spring and we did not know him. The first things noticed were the physical attributes but the subtle, personality traits showed up almost immediately. The day he met my daughters was really a whirlwind but after he left everyone was in agreement – he is one of us. It all fit. For us this has been easy, a delightful revelation each time we get together. We gather him in and never seem to get quite enough, the visits end too quickly, there is so much of us to share. At the same time I wonder how overwhelming we might be. How much do you really want to know about a past that never existed until last March?
Since those first few meetings I’ve learned many things about him, about me. Some things can be looked at as bizarre coincidences but the reality is that we are who we are born to be, not who we spend our lives with. Our interests, how we communicate with others, our spiritual selves, those seeds were planted at our conception and we in turn pass them along to our children. My children just happen to be the ones that have made this so abundantly clear to me.
Thoughts on the Big E Experience
I just went to the fairgrounds to pick up my entries to the Big E. It closed yesterday.
The fairgrounds the day after the fair closes are complete chaos. It’s filthy and crowded – not in a good fair kind of way either. The street sweeper actually swept right up against my car just before I got into it to leave. There was trash everywhere. It is interesting to see the dirty underbelly of this huge fair in the broad light of day – makes you want to stay home. It could be because the smell of fair food was not there, that’s what draws you in. All you smell is sausage and peppers, french fries and fried dough. This morning it smelled of manure.
I knew I won first and second place for my weaving because daughter Cait had gone the first few days and sent me photos while she was there. You gotta love modern technology. I didn’t know that every single entry comes back with a critique from the judge – excellent. The evaluation is based on eight criteria – Design, Materials, Creativity/Originality, Color, Technique & Workmanship, Condition, Finishing and Appropriateness of design to submitted work. On the red and white Maltese Cross all aspects were checked excellent except for Design and Creativity/Originality. My assumption is it has to do with it being a traditional design in a traditional color scheme, they’ve seen it before. The scarf on the other hand the judge apparently didn’t like my color scheme at all. Design and Creativity got a fair, Color got a needs improvement and appropriateness was good. Everything else was excellent. I can weave well but the comment really told the story – “The color stripes interfere with the pattern. Very well executed.”
This actually made me laugh a little. I got a ribbon (because they don’t have to give you one) and a good one at that. The judge just hated the color. Maybe I should pass on using a variegated yarn on my next overshot project. Then I thought “that is soo subjective, just because the judge doesn’t like my striped overshot doesn’t mean I don’t like it”. I already have plans for another overshot project (or two) using variegated yarn so the comments won’t stop me. I just may not enter something like that next year. It’ll be a crazier and a more radical departure from tradition but will be executed so well that they will have to acknowledge it. Never try to discourage a person like me when it comes to something I think is working.
How NOT to Spend Most of Your Week
This was going to be a rant about health insurance but is going to be a rant about our present healthcare system – from the inside out.
Tuesday morning I woke up with what I thought was an asthma attack. I hadn’t had one in over 2 years but always have my trusty albuterol inhaler available. I was short of breath, light-headed, and I had this pain in my back. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I used the inhaler – nothing. Damn. I called my doctor thinking I would be going in for a course of Prednisone and would be done.
Well, my doctor wasn’t comfortable with my symptoms. He sent me for stat blood work and a chest x-ray. This is at 11:00 AM. At 3:30 he calls and tells me he thinks I really need to go to the ER. The D-dimer blood test was a little elevated and he thought I should have a cat scan to check for a pulmonary embolism – and oh while I was there just stay overnight and have a nuclear stress test in the morning. Then he said something about my insurance having an issue but don’t delay, go to the ER now. Oooookaaay.
I spent from 4:00 PM until 2:30 AM in my little room on a gurney in POD A of the ER at Baystate. When I arrived I was thinking “Oh, this is pretty comfy”. By the time I went to my room I was thinking “Dear God, get me outta here!”
I took the photo in the ER, I wasn’t feeling so bad at the time and figured I could make a post out of this little experience. As I took the photo I was thinking “Wow, this probably breaks every HIPAA law there is”, but I took it anyway. I intended to take more.
I had a great nurse while I was in the ER. She had been nursing for 45 years – in the ER for 25, she knew her stuff. She put in an IV. We had a conversation about how healthcare was nothing like it used to be. She said back in the day they would never do all the tests they do now. The tests were to cover the drs. butts in case something happened. If the lawyers were taken out of healthcare it might be saved, as it is now it’s swirling in the bowl. She really didn’t need to tell me that, up until this point it had been all about the tests. I had blood drawn 2 more times in the ER.
The CAT scan took place at about 8:30 or 9:00. They go through all of the side effects of the dye that they were going to inject me with. I had a vague recollection of having this done before but for the life of me I can’t remember when. The test was done in a short period of time and it was back to my little ER room to wait for a bed.
When I finally went up to my room they put the monitor on me and left me alone – for about a half an hour. Then my roommate was moved in. Once she was settled I drifted off to sleep a little. At 4:00 a nurse came in to take more blood. At this point I had a screaming headache. I questioned the reason for more blood tests – I was just staying for another test. She told me they needed it for the stress test. She stuck me – got nothing. She said she would call phlebotomy. Half hour later another nurse comes in – stuck me again (ouch!), got nothing. She said she would call phlebotomy. About 5:00 I called the nurse and told her I had a really bad headache and was really nauseous. They gave me Zofran IV for nausea and two Tylenol. While she was there she wanted to do the blood test. I argued, told her to tell my dr. I was noncompliant but finally just relented, it was easier.
Now I have to tell you the top of my head felt as though it was going to just blow off. This was the mother of all headaches. I had told 3 RNs about this and they brought me two Tylenol – ooookaaay. My dr. came in and I told him about this headache as well. Let me see here, I couldn’t talk to him because I am in a fetal position because my head hurts so much. I couldn’t open my eyes because the light bothers them and he says I’ll get you a Tylenol with codeine. Okay. There’s something wrong with this picture.
Between the Zofran and the Tylenol I made it through the stress test. I went back to my room and resumed the fetal position because my head was killing me. Cardiologist after cardiologist came in to tell me that all of my tests are fine – sheesh. I couldn’t really talk to them because the nausea had come back. “Do you have a history of migraines?” I do but they never last more than a few hours, I always have an aura involved and this headache is getting worse.
My dr. calls my room phone to say I’m going to discharge you now, everything looks fine. When the nurse came in I told her that I think this has to be a reaction to the dye in the CAT scan considering when it started. I told her this is the kind of headache I would be going to the ER for. She says she’ll call my dr. She comes back and says he wants me to have a double dose of Zofran and morphine. REALLY?!? I have a reaction to morphine and they all know it, that’s his solution. Fine, do it, I have to get home.
I get the injections. Okay, the morphine dulls the pain enough so I can get home, but the vomiting begins as I expected it would.
I leave the hospital around 6:00 PM and go directly to bed when I get home – along with all of the dogs who have missed me sooooo much (okay, that part was pretty nice).
The headache finally abated Thursday afternoon.
I am concerned and disgusted by the tunnel vision of all of the caregivers around me once I was on the floor. The only thing they could look at was my heart and did not listen to a word I said about anything else.
What started out as some tests ended with me being quite ill. All of the results were fine. I still have no idea what happened, why I had those symptoms and my dr. says we will keep an eye on things. Maybe I did something to my back, that’s his answer. I should let him know if I have any other symptoms going forward.
I’ll be sure to do that. Mmmhmmmm. The problem I see here is if I have symptoms how bad do they have to be before I call anyone again. This was a totally insane experience because my dr. freaked out about an elevated lab. Obviously doctors these days NEVER spend time as patients. Almost everyone that ran tests or took care of me was competent and nice except for the physicians. There is something very, very wrong with the way this system works. How can 6 physicians look at a patient in a fetal position, unable to function in any way and think that is okay? My tests and labs are okay so I’m fine.
I was never so happy to get home to my bed and lick my own wounds. Now, I can’t wait to see the bill.
Throw Back Thursday – Tracks and Wrecks
We have a couple of friends who work for the railroad, they are or were engineers for both Amtrak and freight. They are interesting people to talk to. I had a conversation one afternoon with one of them about the amount of time I had spent as a kid doing things related to trains or tracks or train wrecks. I decided to dig through the archives and post just a few of the shots taken in the 60’s and early 70’s of us spending time on tracks.
On every vacation we would have to stop at something that had to do with tracks – while this wasn’t a train it was a trolley at the Seashore Trolley Museum in Arundel, ME. It seemed like no matter where we were going on vacation we could always make a stop at a place like this.
Of course there was Steamtown, USA located in Bellows Falls, VT which was just close enough so we would go fairly often. It opened in 1963 and these photographs were taken in 1964.
We would stand to have our picture taken, but most of the time we would watch my Dad climb all over and sit in the engineers seat on the various engines that were there.
In 1984 Steamtown was moved to Scranton, PA and my father and mother made a trip to see it in its new incarnation. He always knew where those locomotives were or were headed.
Then there were the train wrecks. These were truly family events for us as kids. Very rarely would we go with our Dad anywhere except on our once a year vacation. If there was a wreck within a reasonable driving distance we went. Often we would go on consecutive nights to see how the clean up was coming along.
This wreck was in Charlemont in the winter of 1967. This was an exciting time for us.
This was also before the days of lawsuits and liability issues so when there was a wreck it took on a carnival atmosphere (maybe it was because I was a kid that it seemed that way). People would walk around the wreckage – help clean out box cars taking home whatever they could (they would be called looters now – it was a different time). We would go at night and watch them work under huge lights, part of a gallery of locals where this was about as much excitement as you could ask for on a February night.
This last photograph was taken at Clark’s Trading Post in Lincoln, NH. We went there a number of times on vacation but it was only in recent years that I realized it wasn’t because my parents loved Franconia Notch, it was more about going to Clark’s and seeing the locomotive that they had there. We always had to take a ride on it and I’m sure Dad talked the ear off of the engineer. While there we would also have to go to Mt. Washington and watch the locomotives for the Cog Railway come and go. At the time they were steam and pushed the cars up the mountain.
In later years my father bought a 1923 Erie Steam Shovel (like the one in the children’s book Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel). He complete restored the multiple engines on it, had the boiler re-manufactured and would fire it up occasionally to delight and entertain family and guests. He would contact the owners of Clark’s and talk with them about it because Clark’s was the only other place that had one that ran. He sold it a few years ago to a man that wanted to finish the restoration, he didn’t want someone to scrap it.
There are still two large steam power plants on the property – one was used to power the sawmill. The other was a steam generator he took out of a factory in Vermont.
Steam has been an all encompassing passion of my father’s his entire life. He had always talked about putting tracks around the property so he could run a locomotive around it. I always thought that was more to get a rise out of my mother but have come to understand that it was probably a sincere dream of his. We may have been bored out of our minds on some of those trips to Steamtown but at the same time there is nothing I have found that gives me chills like a steam engine chugging it’s way along the tracks.
Fall is Here
See that weed infested mess in the foreground – it’s gone! We pulled up the stakes and mowed it with the lawnmower. Yes, that is how weedy it was. As a matter of fact it looks like the rest of the lawn. I’m sad that garden season is over but I’m not sad to see that garden gone. Bill started building a fire pit in the middle of it for the upcoming Harvest party. I figure if nothing else the center of the garden will be weed free next year.
Fort Pelham Farm 