Zinnia Peace

I don’t know that I’ve ever been so glad to see a month come to an end. I’m not a woman who wishes away Time, but it’s mighty damned convenient to have the month my sister died draw to a close only 3 days later. My new friend Katy, who helped me take care of Deb, pointed out that Jan died at the end of a month as well. So, in fact did Chad. Wayne died Memorial Day weekend. Sporting of them to get out before the month ended, eh? allowing us to turn the calendar page. My prayer is that the cool air that comes with the turning of the season salves my soul. Where the hell is Giliad anyway, and how do I get me some of that balm?

I’m longing for a new mandala and the chance to write about something else. I’m sure I’ll write again about this loss… how could I not… but maybe not so much when the pain is so debilitating. I crave the quiet. I drift from room to room here, surrounding by Deb’s stuff, wearing her jewelry, and an occasional bit of clothing, holding her close. I find I anguish about the fact her house isn’t neat. Deb whose house was always so neat… I, who am not neat, spends a lot of time straightening up.

In the language of flowers, a bouquet of mixed zinnias is offered in memory of someone… As I say in the poem, I love having the painting. These zinnias will not die. A bouquet of dead flowers or leaves also represents loss, but their bodies may be dead but their spirits are surely soaring and rejoicing. Wildly colored zinnias are exactly what’s needed…

I just checked. There are seven zinnias in the vase. One for each of the six beloved dead in my family and one, as the UUs would have it, for the here unnamed, but equally beloved departed. May they be at peace.

I have so much to say. So much to tell you about my sister’s very good death and my oh-so-painful losses and my deep joy at being able to be her midwife for leaving. But not now.

We often close church with a Metta meditation… I find I’m unsure of one of the words in the middle but will work with what I have right now: May we be happy. May we be whole. May we be filled with kindness and peace. I’m a long way from any of them at the moment, but soon I’ll try to claw my way back. It’s good to have a goal.

Hoping for champagne and chocolate cake in heaven today… wherever 6 or more are gathered, let there be champagne and chocolate.

Green Apple Peace

You know you’re a certain age, when you can’t say green apples without hearing: “God didn’t make little green apples…”

So when i started this particular musing, it was the first thing that came to mind. I realized that it was perhaps one of the silliest starts to a song I’d come across. Wonderful food is certainly the purview of the Divine… however you define that…

And green applesauce! that tart and wonderful taste of summer. I think of it making its winter appearances alongside supper… the sweetest pleasure was when it turned up along pancakes and sausage for an occasional dinner. Who knew that what Mom was thinking about as a dollar stretcher… Because for us it was sheer indulgence. Especially when she cracked open the green applesauce.

All these sweet memories arise as we begin to say goodbye to my sister. It’s so odd, so many of my family memories are held in our collective memory… and she cooks, well, cooked. Tom, my brother, does as well, but he lives a bit farther away. So, I’m trying to cement things in my heart and mind so that I will be able to tell the stories without her…

ah, life is odd and poignant, isn’t it? but there we are, this is what we have. and it’s beautiful however sad… and it’s green applesauce… and the occasional pie. and there’s a certain wonderful kind of Peace in that, isn’t there? To everything, there is a season… both in life and in green apples… and for those times when it’s too hard… green applesauce is likely to save the day, at least for me. and that’s how we keep making memories. Peace be with all of us.

Roots, Peace and a Sabbath

When the mornings start out misty, the root vegetables start coming… This time of year, they’re as tender as the mist, but infinitely more substantial… I’m sitting at my sister’s watching the sun turn the river fog pink and then gold and then ghostly white. Up here, it’s all blue sky.

Church and then brunch and then a nap, a swim and a visit with a bestie. And all along, cherished time with my sister. it doesn’t get sweeter… And now Debbie’s life, which is pretty damned ephemeral, is infinitely sweet for me, if challenging for her, for us all.

It’s the Sabbath… counting blessings, giving thanks for what is. Life in the very slow lane. With Beets. and Peace.

Spinach Dip Peace

Some foods are all about the luxury… and spinach dip is one of those foods. yum.

But spinach is a mighty food warrior. It is so good for us — filled with all sorts of vitamins and minerals. For something that cooks down to nothing you really have to give it its props.

Lots of folks love it raw. I’m one of those people who has a problem with the acid and I hate how my teeth feel when I munch it that way. But top that salad with cooked scallops or a burger with onions? I’m a happy woman.

But simply because spinach dip isn’t the best thing in the world in terms of fat content doesn’t mean it’s not food for the soul. Dips are one of the few foods we eat from a communal pot and there’s something to be said for a conversation shared over a shared food bowl. You’ve already moved toward intimacy… the conversation deepens. You’re being present before you know it. And that’s a good thing.

So eat your dip… and eat your spinach in other ways. As Popeye reminds us: “We’re strong to the finish when we eats our spinach!” (or something like that!) And just imagine, he ate canned spinach… a more ghastly invention I can’t imagine!

Happy Summer!

Heirloom Peace

One of the gifts of being able to write well about food is that sometimes you inspire people to make something from your past and then they give you a unit as a thank you! oh, wha-hoo!

This happened with the tomato jam… recipe to follow. jes’ sayin…

My beloved California roommate, Jennifer June the Cowboy Boot Queen, took the recipe and improved it. She made it with Brandywines… my very favorite Heirloom tomato. Although I’m easy. My landlord’s favorite are the purple and the black, whose wonderful names I’ve forgotten. I don’t mind slicing one of those up with fresh mozzarella and some basil one little bit. (Heaven in a warm tomato, yes!)

But whoever decided to draw Heirloom tomatoes back to the present did a lovely thing. Tomatoes (apparently along with marijuana) are our most tinkered with plants. As we decided that all fruits must be available to us at every moment, people started trying to figure out how to deliver a winter tomato. Unfortunately, one of the by-products of shipability was taste. They’ve recently figured out that some move they made took the gene with taste out of the ‘mater. Hence those square, whitish tasteless tomatoes. “This is the best thing ever” said no one ever.

Seasonal, local eating is really best for the world, but it demands a lot of concentration. It helps, if you want tasty goodies in the dead of winter if you can. Otherwise, you eat what grows as long as it does and adjust. My CSA farmer reminded me that it’s summer until it frosts and that when you’re loading in tomatoes like this, it’s high summer. So you just enjoy summer and tomatoes in abundance. But here (and this won’t happen often!) is my Mom’s Tomato Jam recipe, clipped from a newspaper many, many years ago, coming to you from General Food’s Kitchen. They were married in 1943 and this came from the newspaper in Philadelphia where they lived where they were married. If anyone wants the recipe for Mayhaw Jam, do let me know.

Mom always made it without the spice, but the lemon (the more the better) is crucial. She always added some very thin quarter slices in as well. She certainly made this for as long as Deb or I can remember. It’s great on toast… it’s great on an open-faced toasted cheese sandwich. Tomato Peace to you, my friends.

2 1/4 pounds tomatoes 2 lemons.
Prepared Fruit: 3 cups or 1 1/2 lbs.
Sure-Gel: 1 box
Sugar: 4 1/2 cups or 2 lbs
Cup Yields: 5 1/2
Scald, peel and chop tomatoes. Simmer 10 minutes. Measure. Ad 1 1/2 teaspoons grated lemon rind, 1/4 cup lemon juice, 1/2 teaspoon each: allspice and cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves.

Pavilion Peace

OK, I admit it. I have Pavilion Envy. Why I believe they hold the secret to happiness, I’m not exactly sure. But I’ve been to family picnics, church picnics, company picnics, Girl Scout picnics, reunion picnics, friend picnics under their Civilian Conservation Corps eaves for as long as I’ve been around.

Driving down the road around here I see country church after country church with their pavilions off to the side (usually on the side away from the graveyard, but not always. Sometimes they overlook the graveyard and the spirits of the Beloved Dead are often invoked. I confess my head always turns.

Is it the idea of a simpler time when generations gathered together? Is it the eating out-of-doors? Or is it simply the wide variety of potato salads? I don’t know. But I like them. And don’t even get me started on the ones with the fireplaces at the end where you can have winter picnics! My friends who knew me as a city girl might be surprised to hear of this delight in rural fun, but, ooh. I’m calling my friends Sonia and Sara this morning and setting up a picnic date at our local park.

Peace gets made over potato Salad… I’m absolutely convinced of it.

Succotash Sabbath Peace

It’s grey and mysterious out there today, and will burn off to a beautiful day. August at its finest.

I wish you meals full of the bounty of the season and dips in cool pools… A very blessed day of quiet and laughter… I’m sure it’s more about me that I’m longing for peace and quiet.

Succotash celebrates the abundance by mixing it all up. All those wonderful summer vegetables in a bright summer mix. I wish you that as well — and Peace, always Peace.

Peace Chard!

Greens… not just chard, are a wonderful thing. I grew up eating spinach, but that was about it. I didn’t

A friend wrote the other day that they hadn’t understood when they ate vegetables at their grandma’s that they ate vegetables because the family was poor and the vegetables were cheap. They thought they were so lucky (and, oh, weren’t they!) to be eating vegetables fresh from the garden, each according to its season.

Greens are one of those things that disappeared from a lot of people’s tables because they were poor food and they could afford to buy canned foods. It’s taken two generations to understand what convenience and marketing cost us. Greens do a body good.

And greens and beans and squashes are those foods that the world can afford to eat. I don’t know that I’ll ever give up meat. But I know that at the very least I must change the balance.

When I was in California I learned to make vegetables a much bigger part of my plate. On my move back east when people asked me what I missed, I said “talk NPR and vegetables.” (I hope they knew that I really miss my friends!) But when I think globally, I know that my meat limits the food supply. And yes, I know, it doesn’t do a lot for the animals either. Does my relationship with meat change if I take the Native American blessing ways very seriously. Certainly it makes me feel better. It does at least keep me grateful.

But I feel grateful when I live lightly upon the earth as well. And when I eat lightly. I feel better not just morally, but physically. Greens are good for us. Chard is sweet and delicious and hale and hearty.

One of the ways I learned to eat chard is in what my friend called Persian Eggs. You sauté chard and onions and garlic and tomatoes with cinnamon and cardamom and if you’re lucky summac, and then you make a nest and drop eggs in to poach. I like them still runny, mix ’em all up and that’s a breakfast! oh, yeah.

But back when my niece was a little and mentioned Swiss chard as one of her favorites, I knew that the world was listing toward better eating. I hope we still are. So, eat the chard while the garden is growing. You’ll be glad you did. Eat some chard for a more balanced world. No justice, no Peace… and everything we do has something to do with both of those things.

Cucumber Peace

Cucumbers are coolness personified as far as I’m concerned. I love them in so many ways. yum! They show up in so many different cuisines and with so many different herbs. In Mexico street vendors marry their coolness with mayonnaise and cayenne. Ay Caramba! (and yum!)

And then, still wandering along that coast, I was at a spa that had a whole big vat filled with oranges, mint and cucumbers. It was the most decadent thing I could imagine. Soaking in a hot tub after a mud bath sipping on icy cold cucumber drink. Drink the drink and I’ve got the whole experience!

In Sweden, cucumbers were ubiquitous. That’s the first time I met the “English” seedless, burpless cucumber. All year long, you piled them high on your open-faced cheese sandwich and my mamma often had a bowl of them in a vinegar sugar mixture in the pantry. I don’t make a cheese sandwich that I can’t feel her love.

Back at home, my mom used to slice them up alongside the carrots and celery that often made an appearance on the lunch table. Filling up with fiber and goodness (with just a little salt.) She also made the vinegar/sugar dish from time to time…

When Debbie married into a slavic family I was introduced to the creamy version of cucumber salad… and that was all over New York when I lived there. Then I discovered them chopped finely on my favorite cold sesame noodles. There really is no end to the ways I enjoy my cucumbers.

And so as I was thinking about cucumbers last night, it dawned on me that as hot-headed and blooded people worked to make peace, a cool cucumber drink might go a long way toward soothing the atmosphere. And consider… it’s good for you. All that green vitamin C and no sugar? Yum.

So soothing, cooling cucumbers to you, my dears, and may we all be united in the Peace of a summer afternoon…

Soft-serve Peace

Every summer our kids come to visit. We are so lucky. Me particularly. Not having had kids myself and now getting to add the soft blessing of Grannianni to my list of nicknames is priceless. I’m awkward at the grandmother thing, there are things you learn as a mom, that makes this transition easy. So, I struggle a bit…

But one thing my mom taught me, that I can put to good use with the littles, is the sense of occasion and the building of traditions. And the soft-serve ice-cream place is one of those places. It is magical on a warm summer evening. To sit out under the trees, while the kids are playing and to watch the fireflies light up the soybean field next door, is just lovely. To sit there with a friend or with my Sweet Pea… equally grand.

We don’t do it often, and that makes it even sweeter. But we layer the memories on the same way the soft ice cream piles up in a cup. And then no matter where we eat soft ice cream, it’s piled with the memories of the place where we hold hands to watch the fireflies or our children and our grandchildren. Sacred ground, indeed!

And here in the country, the ice cream reflects the season… strawberry, peach, pumpkin, each in its own seasonally appointed time… and right after pumpkin, it closes down for the season, not to open again until after Easter. Being the country, Easter is proclaimed on their sign. Everyone in the neighborhood now puzzles to figure out how the resurrection, bunnies, eggs and ice cream are related. But they are somehow, and that’s the way it is.

That’s a lot of delight for a small cone to impart! But even a small cone is big enough to carry the memories.

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

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