Saturday, November 30, 2013

Santa Fly-In



No traipsing off to the crowded mall to visit Santa this year.
 
 
Santa flew in to the regional airport this morning to visit with
the many children assembled there,
Baby Granddaughter among them.
 
 
This bustling parking lot is empty most days.
 
 
While families waited for Santa's arrival, the crew at the snack bar,
dressed for the season, cheerfully served up heaping plates of really good food.
 

This gorgeous little plane adorned the top of the refrigerator, 


while this old beauty adorned the field.
 


 
The crowd was summoned to the gate, as Santa's plane approached.
 
 
After a quick fly-by, with the waiting crowd throwing up their hands in greeting, 
Santa's plane slowly made its way to its parking place,  
 
and out emerged the jolly man in red, accompanied by his elf.
 
Santa made his way to the decorated lobby
 where he visited with each and every child
and posed for countless photos. 
 
While Baby Granddaughter loved the decorations,
gobbled up her scrambled eggs, 
hugged the children waiting in line,
enjoyed playing in the field while she waited,  
she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the jolly man in red.
Maybe next year.
 
What a unique way to welcome in the holiday season!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 



 

Monday, October 28, 2013

Boo!

 The North Forty is just about ready for Halloween!
Two gigantic goofy ghosts stand guard at the front door. 
He sports a bow tie and buttons.
She sports a hair ribbon and tutu.
"Boo" is all fun on The North Forty.
 The ghosts were made from large plastic balls, clearance white fabric, felt, ribbon and tulle.
The boo sign was cut from foam board and painted with acrylic paint.



Colorful pumpkins and gourds decorate the side entrance.

The mad scientist's laboratory/kitchen is a mess,
as Halloween treats are prepared.

Pans of dipped and decorated pretzels 
are ready to be packaged for trick or treaters.
Stick pretzels were dipped in white, orange, and green candy melts,
then sprinkled with Wilton Halloween candy decorations and sugars
or drizzled with contrasting candy melts.


Yum! 

Treat bags patiently wait to be filled for the neighborhood children.
Felt, tulle, paint, craft buttons, scrap ribbon and a little imagination
are all it takes to create these fun bags. 
I'll share how-to's later this week.
Next up - cookies!




Saturday, August 17, 2013

Friday, August 16, 2013

Her Father's Daughter

 


Baby Granddaughter has returned to my care from her summer vacation, a frolicking, toddling, laughing, growling, jabbering, incredibly happy, funny one year old. Did I mention toddling? 

This day, she made the first of what I expect will be many fine messes.  She spent a good many minutes at the edge of some recently poured concrete removing each piece of straw from the newly sewn grass beyond.  She carefully placed each piece in a pile behind her.  After removing the straw, she discovered the dirt, into which she thrust her pristine, tiny, lily-white fingers to make hole after hole.  After excavating each hole, she experimented with putting her finger back in, along with tiny rocks, pieces of leaf, dirt clods and pieces of straw.  She sat there contently playing, oblivious to the world around her.  This was serious work in which she was engaged.

I watched from the step behind her, to make sure she didn't eat too much dirt or straw.  She only had a small taste of dirt, and didn't seem to like it  much.  When I tried to wipe the remnants from her tongue, she bit me.  Sorry Mom and Dad. A little dirt is good for the soul.

As I watched, I was transported back a couple decades or so. This darling baby girl is her father's daughter.  Baby Orion loved playing in the dirt, stomping in the mud, and he spent years in a sand box on the North Forty, having to be coaxed to come into the house at dark.  His rusted 480E Construction King lives in a place of prominence in the basement.

Beyond their mutual love of dirt, he and she share a joie de vivre that is, at once, exhilarating and tiring.  He was and she is a spirited, inquisitive, social, little chatterbox, always on the go, always pushing the limits. And, as much as my daughter-in-law is loath to hear it, they bear a striking resemblance to each other. 

 
 Baby Orion
 
 
Baby Granddaughter
 
How grand is the luxury called grandparenthood?
 




Thursday, July 25, 2013

52 weeks

This is my baby granddaughter posing prettily in the front yard for her 52 week photo.  You see, her parents, Orion and The One, have taken a photo of her each Thursday for the first 52 weeks of her life. They posted every one of those photos to Facebook.  Baby Granddaughter has grown to be a Thursday night favorite of  a great many people.  By week 10, it was apparent that she was born to be a crowd pleaser.  Her willing smile began to light up the page and light up our lives. Thanks Orion and The One for sharing her first 52 weeks with us.
Woohooooo!!! What an amazing 52 weeks. So blessed!

On the eve of her first birthday, I thought it would be fun to have a look at all 52 photos, to see how she has changed and grown during the year.  Because I could scarce believe my eyes, I had another look at all 52 photos.
And, after having had 104 looks, there are a couple conclusions I have drawn, one of which might be of interest to anyone reading this post, because it applies to all of us. As each of us rushes headlong through our days, we must take each moment and live it to the fullest.  It is our only chance to do so.  Once each minute, each hour, each day has passed, IT IS GONE. It is imperative that we concentrate on the here and now, for it will never be again.  
 It is almost incomprehensible to me that baby granddaughter, the smiling, self-assured almost toddler in the photo above, is the same spindly legged infant seemingly swallowed up her by clothing in Week 1.  Those 52 weeks have flown by.
As I rocked her this morning, I gazed down upon her little face, watching her ever so gradually fall asleep.  I savored each twitch of  her eye, each breath, each tiny noise she made as she made as she drifted toward sleep.  I lived in that  moment . . . and it was all good.
Happy Birthday tomorrow, Luca.
Mamaw loves you . . . 

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Mirro Colander Strainer

My hat's off to the best preserved kitchen item on the North Forty.
 
 
Take a look at those legs, all three of them!

 
And, how about those arms?  Still doing a mean push up after all these years, even if a little crookedly.
 
 
 
 

Actually, this colander strainer may be the most well preserved thing on the entire North Forty. as I come to think about it, humans included. 
  
 
I wonder about the 7 star pattern.  Look how the holes that make up the star pattern are not the same size. It would have been nice to know how they were made.
 

 MIRRO
THE FINEST ALUMINUM
MADE IN U.S.A.

 
I will second that.
 
 
 


Sunday, July 7, 2013

Lilliputian Lovelies

Recent rains have created a glut in the wee folk housing market. 


The market is awash
 

 
 with condominiums
 
 
and apartments.
 

 A fine selection of
 
 
single family homes
 
 
 
awaits the discerning buyer.
 
 
 
Duplexes remain
 
 
especially attractive.

 
From the avant garde

 
to the humble,
 

 From the austere
 
 
to the gaudy
 
 
there's no place 
 
 
like home.
 
For more information on these and other fine wee folk properties
contact your realtor today. 

Mystical Retreat Cheesecake

You know the old saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." 

Well . . . a lot of people in this neck of the woods have been doing their level best to do just that, as rain, rain, and more rain hurls angrily from the skies, day, after day, after day.  Outdoor July 4th celebrations were pretty much a wash-out in my little town.  When Friday dawned just as grey and gloomy and rainy as Thursday, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  The day would be ruined only if I let it be ruined. 

"When life gives you unrelenting rain and gloomy grey skies, take a road trip, have an impromptu picnic lunch, visit with friends, add to your daylily collection, and purchase "possibly the world's greatest cheesecake"."  A quick call to Better Half at the office yielded me a partner in my adventure. 

And we were off.  You know, I always try to make these stories short, but they always end up long, because there is so much story behind the stories, all of which ends up being pertinent to the story I am trying to tell.  So I will start somewhere near the beginning of this one.

I despise highways - four lane, paved, straightasanarrow byways on which we travel to get ourselves from Point A to Point B in as little time as possible. They are convenient.  They are speedy.  But, they are beyond boring.  This stunning countryside is filled with tiny, less traveled roads, all of which will eventually get us to our destinations.  These squirrrelly roads are filled with the stuff of life - fog-shrouded hills with animals grazing in the pastures below, homes, barns, gardens, tiny businesses, folks mowing their pastures, verdant farmlands, roaring streams, yard sales, children playing in yards.  Of course, not every image is Norman Rockwellian, but every image is real. 

So, I am always on the lookout for Americana routes, as they have come to be called in my family.  I discovered, several years ago, that if I drove in a north/northwesterly direction from my little town, I would eventually get to the mall.  This route takes me right beside a gorgeous little gem of a lake, takes me through Bainbridge, an equally gorgeous small town, and on to McMurry Gardens, where I have become more than a customer, over the years.  This was the plan for the "shake off the rainy day blues" tour on Friday.   And . . . as usual, the Americana route proved to be a resounding success.

 
First stop, McMurry Gardens.  I've been stopping at McMurry Gardens for years on the Americana Route.  There are lots of times I don't even make it to the mall.  I just go to visit and enjoy the incredible gardens.  Wilma and I oohed and aahed over the daylilies she has spent years hybridizing.  We toured the beds of fledgling daylilies that are not yet for sale.  We caught up on family news.  Then, Dennis and I slogged through the mud, plastic bags in hand, to heft chunks of daylilies from the sodden ground.  In spite of the terrible weather, the daylilies were blooming their little heads off.  It was a sight to behold.  Dennis reluctantly posed with a wagon of the daylilies that will be making their new home on the North Forty.  The daylilies are a whole story unto themselves. 
 
On the return trip, we had to feed both our car and ourselves, so a stop in Bainbridge was necessary.  As Better Half fueled the car, my eye was drawn to a simple little sign I have seen at least 20 times before.  It read something to the effect "Mystical Retreat Cheesecake, possibly the world's greatest cheesecake."  I have seen the sign many times before.  Better Half claims we have tried to stop before.  I don't think so.  I was initially intrigued by the name Mystical Retreat, thinking bygone 70s thoughts, then by the prospect of fabulous cheesecake.  I was out of the car in a shot, across the street, and entering the door to a very, very old house, where, hopefully, I would stumble upon "possibly the world's greatest cheesecake."
 
I entered what was the hall in the house.  The light was dim.  Rooms to my right and left apparently held various things, but my gaze was fixed on the case in front of me, which held a dazzling array of cheesecakes.  A quite friendly person appeared on the spot, offering me a sample of cheesecake, in an individualized lidded container.  I chose pecan praline from among the samples. As I nibbled, we chatted about her product.  The cheesecakes are made of real ingredients and contain no preservatives.  I tried, without success, to mask the smile that made its way across my face as I ate the cheesecake sample. I asked her if the cheesecake could be without refrigeration for about an hour.  She thought that was safe.  The cheesecake was sublime.  It tasted like cream cheese, butter, sugar, and pecans.  I had begun to think, yep, "possibly the world's greatest cheesecake".
 
I chose turtle cheesecake for Better Half and Pecan Praline for me.   As I waited for the cheesecake to be bagged, I began to take note of my surroundings.  Before me was one of the most ornately decorated wooden staircases I have ever seen.  A leaded glass window, in shades of yellow and red  illuminated the staircase. It turns out the house has stood in its location since 1805.  It was redecorated in 1890, if you can wrap your head around that, which explains the Victorian style staircase. 
 


With the cheesecake slices packed in an unassuming brown paper bag, I tucked my little treasures underneath my arm, and stowed them in the car, close to an air conditioning vent.  Better Half and I stopped at the local Subway for sandwiches and drinks, then drove to Pike Lake for lunch.  I prevailed upon him to take a photo of the muddy, fairly deserted lake.  A couple of boats, the kind where you pedal like a bicycle, were on the lake, but not much else.  It was, nonetheless, nice to enjoy an impromptu picnic. 

 
As we pulled away from the lake to continue our journey home, Better Half offhandedly asked about the cheesecake.  I told him he had his choice of two flavors, knowing precisely which choice he would make.  I held them up for his approval.  He chose turtle.  No surprise there.  I tucked the cheesecake slices back into the bag.  We would enjoy our dessert later, once we were home.  Little did he realize what was waiting for him.


 
Not very long after we were home, Better Half made his way to the refrigerator for the cheesecake, which gave me a perfect excuse to have mine, too.  In fact, I began to eat mine before taking the photo, as you can see. 
 
 
 This is a close-up of the turtle cheesecake, covered in chocolate, pecans, and a caramel sauce over the top of it all, with shaved chocolate lining the bottom of the container.  Better Half's smile, as he ate the cheesecake, was every bit as goofy as mine when I ate the sample at the Mystical Retreat.  This cheesecake is fabulous.  It is real, just like the Americana Route, just like the little beloved roads that dot our countryside. 

If you should ever find yourself in Bainbridge, Ohio, you must, absolutely must, have at least one slice of Mystical Retreat Cheesecake.  Two would be even better.  You are in for a treat!!! 


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