Spr(o)ing!

Remember the Earth day pictures of my ruddy little determined peonies? Well, the next day was another of those days we dream of all winter: low '70s, gentle breeze, sunshine so warm you can feel the Vitamin D being sucked into your skin. On such a day, early in the morning, the peonies have a conversation. Goes something like this:

Peony One: OK, it's time. We can all see over the dead leaves; the Woman has pulled away all the dead effluvia from last year; our wire frame is in position. Everyone ready?

Other Peonies: YEAH! (mumbling is heard: "how come HE gets to decide?" "I thought it was MY turn this year" "Wait, I didn't hear what he said..." "Shut up back there, he said it's TIME" "Oh")

All together: GROWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!



I am not making this up, that's one day's growth. Because of some rearrangement of branches, I think there'll be enough sun on these guys this year that they'll manage more than the usual 2-3 blossoms. I didn't know, when I planted these guys, that peonies need a great deal of sunshine to make flowers. My neighbors all have peonies that bloom so hard it wears them out and they droop over.

The forecast for today is for rain, which is NOT a bad thing. I suspect that everything else will show progress too. The trillium already have buds (I counted seven!) and there are thin spikes all around them which will be lilies-of-the-valley. There's a small area at the back of my yard that is my pride and joy: besides the trillium there's a columbine, a slowly-growing population of jacks-in-the-pulpits (are they not the dearest things?) and all the LOTV. There is a short period of time, and I WILL get pictures, when the myriad violets are in bloom, the "white silver bells upon their slender stalks" are abundant, and those wonderful wild plants are standing proud. I really cherish that little area.

There are also these delicate, beautiful little guys, who grow into ferns. Not a lot of them, just enough to add a real "woodlands" feel to the scene. I have the Overactive Imagination required of historic reenactors, (and, I suspect, writers of children's stories) and that little plot is a perfect habitation for the faeries that I know live in the little toad house back there. I'll try to post pictures of them; sometimes in the dusk when the fireflies are out, the faeries emerge to dance, tend the flowers and do a little gardening of their own.......


I'm counting down. It's still Passover, you see. In keeping with tradition, I made what you see here: a lovely noodle kugel , my mother's recipe. *Dale-Harriet, 'scuse me, but we in the back here don't know what a noodle kugel is.* Why, I'm so very glad you asked! Noodle kugel is a milchig dish, meaning "dairy". It has noodles (I bet you guessed that); it also has cottage cheese, eggs (for binding), raisins, cinnamon and almonds. It's good hot, it's good cold. It's good room temperature. It's good with a little sour cream on. It's good with a glass of milk. If you're having it with tea you can have real cream.

My other "speciality" is Genuine Jewish Mother's Top-o'-the-Line Home-Made Chicken Soup with My Superior Matzoh Balls. Legendary. The very soup Lovely Daughter begs for when she's Coming Down With something. That, of course, is fleishig . I also have a HUGE appreciation for cold boiled chicken, a happy side product of the soup. Of course, with THAT meal, you need to have non-dairy cream, and the only one I've found is Rich's, which does, as a matter of fact, really taste like genuine cream. In spite of separating meat and milk, and having only matzoh, I eat plenty fine during Passover.

By the way, there is a very efficient and complete History of the Jewish People: "They tried to kill us. They failed. Let's eat!"

SHORT RANT: Time was, you could find non-dairy margarine; I think Fleischmann's had one, and there were a couple of other kinds too. Same also with "non-dairy creamer". If you look at "pure vegetable margarine", for example, and you read all that tee-tiny wordage on the back or the bottom, you almost invariably find "WHEY" listed. Remember "whey"? Remember Little Miss Arachnophobe? Guess what, whey is another word for MILK SOLIDS. This year I finally found something; I'm not remembering the name (and it doesn't say on the clever little "individual 8 oz. cups") but it's something heart-healthy. Never saw it before, but to its credit, it does taste all right on matzoh. (Keep in mind, if you run out of matzoh you can cut the box into pieces and eat it with very little notice that it's not the genuine article.) END OF RANT

All of this is fine. Passover ends tomorrow at sundown. Here's another family tradition: after sundown, at the end of Passover, we go out to eat. The family tradition is to try to break every single dietary law...on ONE PLATE! Of course, we're pretty much good at it now. The popular choices usually include pepperoni and sausage pizza or bacon double cheeseburger. You have your meat AND your milk (and pork products) not to mention regular bread. Of course, in order to REALLY break them all there would have to be a shrimp cocktail in there, or an order of mussels or something. But you know, just sayin'.

I'm writing from my son's house - where I'm babysitting for possibly the smartest, cutest most trying , sweetest, most adorable paschkudniks you've ever seen. The smarts they got from Grandma Dale. The rest is direct genetics from their Papa (except a lot of the "cute" and "sweet", which is from their Maman).

Happy Earth Day!!

Earth Day was born in Wisconsin!! Yessiree, it was the braingem of one Senator Gaylord Nelson, and was first celebrated on April 22, 1970; it's become pretty much worldwide now. (An article I saw said some countries celebrate it on March 21, the start of Spring.)

These are my brand-new Trillium, the first little plants in my back garden; the violets are peeking up a bit, the peonies are valiantly emerging (see below) and today I saw my first, charming buttery little dandelion. I'm sorry, I think they're pretty - furthermore, they're nutritious and a lot of the plant is useful. They get a bad rap.

My entire back yard is covered in wood violets (no mowing!) which are also considered by some mean-spirited dolts plant snobs to be invasive weeds too. Clearly they've never had sugared violets, enjoyed a tussie-mussie or celebrated Wisconsin State Pride. It's our State Flower. So there.

There are a lot of websites providing tips and tricks for being nice to Mother Earth; it's no secret that she's pretty fed up and it's time we start paying attention. There was that commercial in the '70s that showed the Indian man (Iron Eyes Cody) sitting on horseback looking over a trash dump - close-up of his face, with one tear rolling down his cheek. My opinion? That said it all.

Here are my bold little peonies, and while you can't see it too well in this picture, each one has a tee-tiny smile on its rosy face because this time of year the back yard gets a lot of sun. I lost a big tree back there last year so maybe THIS year there'll be more than just 2-3 blossoms on the peonies.

I talk at the Museum about how words like "recycling" and "biodegradable" were not in my 4th grade lexicon; I show them a paper plate and talk about how we use them on picnics and then throw them away where they become GOBBITCH! And we don't be likin' gobbitch. I further say that paper plates may be in museums when they grow up, because maybe by then (and I DO say "I'm making this up") there will be "paper plates" that you can eat on and then put in warm water and they'll just dissolve away, no gobbitch. Maybe they'll be made out of some sort of gelatin. One clever little student suggested they might even be edible....no gobbitch then either!

The older I get, the more aware of Mother Earth I become, and while I've always had a green heart (it was a hippie thang, y'know) I'm trying to become greener yet. We do use compact fluorescent bulbs almost everywhere in the house; in our city we get big putcher-gobbitch-here bins-on-wheels, and now identical green putcher-recycling-here bins-on-wheels. We can put in everything into that bin: magazines, paper, cans, glass, &c. No need to separate. I love Madison. I print on the BACKS of pages I don't need anymore and we have a good supply of bags for any and all shopping (in fact, all the groceries sell shopping bags made outta recycled stuff - liter bottles, for example) - and they're all around 99 cents. And you get a nickel or dime credit for each bag you use. I use 'em at book stores &c too.

Not much knitting or kitties or reading today, folks, but Normal Programming will resume tomorrow. Let me leave you with this thought - it's recycled from a poster dated to the Depression of the 1930s:



"USE IT UP,
WEAR IT OUT,
MAKE IT DO...
OR DO WITHOUT!"

I LOVE a challenge!

77 words

Speedtest

Dare I Say It?

I'm going out on a limb here....but I THINK it's SPRING!

See these? THESE are one of the reasons that I live in the Upper Midwest, where we have fierce winters that freeze icky huge bugs, where we wind up shovelling 8' of snow, where we get snowed in for days sometimes, obliged to sit on our couches wrapped in blankets, sipping rich cocoa or hot, fragrant tea and spending endless hours in pursuits such as .... oh .... reading . Or maybe even knitting , even if we're not Little Old Ladies (and especially if we ARE).

The change of Season has caused a flurry of non-activity around here. I've been not writing, and not knitting, and not reading -- but I've been THINKING a lot. Oh yeah, and planning. (In anticipation of Spring Cleaning, Purging, Tidying, Organizing....all those words I tend to not even think about all winter.) NOTE: THINKING about those things are often as far as it gets; I usually manage to forestall any actual activities and get back to writing, knitting and reading.

Oh - and tonight I'm involved in the Very Important Job of finishing up the super-delicious barbecued ribs I made last night with Lovely Daughter's Incomparable Sauce. Tomorrow morning I must literally and truly empty and scrub out my cupboards and pack away all the things in there which are TREF (pronounced "trayff"), meaning "stuff that is not kosher, and must therefore be entirely out of the house before the beginning of Passover." Passover starts tomorrow night at sundown, and we'll be going over to our dear friends' house for the seder as we do every year.

As a rather free-form Jew, rather than throwing away my non-kosher food in preparation for the holiday I take the more practical and acceptable stance of selling it to a non-Jew. That way none of it is wasted.

TRUE CONFESSION: Mr Dearling is not a Jew. I pack up all the tref , sell it to HIM (for a dollar; what a bargain!). He then takes it downstairs to a corner of the basement designated HIS SPACE ONLY (as in, "it doesn't belong to me, it is not part of my house in any way, shape or form") where it remains until after Passover, when I buy it back and put it away again.

Tomorrow I will go purchase my food for the eight days of Passover (not usually done on Saturday, the Sabbath; see above, "free-form Jew"), but I really do enjoy this. For one thing, I make a VERY acceptable and delicious Passover foods. Mr Dearling's a big fan of matzoh....I like it too, slathered generously with cream cheese and jelly. And he's not the only one - I'm under STRICT instruction to purchase ONLY Streit's Matzoh:

You probably know the old Jewish fascination with "tradition" -- in our household it extends even unto the short, four-legged Jews. Nothing for it, Manischewitz Matzohs don't make the cut. The cats tend to keep a more kosher diet than we do anyway. During Passover we never mix "meat" and "milk" dishes; the cats eat exclusively a meat diet. No worries.

I'm off to Late-Night-Knit now, hoping to find out if we have any unified plans for the Yarn Harlot's upcoming visit (Hog-and-Bloggers UNITE!) I 'spect the Sow's Ear will be fairly represented. I am already Officially Excited (and I saw her last year in Eau Claire)...furthermore, I'm still Riding the Wave of Excitement gathered from hugging Franklin of The Panopticon not one but THREE TIMES!! (I believe the correct expression here is something like "WOOT!") Watch this space.......more later!

"....equal marriage of the Sun and Frost"

It is the time of year when the native people in this area packed up the winter lodge and travelled to the maple forest where, each year, they came together with family and friends foir the process of making maple sugar. After a winter in isolation, spent indoors near the warmth of the fire, the sweetness of the sugar probably paled in comparison to the merriment of being reunited with loved ones and days spent in company.

It was also a time of intense labor, in which every person able to walk participated. Little ones could gather sticks and twigs to help the perpetual fires under the pots of boiling sap and there were jobs for all. It takes 40 gallons of maple sap, boiling non-stop, to evaporate down into one gallon of maple syrup - and the Indians didn't use syrup. Boiling a little longer made it thick enough to granulate, if stirred vigorously with a paddle, and it was then pushed into round molds cut into a log. The hard cakes of maple sugar can be stored for a very long time.

Last Saturday was one of those days when you know there WILL be a Spring. It was about 64 degrees, sunny and fresh. We had planned to go, as we do every year, to the MacKenzie Center (near Poynette, WI) where they have a large sugarbush and open it to the public for one day. The trees have been tapped, the buckets are full, and they have stations where folks show the tapping, the boiling - how the Native people made their sugar. They also sell t-shirts, &c. (Nature centers NEED fundraisers, I am here to tell you. You've been told.) At one place they have thin slices of dill pickle which have been marinating in maple syrup for three days to sample. NOTE: I looked at them and have to report: Mrs McSkeptic took one - and tried to figure out how I could change my appearance enough to go back a few more times. I'm going to "try this at home".



This is sap being collected in a clear bag; there was no one to ask how long it had taken to draw off this much sap. You can see that it's clear, and also that this is being a very GOOD year. The weather has been perfect (warm mornings, below freezing at night).

I have a little set at the Museum that I use to talk about the Native people making maple sugar in the spring, consisting of a jar of clear sap, a bottle of "genuine Wisoonsin Maple Syrup" and a few hard, puck-like cakes of maple sugar (which was the form the Indians used -- if someone kicked over an open makuk of syrup in the wigwam, well - there would be one mighty angry mom. I can say that with authority because I have a very vivid imagination.

As long as we were there, I had a new, clean jar and the intention of asking to fill it with the sap, to replace the two-year-old jar at the Museum. One of the staff led us to one of the regular buckets which was all but spilling over, and said "Help yourself, we'll probably just tip this out." (They can only boil up so much, they haven't the wherewithal to actually make up syrup. In spite of the fact that it's a rich sugarbush, they only tap a few trees for demonstration purposes.)

This is OUR tree, the source of our sap. The staff fellow showed me spots where it had been tapped in the past, many times. I used a paper cup to dip out the sap into our jar, and when it was full.....I filled the cup once more and drank it down, every drop. The sap is pretty much flavorless. It was cold, refreshing - but the only hint of sweetness in it was only in my Expectation. Someone may know what caused the Indians' discovery of boiling it down for hours and hours to make food (it's a 40:1 ratio, 40 gallons of sap makes one gallon of syrup) but I prefer to muse on that as one of the Great Mysteries.

All in all, an interesting and lovely day, balmy and fun. We did, of course, have the requisite little blob of ice cream with about a pint of maple syrup on it. TRUE CONFESSION: if I have nothing handy to put maple syrup on, I chug it from the bottle dip it directly from a spoon. Deal with it. (When you get to a Certain Age, you really can do whatever you want. Mostly.)

Afterward we stopped at our favorite Amish grocery. They have a lot of things in bulk (plastic bags) at very good prices; they have oddments that are hard to find elsewhere - for example, the very best supply of wicks and caps and things for oil lamps; and the BEST supply of candy anywhere.

It's mostly bulk too, These are anice mints, which are divine; I also always buy pretend twizzlers, which come in a variety of yummy flavors. This time I got Green Apple and Cinnamon. There's nothing like a nice chewy rope-y deal, I always say. They also have really good bulk packages of things like gravy mix and soup mixes. It's always very busy when we're there, although it's admittedly almost all "the english".

Oh, knitting? Why YES!

I found that, as advertised, my clever little knitting bowl does stay stable on the floor of the car, so I was able to make a little progress, at least, on my............on my........can you guess what I'm knittin' here?

It's a toque!!

Nothin' Says Fun like NEW STUFF!

1. A new experience: we went to Milwaukee to see the "Body Worlds" exhibit. Mr. Dearling had gotten the almost-prohibitive expensive tickets as a premium for supporting NPR. It's a large series of human bodies, preserved with some mystic alchemy (there was an explanation; it's alchemy to me). All had no skin. They were standing there in all their muscles and arteries and ligaments. I worried that I would be affected, knowing that they really were humans (read "dead people") but nothing of the kind. They were of such stunning beauty, so fascinating, it was such a remarkable experience. I loved it!

It was apparently a school holiday, and there were a LOT of kids there, especially teens. For the first third, there was a lot of pointing and giggling (they were almost all men, so they had penises and their little testicles on those cords) but after that even they were caught up in the amazement of the whole thing. There were text panels on the walls with beautiful illustrations and descriptions of the research of such people as Leonardo da Vinci, and the people were in natural poses....well, it's hard to describe, but was a truly thrilling, amazing experience.

A friend said to me "That's just creepy, where did they get all those dead bodies?" Well, they had a blow-up of the donation forms and documents, and each one explained with crystal clarity exactly WHAT the donors could expect would be done with their remains; how they would be treated, displayed, utliized. It was thoughtful, careful and thorough. One thing struck me interestingly: they all had their belly buttons, and I found that, for some reason, endearing. I respect each and every person who gave us the gift of their bodies. I won't spoil it for anyone who might be lucky enough to have the experience by being too descriptive, but suffice it to say - if you get the chance and have ANY curiosity about how we're all knitted up, go! One of my all-time favorite quotes was on the wall there:

"What a piece of work is Man, how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty - in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god!"

2. The Lovely Daughter, after several weeks of increasing frustration and distress, got a new (to her) car! Her previous car, a 1978 Pontiac Phoenix (I'll wait while you chuckle or gasp in admiration) finally bought the farm. Even her attentive and thoughtful car doctor couldn't save it, it was gone. Now, she doesn't drive a lot. But in this 21st century, few of us live close enough to our workplaces or the market to walk there. She really DOES need a car. She was careful, thoughtful, and clear-headed. She now has a reliable, efficient, functional mode of transportation. (And 'sides, I'd call that really cute. So's the car.)

3. On Tuesday I had my last writing class (they liked my story) and after a stint at the Museum we came home, and I found THIS:

I knew what it was, but it wasn't due until the next day. After several futile attempts to get it open (that box is not smiling , it's leering) I broke down and got out the scissors. In a minute, I'll show you what it is, but first a word from -- ME. I was just loaned the 7th book by author Sandra Dallas, Tallgrass. I want to be her when I grow up; she has an absolute gift with being imaginative and evocative. Before you're at the bottom of the first page (of ALL of her books) you can see the dust in the road, smell the food in the stove in the kitchen and see the colors of the quilt on the frame. Picking up one of her books is, as we say, to "be in a happy place." I hope that's enough of a recommendation because you'll thank me.

4. OK - here is my swag from the last couple of days. The Amazon package was my copy of Stephanie's latest book. I'm sure I'll buy a copy when she comes here at the end of this month (gasp) but I wanted it NOW. That sound is my foot stomping, and the fun of being a grown-up is, (sometimes) you can have what you want NOW! The Dummy book is part of my swag from my Barnes & Noble gift card (THANK YOU MR DEARLING) and fits with my Birthday Resolution. (I've said it here publicly so's to not let myself poop out: I mean to PUBLISH this year!) (Forgive me while I now sit in the corner whimpering for a moment; saying it right out like that is scary ) **sniff** Kthx.

And the third item? Well! Are you familiar with the Knit Witch? Yes, another dear knit-blogger, but she also is a potter (among other talents) and she makes Yarn Bowls. These are ceramic bowls with a hole for yarn, so your little yarn cake can sit in a beautiful place while you knit and not roll all over the floor or toss around in the basket or roll around in your pocket.

5. See? It just holds a cake of Cascade 200 perfectly; the yarn can be slid through the slot into the hole and knitted straight off like mad. What this is, is a wonderful, delicious bit of knitter's luxury, a charming enhancement to the whole process of Knitting. Here's the deal.

When I sit down to knit, I Let Go. I relax, I settle in, and I start to knit...I love the tactile sensation of yarn sliding through my fingers, I love to let my eyes drink in the voluptuous color of the yarn; and...having a darling little bowl with my precious yarn in it is another sparkle of delight to the experience.

Isn't that just totally aesthetically-pleasing? If you want, you can put the yarn through the plain hole, if youi know you're going to knit right down to the end - but the hole with the slit for the yarn is PERFECT because then you can change out yarncakes/projects at will. Oh...there's something else too. I LOVE BOWLS! I enjoy eating out of bowls a lot, I love the looks of beautiful bowls with fruit or candy or mashed potatoes. I even like bowls of paperclips and stitch counters, get the image? And get this: my precious little knitty yarny bowl can be ET OUTTA! So I can knit out of it happily, and then carefully set aside the project and eat me some soup, wash it out, put the yarn back in....Knit Witch points out that they're even good for knitting in the car because they're sort of weighty on the bottom and won't flop around. Also? She has felt on the bottom, so you can set the bowl on Auntie's 17th century sideboard and not worry about scratching. (NOTE: if you have an auntie with 17th century furniture, please see me after the show.)

Along with all this booty (by which I mean "all the neat stuff I got") this week, the forecast is for daytime temperatures of 50 degrees and higher...one day next week is going to be partly-cloudy and 58. All of which means (and I dare not say this too loud lest the dwindling frost giants overhear and get pissy about it) SPRING IS NIGH!

Saturday we're going out to the sugarbush to watch (and help) maple sugaring. I'm going to get some fresh maple sap for the Museum. It's clear, you know, and watery, and doesn't taste anything but sort of woody. You expect it to be sweet, when you know what it is, but it's not. The truth is, when the Creator whispered the secret of making maple sugar, it was a really miraculous gift. There might be some other explanation for how they figured it out but that's the story I'm sticking with. Makes perfect sense to me.

Oh - and there's a pregnant man on Oprah. Welcome to the 21st century.

If you don't like the weather --

Wait a Minute! That's the motto for Wisconsin (probably other places too, but for SURE here). This picture, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the First Day of Spring here in Madison. Yes indeedy. Now, when the Scandinavian immigrants first settled and farmed these lands hereabout, they brought with them, among the hardanger fiddle and lefse and rosemaling, the Old Gods. Oh - I don't mean there are still ancient rites being performed in Stoughton. (Say -- if there are , can I get an invitation?) Nevermind.
'
What I speak of is the Frost Giants, those denizens of the icy north who cause the frigid winds, whirling snow, icicles. For the last few years, they've been pretty feeble. We've had a lot of thaws, a lot of "wintry mix", that combination of rain and sleet and snow which make roads hazardous and not even a North Face down jacket can keep you warm. I think it might have to do with the teevee. Once Frost Giants start watching, you know, Spongebob, it's hard to get them outdoors to work.

But this year? Well, maybe the Frost Giant Bubbeh came over. This has been the first truly fine old-fashioned winter in YEARS, and while it hasn't been a very popular viewpoint, I have LOVED this winter! I drive like a little old lady, wear more to bed than most people wear to go to the store and consume HUGE quantities of hot tea. But I love it, and being curled up on the couch under a quilt with a cuppa at my elbow and some knitting or a good book is much enhanced by a heavy fall of sparkling flakes outside the window.

ENOUGH! As I look outside today, there are only dirty vestiges of lumpy snow piles. And yes, even *I* am ready for something else. Here are some of the other things I'm ready for:

These are apple blossoms, maybe crabapple, at our Arboretum. This is from last year; in about three weeks I expect this little tree will look like this again. There are over 130 varieties of lilac bush in that garden as well and everyone in town takes an evening to stroll through, growing drunk on the heady fragrance of all those lilacs. NOTE: one cannot picnic in these gardens; no dogs are allowed in the Arboretum at all (it's an ecology laboratory for the UW). Therefore, they are pristine, and a more romantic place to stroll cannot be found on this continent. (It's perfectly all right to lie in the grass or sit on one of the benches and read or write or doze.)

OK, so they're not beautiful (yet). This is my beloved Hen-and-Chicks. They're always the first things up, nestled right next to my front stoop. Better yet, they came from the yard of my mother-in-law (of blessed memory) and they've been there a long time. They don't look so great just yet; they've been up, snowed on, frozen, thawed, melted, snowed on again, dripped on from ice melting on the eaves, snowed on....and yet, they prevail. Truth to tell, I love them.

If nothing else, they really are proof that, no matter the number of attempts by the Frost Giants to hold sway, their reign is virtually over. There isn't much threat in a Frost Giant who is 3" tall, whose icy breath can't even sway a dried brown stalk of grass from last summer, and whose feet are wet. They're done. Fini. Buh-bye.

I've been busy (sometimes annoyingly so, though it's all my own doing) but watch this space for an update. Just see if I don't!