Tonight we went to the county fair, an excursion which always throws us deeper into rurality than we usually are. We adored the 4-H exhibits of animals and produce, and Daisy not only loved the merry-go-round, she added cotton candy to her repertoire.
Beautiful eggs in all shades:
A deep blue sky:
Pears that speak for themselves with such dignity:
Pepper sauce:
Such a delightful presentation:
Beauty and skill:
The silver maple in the front yard is always the first tree to start dropping its leaves. Daisy was the first this year to drop in the leaf pile.
I had a hearing this afternoon in a tiny town (we'll call it Tiny Town) 45 miles up the highway, and part of my judicial district. My wonderful friend Jody moved there with her four boys last year, so it is always a treat for Giles and Felix to go along and hang out at her house. Today, though, I took all the children because Jody had somehow finagled such a treat--a luncheon invitation from a new friend of hers. Now, this lady doesn't know me, or my five children, but she invited us anyway--two ladies and NINE children-- to her beautiful century-old house in this little downtown. Oh, this house: its lawn slopes down to the river, barges going by righ past her back hedge. Twelve foot ceilings. An enormous veranda, with swings and a pale blue ceiling. And a huge table set with her fanciest pink-flowered plates. Delicious chicken salad.
On the way there the kids reflected on the rarity of an invitation to a real lunch party. "Social life seems like it would have been so much more fun in the old days," Felix remarked. Myself, I am inspired to get some of that social life going again. I am going to find *someone* who can come over for luncheon.
Bella made a batch of the house cookies today, and was subsequently declared the Cookie Queen (fortunately, Clara wears the title of Cake Queen, so no competition there). She made very small cookies, and rounded the dough into balls with her hands before setting it out on the sheets. This made for delightful cookies, each smooth, rounded, and loaded with chocolate chips. And it made so many!
Can't wait to see Daisy in this one. She loves the print because it features tiny doggies and tiny people. I love the perfectly-matching buttons from my stash (I'm sure my mother recognizes them). This is from the same pattern I used for Daisy's nighties last week.
First thing in the morning, the only one up in a quiet house, it is one of the pleasures of my day to open the house up to air and sunlight. Even in the hottest part of the summer there is usually a little bit of fresh air and maybe even a breeze as the sun is coming up, so I almost always open the front door for a while, which lets in a blaze of morning light. The kitchen door, which is shaded in the morning, stays open even longer. The outside air has to be pretty unpleasant before I stop thinking of it as "fresh air", and something desirable.
As the person in charge of the house during the day, I enjoy managing sunshine and air as the sun moves to the other side of the house. In hot weather I pull the shades down on the east side of the house in the morning, and raise them and pull the west side shades down in the afternoon.
If it cools off in the evening, I turn off the air-conditioner, open doors, raise windows and turn on the attic fan. Sometimes I wonder if I am fussing too much, but I keep on doing it. Free air that feels good, and beautiful unrestrained sunlight are such blessings, I welcome them into my home anytime I can.
My cursory poking around in vintage fashion materials (I like to refer to those activities as "research") indicates that bungalow aprons were loose, comfortable, crisp-looking housedresses worn solely in the morning. I have long been wanting such a garment for myself for the mornings when I have to go to court (obviously, this would be for *before* leaving for court). I don't want to get dressed in a regular outfit, only to take it off at 8:30 when I put on a business suit. I don't want to hang out in my robe because I can't get anything done and don't look decent. I don't want to put on my suit because then I can't do housework comfortably without messing up my clothes. So I've been looking for my personal bungalow apron to fit these criteria:
1. It goes on in one piece; excellent for first thing in the morning when I'm not thinking yet.
2. It is domestically fabulous.
3. It does not go over the head. Consider the hot rollers.
4. Pockets for odds, ends, and bobby pins.
Front view:
Back view:
A fantastic pattern which went together beautifully--I didn't even have to change the dart placement. And it came with the applique transfers intact--that cup of coffee is definitely going on my next one.
One of the last bits of beauty in my dry late summer garden--these moonflowers (perhaps just the local name: also angel trumpets?) twining around the back porch and geraniums. I bought one moonflower plant years ago with the instructions that it was an annual or at the very most a tender perennial, but have found that they both 1. return each year and 2. reseed freely. So no lack there.
Every morning I go out the kitchen door just to enjoy their lemony lily-like fragrance before they fade in the afternoon sun.
"There!" exclaimed Helen, putting the finishing touch to the last huge bowl of salad and stepping back to admire her handiwork. "That substantial salad unites beauty and utility."--The Carter Girls' Weekend Camp, Speed, 1925
I launched this *enormous* project ten days ago--last Saturday. My cabinets are beautiful birch, but the finish is worn off in lots of places, and they are coated with black grime around the knobs and well-handled places. Cleaning the dirt off leaves bare wood, which isn't that great either.
Instead of refinishing I decided to paint all the cabinets white. The kitchen is kind of dark anyway and I hoped that white would brighten it up. It has! I have finished two walls of cabinetry (lower cabinets only), and it looks like I've added a light fixture: it's delightful.
I've been removing all the porcelain knobs as I go, and didn't know how I was going to clean them--I really did not want to have to scrub each of them individually. I ended up dropping them in a bucket of TSP solution overnight, and all the grime miraculously floated off, with no effort on my part. TSP (actually I am using TSP *alternative*) is a new product for me, one which I am loving. I am going to keep it in mind for all the gummy, grimy things I ever have to clean up. I am also enjoying another discovery, the tack cloth. These are pieces of cheesecloth saturated with something really sticky, similar to flypaper but a lesser order of magnitude. After sanding each cabinet, I go over it with the tack cloth and all the dust and sanding bits are perfectly wiped off, with no residue left on my wood. Then I prime. Then I paint. And paint again.
So. Ten cabinets down, twenty-nine to go. Really.
"One does not wear a dress under a bungalow apron. It is really a dress itself—an extremely simple dress made of sturdy material that will resist the wear and tear of housework. Smart little touches can be added to this type of apron that do justice to the originality of the wearer and her skill in clothes-making.
If you are planning a bungalow apron, choose a material such as gingham, percale, madras, or American print. These materials are sturdy, practical, neat and they launder well. Follow the directions in your pattern carefully, and cut your apron so that plenty of roominess is allowed. There is nothing quite as uncomfortable as a bungalow apron that is so tight that it hinders you in your housework."
You might ask *why* you should fry okra, but that is the wrong question. The real question is *how* to do it. I am here to spread the fried okra gospel. This is so good!
1. Wash all your okra in the colander, then gather three or four together to start cutting. First slice off the top and discard. Next, slice into rounds about a third of an inch thick. More refined people will also discard the tail end of the okra, but I don't see why. It's not too tough to eat, and throwing it out means you have Less Fried Okra, which is not a good thing.
Now, don't be alarmed when you see a bunch of seeds, and the sap seeps out a little. Sticky sap is good because it's going to hold your salty, crispy cornmeal in place later.
Occasionally you are going to hit a pod that is simply too tough too slice. Big pods tend to be tough. Don't buy these. But even an occasional little one is as hard as a rock. Just throw it in the compost.
A beautiful sight, sliced and ready to proceed:
2. Now, I usually work with two pounds of okra at a time--that's two bags from farmer's market. Over my bowl of sliced okra I break two eggs. Then I get a broad spoon or spatula and lift and drop and lift and turn my okra until it seems evenly covered by egg. Then I get out my cornmeal and pour on about a cup, and add maybe a teaspoon of salt. Then lift and drop and turn over and over until everything is evenly coated in cornmeal as well. The more cornmeal you can get to adhere, the better.
3. Pour about 1/4 inch of canola oil into a heavy skillet--I like to use an electric skillet. Heat it to medium high, and when the okra will sizzle going in, place it all gently in. It should be no more than two slices deep. Put the lid partway on. Do not stir, let fry for about eight minutes. Then gently, without stirring, turn it over with a spatula, disturbing it as little as possible. Fry for about another eight minutes, removing the lid towards the end of cooking. You want your okra brown and crispy.
4. Serve hot to your family, with another sprinkling of salt. There will never, ever be enough.
My pincushion:
Some pinks and lavenders:
Stitch-ripper (can't live without):
Lovely color:
Not a flower I usually buy, but these were offered freely after a baby shower at church, and I happily gave them a home. They are a huge burst of sunshine on the dining table.
I found this precious vintage-looking flannel last summer and set it aside for this winter's cozy pajamas for Daisy. I had enough for one long nightgown and one pajama set. The jammies are trimmed in robin's-egg blue grosgrain ribbon and the nightie in pale pink velvet. Luscious! The pattern is a favorite Daisy dress I've made up several times, including at Easter and in juicy polka dots.
Detail of fabric:
At last I got around to replanting the kitchen window planter that sits on on a shelf of quarry tiles behind the kitchen sink. My last attempt, impatiens, did not do so well. But look at these begonias!
Last weekend's find--cheap and charming canisters. Also my towering stack of dishcloths next to the sink; we use 6-8 a day for various cleaning and wiping activities. We are *not* a sponge family.
More from the New-Way Course in Fashionable Clothes-Making:
"Your sewing apron should be an example of your dress-ideals. It should be appropriate, well-made and attractive. And of course, you should make it yourself.
While it need not necessarily be large, your sewing apron should have pockets large enough to hold some of the smaller things that are constantly being lost or misplaced—the small scissors, the spool of thread, a tape measure, a thimble. And these pockets—three of them are an excellent number—should be high enough to prevent being caught on an unexpected corner or knob.
The material for your sewing apron should be heavy enough to resist the attacks of scissors and needles and pins. Percale is a good material, and unbleached muslin is really very substantial. You may add a touch of hand embroidery down in one corner of one of the pockets if you wish, or you may use hemstitching at the bottom as a touch of neat trimming. Avoid anything that is elaborate."
Giles brings up the rearguard of children's summer birthdays which go: June, July, July, July, August. Not being hard to please, he accepted our offerings of fried chicken, garlicky pasta, giant salad, huge cherry pie, and a "wad of cash" present to put towards a new bicycle.
Delightful wisdom from the 1926 New-Way Course in Fashionable Clothes-Making:
"To be entirely consistent, an apron that is worn in the performance of household duties must cover the whole dress underneath. Otherwise it wouldn't be much of a protection, would it? But the apron must be absolutely neat, for surely one cannot do neat housework when the apron one wears is untidy! And after all, why shouldn't a woman look as attractive in her own home, among her own dear ones, as she does at a fashionable dinner?
If you intend to wear your apron in the morning, make it of the type that can be easily slipped off. Your pattern will tell you whether or not the apron, when finished, is going to be convenient. It should be very simply styled and made of a sturdy material. Gingham is perhaps the most favored material for work aprons, although unbleached muslin when bound with checked gingham is really ideal. You may also use percale if you wish.
In making your work apron, you will find the binder in your box of sewing machine attachments very valuable indeed. With it you can bind in no time at all, all the edges and corners of your apron, adding a certain smart finishing touch that no amount of hand sewing can impart. If you have ruffles on the bottom of your apron—which, we think, are not entirely appropriate but a forgivable attempt at trimming—bind the edges of these ruffles with contrasting color and you will achieve a delightful effect."
Felix ran out of money before purchasing a "gym" for Henry, so spent part of this morning building one from scratch. Taking a cue from his grandfather's approach to Christmas, he wedged a leafless branch of maple in a large glass vase filled with driveway gravel. Then he added things to delight Henry--strings of wooden spools, stalks of millet, yarn. I love it--it looks like art.
Felix's cockatiel, Henry. Love the perky topknot!
Henry is not the first bird to occupy Felix's room. Here is a partial view of his collection of stuffed ducks, neatly attired for summer in their straw hats:
It's probably my fault, regaling Felix with the tale of the charming scarlet macaw I met at a coffee shop in Denver. He was sitting at an outdoor cafe table, with a sunflower hull stuck to his chin, gazing sideways up at Daisy and me. I only learned a little bit about him (favorite movie? The documentary "Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill"), but I did get to see him ride home on the handlebars of his owner's bike.
Felix has been thinking and reading of nothing but parrots since then. And then today--a trip to the city with the Composer, with *all* his money in a canning jar, and probably a little of Clara's too, since she is generous with him, and they brought home Henry, a beautiful powder-gray cockatiel.
Felix has been studying up on the most approved methods of raising small parrots (my favorite library book title: My Parrot, My Friend: An Owner's Guide to Parrot Behavior), and is good to go. I'm sure Henry will be sitting for a portrait or two tomorrow, so check back!
" . . . I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. . ."
This is a delicious and easy way to fix a generous quantity of meat. It stays moist, has a crisp crust, and is deliciously spicy. We get at least two meals out of it (gasp!). Important safety note: do not remove the meat thermometer (which has been in the closed grill) from the meat with a hot pad, set it down, and then moments later pick it up with your bare fingers. This will result in your having to carry ice in your right hand for the next eight hours. Trust me.
*Schoolhouse Grilled Pork Loin*
Early in the day, remove the pork loin from its wrapper and lay it on a piece of heavy-duty foil. Sprinkle it *generously* with any seasoning mixture. I adore Cajun seasoning on the pork loin and use it with a heavy hand. Make sure to roll the meat to get your dry rub on all sides. Roll it up in the foil and pinch closed, and set it back in the fridge for now.
I use a gas grill, which is so straightforward. For charcoal, you're on your own.
If you remember, pull your meat out of the fridge about half an hour before you want to start grilling. Then preheat the grill on high for a few minutes. Then turn off the burners on an entire half of the grill. That's where your meat goes. Throw it on there. Leave the other two burners on, the closer one on medium and the farther one on high. Close the lid. After fifteen minutes, turn the meat over. I generally leave it on about an hour, turning it every fifteen minutes. The outside gets to be a rich mahogany. Just slice it open to peek if you're not sure about doneness, but 45-60 minutes, if it's a big loin, is what you're looking at.
Yesterday I did this (complete with burns), and used about a third of the meat diced in a pasta-vegetable salad with lots more Cajun seasoning in the dressing. That was good!
The rest is waiting to be thinly sliced and served with risotto for Sunday dinner.
Be careful!
My friend Elyse stayed here while we traveled, and I came home to an immaculate house with beautiful arrangements of greenery everywhere--hosta leaves and herbs. I added the Granny Smith apples around this vase because they shared a similar pearly quality with the sage and rosemary.
One of the joys of travel is the chance to gather up goodies for home, to enjoy when the trip is over. Rather than collecting souvenir-type items or--heaven forfend--cups with words on them (!!!!), I like to bring home dish towels, aprons, clothespins, and other little things that don't take up too much space, and can spend their useful little lives bringing happy travel memories to mind.
Of course, another joy of travel is the chance to enjoy shopping in a Really Big Town. I loved cruising the aisles of that most fantastic of grocery stores, Wild Oats, in Denver. It was there that I made a new acquaintance, one that is making the task of ironing even brighter than it was before: Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day Ironing Spray in Geranium.
All these years spent being a plain water girl have just been a waste of time. I can't wait to use up this bottle and then buy the Lavendar and Lemon Verbena. Addicted.
Several children suffered from what the Composer called "altitude madness". . .
Giles took many pictures but complained that he didn't have long lenses. I think his photos came out okay though . . .
We ate . . .
We rested . . .
We hiked, of course. And some of us took pictures of ducks.
We enjoyed the elements:
Most of all, Felix went birding. He passed the 200th bird on his life list during the daily bird walks led by rangers who were, with one crotchety and offended exception, absolutely delighted with his knowledge and enthusiasm.
Nice.
We're home from our week of camping in the Rockies--a strenuous, wonderful week that made us all appreciate the comforts of home today. Specifically, at home we noted the lack of dust, the nearby bathrooms, the washer and dryer, and the running water. You just don't appreciate things until you go without!
I'm feeling wise and smug after managing a large family in a fairly primitive campsite for a week, and am prepared to share my wisdom while I still remember it:
•Pack a permanent marker to label those cups. Six cups every time we're thirsty (like that's going to happen in the dry high altitude!) is a lot of cups. With names we can use them almost all day.
•Splurge on sturdy paper plates, if you're going to be using disposables. Rocky Mountain National Park has very limited water and washing facilities, so I knew I wanted to use paper as much as possible. The stiff cardboard Chinette oval platters were a cheap luxury. They didn't bend, fold, or soak through, and the larger size gave us room for our usual large green salad with dinner.
•Full-size apron with pockets. Makes that quarter-mile stroll to the bathroom with a toddler on the hip and a pan of dirty dishes on the other a lot easier. I was constantly back and forth from our campsite to the bathroom with my front pockets loaded--washcloths, dishwashing liquid, toothpaste, toothbrushes, you name it. I used my sturdy pretty Cath Kidston apron all week and washed it at every opportunity (there were two).
•And don't forget substantial rubber gloves for dealing with greasy dishes in cold water!
•Art supplies for everyone. We always make a travel book while we're gone on a trip, with clippings, drawings, written accounts, watercolors, etc. Everyone contributes if I prod them, and it's a great thing to do when you're sitting around in the shade in camp chairs after a long, virtuous hike.
Delicious pictures to follow!
