Photographs and Memories . . .

Heirlooms

Up in the attic
Down on my knees
Lifetimes of boxes
Timeless to me.
Letter and photographs
Yellowed with years
Some bringing laughter
Some bringing tears.
Time never changes
The memories, the faces
Of loved ones, who bring to me
All that I come from
And all that I live for
And all that I'm going to be.
My precious family
Is more than an heirloom to me.
~by Amy Grant

One thing that I have always loved to do, since I was a small child, is to look through old photographs of people and places gone past . . . Even now, when I travel home to visit my mother, within the first day or so of my arrival at her home, the old albums and boxes of photographs come out, and I am looking through them again.



And as I look, I ponder on these faces that I see. Great grandmothers and Grandfathers . . . Uncles, Aunts, Cousins . . . my mother as a young woman, no lines on her face, gazing adoringly up at my father . . . it's nice to see.

There are people still living . . . and people who haven't been alive for many years . . . their images captured forever within the framework of old black and white photographs. I wonder about these people. What sorts of lives did they live . . . were they happy, were they sad?? Did they have dreams that never came true, hopes and wishes, unfulfilled?? Secret sorrows and anguishes, pains and heartaches never told . . . gone forever but for the tell tale shadow of sadness in their eyes . . . the windows to their soul . . . they never lie. Did they know that down the road I would be peering into their faces and wondering about them?? And then my next thought is . . . how could they, for I had not even been born and did not yet exist here on this earth . . .



I look into their eyes and I see the same eyes looking back at me that I can see in my cousin's faces, the same mouths held in the same way, an all familiar stance or look. It's awesome to see how a nose, or eyes, carry on down from one generation to the next . . . it's helps to fuel the feelings of connection and of love and familiarity . . .



My mind is filled with stories about this one or that one, stories that my mother has told me time and time again, but which I never tire of hearing, and I struggle to remember them and to get my facts straight, and so I ask again, and she tells again, and . . . for a moment, the past and the present unite . . . the old black and white images come alive again, just for me, and they are real once more. Real people, with real lives and we are all linked together in a chain of blood and dna, a chain that goes back eons . . . all the way to Adam and then forward to who knows where . . .



One day that will be all that's left of me . . . just a few pictures in a box. Will someone wonder about who I was, and what I stood for, or will I have left a legacy that speaks for itself?? Will they look into my eyes and see the joy there . . . and the pain . . . and the hope?? Will they see all my yesterdays linked to their tomorrows . . . will the essence of my being be able to reach down through the passage of time and speak to their hearts??



There are precious few pictures of my mother's mother, my maternal grandmother. She was a shy woman who never liked having her photograph taken . . . and then I think of me. I am the same. I never like having my photograph taken either. I suffer it under duress though . . . I know how much a few photographs where I could see my grandmother's face in them would mean to me . . . and so I let people snap away, because I think one day my great great grand-daughter or grand son will want to see me and catch a glimpse of who I was, and wonder, and ponder the connection . . .



and so . . . I also paint pictures with my words. Words that speak volumes of who I am and who I was and who I want to be, and I hope that some day when these are read and the pictures are gazed upon . . . I will live on. This is my legacy and worth more than all the gold and silver trinkets one could ever have or hope to possess . . .

One thing I have always loved to do, since I was a small child, is to look through old photographs of people and places gone past . . .

Just my thoughts this morning . . .

Thanks so much for your feedback regarding my cookbook. It's been more than helpful and I think I know what I am going to do with it now, so stay tuned!



I was thrilled yesterday to see that my friend Tracy of Pink Pearl gave me this lovely Blogging Friends Forever award!!! Thank you so much Tracy. You felt like a long lost friend from the very first time I visited your page. It was that feeling and your gentle spirit that kept me coming back for more. I now have the great pleasure to pass this to some blog friends who have been here with me a long time, as well as giving this to a new friend also.

Please accept this award, my friends, in the spirit that it's given, and in turn, hand it out to others following these "rules":

1. Use the Twinks Bank icon
2. Nominate 5 other people only
3. Four (4) nominees have to be dedicated followers of your blog
4. One (1) has to be someone new to your blog and live in another part of the world.
5. You must link back to whoever gave you the award.

Here are my oldies, dedicated followers of my blog: Angie from Can You All Hear Me At The Back , Kath from My Simple Rhymes , Julie from Tulips Kitchen , Melody from Slurping Life . These ladies have been following me these past three years from when I first began blogging and followed me here to my new page from my old one and I love them to pieces. My newbie is Gloria of Canela Kitchen , who captured my heart with her very first comment and who is always so kind and faithful to me. You have all blessed my life in too many ways to count!

Ever since I was a young girl and I read the book, "Chicken Every Sunday", I have been intrigued by the delicious intricacies of Roast Chicken. There are as many ways of roasting it as there are days of the week. A perfectly roasted chicken is a joy to behold and a pleasure to eat . . .



*Perfect Slow Roasted Chicken*
serves 4

Slow roasting is a wonderful way to keep chicken moist and flavourful. This recipe has the added bonus of some lovely and buttery, lemony roasted potatoes to accompany it.

softened butter, for greasing the pan and chicken
1 medium to large sized corn fed organic chicken
4 ounces of roasting potatoes
(peel and halve or quarter, depending on their size)
2 heads of garlic, halved crosswise
sea salt and cracked black pepper
3 1/2 ounces white wine
3 1/2 ounces chicken stock
2 springs of fresh rosemary
6 bay leaves
1 lemon, cut into 4 wedges

Pre-heat the oven to 325*F/160*C. Grease a large roasting tin with softened butter and then rub the chicken all over with some more softened butter.

Place the chicken in the tin and scatter the potatoes around it. Place the halved garlic heads in as well. Sprinkle it all with some sea salt and cracked black pepper. Squeeze the lemon wedges over all and then throw them into the pan as well. Mix together the chicken stock and white wine and drizzle it over. Cover everything with a large sheet of aluminum foil, sealing it tightly, and then place it into the pre-heated oven.

Roast for one hour. Remove it from the oven and take off the foil and discard. Add the rosemary and the bay leaf. Return to the oven and roast, uncovered for another 50 minutes.

Turn the oven temperature up to 425*F/220*C. Roast for 30 minutes longer. Remove from the oven and remove the chicken and potatoes to a platter. Cover loosely and let rest for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Serve the chicken sliced and placed on hot plates with some potatoes. Spoon some of the pan juices over all and enjoy!