Saturday Nice . . .

 

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Things with a country flavor,

June butter yellow as gold,

A little spring in the milk house,

whose waters are glacier cold.

Buttermilk thick and creamy

Sweet from a wooden churn,

Fresh baked bread from a country store,

Done to a golden turn.

House made cider in wooden kegs,

Aged like the rarest wine,

A cantaloupe cold as the morning air,

Plucked from a dew-wet vine.

Pickles made from old recipes,

Handed down through the years,

Mother and daughter keeping faith,

With the best of the pioneers.

Home raised pork in a salty brine,

Potatoes warm from a hill,

Holding the flavor of common earth,

Under their jackets still.

Things with a country flavor,

Corn in a rain proof shock,

A country kitchen at supper time,

The smell of a sun-warmed rock.

~Edna Jacques, Things With a Country Flavor

The Golden Road, 1953

Oh, this poem doesn't half take me back to a kinder simpler time. Sweet memories from years ago. I did not grow up on a farm, but I did grow up with many country ways and when I was a young bride I lived old country ways. I can remember as a child that the milk changed flavor in the Spring time when the cows were let back out to pasture. It was a taste that we had to get used to. The butter also. Small local dairies like that are a thing of the past now. Gone the way of glass bottles and such. I love milk from a glass bottle. It was years before I could tolerate one in a plastic/wax paper carton. That's how the milk used to come at school, and I hated it. It was always warm and you could always taste the carton on it. It was all I could do to choke it down.

When the kids were in their early teens, we used to buy our milk right from a farm. Raw milk. It hadn't been pasteurized yet. It was the cheapest way to buy it. We would take big plastic gallon jugs, saved from our trips to the states shopping, and have them filled up right in the milking barn. It was great milk. You could see the layer of cream on the top. That worked well until we took them with us one time and they got the smell of the barnyard . . .  they wouldn't drink it after that. They thought it smelled like cows. The power of suggestion is quite strong.

I still like to shop farm markets, especially at this time of year.  Fresh local fruits and vegetables. At the chicken one we can get beautiful chicken and eggs, and pickles, pies, bread, etc. Very soon now the winter squash will be showing up.  Cindy and I already have plans to take a trip further up the valley for that. We love our squash. Funny that because we did not really like it all that much when we were growing up. Perhaps it was the way our mother cooked it. She used to boil it in water and it was always a bit watery and not very flavorful. I prefer roasting it myself. That really brings out all of it's natural sweetness. I love it.

I'm all for things with a country flavor. I am so grateful to live in a place where we can get those types of things in abundance, especially at this time of year.

60 years ago today, the Monkees debuted in their television show of the same name. Oh how I loved the Monkees. I love the Beatles as well, but the Monkees really did it for me. If my parents wanted to punish me it was to deny me being able to watch their television show. That was so painful for me.  It seems silly now.  I eventually had all of their albums and I knew all of the words to all of their songs. I still like to watch their music videos from time to time when I find one. I was 11 when I fell in love with them. And I've been loving them ever since.

My late friend Anna got to go to one of their concerts in Manchester at the 02 Apollo in 2011. She had her photo taken with Davey Jones. She was very excited about that. He died not too long after that.  Anyways, I was a bit envious of her being able to see them in concert, even all those years later from the time they were teeny pop idols. 

Peter was the one I had a thing for. I remember when I was living in London, Ontario, he was playing at a local coffee house and wanting to go and see him play. Alas, was not possible for me to do so. Probably better I didn't go. I would most likely have been disappointed. In any case, remembering the Monkees today.

 

 

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Welcome to you rich Autumn days,

Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind;

When golden stalks are seen in fields,

All standing arm-in-arm entwined;

And gallons of sweet cider seen

On trees in apple red and green.

With mellow pears that cheat our teeth,

Which melt that tongues might suck them in;

With blue-black damsons, yellow plums,

Now sweet and soft from stone to skin;

And woodnuts rich, to make us go

Into the loneliest lanes we know.

~W.H.Davies (1871-1940)

This reminds me of the walks I used to take with Jess through the orchards that surrounded the cottage in Brenchley when I lived there. Acorns cracking under my feet, the leaves changing color. There was a certain part of the walk that was just a well worn path through wild flowers and grasses, bordered by wild plums and elders, hips and haws.  The wild flowers and grasses would all be spent by this time and gone to seed, but were no less beautiful in their dotage.

The orchards would be full of pickers, their voices and laughter echoing through the air. Every once in a while Jess would see a rabbit and take off running, on the chase. It was hard to call her back then, but eventually she would come, the rabbit having eluded her and long disappeared into a hedge or some such.

Yesterday when we were in the car travelling it was hard not to notice that the leaves, they are changing rapidly.  Especially the reds. Coming out bright against the landscape of trees.  Some machine had been along and trimmed verges of the country roads, making it easier to see around corners, etc. But it looked as if the edges of the byways had been raped and pillaged  . . . trees torn and splintered. That part made me feel sad. 

 

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We used to have a few covered bridges around here, and small one lane bridges. We still have a few one lane bridges, but many have been replaced now. It is a shame that.  Part of the charm has gone and I feel a bit sorry in my heart for those who will never experience such a thing except to see it in a photograph.

Makes me think also of that film, The Bridges of Madison County with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep. That was a good movie. Brief encounters, dreams unfulfilled. Loves never explored to the end . . .

Oh that makes me feel sad in a way.  Sometimes I do feel sad that I will never know that kind of love . . . the kind that lasts a lifetime and beyond. Now I am getting all maudlin  . . . 

 

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Walmart was devoid of children yesterday and full of the apple pickers come up from the Bahamas. It's that time of year. Children back to school, apple harvest beginning. As I was on my way home from my sisters, all the busses were leaving the schools at the end of the school day.  Facebook has been full of people posting photos of their children on their first days of school for Fall 2026. What an exciting time of year for the youngsters.  I think my grands have all passed the ages where such a thing is done as there were none posted. There is really only one now in elementary school. I have prayed that all of my grands that are still in school will have good and productive years. That they will learn and grow and be surrounded by people who set good examples for them and encourage them to be their best.

It is such an exciting time of year for them. A new and bright beginning. I remember always loving the start of the school year. Catching up with friends you had not seen all summer.  Spending hours in the evening covering my text books with brown paper covers that would be well worn by the end of the year. Finding out who all of my teachers would be.  So exciting.

New shoes. Maybe a new dress. The smell of new scribblers and pencils.

 

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I will be picking up Eileen early in the afternoon. She is really excited about this weekend as it is a long weekend and she is staying two nights.  I usually pick her up about noon on Saturday. We go to the grocery store first. She likes to pick up some drinks and snacks to enjoy 0ver the weekend. Monday is the annual corn boil at my church. I had hoped that she might want to go to it with me, but alas, she does not. That fear of rubbing elbows with "Mormons" runs deep. It bothers me, but there is not much I can do about it.  I remember her mother-in-law telling her and Tim the first time they were going to come and spend time with me to not pay attention to any of that "Mormon" nonsense. This valley is the Bible Belt of Canada and disdain for my church runs pretty deep. I think most of it is based on fear and lack of education. People fear what they don't understand and therefore are unwilling to educate themselves, preferring instead to cling to the lies and distortions shared with them from the pulpits in their churches.  In any case, she won't go and so that is that. It is a bit disheartening that in this day and age people can still be so narrowminded. 

The first corn boil here that I went to at the church here was in 1999.  Eileen and Bruce both came with me and they had a great time.  Some of my friends were looking forward to seeing Eileen after such a long time, especially my friend Christine. Admittedly, group activities such as this are not in my comfort zone either, but I had been somewhat gearing myself up to go to this one. Even if I didn't really eat anything but the corn.

But Eileen and I will have a great weekend together nonetheless. We have not picked out a movie yet that we want to watch. We will do that after she gets here. We have lots of other things to do that we will enjoy as well. It will be nice.

 

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Maybe we will do art of some kind. I have gotten myself a new watercolor journal and am keen to begin filling it up with sketches and paintings of light houses. Even if I only do one every couple of weeks or so. I am keen to start my new blanket as well. Oh, there are so many things I am keen to do. If I tried something every week of the rest of my life I could never begin to even touch on all of the things I want to do and to try.

Life . . . it passes without us even noticing, and before we know it there is more of it standing behind us than there is in front of us. It is up to us to make it count, and that is my plan. There is naught so sad as a life which passes which has never truly been lived.

 

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I ordered one of those cat calming plug in diffuser thingies in hopes that it might calm Nutmeg down enough so that he isn't always causing distress for Cinnamon. I think he only wants to play, but he is too rough and she wants nothing to do with it. It came early this morning and I have plugged it in with high hopes that it will work. It supposedly shoots out Pheromones for enhanced serenity. Promoting calmness and less anxiety. Nutmeg is an anxious cat.  That is very apparent by the way he runs and hides whenever there is a noise he doesn't expect, or someone walks past the front of the house, when a fly gets into the house, etc. I really hope that this will make a difference.  I have my fingers crossed. I want both of my fur babies to be happy and I want the aggressive behavior from Nutmeg towards Cinnamon to stop. There are some days when he really goes after her and I have to be really harsh and spray him over and over with the spray bottle. It is hard to deter him at times. Hopefully this will help.

He can be a big bully. I am hoping for change.

 

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There is not a lot else going on here really. I need to think about emptying my boxes with the Petunias soon as they are starting to look quite bedraggled and spent. The geraniums are still looking pretty good. If I could carry them I would pick up some mums to put into the boxes/planters. Maybe Eileen could help me. Something to think about anyways. I have enjoyed how pretty they have been all summer.

Hummingbird activity is slowing down now although I still have a female visiting. 

High winds and rain are expected today and rain the next three days according to the weather app. I find, however, that more often than not, it is wrong.  I guess the weather can be really difficult to predict with any certainty much more than a day at a time.

We are rolling into hurricane season as well. We often get the tail ends here, but more often than not they run to the south of the Valley and hit the south shore here in Nova Scotia for the most part. We just get the rain and some wind.

And I guess I have talked about as much as I have to talk about today. Some weeks are like that. Apparently some of you are having problems commenting on Blogger. No worries. I have problems commenting on my own blogs a lot of the time. It won't let me.  Weird that.  

Oh, and I was really pleased to see that all of the couples that went through to the end of Love Is Blind, UK, got married. Now the reunion.  I wonder if they stayed married?  We will see.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ .° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

˛*To live in hearts we 

leave behind

is not to die.

~Thomas Campbell 

In The English Kitchen today, an update to an old recipe. 17th Century Honey Cake.  A simple loaf cake, dense and deliciously moist. There is honey in the cake itself and then it is brushed with a simple honey syrup while it is still warm, adding to the moistness of the cake.  A lemon cream cheese frosting gilds the top.

I hope you have a beautiful weekend. It's a long weekend in most places with labor day being on Monday.  Stay safe and have fun.  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!