Sitting With Leonardo Da Vinci

My grandson Moses walked into the kitchen on Thanksgiving eve and thrust these at me. My first bouquet from him. He was so proud of himself.

How do you describe a tornado? Loud, chaotic, life altering. And after it passes? Calm, silence, debris everywhere. Welcome to Thanksgiving at our little house. I was SO FRAZZLED after two days of preparing and cooking that I forgot to photograph all the food, I forgot to photograph us all crammed into the dining room, and I forgot some of the goodies warming in the oven. Oh well.

The kitchen was clean, the cupboards and refrigerator crammed, and the preparations began (two days before Thanksgiving).

On T-Day, I got up early and fed the tame scrub jays...

...and set out a cut apple for my very spoiled mockingbird.

New candles in the holders and Great Grandmother Abby's gravy boat at the ready.

Grandmother Lovejoy's and my mom's silver all polished and ready for work.

Pressing leaves for place cards and table decor. My granddaughter Sara uses gold and silver pens to write names on these. I have dozens of leaves drying in this huge, old dictionary (our family friend for many years). Oh, and you can't do this with an e-book!

At sunrise, I ran out into the garden for fresh bouquets of scented Pelargoniums (from Mountain Valley Growers); every time someone brushes against them they waft their scent through the dining room.

Table set, bouquets arranged, what am I forgetting?

Oh, that's right...Leonardo...where are you? Leonardo Da Vinci has been our booster seat of choice for two generations. I think he would approve, and you can't do that with an e-book either!

I'm just happy doing the simple tasks that are time consuming, but also so satisfying.

Golden beets roasted. Gosh, I'm so organized and calm. Then...

...my girlfriend Ginny, who is starting to wash the fresh turkey says, "I thought you bought a fresh turkey." "WHAT!, " I yell.  "Of course it's fresh. I ordered it two weeks ago." 

"Well this is FROZEN STIFF," she said. "It will take a few days for it to thaw." PANIC MODE.

Jeff and Ginny run back to Scolari's for a new fresh turkey (their refrigeration unit had gone haywire) and now Ginny is preparing HER stuffing (mine differs), and Jeff is brushing up on how to cook in our solar oven. Nothing like experimenting on unwitting guests. The turkey is in the oven and the kitchen is beginning to sing.

Some garden bounty and that octopus fruit? It is a Buddha's hand citron, which is believed to bestow good luck on a home. 

A perfect day for roasting a ham and cooking a big pot of grains. Jeff sets the solar oven (from Solar Cookers International) at an angle to catch the rays of the autumn sun.

The solar oven holds two large, covered, dark enamel pots, which help retain the heat. The cooker has a thick,  clear lid made from recycled bottles. The temperature stayed at about 225 to 250, which is about what a slow cooker does, but this uses NO electricity or gas. I love it.

P.S. This is in response to a few letters and comments from my blogging friends. It worked GREAT. It truly is just a slow cooker. We put the food (5 pound ham and large serving of Kashi 5 grains) in at about 10 A.M. We removed the food at about quarter to 4 and the sun had moved away from it an hour before, but the food was still hot. All cooked up beautifully. I have lots more experimenting to do. One problem, when you life the lid to check on the progress of the cooking, the temperature drops by about 50 degrees. It takes awhile for it to go back up. Does that answer your questions? Oh, and there are solar cookbooks available that will make it much easier for you.

Max, Gen, and Jeff help with the 3 pounds of green beans...or is Max snacking on his beans?

Gen and Andrea spice up the kitchen decor.

Moses picks up the masher and carries on a tradition once done only by his dad.

Ok, so here is where I failed in the serious chronicling of our wild Thanksgiving. By the time I sat down and we held hands and said why we were grateful, well, the camera wasn't on my mind. Just food. Aching feet. The cacophony of laughter and toasts. What you're seeing here is a stained tablecloth and the young'uns relaxing (they're excellent at that) after supper.

All the guests except Ginny left. The house quieted. The stacks of dishes teetered on the counters. The worm bucket overflowed (I'll have such happy worms).  I stood in front of the refrigerator and wondered where in the world I could stuff the leftovers that the kids didn't take. And outside? It was dark and chilly,  and the mockingbird was silent and sufficiently full of apples. We started a big fire and collapsed.  I felt like, and probably looked as bad as, what the mocker left behind.

I hope your holiday and your weekend were superb. I need to refuel and get ready for the next round. In the meantime, I will be working on my new bird book and also on some stories for Lowe's Outdoor Living magazine and some book reviews for an on-line store. Stay tuned and stay in love with the crazy wheel o' life.

Sharon

Holiday Blessings

This is the time of year when memories flow through me like a clear mountain stream. I love the traditions of the holiday season, and my greatest joy is tending them the way a gardener tends her herbs.

What are holidays without baking? Sara May and I spent time together this week baking cookies. Without any prompting from me, she made a faerie-sized platter of tiny cookies and tucked them into her faerie mailbox to share with our tiny garden visitors.

Sara and her Amma baking cookies

Freshly baked cookies for the faerie...

...tucked into her faerie mailbox

Out come the Christmas Cove Designs hand knit stockings from Maine-one for each child. Four miniature stockings will magically appear on the faerie mailboxes on Christmas morning, stuffed with tiny whimsical gifts.

I remember how each Christmas Eve I searched my grandparent's tree for three things that always hung from the lower limbs. A bright red apple, which honored my Bopie's best friend Bob Lee. A potato, and I can't remember who that was for (but it could've been me), and a carrot, the favorite vegetable of my Bopie's brother.

Edwardian Squirrel

Since my grandparents passed, I've kept that tradition alive, along with some of my own. At the top of our tree is a glass eyed Edwardian squirrel who once decorated a fancy lady's hat, but now reigns supreme over our celebrations. A hundred paper origami cranes, a symbol of peace, were hand folded for me by my daughter-in-law. The multi-colored birds perch happily on every branch of the tree. An old clip on chickie, an early 1900's Santa, a birdhouse my husband made from a walnut, and a Santa Claus painted mussel shell from Burnt Island, Maine, are all keepsakes of many Christmases past.

Walnut bird house and origami crane ornaments

Mussel Shell ornament from Burnt Island, Maine, off the coast of Boothbay Harbor

I'm sick in bed today and missing a much anticipated gathering at the home of a special friend talented illustrator Stephanie Roth Sisson and her husband Fred. I'll take this missed opportunity as a time to wrap stocking stuffers and a time to reflect on the blessings I've been granted–a good family, dear friends (and that includes YOU, my invisible, but ever present blog friends), good health (today excepted), the love of simple pleasures, and the ability to make a living doing something that gives me joy.

Thank you all for your enduring friendship (that includes YOU, Eleanor, friend for 40 years)!

Faretheewell,

Sharon

Post Thanksgiving Tranquility

Post-Thanksgiving Kitchen

"Things taste better in small houses."

Queen Victoria (1819-1901)

Phew! The flour settled in drifts on the floor. Gravy splattered the wall behind the old stove. Dishes were stacked in haphazard piles on every flat surface in the kitchen. Leftovers filled all the refrigerator shelves, but the day was memorable and filled with love.

My husband Jeff and my brother and sister-in-law all pitched in to help cook our family's Thanksgiving meal, and although we were tired beyond belief at the end of the day, it was all worth it. The four of us crammed into my little kitchen, prepped, chopped, spiralized, tossed, whipped, sauteed, seared, baked, roasted, and finally, voila, a memorable family meal around the long farm table.

I loved it when my 7 year old granddaughter Sara said that she was "grateful that our family is together today." And I loved it when 2 1/2 year old Moses picked up his long stemmed water glass (yikes, was he going to spill it?) and clanked it into his Dad's glass and said, "Cheers." (Which we all did).

Today the house is empty. The flour dust is vanquished, the gravy scoured from the wall behind the stove, the dishes are back on their shelves (my Great Great Gran's gravy boat and blue willow platter made it safely through their 100th plus Thanksgiving), and the turkey soup simmers quietly, or as the French say, "smiles" in the pot.

I've been thinking a lot about the traditions that make Thanksgiving so meaningful for me and my family, but I'm also interested in what traditions are meaningful to others. I'd love to hear your stories, your traditions. Hopefully I will be able to incorporate you and yours into a holiday story for next year.

In this quiet time, I'm going out to harvest my 'Painted Lady' runner beans and take down their tepee. I'll plant my beloved California wildflowers, and read, read, read whenever I am indoors. Tonight will be turkey-alphabet soup, a fire, and yikes, I'll just have to admit it, I'm making lists for Christmas and wrapping stocking stuffer gifts.

Tranquil times to you!