mulberryshoots

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" ~ Mary Oliver
December 26, 2011

present. . .


So on the day after Christmas and celebration of Hanukkah, what seems most important to me in hindsight is being present. Not presents, although they are wonderfully thoughtful, fun and touching. But being together. In the moment. Sharing our company. Watching a 15-month year old baby understand what is going on around her. And enjoying every moment of her reactions to bubbles being blown or a small quilt being unwrapped. Beside me on the couch, our other granddaughter, who will be sixteen next month put on her new pearl earrings. . . now that she has just had her ears pierced, we are all delighted with a new category in which we can find little treasures. Tonight, the little one offered a plastic block in trade for the older one’s I-Phone. . . and then didn’t want to give it back!

Josie trading a plastic block with Anna for her I-Phone!

Being present everyday is what I think we eventually learn to do, especially when our children are not that anymore, but who are living their own adult lives with all the ups and downs that life entails. Choosing to be with people that you love means everything. Because our presence is what we have to give of ourselves in the end.

Being there. Being here. Being with each other. Especially right now.

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December 22, 2011

oeufs en gelee. . .


Well, if you read about my Christmas meltdown earlier, here is a follow-up report on making oeufs en gelee. An etsy potter from Australia wrote to me at the time that she was interested enough to “google” it to see what this dish was all about.

Apparently, it’s a traditional first course dish served in France and England from what little is available online. A photograph of a big glass bowl filled with jellied consomme with eggs suspended in it, a pile of toast and butter beside it stayed in my memory from Roald and Liccy Dahl’s book called, “Memories of Food at Gipsy House.” I think it was Roald’s own words that imprinted it into my mind:

“R.D. To me this is the most beautiful and delicious dish, but it is difficult to make well. If you can succeed in having the eggs not only soft-boiled inside but also separately suspended in the jelly, and yet not having the jelly too firm, then you have achieved the miracle.”

Okay: achieving miracles. It sure didn’t feel like that when I attempted to peel eight small eggs after having boiled them the allotted time. The shells kept sticking even though I had plunged them into cold water after removing them from the boiling water. The insides were also too runny. So, there went the first batch of eggs! I had also taken out my old beat-up copy of Julia Child‘s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” volume one in which she very helpfully described on page 113 some aspects of the “mystery” that goes into making the consomme turn out just right: you have to chill and test small batches of your consomme cum gelatin mix to see if it jells up properly–not rubbery and not too soft. My little test plate wasn’t jelling as fast as I wanted it to. Meanwhile, the phone rang and a voice asked me where was I for a chiropractor adjustment?–which had somehow slipped my mind while peeling the first batch of eggs.

So, I layered the broth into a Tupperware jello mold (see photo above) and put it in the fridge while I boiled up a second batch of eggs, leaving them to boil for a minute longer this time, plunging them into cold water afterwards. Then we ate supper: carryout Chinese. Afterwards, I peeled the eggs carefully and they seemed okay this time. I dried them off and slipped them into the mold, and then put fresh springs of tarragon around them. Added more consomme mixture that had chilled in an ice filled pie pan and then put it back in the fridge. An hour later after the third batch of consomme had jelled (this time firmer than the rest for some reason), I broke it up and spooned it onto the remaining room left in the mold, hoping that this jelly on the bottom would hold the thing together. Put the lid on firmly and set it in the fridge.

It looks like this mysterious, luminous pale brown concoction with eggs suspended, tarragon leaves barely visible.

At this point, I’m just glad that oeufs en gelee are now in the fridge and ready to bring up to serve as a first course with toast, butter, a little fresh ham and cornichons. I’m not so naive as to think that it will actually taste that great–although I am still hopeful.

I think the important thing for me was doing it because I was enraptured by Roald Dahl‘s experience and description of this dish. And besides, who wouldn’t want to make a try at performing miracles during this time of year?

Here’s an update: a photo of a serving of oeufs en gelee on Christmas Day!

111 Comments
December 15, 2011

moving (more) lightly. . .


I’ve been shopping for groceries and wrapping presents this week because family will be visiting from out of town next week. As I surveyed the bags of groceries in the front entryway and the wrapped gifts upstairs, I thought to myself about all the stuff we lug around with us during the holidays. Plus the cartons of kitchen things waiting to be brought up to the cottage to feed everybody, including Josie, the baby and guest of honor.

So, I started taking things out that I thought I might need, because nobody but me cares about which dishes or glasses we use. Really, they don’t. And the fewer there are to wash up, the better, don’t you think? I had also discarded the boxes things came in and wrapped soft things, rolled up with those nice printed tissue papers in red and green. At the craft shop today, looking for yarn needles because my solitary one keeps disappearing just when I’m finishing things up, I saw they had a special on four spools of moss green and burgundy ribbon for a dollar. They will dress up the small cream/red poinsettias and chocolate covered cookies meant for families here along with cards containing good cheer.

A friend wrote to me yesterday that two people close to her have died. We are both around the ages of those who passed, older than one, in fact, and it reminded me of how tender an age some of us have reached. Along with that, my back is feeling a little stiff after moving some heavy things last weekend. It’s still okay, but I am reminded that it’s probably a good idea to slow down a bit, and to lighten the load–both physically with things around me and especially mentally with all the excitement of preparing for Christmas and visits with family.

So, I think I reached the apogee of preparing for Christmas in the last couple of days. And it feels good to slide back a little, and to recalibrate myself to move more lightly, the rest of the way.

And, how are you doing?

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December 7, 2011

“treasury lists” . . .


The world is teeming with artists and crafts persons who are expressing themselves and producing wonderful things, selling their wares themselves. For awhile, I have been meeting knitters, quilters and potters on Etsy, a website devoted to crafts available from their source. It has even, on occasion, been possible to have a collaboration with quilters and knitters to have things made, customized for fabric, yarn and color, for example.

Countries range from far and wide: Norway, Turkey, Israel, England and Australia to name a few. And there are also many regions in the good old U.S. of A. It is an astonishing gallery and marketplace for infinite (it seems) possibilities and inventiveness expressed with humor and amazing materials.

Because I want to support them in their endeavors–and the prices are almost always modest compared to the amount of labor and time it’s taken to make their scarves, quilts and bowls, I’d rather buy their wares than just about anywhere else for things that are mass-produced and the proceeds devoured by big corporations.

So, if you’re interested, here’s a link to my “treasury lists”–a very creative device that Etsy has introduced, whereby one makes up a gallery of sixteen windows that is then shared with those you are “friends” with or are linked to some of your “favorites.”

In any case, here they are: click “katherine’s treasury lists” on the Blogroll feature on the right hand column of my blog, then click on the title of each treasury list.

Or, you can paste this link into your browser.
http://www.etsy.com/people/mulberryshoots/treasury?ref=pr_treasury_more

It is like entering a world we experienced in the movie, the “Wizard of Oz” where black-and-white shopping turns to color! I hope you have as much fun with it and find wonderful things as much as I have!

Some of my Etsy friends have also subscribed to my blog! Thanks all!

P.S. Adding links to my blogspot for etsy sisters, mudheart pottery, elizabeth cadd and drusilla pettibone

9 Comments
December 6, 2011

back to basics. . .


It’s amazing how having a meltdown this early in December clears away stuff. For example, all of the “have-tos” that I drag around with me for the holidays: the magical, quintessentially decorated Christmas tree that has to be a balsam and freshly cut so that it fills the room with its fragrance. This is no mean feat because trees are cut and shipped down here from Canada weeks before Thanksgiving even–and finding a balsam tree that is still alive enough to grace us with its fragrance is not an easy thing.

Then, there is the multitude of ornaments that I have collected and culled after forty-some years of Christmas tree-decorating. Antique mercury and glass ornaments, tissue paper animals, birds cut out of paper, bead garlands, glistening snowflakes from Germany when I travelled there on business years ago. A choice of different angels for the top. Or a felted red cardinal. Maybe these can be reduced to a half or a quarter.

Then, there’s the present-giving. I have been criticized for years by one person for giving too much at Christmas: “Just sit back and let her do it,” was the admonition, if memory serves me. As though receiving things that I have gathered is a burden for people. So, that’s something to reconsider, don’t you think?

Then, there’s the food. It turns out that I have not really bought into the idea that everyone should have a say-so in what the menu is going to be over the holidays. To me, it’s not a “team decision,” since it’s not really a “team effort,” is it to shop for it, prepare it and serve it? This yearning to create a true Christmas meal has been further enhanced by my correspondence with an old friend who lives in London. She has ordered two pheasants for their Christmas dinner. And I have been sending her recipes from Roald Dahl’s wonderful book, “Memories from Gipsy House,” like “Oeufs en gelee” and reading recipes for partridges stuffed with juniper, herbs and fresh bread. It’s a sharp contrast to the current ethos of “just making something quick and simple,” isn’t it? I’m a pretty good cook and part of the fun of Christmas is making really wonderful food for our meals.

Nor, for that matter, have I ever bought into the concept of exchanging “lists” of things that people want. If someone wants something on their list, then why don’t they just buy it for themselves anyway? What is Christmas anyhow, if you just order something at LL Bean or Amazon.com that somebody else wanted but didn’t want to spend the money? Then you wrap up the gift that somebody already asked for and they open it on Christmas day? Yippee? What happened to the days of Guy de Maupassant and the thoughtfulness that’s described in his short story, “The Gift”? although you wouldn’t want to be ships passing in the night either about gift-giving.

So that’s about it:
a real tree
real presents
real food

Oh, and being present. That’s a big one. Not wandering off willy nilly. Really helping out to clean things up and to wash the dishes rather than making a stab at it and letting others do all the tidying up. Not just going through the motions. Being joyful and thankful together.

Being present. That’s better than giving or receiving presents, don’t you think?

Well, thanks for listening to me today.

I’ll figure it out. Because I always do.

2 Comments
December 5, 2011

how the cookie crumbles . . .


You know what they say, the only constant in life is change? Sometimes, I feel that change is long overdue, don’t you?

I find myself holding onto traditions when others take them for granted or it isn’t as meaningful for them as for me. Take being together on Christmas Day, for instance. Or the choice of food. Don’t get me going on that. People nowadays are so fussy about what they will eat or won’t eat. It’s not like hostessing a meal anymore. The pendulum has swung so far that there now seems to be endless discussion on what to cook and what to eat. When I’m the one who will do the heavy lifting to satisfy everyone’s whims and wants: doing the shopping, paying for the food, cooking and serving it, and what happens–people pick and choose what they want to eat and, whether to be late or to leave early. There is a new entitlement these days about being a guest. No longer is it the case that you invite people and present a shimmering Christmas tree and a groaning board of delectable food.

I don’t even mind that picky part about the entertaining when one is hosting the venue, setting the stage with holiday decorations, spending weeks setting it up and then having people come and adjust things just so after you have spent so much time already on making things just so.

What I do mind, after setting the stage, financing, shopping for and providing for the food, drink and all the largess (dollars and presents galore) is when I am treated like the backdrop. When people make decisions about when they’re going to be here or not. When choices are made in tandem with people who have treated me so badly in the past. And nobody gets that or even notices. So, with that, the whole thing turns to dust.

But wait, it’s not so bad when I have had time to process it all. To think to myself how weary I have been feeling even thinking about putting the whole show on the road (literally!) again. It’s time to let it go. The show doesn’t have to go on anymore. Because my integrity is more important than even Christmas, believe it or not.

That’s how the cookie crumbles. And. . . happiness is a choice, right?

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November 28, 2011

a handful of things that I love. . .


As some of you may know, I began antiquing in the ’70s when we first moved up to New England and lived in a Victorian house in Lexington. I met a dealer who specialized in early (17th and early 18th century) furniture and Caucasian oriental rugs. Beverly lived down the road from me on Marrett Road and kindly guided me through the vagaries of the antiques business and early furniture construction. By chance, she and I had the same surname at the time. She left her husband and daughters to be with the love of her life and they had a brief time together with a very sad ending.

From that time forward, the handful of things I loved and collected included early tables, redware, baskets and hand-turned wooden bowls. Through the years, I bought and sold, mostly sold, collections of things that I thought I would never part with, but then found that I needed to when moving from place to place, both in terms of living spaces and as my life unfolded. Over the past forty years, I had pared down to very few things–not exactly a handful, but just about. I had bought and sold early gate-leg tables, a style that was in its prime in the early 18th century, hand-turned vase and ring balusters, painted dark red or black, the gates folding out to support the table leaves. In my zeal to clean things out with each wave of life that I entered, the gate-leg tables came and went. One was small and curly maple that later appeared in “Early American” magazine. One was cherry that was sold to me as maple. And so, life moved on.

Yesterday, I was at an antique show in Marlborough, MA. A dealer there from whom I had bought a few choice things in the past was there with a table that I had looked at more than ayear ago at a show he was set up at in Concord, MA. This time, I asked him how much it was. He looked at me and gave me a very good price. I took it home, a yearning I didn’t think was there anymore was replete–like a puzzle piece clicking into place. I’m going to keep this one.

In the photo above, the rocking chair beside it is as early as the table base (about 1720) and was the first serious piece of furniture that I discovered from a picker in the ’70s. It got lost in the shuffle of the divorce from my ex-husband and he took it to Arizona where he settled with his new wife, 20 years ago. Due to a suggestion my daughter made on my behalf to him, the chair made its way back to me a couple of years ago. That’s how sentimental I was about it, I guess. And I’m lucky that he understood.

The photo below is one of the huge wooden bowls that I have collected over the years. The one on the left in black paint was the first thing I ever bought at Skinner’s, our local auction house. I paid $15 for it and remembered I thought it was the biggest bowl I had ever seen at the time. The one in the middle, in pale green-grey paint, graces our kitchen with its majesty.

Note: If you click on the photos, you’ll be able to see things up close! The piece of redware with the ruffled edge and splotches came from the same dealer as the little early gateleg table in the photo above.

3 Comments
November 27, 2011

proving yourself (part 2). . .


I’ve been writing a couple of heavyweight posts lately. But today I had a good laugh and wanted to share it on the blog.
Here it is:

Up to the time my mother died at the age of 89, she was fond of relating an apocryphal story about herself, one that she was very proud of. In China, during college, she was a track star for her school, Ginling College. Her specialty was running the hurdles–you know, the racetrack is filled with wooden barriers about three feet high, set a few feet apart from each other so the racer took only a few strides (and in stride) before having to jump another hurdle quickly after clearing the last one.

So the story she told was that she ran the hurdles and won– when she was seven months pregnant with me!

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me! LOL!

Honestly, I think she told this story in my presence at least once a year up to and including the year she died!

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November 27, 2011

proving yourself . . .


Well, I’ve been thinking more about the holidays after listening to Deepak Chopra’s wonderful set of affirmations aloud on my laptop yesterday. Somehow, his voice and words convey a path to understanding myself more deeply. More importantly, a better understanding of my relationship with others.

This morning, I woke up thinking about how proving ourselves impacts the attitude or the intention of what we set out to do. For example, I have been feeling more put-upon and tired preparing for Thanksgiving this year, saying to myself, it’s because of my age and/or all the other myriad of projects that I don’t have room for to do during these weeks of preparation.

But then, I thought, “nope that’s not it.” I think it’s because there was, and has been (notice I’m using past tense verbs here) the notion in the back of my mind that I had to prove myself once again: that the roast chestnut dressing had to be wonderful, so labor intensive and frustrating when a good chestnut was hard to find–or that the bird had to be aromatic, juicy and tasty (even though the oven overheated to scorch the baked potatoes and then underheated while trying to roast the turkey;) that the brussel sprouts couldn’t be watery but crisped in a little butter before adding the bacon pieces. You get the picture.

OF COURSE IT’S EXHAUSTING when one’s perfectionist leanings that fuel me to prove myself kick in. And, in the process, makes me feel resentful (who’s doing this to me anyhow?) and the whole labor is not one wholly of love, but of obligation. Wow, that’s disheartening to realize, isn’t it? BUT, it’s actually very liberating because I realize that what’s really going to happen at the NEXT holiday–which is Christmas(!) and just around the corner, dear friends, is that I’m not going to be wearing that wet blanket around my shoulders again.

In reflection about myself and how one wears oneself out trying to show your love for your family at the same time that you also want them to just really enjoy it, there’s this aspect of “proving oneself.” And that added ingredient just doesn’t help. I was also thinking about this concept when a new friend asked me almost rhetorically, why she was pushing herself to make more pots when she had been sick and fell behind, and the weather had delayed the firing of her kiln of wares for the holidays. It doesn’t have to do with our age inhibiting us, I don’t think. It has to do with either that we are still proving ourselves to ourselves and to others. Or we are doing it out of the joy of doing something for its own sake and because we care about others. In her case, I think it’s the latter.

Are the distinctions I am making too fine to understand? I don’t think so. At least for me, the proving of myself, even at my age with my grown daughters–has to do in the end, with proving one’s self-worth. Or, to put it another way, a way to justify one’s very existence. What that means is that we feel if we don’t prove ourselves and make everybody happy in the process, then, well, we’re just not worthwhile. Is this a women’s thing? Unfortunately, I have a feeling that it is.

So where are we? I don’t know about you, but I’m letting go of a LOT of old habits and baggage because I realize it’s not helping me or anyone around me. In fact, I know it’s long overdue. I have to say that this release is huge, and due largely to listening to Deepak’s deep and gentle voice by myself yesterday in the cottage (and in the car on my way back home.) The affirmations have helped me to understand things like intention, and compassion and that e-g-o- means “edging God out” and that judgment (“judge not today”) blocks out creativity. The net effect on me has been that the affirmations have released me from comparing myself to others and to be clear that I, (and you, all of us, everyone of us,) am worthwhile, just because.

If you want to see a little more for yourself, take a look at Soul Healing Affirmations (March 25, 2008) on I-Tunes. It is a very simple and profound set of affirmations that go alphabetically from A-Z. Each one lasts less than 2 minutes or no more than about 4 minutes.

I feel a lot better. And I hope you will too when thinking about whether proving yourself is really worth it when you don’t have to in the first place, and maybe, not anymore.

Cheers!

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November 26, 2011

“judge not today”. . .


On the day after Thanksgiving, my daughter and I were browsing in a Christmas Made-By-Hand gift shop in the small town next to the cottage. One after another visitor greeted the two women at the table who were minding the store. When asked how their Thanksgiving was, there ensued various comments about the Thanksgiving that they had, their family, and the food as their conversation drifted about in the store. Not many were positive. Not overall.

Later, I wondered about where unhappiness or dissatisfaction comes from. Especially when it happens to ourselves. So today, I was browsing on I-Tunes for some cleansing music and looked in the meditation section. Lo and behold, there was Deepak Chopra, leading meditations and speaking in his musical, soulful way, giving advice for the spirit. One meditation in particular struck me and I listened to that segment a few times before purchasing it for $1.29 (isn’t I-Tunes great?) Then, I found the text on-line, provided by another grateful listener. I share it here with you today.

Deepak Chopra: “Judge Not Today”:

“Judgment creates turbulence in our mind. When there is turbulence in our mind, then it interferes with the creativity of our soul. Creativity and judgment don’t go together. Judgment also means that letting go of the need to classify things, to call them either right or wrong, to label, to define, to describe, to evaluate, to analyze.

Let go, today. Judge not today. Today I will practice non-judgment.

This affirmation is about releasing the need to be judgmental. Just make this your lesson today. Consider what happens when you judge someone – it makes another person wrong. Someone else is wrong to feel a certain way, to look a certain way, to hold certain opinions. Judgment immediately creates separation. Any person who is wrong then becomes ‘them’. The need to judge arises from the need to be isolated – this is the ego’s form of defense. But at the same time you are pulling away from your true self. The same walls that keep other people away also shut off the flow of Spirit.
When you learn not to judge, you are basically saying, “I am willing to let anything in without deciding first whether it is good or bad.”

In the practice of openness, you will be inviting your soul to be intimate with you. So put your attention in your heart right now, and just repeat to yourself:

Today, I will judge nothing that occurs.
Today, I will judge nothing that occurs.
Today, I will judge nothing that occurs.
And by letting go of my judgments today, I will experience silence in my mind.
By shedding the burden of judgment today, I will experience silence in my mind.
And in this silence, I will find the ecstatic impulse, which is also the evolutionary impulse of the universe.
And I will align myself with the ecstatic evolutionary impulse of the universe, by letting go of all my judgments.
Today, I will not classify
I will not label
I will not define
I will not describe
I will not evaluate
I will not analyze.
Today, I will shed the burden of judgment.”

I thought it was pretty wise and maybe today, I can follow his suggestions. We can all be defensive about whether we are judgmental or not. Actually though, I don’t think I know anyone who isn’t judgmental because it’s hard to distinguish when we’re thinking about something to then realize we are being judgmental just by HOW we are thinking about it.

Anyway, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?

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