December was a difficult month.

 On December 2nd, at 4:30 p.m. we held our precious James Mason in our arms at the vet, unexpectedly having to say goodbye to him. We took him home to hold his little body and let his little sister BreeBree, on the left above, say goodbye, and the next morning our son Gurn came over to help RH build his casket and dig his grave next to Otis and Milo's. 

To all my fur baby moms and dads reading this, it just never gets easier, does it?

Our December changed then, became quieter and centered around helping BreeBree get through it just as she helped us. 

She and I, and she and RH, snuggled a lot this month. We watched some Christmas movies but not with the happiness normal to the season.

Between necessary chores around the house, I'd hold BreeBree on my lap, a blanket around both of us, and watched episode after episode on television of Homeworthy on YouTube, the Christmas episodes. Do you know the channel where homeowners give you a tour of their homes? 

I took a picture of one of my favorites but can't remember her name. She's an interior designer but started off years ago making elaborate beaded Christmas ornments for Neiman Marcus like these trees she did for herself years ago.--[later: her name is Cora Brown from NJ and actually she is a jewelry designer.]

And I watched Christmas at Belmont University, from here in Nashville, live-streamed on Prime. How amazing that this special show that RH and I went to in person several times years ago was now available to watch live from the comfort of home, BreeBree on my lap.

I didn't do my normal reading of my collection of vintage Christmas books. Instead, I shared many of my collection in Christmas gifts to family. 

My Libby app brought me this book from Louise Penny...

I had long looked forward to its arrival since the release of the book but gave up after a few day after realizing that it was doing nothing for my Christmas spirit, as much as I love the author.

Instead I searched for a light Christmas "beach read" and found this one that takes place in Edinburgh, Scotland, set in an old bookshop. This I could listen to.

And so we made it through December, week by week, very little festive baking done but enjoying the comfort of the Christmas tree and lighted garlands and the automatic battery candles I found last year through blog friend Kim's blog that came on at 4 each darkening evening. There were also the comforts of many texts and phone calls coming from our four amazing children.

And then the week before Christmas there was a visit from out-of-town family that brought laughter and good talks and future plans to discuss and reminisces of wonderful memories. 

And Christmas came.

As I get ready to publish this it is only a few hours till midnight on New Year's Eve. 

I was determined to publish at least one December post in a month when I had meant to publish many so I'm thankful I'm doing it now, barely.

God bless you all and just in case I don't manage to post in early January, Happy New Year to each of you.

Happy Thanksgiving Day, to My Fellow Americans!

 

Happy Thanksgiving Day to those of us in the United States of America! 

I don't know about you but I could use a few more days to get ready for it instead of just the remainder of this Wednesday. And our meal will be very streamlined for the two of us. 

I always thought by our 80s that RH and I would be the guests at someone else's home and my only chore would be baking a Chess or Pecan pie but things didn't work out that way with children scattered too far away for us to travel. 

One son may join us but as he's just flying home today after a visit to his sweetheart, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to stay home and keep our granddoggie company tomorrow.

We love our granddoggie to pieces but he could swallow BreeBree and James Mason in two bites!

Can you see our babies behind the red chair that holds our other two guests, Mr. and Mrs. Turkey? They have a note attached to them where I'm begging they be loved by someone after I'm gone--the turkeys, that is.

Of course I have ten pages of typed notes for instructions of taking care of our dachshunds by a loved one who has promised to give them a home if needed.

I had every intention of blogging throughout November but it will be no surprise anyone to see that I haven't. Lots of pictures taken all month long but no blog posts published. Do any of my blog friends visiting do that too? 

Just in case you don't see another November post from me, please enjoy every single day of the rest of this beautiful month that is my favorite month of the year! 

November

 

I was 17 and on a family Sunday afternoon drive. Remember those?

Daddy insisted on taking photographs of all his four daughters. I bet my three younger sisters have a copy somewhere of photos taken of them that afternoon.

I freeze when a camera is pointed at me and the french twist I had for Sunday morning church did nothing for me in a front view. I never thought I would share this picture of me online but this November the shot of the young woman has become a little dearer to me because I remember her more fondly than I used to.

Hal Borland says that "November is the aging year, a woman whose Springtime children have grown and gone their way..."

November is my favorite month of the year but Borland's words made me a little sad until I read on:

"...but whose hair is often spangled, whose gray eyes are often alight, and whose dress of grays and firelight-gay, a glittering night, a crisp blue day, a whispering wind and a handful of determined fence row asters."

2024 is aging but once was young and so was I.

I'll wait and see what the rest of November has for me and mine and give a heart full of thanks to be here for each day.

I wish you a blessed November. 

Happy Halloween and Adieu to October

 

In an attempt to publish at least a monthly blog post at the Window, here is a fairly short and sweet one.

Sweet because these two girls' visit, with their parents, was the highlight of our October.

Mimi and PawPaw were so happy to have them here for two wonderful nights! 

Of all the photos of the weekend, here is one that most grabbed my heart when I happened to see a session of sister hair-braiding in my office, which becomes their bedroom during visits.

Can you see why it made this grandmother's heart go pitter-patter?

Anything else I could share seems unimportant and irrelevant, but I'll throw in a link to the recipe for our entrée one night, my favorite and most used recipe for salmon, Fresh Market's Baked Salmon with Lemon Caper Butter.

I may get an F for presentation but I promise you this sauce is delicious. I double the sauce and I use salted capers soaked in warm water for half an hour instead of brined capers. I order them from Amazon, Sanniti Spanish Capers, about $19 for a really large jar. 

Farewell, beautiful October! 

I hope to see you in November, dear friends and family, in my favorite month of the year.

And for those of us in the U.S., let's all remember that regardless of the outcome of the election next week to keep family and friends our family and friends forever.

And, as Frances Mayes quoted Eduardo Galeano...

"Let's save pessimism for better times."

P.S. Our daughter and son-in-law at a recent costume gala. Can you guess who they went as?

Ronald & Nancy Reagan

P.S.S. My mom (the first Dewena) came to visit me and new baby Zack on Halloween night 1979 as the rest of the family gathered at a party at my sister's house. Wasn't she beautiful?

September

 

 I'm a little surprised to find myself blogging at Dewena's Window again but life has a little something missing without it and September 1st seemed a good time to try. Maybe I can hit publish by midnight tonight even though it's been around Robin Hood's barn to pull it off after my Mac Pro decided to punish me for ignoring it all summer. 

Back in May I made like a flying squirrel who lost her footing and glided to the ground a tad bit harder than intended, which was not at all. Majorly bruised from broken toes to not broken shoulder, my knee taking the brunt of it, I spent three months visiting my favorite physical therapist. Thank you, Patrick! 

But late spring and summer compensations were plentiful, as when our firstborn brought me enough beautiful yellow roses for the whole house.

And even trimmed and arranged them for me!

Our lives have been quiet here this summer but many joys are constant. There's always the fun of cookbooks and cooking.

I'm so sorry for poor picture quality! Not only do I have shaky hands and worsening eyesight but BeFunky decided to make changes too that I can't figure out. 

Judith Huxley's Marinated Olives with Citrus and Fennel (seed) lured me into making them even though I felt a little guilty because I usually only make them when a certain daughter-in-law comes to town.

I think there's a recipe for this in my Judith Huxley label but I'll never hit publish on this post by midnight if I try to find it and link it. After the olives chill in fridge for a week or two I make Alison Roman's Vinegar Chicken with crushed olives. I shouldn't have skipped crushing the olives this time but it was still delicious.

There have been meals to cook and pretty tables to set and I kept taking pictures of them even though I wasn't blogging. And there have been good books to read before bed and books to listen to on my free library app while I wash dishes and fold laundry. 

Right now it's Edith Wharton's The Buccaneers, an old favorite about American heiresses hunting for husbands among the financially strapped British aristocracy.

 Quite a different recent one was Playin' Possum.

It's about the Possum himself, country music star George Jones. The early chapters were frankly depressing due to his cocaine addiction and domestic violence, the book written by Nancy Jones, his fourth and final wife. If I had been actually sitting down reading the book I would have returned it to the library early but listening to it while I worked I kept on listening and was glad I did because it was good to know George and Nancy were happy in his later years.

You see, we old timers here in Nashville love George Jones who was a mighty sweet guy when he was sober. And that voice still gets to me and I agree with writer Julia Reed that George's "He Stopped Loving Her Today" is the "Best Country music song ever made."

I miss George Jones and I miss Julia Reed.

And now that I'm 81 and no longer wish away my least favorite month, August, I'll probably even miss the summer of 2024.

Still, I am more than delighted to welcome September and the hope of cooler temperatures. There's just something promising about September, isn't there? If I could remember how to embed, is that the word for it, videos from YouTube here I would end with a link to Walter Huston singing "The September Song." 

Do you know Walter Huston, Canadian actor of silent films and the talkies? Father to director John Huston, grandfather to Angelica Huston and Danny Huston? And I think there's an uncle somewhere in the mix.

"The September Song" that we love sung by so many wonderful singers was actually written for Walter Huston and he sang it in a play on Broadway and if you go to the trouble to find it on YouTube these September days you might see, as I did that he can tear your heart out with his poignant interpretation. 

I recently fell down the Walter Huston rabbit hole after watching a 1950 movie called September Affair with Joan Fontaine and Joseph Cotton. With dresses by Edith Head! And Walter Huston sings The Song! 

Sorry about the length of all this. Rabbit holes are my favorite pasttime now in my 80s and I give myself permission to indulge but I do feel sorry for any reader here. 

 A long long time from May to September,

September. November.

These few precious days I'll spend with you!

      And I'm mush. Every single time.

Spring and Mrs. Daffodil

 

Every couple of years I reread Gladys Taber's Mrs. Daffodil in March. It's almost wrong to say this is a novel when it reads instead as Gladys Taber's autobiography, with names changed. 

For example, Gladys' bosom friend Faith Baldwin (see the illustration of Faith Baldwin at the top of every blog post of Dewena's Window) is named Hope Alden in Mrs. Daffodil. During their annual week's visits, they read each others' manuscripts--that's true trust--settle the problems of the world, and go antique shopping together.

I always laugh with Mrs. Daffodil as she recounts the various hired help she and her lifelong friend and housemate Kay (Jill) employ over the years whose ineptitude causes the two women to work even harder than usual. This also brings to mind the five years I had the most wonderful helper named Pam and what I wouldn't give for her now. 

And I cry for Mrs. Daffodil at the end of the book when she says of her husband, someone Gladys rarely mentions in her books, the sentences that tell so much.

She remembered Henry, but pushed the memory aside. Henry was an upright man, but life with him had been anything but one of those partnerships she read about. The truth was, she reflected sadly, that she and Henry had been entirely unsuited. They had just rocked along.

She said a little prayer for Henry.

I read Mrs. Daffodil before falling asleep at night through the first spring like warm days of March when the daffodils bloomed behind the barn, those in the wild area that looked as if some former resident had forked up mounds of dirt where daffodil bulbs had been tossed.

 

So warm were the days that James Mason and BreeBree went to the groomer for a short haircut.

 

And I read Mrs. Daffodil when March became her true chilly self.

 

I lit candles at night as the temperatures fell, especially this pretty one from Court that was a Christmas gift and smells divine.

 I finished Mrs. Daffodil and went back to some old Peter Shandy mysteries, and in the daytime I listened to biography audiobooks while doing some spring chores. I listened to this one in honor of my Star Trek trekki sons and found it to be a fascinating account of a complex man--both Leonard Nimoy and Mr. Spoke. [Sorry, typo--Mr. Spock!]

I hung some spring tea towels in the kitchen...

 Cleaned out some kitchen drawers...

And up went a few little sweet things on the kitchen shelves--the Peter Rabbit cutout saved from Christy's childhood.

 I mixed up some buttermilk waffle batter one day for a special waffle breakfast with Tennessee country sausage, hashbrown casserole and eggs. Melted butter and hot maple syrup.

Attended by our guests, Christy home for the weekend and her big brother who dashed over to see her. If only I had managed to get her whole beautiful face in the picture!

And RH and I will be getting another visit from family Easter weekend, our granddaughters and their parents!

Can you guess where they were one day on spring break?

Now that's way too easy, isn't it? And I know you can guess how much I enjoy visits from family, even quick weekend ones. 

For such is the stuff of bliss, isn't it, dear readers? And Mrs. Daffodil? 

Happy St. Valentine's Day to All

 

RH and Dewena

1960