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

Tiny Bits of Valentine's Day Decor and Fish Majolica in the Kitchen

 

My Valentine's Day decor is sparse and all ends up in my kitchen. I honored the Day on a pretty little pink  blackboard my granddaughter made me two Christmases ago. 

And put a fabric heart in the handle of an odd lid I found at Goodwill and hung on the wall.

Two little hearts adorn a tea towel.

I found this vintage St. Valentine's Day card in an antique store many decades ago. 

Valentine cards from our granddaughters always get saved and displayed.

That's about all I have but I love their presence in my kitchen. 

Last week I took everything off my open kitchen shelves and cleaned everything, the top shelf with RH's help. A couple of years ago I took everything decorative off the lower shelf and filled it with glass jars of rices and beans, etc. that I used frequently but I began to miss having pretty stuff there. So most of the food items went in the pantry (which is a coat closet back near our bedrooms) and I brought in some favorite pretty things.

I put up some of the early 1900's Italian fish majolica I collect including this large platter.

And the gravy tureen that still has the rare spoon for its tongue. And I had RH hang one of the little bone dishes above it. I have stacks of small plates too and might add some of them.

A small English platter went up, all of these fish making sense to me as I could easily give up all meats and only eat fish. Not so, RH.

I must zoom in on Maddie who was clipped to my Christmas calendar that daughter Christy gave me years ago, a reminder of her schnauzer who will be 15 years old this Valentine's Day! Maddie's health was very worrisome a few weeks ago and we were so relieved when she got better.

I can't resist showing you my asparagus candle again. When RH's brother was letting me choose things from his estate sale inventory a couple of years ago, this vintage asparagus candle and two large orange "coral" candles I display on top of my china cabinet were some of my favorite finds. I love this candle!

I think it's magnificent and display it on the top shelf beside a special old Royal Doulton "Countess" platter that was my mother's. 

On the door to the kitchen porch I display seasonal tea towels year round, mostly vintage. I just packed away my Christmas vintage tea towels and despite not having any vintage Valentine's towels, felt like these make a nice February showing, especially the cherries in honor of President George Washington. I know, I know, the cherries were a myth but I don't care.

I'll show this last picture to answer a question that Melanie recently posed, Where do I keep all my different china patterns?

Some are kept handy on this dry sink in the kitchen. Always my Blue Willow, now topped with winter patterns. At Christmas a stack of Spode Christmas Tree was there, easy to grab, and in summer I keep a stack of blue and white Independence Hall plates. Sometime I'll try to get pictures of the other places I stash china. 

That's all for today but I have a very old photograph of myself and RH to post on St. Valentine's Day, one I had forgotten about and recently found.

I always feel I should apologize for so many pictures but I do love seeing pictures from my blog friends' kitchens and hope some of you do too. 

Please stay well, everyone! Our daughter is sick with COVID for the third time in a year and is feeling absolutely crummy. And yes, it is possible to have it that many times because there are at least three variants out there. 

Be safe, be kind to yourself and others. 

Of February Joys

 

Paperwhite narcissus are such a joy to me. This is my second batch, the first one started in early December. I order 24 Ziva bulbs and use most of them in three or four containers around the house for Christmas. I put polished rocks in the containers, fill with water up to barely touching the bulb and keep them cool and dark for almost two weeks until roots are full and small pale green shoots appear when I bring them out. 

Then I have enough bulbs left for one big display and I believe the second batch are even more special, filling my kitchen with their perfume.

Do you see that sweet face above? James Mason and his sister always bring me joy! And he's in another episode of disc disease pain right now so I'm trying to keep him resting and inactive as much as possible while the meds work. 

This gives me the opportunity to write a blog post and I wanted to tell you about the absolutely amazing apple pie I made before Christmas. It's from a 2007 Cook's Illustrated magazine and it was a labor of love, taking me all day. Was that just me and my slowness? I mean, I always take triple time that recipes say it's supposed to take. 

I can't give you a link to this recipe because you have to subscribe to it now but you know a pie crust is going to be good when it calls for two sticks of butter and sour cream. After I put it together in my Cuisinart, formed it into two balls and put it in the fridge for two hours I started peeling the apples. [I took pictures each step of the recipe but am sparing you most of them!]

This is the step that was a surprise to me but is supposed to be so much better than using raw apples. I cooked the apples in a Dutch oven, along with the white sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, salt, lemon juice and zest for 20 minutes AND then put the cooked apples on a baking sheet to cool for 30 minutes. I started to skip this step but decided to follow everything as written. 

Have you ever cooked the apples for an apple pie?

Then I put the apple mixture in a colander and drained out the juices to discard. 

Then it was time to roll out the dough into two rounds. And then the rounds of dough went back into the fridge for 30 minutes on parchment paper! After that I lined the pie plate with one round and poured the apples into that and sprinkled with lemon juice. 

Time to top the pie with the second pastry, slits cup in, brushed with egg white wash, and sprinkled with sugar.

After baking at 425 F. for 40 minutes (recipe called for 45-55 minutes) I took it out and then had to wait 1 1/2 hours to cut and eat.

Lord have mercy, was that apple pie the best I've ever eaten!

Okay, maybe it didn't take me all day but it took me hours and hours. And I'll never make it again unless we have company there to help us eat it because apple pie, even good apple pie, is not so good after two days and the critters and birds got the rest. The crows were particularly fond of it. 

Time to help James Mason get up and go potty. My to-do list mainly consists in taking care of him for a few days while squeezing in some basics as I can. I certainly won't be making another apple pie anytime soon. 

What are you all up to now?