Surprise, surprise, surprise! as Gomer Pyle says.

BreeBree and I are here again at Dewena's Window after a long time away. Both of us are older now, as is RH. But then, so are you.

A few other critters have joined us since I shared with you here the news of our dear James Mason's passing. A feral mama cat and her five kittens. This one RH named Pretty Boy but he might turn out to be Pretty Girl. He and his mama are the only ones that let RH barely pet them when he takes out their breakfast and dinner. 

BreeBree's pen, our garden, has become their playpen. Our vet works with a group who comes and traps them and spays/neuters them for $25 each so we're on their waiting list. 

But on to other happenings. Not only have the kittens grown but so have our granddaughters. Here their dad got a shot of them on their blow up mattress in my office on their last visit.

And I just realized that this is not my edited photo where I cropped out some of the messy background. But then I'm surprised I even remembered how to attempt blogging again and you wouldn't believe the trouble I had doing it. Snafu after snafu. 

I had other pictures, other stories but it's after 9 p.m. and this is, afterall, kind of a test to see if anything acturally happens when I click Publish. 

Here's where I try...

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.

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? 

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?

Courting Melancholy Autumn

 

 

Through George Eliot, James Mason and I are courting autumn's melancholy:

Is not this a true autumn day?

 Just the still melancholy that I love--

 

that makes life and nature harmonize.

 

 

We're harmonizing here today, James Mason and I...

 

 

while courting George Eliot's melancholy autumn.

Pshaw! we say, to October sunshine. 

Tea and Sympathy

My post title is misleading as there's no tea here--I don't drink it, wish I liked it. There may be some sympathy simply because you may understand that my mind is wandering and can't seem to focus lately. Maybe Miscellaneous would be a better title.

One of the highlights of my recent days was watching 1956's Tea and Sympathy starring Deborah Kerr and John Kerr (no relation) on Turner Classic Movies. 

Do you see that kitchen? 

The wall of copper? The wood dresser with white knobs? And there's a curtain under the sink and several other pieces of furniture in the room and pretty china in the cabinets and a darling white stove. 

Deborah Kerr was delightful as the wife of a house master at Chilton--get that? The prep school was named Chilton. I had to Google to see if it was real but no, it was made up just like Rory Gilmore's Chilton was. 

I won't go into much of the plot here but it was timely as to the prejudice there was in 1956 against people who were different as was John Kerr's 17 year old character who was hounded by the other teenage boys and called "sister boy." The house mistress's heart went out to him and she offered tea and sympathy on Sundays to the boy who was more interesting than all the other so called manly boys put together.

And talk about men back in the 1950s not being able to talk about their feelings, her husband is the poster child. But on to other things...

Old movies have been a respite from the news lately and so have family and dear pets. I'll try to write soon about the gift of seeing family again but for today, here are two pictures of new family pets.

Can you believe that head?

Dear Bridger, named for the Bridger Mountains in Montana, has visited us often the last few weeks. He is our daughter and son-in-law's Giant Schnauzer and he's only one year old! He and I fell in love with each other and I could look into those beautiful eyes for hours. My photograph doesn't let you see them but they're under all that fur. 

And here's my new grandkittie that I haven't met in person yet but my little granddaughters are so in love with her. Isn't that a sweet face?

Jumping to my next disjointed thought, if you read my bedroom post a few weeks ago you might remember that I hoped to find pictures for the blank wall behind my bed. I found the first one!

The first week that one of our local antique malls reopened I was there and spotted this beauty. The label said it was a watercolor and I thought I was stealing it as I handed over a Benjamin Franklin that was a birthday gift from my firstborn and his wife. I felt almost guilty leaving with it but when I was cleaning it before hanging I saw that it was a numbered print of a watercolor--in the 900s even.

Still not sorry I got her though. I think she's lovely and she holds a pink rose, just like the pink rose lamp on the table by her. I'm hoping next to slowly add a group of smaller pictures on the other side of the clock to make up my art gallery for this side of the room.

Here's two other antique mall pre-pandemic finds that were such a pretty blue that I had to show you.

  
These blue and white napkins are a perfect blue for my wedding china, Spode's Blue Bird. 

And I couldn't resist this blue pitcher that's a planter with a drainage hole to the attached saucer. Now if I can only find the right houseplant for it.

Next thought...

Here's how I used some of the olives from the recipe on my previous post--in Jan's recipe for Balsamic Pork Chops with Olives, found here at The Low Carb Diabetic blog. They were delicious! 

Every morning I take my clippers outside to deadhead plants in the garden but I'm saving those pictures for a post to show what my new gardeners have accomplished. They are Bridger's mom and dad and RH and I are so thankful for all the gardening help they've given us lately. 

But late in the afternoon, after I've fed BreeBree and James Mason, I go back outside just to stroll around with them and one day I went over to the far side where a large hydrangea has given us a beautiful view from our bathroom window. 

First I had to take a picture of the bark on our one large locust tree.

And here's the pretty hydrangea. We planted two more in the main garden but this one is only seen mainly from the bathroom window. 

And look who accompanied me on my garden stroll, Mr. James Mason, himself!

And then it's back inside to get supper on the table. My meals these days seem to be getting simpler and simpler. Here's a soup from the cookbook I featured in my last post, Judith Huxley's Table for Eight. 

Her Consommé Belleview is so simple and refreshing!

You just combine some chicken broth (I used two jars of homemade broth I'd made from chicken bones and skin I had in the freezer) and 2 8oz. bottles of Clam Juice, a couple of minced garlic cloves and a pinch of cayenne in a saucepan, simmer and cook for about 10 minutes or so. Then you add 2 tablespoons of dry sherry if you have it--sherry is good added to lots of soups. Serve with minced parsley and lemon in bouillon cups. 

I had a whole set of thin Austrian bouillon cups but only kept two when we moved. For some reason clear soups do taste better out of a thin cup, although I have to admit that the mug of leftover soup I had for breakfast the next morning tasted mighty fine, too.

All I served to go with the consommé was open-faced tuna fish and pimento cheese sandwiches on luncheon plates of the French faience that I found one summer at a Goodwill store. Twelve plates taped together, marked Martres and France! 

Here's a picture of them from an old post. I use them constantly, just as I use all my vintage silver, even keeping it in kitchen drawers so I won't forget to grab it instead of the stainless. 

From what I read on Facebook, the younger generation is just going to get rid of all that stuff when we're gone so why not enjoy it myself, right?

And that's it, folks. No quotes this time, no inspiring message, no rough draft worked on for hours. Those days may never come again, or sometimes I feel that way. 

And no tea even though I'm so envious of the pleasure tea time gives many of you. 

Any sympathy out there? How does a regular day go for you now? Are you mingling in public much? I went to the grocery store with RH for the first time in almost three months last week. It was wonderful!