My 1974 Kitchen

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic today.

The past is drawing my heart…

This picture of Mama and Daddy started it.

'

Daddy would have been about 20, Mama 19.

Not sure who the baby is…

oh yes, that's me, named after my mother
Marian Dewena.

I wish I had pictures of some of the kitchens
Mama cooked in over the years,

the first ones only came with kitchen privileges

as Mama and I followed Daddy from base to base

during World War II when he trained 

as a navigator on B-17s and then B-29s.

But oh, the magnificent meals she turned out
in a tiny kitchen in a post-war cottage
in Nashville once the war was over,
where so many relatives visited that
an uncle once slept in the bathtub.

Then when I was 12 years old they built this house.

Years later they moved out of state and sold it to me and R.H.

And this was our kitchen circa 1974.

The beam across the middle is where Daddy
at one point had removed the wall 
between the kitchen and the dining room.

I see my Spode Blue Bird wedding china in the hutch.
I see copper molds everywhere.
I see my macrame plant holders and Mason jars
holding dried beans and Lord knows what else.

Hey, it was the '70s.
If it could fit in a jar, I put it there.
If it would hang from a hook, I hung it.
(Not sure why the glass milk jug from 
W. E. Davis Dairy was sitting on the counter 
or a liquor bottle near it.)

We still have the old green china hutch and the wood ice box,
but how I wish I still had that wonderful old stove
 with the pull-out burners that Mama left when they moved.
I could probably do without the pine panelling now
but it was cozy as could be then.
The red plaid wallpaper on the ceiling that went
all the way into the den remains a favorite.

There's one other thing I miss--
no, not the lamp with the holes in it--
that little daughter who grew up way too fast. 

[I wish I knew why the text size arbitrarily jumps around on me. I simply cannot correct it.]

Little Things

"Little things console us

because little things afflict us."

Blaise Pascal

Holding the Door for Cary Grant

"Women who dress in tight skirts,

wear spiked heels,

and carry tiny poodles,

never run out of men willing

to hold the door open for them."

by Veronique Vienne

No argument with Veronique Vienne from me,

I'd probably hold the door open for all of the above myself.

But here's the man with the poodle that I'd leap across traffic

to hold the door for….

That's right, Mr. Cary Grant. 

I read that he never played a true villain in a movie.

So, here's to holding the door for Mr. Grant…

You know he was once my date to the country club dance, 

don't you?

See HERE to jog your memory.

Until Next Spring

In November of 1990 when we moved to this 24-acre valley and hills farm with its farmhouse built in 1920, I couldn't wait for spring to come where I could see what old heirloom plants would bloom. There weren't many things, to my disappointment, but there were daffodils scattered around, thankfully not in military rows, and then the wisteria bloomed. Later there were day lilies, big double ones, and wild roses and honeysuckle. 

And there was one peony, sitting all by its lonesome in the front lawn, that bloomed in late May. It was the Festiva Maxima peony and has a fragrance that fills the yard. And fills the room when cut for a vase. 

They don't last long. Soon they'll be gone.

I'm grateful that the busy farmwife planted this peony in her front yard. I think she would approve of the beautiful Kousa dogwood with its luxurious white flower bracts that R.H. planted when we bought Valley View. She would be glad it grows near her peony.

I look out at the dogwood and the peony through the bedroom window, through the same old wavy glass panes that she looked through, and I say goodnight until another spring.

Blogging Freedom

It's not for everyone, my new way of blogging, but it's brought me freedom.

At Across the Way, I would never have dared post a family

waffle breakfast like this….

At Across the Way a waffle breakfast meant working hours the day before

setting the table, cleaning everything in lens view of the camera,

getting up early to "stage" the breakfast,

cooking and urging everyone to look as if they were having fun, dammit.

It was a pretty post--see here--I was proud of it.

But the family waffle breakfasts now, when the kids come home to visit,

are so much more fun.

"Zack, finish that waffle! Smile for me, Gurn!"

We only remembered to get out the camera at the end this morning

and kind of had to "stage" the breakfast again for Mom to get pictures.

"Bryan, come sit down again with Christy and pretend like you're eating bacon."

"Oops, the telephone's on the table, the whipped cream can is too.

Countertops are messy, makeup not on.

The pictures would have been so much better if R.H. had taken them. Oh, well.

"Why didn't we get pictures last night when we were all dolled up

 and headed uptown for a steak dinner?"

Actually, I wish we had taken those pictures, but guess what?

Zoe couldn't care less…

Neither could Maddie….

Because they didn't get left behind at this family breakfast.

Neither did Otis & Milo but do you know how hard it is to get good pictures of four dogs?

No, my new way of blogging here at Dewena's Window is not for everyone,

but it has brought me so much blogging freedom. 

I enjoy my semi-retired way of blogging,

but I do wish you could have seen us all dressed up last night.

Private Miracles

"I don't see why I am always asking for

private, individual, selfish miracles

when every year there are miracles

like white dogwood."

Anne Morrow Lindbergh in

Bring Me a Unicorn

Our Kousa dogwood is in full bloom, an enormous bridal bouquet. We have wild dogwood that blooms early in spring in the hills around our house, but this Kousa dogwood that produces its glossy green leaves before it does the creamy white bracts is a welcome conclusion to the spring flowering trees and shrubs in our garden. 

This dogwood is one of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's miracles but I do still ask for "private, individual, selfish miracles" and am blessed to receive them. 

This past weekend R.H. and I received the private miracle of a visit from our granddaughter and her parents, experiencing once again viewing life through the eyes of a child.

We watched Nora brush her teeth…

Nora playing the piano, dressed in butterfly wings…

Nora use the squeegee in the shower…

Nora and her Paw-Paw relaxing...

I got to snuggle with Nora and Otis & Milo all in my lap before bedtime…

R.H. and I got to enjoy a weekend of being with Defee, Wallace, and Nora…

We had private miracles as well as the miracle of white dogwood…

I know we had pictures of Nora's smiles that light up our world--I think they are on her daddy's phone and when he sends them to me I'll post a good one--but here is a recent one that Defee took when he and Nora went out on one of their Daddy Dates….

Aren't they adorable?

[Just so I'll have a record here on this blog of the cottage garden posts that were on my old blog Across the Way, I'm linking to them here, here (with a picture of Nora a year ago that shows how she has grown!), and here. Whew! I hope those links work. I'm not using much of the tech stuff here on this new simple blog that I attempted at Across the Way.]

Beauty for the Soul

"There is an established--

though increasingly forgotten--

philosophy that suggests beauty and art

are as essential to human beings as food and water;

that they uplift the soul and help us

to find inner meaning in our lives."

Sarah Blake in June 2002

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