Potpourri with Apple Blossom Petals

I know now why bloggers sometimes post catch-up entries on their blogs, possibly with cryptic titles such as A Bit of Ketchup, and Roundup on the Ranch, or straightforward titles such as Blog Catch Up. It is because life happenings such as The Month of May come upon them.

They probably have on their computers or in their brains, as I do, the beginnings of several different blog posts. These posts are bubbling in large stockpots on the back burner of the stove, and there they (at least, mine) will stay while we peer into the potpourri burner at the front of the stove and sniff its delightful simmering contents that are the happenings of May.

                        Photo cred: Ken Martin

I felt so rich on the Sunday that was Mother's Day. A young mom at church surprised and blessed me and my girls, as well as all the other ladies and young girls from Oasis, with a gerbera daisy and a hug after morning church dismissal. Then my KnK daughters made a delicious and fancy meal - brunch food at lunch time - for us4athome.

At a bridal shower for my niece Holly, my sisters-in-law designed this amazing and tasty spread as

part of the refreshments. I could have titled my blog post Charcuterie Board, but I don't think it would've quite done justice to this stunning display.

While in Hayward, Wisconsin (my home and native land) for the wedding of my niece Mary Jo (Bro Tim & Margie's daughter), I got to be with some of my Skrivseth cousins for a supper and some pleasant catch-up visiting at my brother Todd & Sharon's house. We didn't get all of the world's problems solved in our discussion that evening, but it sure was fun trying. 😃

The three pics above are to do with my niece's wedding. The couple in the first pic is my parents in a just-before-the-wedding pose. They hosted Ken and me over that weekend, and we had such a lovely time with the 5-star hosts, aka Dad and Mom-Ruthie, as we talked and laughed and ate. The second pic shows the new Mr. and Mrs. Terrill Byler thanking all the wedding guests. I think the cute couple just "takes the cake".

At yet another relatives' gathering on the wedding weekend, some of my nephews had a jolly time with a four-wheeler and a little trailer. The fellow on the far left there sprouted his dapper mustache only minutes after opening the gift bag he got as a thank you for being gift receiver at the wedding.

And then, finally, Spring started happening. Yay! Creatures and flowers awoke. Yay! And yes, call me crazy, but I even take pictures of the common and pesky weeds - dandelions - because I think they are pretty in certain stages and places.

One might think a taste of Spring is the color orange. In the case of the tulips by the miniature windmill on the Martin's Farm hill, and the pepper kebabs on the grill, it most definitely is!

I wish I could take you on a walk through the orchard right now. Since that is impossible, I guess this line of pictures will have to do. Thing is, you don't get the heady aroma or the buzzin' of the bees that way. So you are welcome to come to the farm in person and to see, smell, and hear for yourself!

And now we see through a glass, wetly. I have not touched my garden yet. This is how it looks through a window in our house on a rainy day. Any glimpses of green in that brown patch are weeds and clumps of grass. If I were a more persistent or aggressive gardener, I would have probably found a way to at least plant the early things, but as it is, I say that the Spring has just been too wet. Ask me mid-June, not as you would the quite contrary Mary, but as you would a lazy Daisy, "How does your garden plant?"

This Post's Quotable:

After seeing an abandoned duck nest, I made up this riddle: What two-word phrase could a mother mallard use both for telling someone what she lined her nest with and for yelling at her younguns to get out of harm's way?

This Post's Childhood Memory:

Here's a recipe for one of my comfort foods from childhood: 

Cinnamon Toast 

Open the bread drawer and take a slice of white Wonder-type bread from the loaf that likely was purchased, among many others of its kind, the day Mom and Dad went to Rice Lake and stocked up on discounted baked goods at the Holsum Bakery Outlet. Note: You may have to dig under the loaf of pumpernickel bread to get to the real bread. Avoid the dry, dark, and caraway seed-y bread for best results in this recipe. Put the piece of white bread into the 4-slice toaster, into one of the two slots on the functioning side of the toaster, and push down the little front lever that starts the toasting. With any luck, after a minute or so your piece of bread will pop up gracefully (and not get stuck on the way up and stall, the alarmed toaster loudly stuttering its protest) in the perfect toasted state, neither pale and "barely scared" as Dad would label it, nor so very darkened as to call for taking a table knife and scraping the top layer of burnt off and into the trashcan. Lay your beautiful piece of toast on the counter and while it is still warm, spread a nice layer of butter (hopefully the butter is soft enough to spread well, and if it is your mom's homemade butter, I hope it is from a batch made after she learned how to pasteurize the cream so the butter doesn't go rancid from merely a day of sitting in the cupboard) on it, right out to the edges. Licking the knife when you're done is up to you. When the butter is yet upon the toast in that soft, melty sort of way, it is the right time to sprinkle on some cinnamon and sugar. If some kind and provisionary family member has already mixed up a shakerful of sugar and cinnamon together for the taking, consider yourself blessed. Go ahead and sprinkle a thick layer of the aromatic sweetness on top of the butter layer. Alternatively, you can sprinkle on the sugar layer right from the sugar dispenser and then a thinner layer of cinnamon right from the spice container, or you can shake both layers on by using a regular spoon, although it's a bit trickier that way, for the sugar seems to mound in places and the cinnamon tends to clump. At any rate, watch the sugar and cinnamon, if you have time and want to, dissolve into that melty butter so invitingly on your toast top. Then, when you're done admiring, eat that wonderful piece of toast. And be comforted. 

For You, Mom

Since today is Mother’s Day and since it is also close to the anniversary date of my first mom’s Homegoing, I will dedicate this post to the memory of Mom-Eva. She passed away from cancer twenty-four years ago this month. I’ve been thinking a lot about her these days.

Much of this post consists of photos that I took recently of things that make me think of her. I shot a number of these pics when I went on a walk in the woods this week. The names and features of the flowers and birds in the photos I learned from Mom when I was a child. Mom would have enjoyed going on that walk with me, and I would have loved to have her along. I miss you, Mom-Eva!

This Post’s Quotables:

Here are a few expressions and exclamations that come to mind when I recall Mom-Eva quotes.

        “All good things take time” (said especially in regards to us children dating and her not wanting us to be in too much of a hurry to get married)

        “La, ti, do!” or “This day do I remember my faults.” (scolding herself when she pulled a blooper)

        “Let’s pray about it.”

     “We all have to fight our own lazies.”

       “Step up and help with the dishes.” (someone who could "see work" - a character quality highly praised by Mom - wouldn’t need to be told this)

This Post’s Childhood Memory:

While Mom-Eva was ambitious and no-nonsense in so many ways - to a fault, at times - she allowed for leisure and fun, too. It still rather surprises me that she allowed my twin and me to play with her hair once in a while. She would sit and read a book by the light of the living room lamp, and we were allowed to unpin her covering, undo her little hair bun by pulling out the hairpins and un-tucking the brown holey hairnet, remove several bobby pins that were holding her two front hair “swoops” in place on either side of the “part” down the middle of head, and brush out the short and rather thin locks. I still remember the oily, shampoo-ey smell of her hair. Sometimes, we’d re-comb her hair and try to put it up again exactly like Mom did, and sometimes we were silly and put our own colorful barrettes at odd places in her hair or made funny little braids haphazardly over her head. She’d smile indulgently when we’d stand back and giggle at the effects. I wonder if she was conscious then of the connection she was building with us in those moments.

In what ways did your Mom connect with you when you were a child?

First Impressions

On Sunday evening, April 28, 2019, around 5:30pm, Ken and I became grandparents! Our firstborn, Rolin, and his wife Joy became parents of their firstborn when Seth Rowan – all 8 pounds, 8 ounces of him – arrived. What a terrific moment that was, to hear the news that it is now official: I am a grandma!!

Grandma Danette. I have a new name now, but I really don’t feel a lot different than I did before. I believe I will change though, as this grandmothering role grows on me. Already, my heart is expanding in this first week of my grandbaby’s life. Somehow, the love just opens up to include this little newcomer.

Upon becoming a grandma, here are some of my first impressions:

1      

S    Sharing the excitement with others multiplies the delight. All of the Kenites (except Rolin and Joy, of course) were here at our house when we got the news of Seth’s birth. We had gathered for supper and the evening to celebrate Ricky’s golden birthday, so we were conveniently together to speculate IF Joy was indeed in labor, WHEN we would get the baby news via phone call, and WHAT sort of name Rolin and Joy might have chosen to name the boy or girl. We were together to huddle around the phone when the call did come, to ask for details, to exclaim, to congratulate, to hug all the new-titled people, to be almost giddy with the sheer rapture of it all. And then, as the news rippled out in ever-widening circles to reach relatives, church family, and friends, the delight kept multiplying. I had not known that so many would “rejoice with those that do rejoice” in this way. Most astonishing for me were the people who entered into our joy while they themselves have not yet, and most likely never will, experienced what we have received – the gift of children and grandchildren.

2       What that one phone call did to my perception of our grandchild. The Wee One, as we had dubbed the baby before “it” arrived, suddenly was more than a coming mystery. This little person’s gender was finally known (Rolin and Joy knew before he was born, but they chose not to tell anyone else, and they guarded their secret well even though we kept hoping they’d slip up) and he had a name, a birthdate and time, a weight and a length. Then we got our first picture of him on our phones, and there he was with his chubby cheeks and dear little chin and Oh, this is getting “realer” every minute, I thought, Seth Rowan is a little person that I can get to know. It was as though one birth announcement exploded vague into definite like a shower of colorful fireworks.

3      Newborn nuances. I’ve forgotten an astonishing amount of things about newborns in the years since our children were babies, but a number of the details have come rushing back to me in the times that I have held Seth.  His skin is delicate and silky soft. His mouth is a tiny, graceful carving. He can draw it in tightly or open it wide in yawning hunger. With it, he can do dozens of different expressions, including pleasant smiles and painful grimaces. Sometimes, in his sleep, he makes a sucking motion wherein his bottom lip goes in and out in the most comical fashion. He stretches so much. He hiccups, “schnippses”, and “grexxes”. (PA Dutch terms, probably the kind for which you just have to go by context and guess the meaning of because “there really are no English words that mean exactly the same thing”) And he has that certain baby fragrance, smelling at the same time both earthy and heaven-y.

4      Gazing into the face of a newborn does something to one’s soul. I cradle Seth and my thoughts eddy…marvelous creatorship of God in the designing of this child…I love seeing his parents with him…he is so wanted – how come he gets to be surrounded by so much love and there are other babies in the world who don’t…as his grandma, I will be able to influence him, potentially in positive ways and in negative ways…pray God, let it be for good…in the presence of such innocence, vulnerability and dependence, time slows…I feel suspended between the seen and unseen...

      Could this be wonder?

 This Post’s Quotable:

At twilight one evening, Kerra looked out our front door and saw a rabbit in the yard. She informed us of her sighting, and then added, “Must be a dusk bunny.”

This Post’s Childhood Memory:

We children had many happy times playing on our swing set at the Northwoods Beach place. Its metal tubing frame was shaped like a big capital A on each end. The poles that made the “legs” of the A’s, where they met the ground, were not cemented in as they should have been for stability’s sake. This meant that vigorous pumping of the swings could make the poles actually lift off the ground and then set back down, rocking the set considerably. We called this “making it thump”. For me, this type of swinging was as frightening as it was thrilling.