Showing posts with label Fly Away Snow Goose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fly Away Snow Goose. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Simple Gifts


 



Yellowknife was under fire threat, as more of the terrible forest fires that have ravaged the Canadian wilderness this year raged, moving south toward Great Slave Lake. As the town played a pivotal role in Fly Away Snow Goose and has become dear to my heart, I watched the progress with fear via YouTube. The population was asked to evacuate, and many of the 20,000 inhabitants got out by driving down the single two lane road that would take them out of harm's way. Some were flown out in an all airline effort. This was an all hands on deck emergency and the people of NWT rose to the occasion, as the elderly and the ill were transported to safety in other parts of Canada. 

I could write about causes of these fires, but it's all too dire to explore here. As the fire did not swallow the town as had seemed inevitable, the place was saved, unlike many others in Canada, which have been reduced to ashes during the last few years of extreme heat and drought in a land which is unaccustomed to that.

Instead, I will focus on my summer garden, which is a happier subject. It is also ephemeral, as are our lives on this planet. This year and this year only will my little garden produce this particular selection of vegetables, all planted in hope in the spring. I too have wrestled with early season drought, but, in the end, thanks to the garden hose and a good supply of groundwater in this part of PA, each raised bed has become a jungle of production, providing us with fresh organic food that's better than what can be found in the market. There is also that wonderful feeling of accomplishment that you get when you watch and tend plants from seed to fruit every year!

Tomatoes are now flooding in. My brother in law provided me with two straggly little plants early in the year, which I had to keep indoors for a time as this was before the last frost. Now, I can't keep up with these medium sized red tomatoes. They are tasty, hardy, and leave no leftovers when you are making just two salads at a time. The sweet, mellow cherry tomatoes I raised in the same upstairs window where I nursed red tomato sets. They have a catchy name: I seem to remember "Coyote." 

 



There are also collards, an heirloom variety that I have been lax about confronting yet. These Cabbage Collards aren't huge and they are also milder than the usual supermarket varieties. "Slave food," they are super easy to grow and pack a huge nutritional punch. It's time to get on top of them now, as I experiment with recipes other than the traditional hunk of salt pork or pig's foot bathed in stock simmered for a loooong time.


Next comes "the solution to too many tomatoes." This idea is all over the recipe section of YouTube, but here's mine in mid-process.


You take a big pan like this one, and add: 

Balsamic vinegar and olive oil in a generous first layer. Next:

Sliced tomatoes, sliced green Bell Peppers, lots of diced Vidalia onions, shredded greens and ditto carrots and yellow squash, well dressed with salt, pepper, red pepper, basil, oregano, leafy greens, parsley, chopped garlic, and whatever else you have too much of. The final step is to cover it all with a cup of good stock.

Next, bake in a slow oven until the whole thing looks like the picture above and has reached a sticky consistency. Let it cool at little, and then scoop into a deep bowl. Get your stick blender out, or use your blender, whichever, and whirl until the whole mass becomes a thick paste. 

You can freeze this in little tubs, smear it on chunks of toasted, buttered French bread, or crackers. You might wish to spread it on the cheese sandwich before you grill it. Scoops of the paste can be added to sphagetti sauce or chili really pep them up. (My sauce does anyway, because the one I made is full of garlic, basil and oregano, and, I believe, I also added cumin. 

Nasturtiums, which I grow every year because my Mom always did. These can be used in salads or to decorate homemade cakes. I am always stuffing a few leaves in my mouth as I pass by the garden, and I add them to salads too, for their spicy, peppery kick. 



And last but not least, I will end with an it-doesn't-do-it-justice picture of Ironweed, which is flourishing in various spots around the yard. Bees of all kinds and butterflies, wasps, and all the usual suspects of the pollination racket are delighted to find this "weed." I understand that neighbors call me "the weed lady" because I have native plants in the yard and diss the grass, but the heck with them! The bees and their compatriots are more important, really, in the grand scheme of things, don't you agree?




~~Juliet Waldron

All my historical novels, from Medieval, to 18th Century, to PA German may be found at:


Monday, May 29, 2023

How We Saw Tina & Ike - Or, Once Upon a Time in the 70's

 



FLY AWAY SNOW GOOSE BY
JULIET WALDRON &
JOHN WISDOMKEEPER,
a Canadian Historical Brides
Northwest Territory Story




In the '60's, I was a typical white college kid who hadn't heard much of what has been called Black music, except for the groups like The Temptations, The Crystals, Martha & The Vandellas, Ronettes or the Shirelles, the ones that made it onto rock'n'roll stations. (The only exception to this being Calypso, which I'd danced to during my high school years in the West Indies.) 

When I arrived at college in the States, I got to know new kids, ones that came from big cities, like New York, Philly, Boston, Baltimore, Chicago and D.C. This new cohort arrived with plenty of Rhythm and Blues and Soul mixed with their Folk and Rock L.P.s weighing down their college-bound trunks of indispensable stuff from home.  


Some years later, married, mother of two, I imagined I'd found the BFF I'd never had in my HS. I'd always been an outsider, for different reasons in the different places. I had a poor self image and secretly I'd always wanted to be "in with the in crowd" despite my own insistence upon being the nerd in the corner of the room. This new friend was young, glamorous and had three little kids, more or less the same age as my two. Her husband was a junior hot shot salesman who'd been a popular member of his fraternity. They couldn't have been any more different from us, but as young marrieds at the beginning of our lives, from marriage to parenting--not to mention work--we shared a lot. 

This was the early 70's and we were young, still wanting to play. Fresh out of college as we were, "fun" meant that the women cooked dinner--something simple, like sphagetti and a salad. Then we'd drink jug wine and listen to (and critique!) the latest rock LP because we were a generation who'd grown up listening to "our music" on the radio. We also told one another the usual get-acquainted stories about our origins. From childhood, we shared tales of raising kids and usually ended with how we were going to escape having the same lives as our parents. Our own kids ran around the house or out the yard, deep in pretend or hide and seek.

This extroverted couple took us to places my husband and I would normally never go--like a Rock'n'Rhythm review in a nearby city to see Ike & Tina Turner. My girl friend, with an urban background, told me that she'd read that Ike sometimes beat Tina. In those days, such a story was between us, woman to woman, as we all knew that physical abuse was but one of the hazards of being born female.  

The audience, when we got there, was a riot of color, some black, some white and some brown. I'd not been in such "mixed" company since living in the West Indies. Some were dressed to kill, with spangled mini-dresses, big hair, and high heels; others just wore jeans. My girlfriend had, of course, decided that we should dress for the occasion. She let down her blonde hair and wore open toed heels and a floaty hippy dress--white, gauzy, short, patterned 
with cherubs and long church choir sleeves.

She'd explored my meagre closet and come up with one of my mother's decades-old cast-off cocktail dresses. This was hot pink and rose red with a fitted bodice, boat neck and full swirling skirt.  She also discovered a ridiculous pair of heels from England, with pointed toes and extravagently high heels. We decided that a pair of bright green stockings would really proclaim that though the dress was thrift-shop retro, it wasn't the 1950's anymore, baby!


Our entrance, just as my girlfriend had foreseen, was majestic! We couldn't have felt more far-out.  Naturally, we got some put-down comments, but such was the price of our utter coolness.  ;)

Soon, music blasted into the auditorium, as a girl group warm-up band took the stage, to be followed by Ike and Tina. He watched her like a hawk, his dark eyes full of calculation, as he checked out the size of the crowd. He made certain we all would all notice that she was his, hands on her waist and then on her shoulders, but she appeared to want to get down to business, stepping forward and giving us all a flash of her white teeth. She waved the chord, freeing the mike, while everyone cheered and jumped and whooped. The band's name might have still been "Ike and Tina Turner," but it was plain who we'd all come to see. 

For over an hour, Ike and Tiny rocked us. They sang their oldies, as well as covering newer hits. Here's a few that I remember from that memorable night.

https://youtu.be/sTM17bmV4wg  ~ Honky Tonk Woman
https://youtu.be/FwaxT7zL7kA  ~ Fool in Love
https://youtu.be/bpuf6AmQH4M ~ Nutbush Avenue
https://youtu.be/uj0wPrN_Y_4  ~ River Deep Mountain High

It was over far too soon. We left, drenched with sweat and totally hoarse, as you are after a great concert. 

Time passed; friends departed. We moved and moved again. Tina vanished for a time from  pop radio, but then she was back, without the abusive, controlling husband, and better than ever. Many even bigger hits followed. My favorite is the heart-wrenching "What's Love Got to Do With it?" which spoke volumes to so many. 

Then, in the 2000s, I encountered a new Tina, now in a Buddhist incarnation, as were many in our cohort. After years of pain, of suffering, and a lot of growing, the Queen of Rock had found healing and peace.  

https://youtu.be/6XP-f7wPM0A  ~  Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu Om
 
 A rough translation: May there be well being in all, May there be peace in all, May there be fulfillment in all...Peace, Peace Peace.)

Hail the Traveler! I'll never forget that wild night in a Hartford auditorium. 


~Juliet Waldron

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Thursday, December 29, 2022

Fiat Lux - Carry the Light

 


Fiat Lux was the motto of my ("high school," to Americans) Queen's College in Bridgetown, Barbados. I remembered this recently when, while attempting to dust, I pulled out an old copy of The Oxford Book of Verse from the bookshelf and saw the motto on the cover. It was a school prize, for "good work in Form VI b" of which I'd been rather proud. I was a lonely ex-pat in those days and something of a "swot." Studying was how I filled my time as a "stranger in a strange land," while others were spending their free time with family and friends. 

What is the definition of that "light"? I used to believe--this being a school gift, after all--that this "light" was knowledge, and while that's certainly a way of looking at this motto, I'm beginning to see that the "light" mentioned here is perhaps a much simpler concept. Maybe it's just as simple as one word--Hope.


Reading an article by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, Elizabeth Kolbert, I was struck by this sentence: "Despair is unproductive. It's also a sin." Those two short sentences got me pondering, especially as I am someone who finds themselves often stuck in "the slough of despond," expecially after looking at the news. 

Spalding Gray in his "Swimming to Cambodia" speaks of "the cloud of Evil" which continually circles the world, waiting for an opening in which to manifest This image struck me powerfully. When people give up, believing that reality is "hopeless" or "impossible" to change, that attitude simply throws the door open for the Darkness, destroying people, communities, societies--even planets.  



What's is the opposite of despair, then? Hope, of course. In the words of the familiar little song:

 "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."


"Hope is being able to see that there is light, despite all the darkness."  

~Bishop Desmond Tutu

Maybe that particular light is the one we all carry, the ability to care for others, to share what we have. It can be as simple as a phone call to an aging relative or looking in on a elderly neighbor, or volunteering at a shelter, planting a tree or a garden.

"There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for." ~JRR Tolkien 


Sam Gamgee says these words to his comrade Frodo, whose heart is overflowing with terror and despair as he faces the completion of an apparently impossible task that will probably end his life--but may save to world.


Tolkien's fantasy is the old battle of Good & Evil, the central, familiar theme of all world religions.

"In a time of destruction, create something." ~ Maxine Hong Kingston

Despair can be cast off through action, perhaps something as simple as cleaning, decluttering, writing a blog or a letter to the editor. Even if you feel defeated before you start and believe you aren't going to be able to make anything in your future better, you did take an action that can improve your immediate surroundings, or, at least, your state of mind. 



If it's just seems too pointless to clean or cook or write another letter to your  newspapers/political leaders, sit down and write a gratitude list. At first I scoffed at this practice, but consider. Perhaps you can find three things you are thankful for. 


If you are in a house, under a roof, more or less warm and with internet access and time to read this--well there's three luxuries right there. On a more basic level, most of us also have friends or family, even if they are far away. Most of mine, especially since Covid, are far away and inaccessible for various reasons, except through the 'net. You might talk to a friend, neighbor, to your cat/dog/bird. Write a poem. Greet the sun, admire the clouds or the birds/squirrels at your feeder, the local Canada Geese who have never learned to migrate.


Or, as I'm speaking here to readers and writers, talk to yourself! Begin to tell yourself a story, which is what I have done ever since I was little and feeling sad and alone.  


🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊  Happy New Year!  ðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•ŠðŸ•Š

 ~~Juliet Waldron

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Sunday, August 29, 2021

Clawed and Friends, a feline soap opera

 

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 I know I’m getting older, as I’ve definitely run out of energy this summer. The present excuse is that it’s too darn hot and humid. The garden I planted is now flush with veggies, raining tomatoes and continuously sprouting a tasty green called “Perpetual Spinach,” #1 on my list recommendations for the home gardener.  No, filled with gloom as I am, I think I’ll just talk about the “kids”—not actual children anymore, as ours have long ago flown the nest and have children of their own—but the three cats that we now live with. 

My days are a long feline saga. There’s an old saying to the effect that “If you want to write novels, get a couple of cats,” and IMHO it’s true.  No longer do I have teenagers, but I have these cats, and the trials and tribulations of our multi-cat household never ends.

Currently, we have three cats domiciled with us.  I would never presume to call myself an “owner” of "pets" as the cats I’ve met generally end up calling most of the shots.  These three are the first I’ve kept in—the bird/small mammal neighborhood body count is too high to be acceptable to me any longer. Plus, eventually, with outdoor cats, predators--animal or human--disappears our beloved furry family member.  Therefore, our kitties, Kimi, Tony (Anthony) and Willy (Yum) all share the same space. Tony (aka “Ant-knee”) is a young tough from Long Island. I could blame the daily uproar on his theoretically removed testosterone-producing parts, but that would be the easy way out for this Cat Mother.

Kimi is now an elder cat. Long-haired, she requires daily brushing and combing. Nevertheless, she still gets constipated as a result of her own personal grooming regime and needs frequent doses of Laxatone©. She arrived here starving, with open wounds and a PTSD which never subsided. Since then she has mostly lived, by preference, wherever other cats/people are not.  She has just had a bout of pneumonia and I’m pushing several pills a day into her. Fortunately, she and I have a relationship of affection based upon my respecting her intricate web of boundaries, so these pills—so far—are no problem.


Tony arrived as a cute kitten, but looks can be deceiving. 



Tony has proved to have not only a high intelligence but a boundless appetite for domination—first of this household, perhaps later, the world! Like the “Little Girl with the Little Curl” in the Christopher Robin poems, “when she’s good she’s very, very good, but when she is bad—she is horrid!” Describes our inventive Tony to a T. 


Willy is also 'Clawed,' because he has a major bad habit of scratching furniture, to the point where we have mostly given up arguing about it. We reason we'll all be dead soon enough and will no longer care. This flaw is worth putting up with, because he is a giant cuddle-bug who kisses and hugs his people. 

With others of his kind,  Willy-yum is a go-along, get-along kind of guy—until he draws the line and bites which is his method for drawing the line with Tony. Willy and Tony are friends for face-licking, as well as tussle and chase games, even though Willy is older and somewhat lame. No, the problem is not between the boys, or with their newly formed posse, but between the boys and Kimi.


Willy, sensitive soul that he is, understood right away that Kimi did not want to be friends with anyone. He did not take this personally.  He and Kimi politely left one another alone, about the best that we can all hope for.

 Tony, however, takes Kimi's crippling fear as a personal affront, one that he rediscovers anew every day. Kimi, as he sees it, should play and wrestle with him like Willy-yum does. In his world view, this is the natural order of things, perfectly obvious to his bright yet inflexible mind. When he bounces up to her, she hisses and retreats under a chair, this, 100% of the time. That, he presumes, is an invitation to get under the chair with her. When (unsurprisingly) she screams and scratches, and all hell breaks loose. 

So since she's been ill, she is recuperating behind closed doors. I move her between rooms in the heat, transferring cat boxes, food, water and beds each time, with Tony trying to either trip me or jump Kimi all the way. His nose knows that his Cruel Cat Mom has been feeding the Stupid One "better" food. And yes, I am. Sick cats get appetite tempters like baby food and kitty cans. 

If I try to share kitty cans out, however, Tony gobbles his and everybody else's too, so all special food has to be dished out behind closed doors.  In an attempt to be "fair," I've dirtied many, many kitty dishes. I feel like a Mom dealing with a nearly toxic sibling rivalry.

I soon gave up the sharing of canned chow. This summer's supply chain lapses are making purchasing the "right" flavor/texture kitty food chancy. Things will get easier when Kimi recovers and we can just return to my occasional running interference when the familiar routine of his bullying and her fear gets out of hand. Like people, these two kitties have difficulties with changing their visceral reaction to one another, reactions which  lead to "antisocial" behaviour from both parties.  

The official Chinese line on pets is that they are "useless bourgeois luxuries."* They may not be "useless" in terms of the emotional support and comfort we two-legs receive from our fur friends, but they are luxuries our 1st World living conditions allow us to enjoy. Spaying, neutering, maintenance and vet care (because "where there's stock, there's trouble"**) are fixed costs.

Moreover, you need time to devote to their proper care as well as a generous share of patience and understanding for their non-human needs and ways. They may have once been thought of as "dumb animals," but we know better today. Between you and these complex, sensitive critters a relationship will grow. Just as relationships between two-legged beings require time, thought and uncomfortable doses of learning about yourself, so too can our dealings with our mammalian kin test and enlighten us.  

~~Juliet Waldron

*The Economist, July 2021

**"All Creatures Great and Small", James Herriot 

 

                                    So sweet, now that he's asleep...

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