When we arrived at Bill and Glenn's on Saturday afternoon, Bill told us that there had been hundreds of pelicans out on the lake earlier in the day. He expected them to return. What a treat it would be to see them. Sunday morning, Mike pulled me outside before we left...et voila! There they were!
And, these guys weren't my only pelican pals for the day. Since Mike and John were with me, I took 12 to Covington rather than take I-10 on into New Orleans like I usually do. This meant that I was crossing the Causeway into New Orleans. There's nothing like crossing the Causeway with a huge pelican soaring along beside you just at railing level. I had quite a few accompany me on into New Orleans. Sorry, no photos of these beauties. While the rest of the world needs warnings about not texting and driving...I need one for "No photos while driving." What a wonderful welcome home!
Shopping at Crate and Barrel with Kat early in the holiday season, we came upon a table with gift items that caught my eye. Wouldn't you love to know what was inside those boxes above?
I've often searched for something meaningful for many of my friends who are getting married. There they were. You had your choice of Mr. and Mr., Mrs. and Mrs. and Mr. and Mrs. (Come to think of it, I didn't notice a Ms. and Ms. but some might consider that redundant.) Having been the Mrs. part of the Mr. and Mrs. at one point long ago in my life; I have absolutely no desire to ever do it again. It's just not important to me, but I have the choice to marry or not. Having the choice is hugely important to my friends. Even though 35 states have recognized marriage equality, the battle rages on in the south.
I'm proud to say that many of my friends are active and involved in the fight for marriage equality. I look forward to the day when we are a country of "equality" in both word and deed for all.
Wishing you the warmth of hearth, home and time with those you love this holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year-Love during the holidays and all year through...Laury and Sammie Cat
I've shared my angst and frustration over neighbor problems in Cadrieu this past summer. Those evergreen trees are the border to my property. Does that look like trespassing to you? Although it lasted all summer long; the neighbor story did have a happy ending on my very last weekend in the Lot. They leveled my land, planted grass seed, and a box of wildflowers was provided to me so I can plant them upon my return to Cadrieu in 2015. I'd had a very different plan for that border. Look at those two evergreen trees. They both had sweet and festive beginnings...
...as rooted Christmas Trees in the Chatette. The shot on the left was taken in 2008. Look at that baby now...it's the tree on the left on the border. I had another successful after the holidays tree planting in 2009 to its right, but during 2010-2011 and 2011-2012 I was spending my Christmas and New Year's working contracts in Brunssum, Holland.
My plan had been to have a beautiful row of former Christmas trees as the barrier between mine and the neighbor's property.
Trust me. Had a tree been up every year that I was living in France...there's no way that any heavy machinery could have crossed that property line.
I loved having a real rooted tree every year that I could plant when the holidays were over.
It looks like it's going to be a while before I'll be back at the Chatette during the holidays. Those two may be monster trees by then.
Except for Sam, I am alone here at 411. (Until Tuesday anyway, when Mike and John arrive from Covington/New Orleans.) There are noises in this old house. When I walk from the kitchen to the living room and pass over the spot where Dad fell in 2012; I hear what sounds like it could be: crying; a kitten's meow; or, a small cry for help.
In the last week or so, the wind chimes have been ringing in the room that I've made my own for work and sleeping. This room began as our dining room. When Nannie lived with my family before she died; it was her room. Most recently, it became Mom and Dad's room in the years when steps became impossible.
I'm often in the kitchen when I hear them. Sometimes, I'll hear them from the living room.
There are lots of logical reasons for these sounds: old creaky floors; Sam running around; Sam snoring; maybe the furnace starting up and shaking the house; Sam moving around on the base of the lamp where the wind chime hangs; and/or, perhaps a draft from an open door or loose window.
So when I sat at my desk writing about my buddy and Mom earlier in the week; I didn't think too much about the wind chimes chiming. I'd finished writing his story and putting a post-it in the jar with MOM on it when I realizled that they'd chimed.
I looked around for Sam. She was asleep in the kitchen. I hadn't kicked the radiator cover as I wrote. There were no doors or windows open or cracked. Nonetheless, our chimes rang at the end of that story and a loved one made an important visit. I always hold him close. I know he holds us close too. Wishing you a Sunday filled with the love of those you've loved who have passed on before you. Let them hold you close and feel their love for you. It's important.
I'm not a big baker or sweets maker. Mom was a pro. Then we have Jean, our Queen of Sweets in Cadrieu. Now, I did have great success with white chocolate bread pudding in Cadrieu one Christmas. But, you must understand that this great success followed on the heels of 3 attempts at three different pecan ball recipes, where nary a ball could be found.
Although Kat and I had hoped to make Christmas Cookies with Mom this year; it didn't happen.
What did happen at 411 this week was biscotti production. I've come to love biscotti with my morning coffee when I'm here. Even at Aldi, they are expensive. Before my last bought batch was finished; I had looked up a number of recipes on the internet. It looked easy enough. Wow, 42 biscotti per recipe.
Once I got all the ingredients together and Mom had headed back to Hidden Lake; I went to work. I was sloppy. I was a mess. (I wore black.) I opted for the food processor over the mixer, cause I couldn't get the beaters to lock in place. I was prepared for the worst...but I got the best. With two cookie sheets greased and waiting, the first batch of 2 logs included anise and lemon flavoring with crushed pecans. The second batch included anise and vanilla flavoring with crushed walnuts. I figure once you and the kitchen are a mess, you should just keep right on baking till you're all baked out! It was fun. I felt productive. I have tasty presents to accompany my potholders and I have breakfast treats for myself and some friends who will be coming up from New Orleans.
I'd learned fromRick Steves somewhere in Italy that biscotti means "twice baked". I'd always thought it was just some Italian name for these hard tasty Italian cookies, but now I know why. Feeling a little twice baked myself from 411-Happy Saturday!
...here in Ferguson. Yesterday, we had a little snow. How nice to enjoy wisps of summer sunshine, dancing diamonds, and wildflowers from my window on the Lot.
I've been telling Mom for the last few weeks, that if she wants to come and sleepover at 411; it has to be soon. I'll be heading south again on the Saturday after Christmas, weather permitting.
As we're about to wrap up our Tuesday/Wednesday pj party, I am struck by: the evolution of our time together; just how much we accomplished; some evidence of letting go; the depth of our conversations; and, the eeriness of role reversal.
It began with Christmas cards and ended with decorating a fresh evergreen wreath to put on the front door.
It was two days of "togetherness": writing/addressing almost 30 Christmas cards, cooking together, eating together; getting the house ready for the carpet to be cleaned; looking at vintage sheet music together, searching for a huge plastic bag full of stuffed bears, attempting pot holder rugs; and, decorating the wreath together.
I had to laugh at us some. Of course, Sam joined in whenever she could. I'd already decided I was holding off on my own holiday cards until I could get to some peace, quiet and normalcy that is my life in New Orleans. Here we were, almost a day and a half of getting Mom and Dad's cards done together. While the carpet was being cleaned, our cleaner told Mom that the bears might be "worth some money".
We had time. We were cloistered in the former dining room together while he cleaned, so I got on ebay and looked at prices. It was good, because now Mom knows that we don't have real "Beanie Bears" and that vintage sheet music will not make you rich...the best I saw was $100 for a piece of music signed by Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. Now, I do love Waylon and Willie...at another time in my life I might have made that purchase and had it framed and hung on Columbus Street.
Mom returns to Hidden Lake today. I will treasure: our card conversations, the collectible epiphanies; seeing her finally accept the love of and love my Sammie cat; listening to her sing every piece of vintage sheet music she touched; the attention she paid each and every bear; the news that she'd never chopped a mushroom before; and, for the first time in two years she didn't say "go away", but instead said:
"I couldn't have done all of this without you." And, that's something to be shared with the rest of us!
A special note of thanks to Kat for providing the mailing list and Tom for bringing us that beautiful, aromatic wreath for the door!
RIding on the Grealou Road with friends on our way to Figeac; this yard of colorful tractors always caught my eye.
I'd always think how much fun it would be to have one and how pretty it would look at the Chatette. I have this tendency to romanticize the past, and find things unique and outside of my experience, interesting. I'd bet the farmers in my village don't have quite the same feelings.
Imagine my surprise in discovering this beautiful, old, red tractor at Mahogany Oaks. What a tease, peeking out from behind the storage shed. (Probably hiding from me and my camera!) Of course, it wasn't safe!
Although we were all in our overalls that weekend; I can tell you that there is not one farmer in the bunch.
Living among the farmers in my village as I do in Cadrieu; I've gleaned a whole new appreciation for the farming life. I'd often doze off to sleep to the sound of Monsieur Farnet's irrigators across the Lot in Saujac, and would wake the next morning to hear their conversations from across the river. Some days on my bike rides, I'd get irrigated right along with their corn and tobacco crops. On my way to catch the bus, I'd be waving and screaming "Bonjour" across the roadside fields to my neighbors who were usually bending over beautiful, geometric rows of asparagus, pumpkin, cauliflower, lettuce, tomatoes, and, on and on. It doesn't take much to understand that this is not an easy life. Even with new equipment and techniques; it is still back-breaking work often 24 hours a day seven days a week; whose success is dependent on whimsical weather. Our farmers make my simple life in Cadrieu interesting and more possible. I'll always love these colorful tractors, but today a huge MERCI from me to farmers-especially our farmers in Cadrieu!