I'm no food stylist

Who needs it. This is fresh picked asparagus, lettuce and some rather gnarly radishes.

When we were growing up, Mom always served fresh leaf lettuce with a delicious creamy dressing. I now have mastered the secret. Here are the ingredients

After working with Mom as my taste tester, I can now make the dressing that Grandma Seetin taught her to make.

 I wish I could give you the quantities, but every batch is different. My only advice is to start with a generous amount of cream or half and half, a small amount of vinegar and sweeten to taste. Must have a dash of salt and pepper. 

Gnarly radishes are good. And green onions when they are ready.

Tomorrow, my "secret" asparagus sauce.

A Duck Break

I dd a quick search of my measly collection of albums for photos of Dad. Most of the photos are in boxes in the top of the closet and I just could not "go there." Dad died in 1996--pre-digital photography (I know, seriously, film, negatives, processing, prints..) but I found a couple to share. I realized that in the past years, I've been focused on Mom. But when Kent was home, he started reading Dad and Mom's letters written during the war

and it shifted my focus back to them as a couple, as parents and grandparents.


I love this photo with Lukas. This was taken on a day they had been baling. At Mom's funeral, Lukas shared about his memories of baling. Now he knows how early it started. I can almost smell my dad--a combination of sweat and fresh hay. But he always put out his arms to hold a baby or take hold of a small hand.

Or feed a calf

Real Men Don't Quack

Indian Runners are an unusual breed of domestic duck they stand erect like penguins and, rather than waddling, they run.
Indian Runners love foraging. They also like swimming in ponds and streams, but they are likely to be preoccupied in running around grassy meadows looking for worms, slugs, even catching flies. They appreciate open spaces but are happy in gardens from which they cannot fly and where they make much less noise than call ducks
Only the females quack.

All drakes are limited to a hoarse whisper.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Runner_Duck
We definitely have a quacker.

Road Trip

We are gardening at Mom's farm which is about 2 miles from our home. Sam removed her (yes, I now know it's her--more on that later) from the basket. For the next hour, she followed Sam up and down the rows as he ran the tiller in the south garden. I picked the asparagus and gathered some rhubarb in the north garden.

I was kneeling in the row of onions, hand-weeding and hoeing. When I looked up, Sam was crossing the road with the duck and the tiller. The duck paused for a drink of water in the pan I had put out for her.

As she was drinking, she noticed me and immediately ran toward me, quacking in delight. While I'm not any expert on duck emotions, I do know that they are emotional creatures, and by gosh that duck was happy.

She came closer and closer to me until she was touching my knees and seemed to be trying to climb up into my lap. She turned her head to the side and allowed me to pick her up. I held her close and she nestled her beak into the crook of my elbow.

I gently stroked her soft feathers and she murmured her appreciation. Soon, she began to wiggle and I let her go back the business of eating dirt and nibbling on the weeds I was pulling.

All this time, I thought she was just following us because that's what ducks do, they follow. Now I know she wanted something, needed something. I just had to be still long enough to find out what it was.

Could this be what grief is like? If I keep moving, busy, occupied, it will not catch up to me.  Eventually however, it does. In those time, I run to God's arms.  I don't like to cry--and it's hard to feel sad for long around this duck.

Mom is never far from my thoughts, especially in the garden. And I wish she could see me. Holding a duck. In the garden. Weeding. Smiling. Grieving.

Warning

Another post about 

This photo was taken on Tuesday--when it was 100 degrees here. Had to improvise on a water feature for the duck--but she (or he) managed to take care of business.
Lately we've had conversations like this:
Sam, "I'm going to go till the garden."
Me, "Ok, I'll go along and do some weeding."
Duck, But  I just got out of my pen for the day. I thought this was family time. I've been lonely
Me, "What about the duck?"
Sam,"We can take her along."
Duck, ? Not exactly what I had in mind?
Sam put the duck in a laundry basket, set it in the back of the pickup and off we went.
Duck, QUACK QUACK QUACK QWWWWAAAAAAKKKKK

Second warning: To be continued
Note to Vaunda:  Yes there is only one duck...the other a casualty of a "let's put the ducks in an outdoor pen" experiment.

Love Is

Do you remember this comic strip from the 70s? I did a little research online and found that it is still in syndication. The creator of the column, Kim Groves, died in 1997 but the cartoon has been taken over by her son.

When I was in high school, a group of us would stop in the library after lunch to read the cartoon in the paper. We would sigh, clasp our hands to our bosoms and utter a collective "Aaawwww" every single day. Occasionally, the need to capture the moment included tearing the column out of the paper. We would stage an elaborate production of distracting the librarian, Mrs. Rosa, (who we strongly suspected had something other than coffee in her thermos) either by chatting her up or asking her to retrieve a past issue of an obscure publication from the area of the library known as the "stacks."

The reason for this bit of nostalgia is the sweet relationship I see developing between Maddie and Zoey, Zac and Amber's dogs. Zoey worships Maddie and wants to be just like her. Maddie is gentle, nurturing and patient (most of the time). They are my daily source of Love Is

Here is the original comic strip

And here is the Zoey and Maddie version

of a need and a want being brought together

Is it Possible

that wearing a pair of sensible work shoes actually improves productivity? I'm going to try it again today-- although I have already accomplished quite a bit here at home--barefoot and in pjs.Yesterday, I dressed to work in the garden: t-shirt, yoga pants and a pair of brown shoes I dug out of the bottom of the hall closet. They felt a little tight--probably because my feet are totally flattened out from wearing sandals.

I did not accomplish my goal of cleaning out my inbox by noon. Not even close. I must have been on a bit of a caffeine high when I wrote that.

Some of it was easy

Some of it was more difficult

But at 5:45 PM it was DONE!

I do believe it was the shoes