Trash

One woman's trash is another's treasure.

I have a penchant for old things and am more than happy to scour secondhand and vintage stores for unique goods. Since my parents arrived from war torn Germany with little but a suitcase, and family heirlooms are few and far between, I think I like the link to the past that old finds provide. And, since manufactured items all look the same in stores today, I appreciate the distinctive dress from a consignment shop still with the tags on or the solid hardwood table from the used furniture store with nary a scratch. Yes, one woman's trash is another's treasure.

Of course, this wasn't always the case. I grew up in a working class family with six children in a Midwestern community of mostly middle to upper income professional families. Hand me downs and Goodwill outfits were a staple in my life. I am not complaining, but I would be lying that it wasn't a sharp contrast and difficult pill to swallow when I was also around peers who got brand new cars for their 16th birthday. 

And, thrifting back then wasn't chic like thrifting is today. I remember leaving Goodwill bathed in an aroma of must and mold and feeling dirty and a sense of shame. I hate to admit this as I have grandparents that barely scraped by in the Great Depression and parents that knew hunger, violence, and fear all too well as children in WWII. I give myself a break as I was only a child then. Now, the values of basic respect for food and monetary goods still form part of the foundation of my being. A penny saved is a penny earned after all.

More importantly, I must remind myself that in a world of over seven billion people, I am among the wealthiest and most privileged. This is due, in part, to my good fortune of being born in the United States. In part, this is also due to the work ethic instilled by my parents and the life my husband and I have worked very hard to create over many years. As such, I try to be a good steward of what luck and hard work provided. 

Since we moved into Nara in June, I have been slowly working my way around the yard, clearing out beds, walkways, and underneath bushes and trees of weeds, sticks, debris, and undergrowth. In the process (and I am so far from done), I have been shocked at the trash I have found scattered throughout the property. I decided to keep a list of items, many broken, that I have unearthed:

• Baseball bat
• Two arrows
• Numerous Lego pieces
• Multiple pens and pencils
• Rusty nails and screws of all sizes
• Hammer handle
• Two metal posts
• Nylon string in blue, yellow, red and white
• Birdhouse
• Dart
• Plastic toy shovel
• Canadian and American coins
• Numerous plastic drink bottles (hate those things!)
• Pieces of glass
• Duffel bag
• Aluminum cans
• Bricks
• Sock
• Balls of all shapes and sizes
• A dog's chew toys
• Various metal plates and parts
• Barbie accessories
• Plastic caps, ties, pieces and gizmos in every color

I have no idea where all this stuff came from. One way or the other, it was trashed. And one of my all time pet peeves is how people treat the earth like a trash can. I don't understand how someone can just throw a cigarette butt out the car window or refuse to recycle a water bottle or toss a half eaten sandwich into a landfill without a second thought. 

I am a product of the US Forest Service's campaign to protect the environment with the Woodsy Owl motto, "Give a hoot -- don't pollute!" I clearly remember the programming in elementary school in the 1970s. As a result, I am a big proponent of environmental stewardship, including recycling, composting and thrifting. After all, one woman's trash is another woman's treasure only when donated.

In the Basement of the Goodwill Store

Ted Kooser

In the musty light, in the thin brown air

of damp carpet, doll heads and rust,

beneath long rows of sharp footfalls

like nails in a lid, an old man stands

trying on glasses, lifting each pair

from the box like a glittering fish

and holding it up to the light

of a dirty bulb. Near him, a heap

of enameled pans as white as skulls

looms in the catacomb shadows,

and old toilets with dry red throats

cough up bouquets of curtain rods.

You've seen him somewhere before.

He's wearing the green leisure suit

you threw out with the garbage,

and the Christmas tie you hated,

and the ventilated wingtip shoes

you found in your father's closet

and wore as a joke. And the glasses

which finally fit him, through which

he looks to see you looking back—

two mirrors which flash and glance—

are those through which one day

you too will look down over the years,

when you have grown old and thin

and no longer particular,

and the things you once thought

you were rid of forever

have taken you back in their arms.

Cacophony

Life—the thrust of living—seems raw and irrepressible on a day like that. Every niche, no matter how small, is fully occupied, no-vacancy signs visible everywhere. At dawn I walk through one spider trap after another, trailing silk by the time I get to the barn. Any object I move, I discover a colony of creatures behind it or under it or inside it. This is a farm of overlapping settlements and empires, and I plod through like Godzilla, undoing the work of the ant and earwig nations just by moving a five gallon bucket or a fence rail. (209) More Scenes from the Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg

I try to garden for a short time each morning before the heat of summer builds. Gardening is a meditative act for me; it gives me the mental space to think. I step out of the house into the silence of our new property, no earbuds, no discussion. I am alone, lost in thought with an agenda at hand that usually includes watering and weeding.

However, now that the neighbors have spotted not one but two black bears in the neighborhood, I find my senses heightened lest I run into the trespassers. My increased awareness has brought to my attention that I really don't step into solitude and quiet when I step out into the green. Rather, from the time the first bird announces dawn's arrival to the cacophony of insects that fill the darkness at day's end like the chorus in a Wagnerian opera, nature is engaged in a drama of living and dying all around me.

I need only engage my senses to begin to see it. My recent observations include:

• The bumblebee hid under the leaves of the zinnias to stay dry from the watering can's heavy downpour.
• The sounds of woodpeckers hard at work echoed through the woods.
• Butterflies of all shapes, sizes and colors were feasting on the unidentified flowering tree beside the house. (Note to self: figure out what kind of tree blooms in the heat of July!)
• The crows were gathering and cawing to ward off the small hawk that landed near the circle drive.
• I am delighted to still recognize the song of the cardinal, the call of the blue jay. 
• The toad found relief from the heat under the trim by the garage, blending in perfectly with the red Virginia brick.
• The yellow jackets swarmed around a large nest in the ground next near the forsythias behind the house, threatening the lawn guys and prompting a call to pest control.
• The salamanders with black body and indigo-violet tales sit in wait for crickets and beetles and roaches, baking in the sun on the brick walk.
• The red ants organized an offensive at the very thought of an attack; unfortunately, they settled at the foot of the front entrance.
• The gang of deer ravage the neighborhood, particularly the pack of six bucks that devour my hydrangeas without a second glance. Once the rut begins, they'll be in competition but now they bow to peer pressure under the gaze of the buck with the rack that is inordinately large for July.
• Twin fawns emerge from the wood's edge, seemingly abandoned as mother has yet to be spotted.
• The housing market remains hot for wasps, causing a building boom; the hornets simply focus on an addition to their dwelling to accommodate newcomers to the nest.
• The hummingbirds remind me to focus on adding (deer-resistant) flowers to the beds next year.
• The bugs continue to amaze me in size and variety, including dragonflies with black and white striped wings and beetles of emerald green. However, the spiders are a topic I would rather not discuss. 
• The petitions of the praying mantis rose up from the flower pot on the back deck.

Amazing what one small plot of land yields. Peace and joy remain amidst the cacophony. 

History

I double majored in German and history -- not German history, although I did take European history courses. I then went on to earn a masters in education as well as my secondary school teaching certification in social studies and German. Education was a logical extension for a liberal arts education, but I have always struggled to explain how I landed on history as a major. After all, I did apply to college thinking I would major in chemistry and become a physician. And, I certainly am not a history buff like my brother, who I remember plowing through thick tomes on wars and leaders and eras long gone just for fun even as an adolescent.

In some way, I often think that children of immigrants tend to have a penchant for history. Our parents speak of times and places and movements long gone that shape the way they approach their new home and parent us. I heard about WWII and Germany and fascism that cultivated a deep gratitude for what American offered in the second half of the 20th century. Working hard was expected, although questions about the past were often ignored. We waited for bits and pieces of information to fall into our laps while eavesdropping on adult conversations to explain tears and tirades and religious fervor and convoluted decision making.

Lately, I have been immersing myself in history once again. In the current political climate, I have found that looking back has helped me make sense of the present. Please don't think that I always find comfort in some worrisome conclusions that history can uncover, but I find that understanding often is the first step to positive action and nothing could be more useful in these times. Let me share three journeys into history you might find enlightening and enjoyable as well:

1) My husband and I have been watching the National Geographic series Genius about Albert Einstein. The series places Einstein in historical, political, and cultural context such that you not only learn about the man but also how he was shaped by the times which do have some parallels to today.

2) I have been listening to the podcast Revisionist History by Malcolm Gladwell. Each episode looks back at a person or idea or event: "Something overlooked. Something misunderstood." As I am cooking dinner, I turn on the podcast. It gets me thinking, deeply, such that I return to its content in my mind repeatedly in the days that follow, making connections to my own experiences, understanding of current events, and passionate pursuits.

3) I am reading On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder. A straightforward, short book of 20 chapters, it looks at current political times through the lens of our Founding Fathers and European totalitarianism of the last century. Please do not take this to be a book of one political persuasion or another. Rather, this is a book about the basis for democracy and freedom and our responsibility as citizens to protect the foundation and integrity of our nation.

What I love most about immersing myself in history like this is the connections I am making. These mediums are lighting the light bulbs in my brain, helping me through the dis-ease I am feeling since the last election, and directing my thinking and decisions for the future as a voter, community member, and citizen. Of course, historians know that this is the greatest value of their academic pursuits: the past may illuminate the present and direct the future for one individual or an entire nation. Personally, I invite you to join me in the pursuit. As such, we might have greater confidence in where we collectively take our country.

History

Andrew Gent

Every poem has been written before

at least fifteen times.

Every song

sung better.

The Neanderthals discovered caves

already painted with the story of their lives.

They invented fire

over and over again.

And you & I

whisper the same sweet nothings

we were born with.

Crime

No blizzard in our area as a large portion of New England experiences blizzard conditions.

Yet, NOLD is covered in a few inches of light, fresh snow.

I am working with a canvas of white as my backdrop today as I look up from my work and gaze out the window from my desk or the kitchen sink or the back patio doors.

I thought it would be shame, if not a crime, not to share a bit of color today.

So, I dug out images from my archives of all the bulbs I have forced indoors during the winter months over the last few years.

I include tulips, daffodils, hyacinth, and amaryllis in yellow, pink, red, and purple.

Forcing bulbs is a hopeful act of kinship across the blogosphere as you can find many gardeners and nature lovers doing the same.

Still, I have to admit that the last set of bulbs from the holidays were as white as the outdoors today.

Nonetheless, I know Freddy is as sad as I am to see them go as they lost their petals and toppled to the floor just last weekend.

I will be on the lookout for new plantings and opportunities to bring nature close to home. In the meantime, you might want to enjoy a bit of fun. My younger daughter shared this video with me and knew that Word Crimes would be something close to my heart.

Techniques

I have so much to learn about baking and cooking, so many techniques to master, everything from drying herbs to beating egg whites. Sometimes, I just need a refresher or confirmation that my instincts in the kitchen are correct. Sometimes I need an introduction to something completely new as I expand my repertoire of recipes and dive into new dishes. And sometimes, I realize that I never really learned a technique appropriately and would benefit greatly from the lesson.

I wanted to share two new sources of information on techniques that I have really enjoyed lately. First, the New York Times has a series of videos on Cooking Techniques. Each video is brief but thorough and teaches a specific technique such as dicing, reducing stock, or rolling pie dough. I am working my way through the library, watching several at a time as I take a five minute break in the afternoon.

Second, I stumbled across The Great British Baking Show on PBS. I love the low key nature of the hourlong show as amateur bakers compete week to week to become Britain's best baker. Not only does each challenge focus on a different skill, but the show also introduces the viewer to the depth and breadth of British baking with plenty insight into the making of puddings, for example.

If you are used to the American style Top Chef or Cake Boss, The Great British Baking Show will offer a stark contrast in tone and approach which seems to suit me better. For example, in line with this program, I am not fond of fondant but am more inclined to wrestle with a creamy butter frosting that may lack the polish but win out on taste in my book.

Winter is the perfect time to curl up and watch either one of these technique building venues. I encourage you to take a look and learn with me while we enjoy the mediums, sip an afternoon cup of tea, and nibble on a biscuit. Enjoy!

Thaw

Today's frigid temperatures make it hard to believe, but the stream that runs along our property next to NOLD was flowing freely on Sunday as temperatures rose to 52 degrees Fahrenheit. You can take a very brief listen above.

Winter Color: Green Moss

I took a walk on the loop right around my neighborhood, stopping to listen to the streams and falls and snapping dozens of photos. I often think the world seems completely frozen in winter when our days are short and dark and below freezing with all manner of precipitation, turning the world and one's mood to shades of grey. 

Winter Color: Red Branches

When a substantial thaw descends for a day or two, I am reminded that nature is not sleeping but preparing to burst forth as soon as it receives ample sunlight. I simply need to take the time to look for nature's signs that all is well and progressing, sometimes a bit too quickly in fact. 

Winter Color: Blue Skies

On Sunday, I took the time to stop and stare, to uncover the beauty in the landscape, and to note instances of startling color. Let me share a few small finds as testament to the day and to the fact that second by second the days are getting longer.

Magnolia Bud

I was so appreciative of the experience and leisurely pace that I still feel renewed a few days later as the temperatures dip below zero. William Henry Davies understood well that the best antidote to feeling overwhelmed and oppressed, especially in winter, may be the greatest gift of nature, if one only takes the time to see it.

Red Bud

Leisure 

William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Jack-o'-lantern

The fall holiday season which begins with Halloween has officially gotten underway as we hosted our annual pumpkin carving party last weekend. With orange rind as blank canvas, I thought you might like to take a peak at just a few of the jack-o'-lanterns that emerged from the creative minds and hands of our guests. Enjoy a sampling:

Since this is the season of harvest, I thought I might share two delicious pumpkin recipes you might like to try, if you cook up any of your pumpkins as I do. These sweet treats make a satisfying snack, coffee complement, or autumnal dessert.

Chocolate Pumpkin Cupcakes

           

1 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

⅔ cup baking cocoa

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon table salt

1 cup pumpkin puree

½ cup buttermilk

1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

¾ cup unsalted butter, softened

¾ cup brown sugar

¾ cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

1. Place cupcake liners in standard cupcake tins. Set aside.
2. Sift flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt and set aside.
3. Combine pumpkin, buttermilk, and vanilla and set aside.
4. Beat butter and sugars together in large bowl, with an electric mixer set on medium speed, until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition, until mixture is smooth and light. Alternately add flour mixture and buttermilk mixture, blending well after each addition.
5. Fill cupcake liners with ¼ cup batter each or until about two thirds full. Bake at 375° F until wooden skewer inserted into middle comes out clean, or about 25 minutes. Cool cupcakes in pan for 5 minutes. Remove and cool completely on a wire rack prior to frosting, if desired.

Yield: 24 standard cupcakes

Apple-Flavored Winter Squash Bundt Cake

8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter, softened

1 ½ cups granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 ½ cups cooked, pureed winter squash

½ cup apple cider

1 ¾ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

¼ teaspoon ground cloves

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

Apple cider glaze, if desired:

1½ cups confectioners’ sugar

¼ cup apple cider

1.      Butter and flour a 9 or 10-inch tube or Bundt pan.

2.      In a large bowl, beat butter until fluffy. Slowly beat in sugar until mixed until light and fluffy again.

3.      Add eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition. Add squash and apple cider, and beat until well mixed.

4.      Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger. Add to batter in 3 batches, beating well after each addition.

5.      Pour into the pan and bake at 350°F for 45 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove and cool for 10 minutes, then turn the cake out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

6.      If making glaze, sift confectioners’ sugar into a small bowl. Add cider and whisk until smooth. Pour immediately over cooled cake and allow to set for 15 minutes.

Yield: 12 to 16 slices

Adapted from Gardeners’ Community Cookbook by Victoria Wise

Travel

For me, a vacation and a trip are two vastly different pursuits. A vacation is single minded in its quest for rest and relaxation in order for the vacationer to return home fully rejuvenated. On the other hand, a trip may be multifaceted in an attempt to meet professional and/or personal goals. These commitments and responsibilities may be extremely positive and rewarding but include an external expenditure of self such that the individual is likely to return home inspired but also spent. 

I just returned from several weeks of trips and am currently digging out and regrouping in an attempt to regain my balance. Nonetheless, I appreciate that travel, whether a vacation or a trip, always broadens and changes one's perspective when immersed in a new culture, a fresh way of life, and novel experiences.

One of my favorite experiences from my recent travels was a visit to The Philadelphia Museum of Art. Here the creative expression of artistic stimulus touched on all my areas of interest -- cooking, architecture and interior design, history, gardening, education, and human expression. It was delightful.

I could relate to the cartoonist Connie Sun's piece on Van Gogh's Bedroom. If I could walk right into a painting or piece of art, I would enter a different time and space to get to know the perspective of the artist and subject more completely. On this visit, I took photos of some of the women I met. Their faces were fascinating, and I could imagine the gripping conversations we would have, if only I could enter their worlds. Take a look:

Travel is an invaluable gift. It offers us the opportunity to connect with other and ignite the imagination. I am so appreciative for the ride.

Travel

Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away, 
And the day is loud with voices speaking, 
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day 
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by, 
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, 
But I see its cinders red on the sky, 
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make, 
And better friends I'll not be knowing; 
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, 
No matter where it's going. 

*I remember lying under a sheet on my twin bed beneath the screened window with green gingham curtains on a hot and humid night in the Midwest. The railroad tracks ran about a mile from our house and a long freight train passed nightly. I can still hear the train sounding its horn and the rhythm of its wheels on the tracks. Somehow, I already yearned to engage in a broader world, and a train reminds me of the journey, where I came from, and where I still hope to go.

Color

I took the week off from gardening and cooking to focus on painting. My younger daughter was out of town, and I wanted to paint her study. It was once her playroom, but now has converted to her study as she grows up and school continues to become more serious each year. I thought I might share the color choices I have made as NOLD is undergoing a makeover.

When we bought NOLD two years ago, the entire house was painted a cream color except the bathrooms which were painted an institutional blue. I know plenty of people choose whites and neutrals for flexibility and a uniform look. I am not one of them. In fact, raising a family, I am astonished at how much white paint now pervades home magazines, including white kitchens and baths. I think the work it would take to keep it clean around here would kill me. 

As such, we are repainting with plenty of color. However, I have tried to stick to historic shades to remain true to the age and style of our British Tudor Revival home. Don't get me wrong -- it takes me a long time to choose colors, but I do get a strong sense of what appeals to me in a given space. I like to live in a new home for a while first. And, I like to have a visual flow such that the colors meld as you look through entryways from one side of the house to the other. 

I use Sherwin Williams paint and am now partial to painting swatches to see how a color really looks. I want to make sure I like it and know that dark colors, in particular, take several coats (and sometimes primer). After I tried to photograph small bits of the colors already gracing NOLD, I was reminded how much light plays into how a color is seen as well. It was challenging with my camera, but I hope you get a feel for what I am trying to accomplish. Oh, and I hope you enjoy the names of the colors, too.

Exterior Trim -- Crimson Red

Living Room -- Studio Blue Green

Foyer/Stairwell/Landing -- Colonial Yellow

Dining Room -- Kirsch Red

Den -- Revel Blue

Kitchen -- Springtime

Library -- Softened Green

Older Daughter's Bedroom -- Coral Bead

Older Daughter's Bedroom -- Cheery and Chalkboard Paint

Younger Daughter's Bedroom -- Gala Pink

Younger Daughter's Bedroom -- Friendly Yellow and Begonia

By the way: I would love to be the person who names colors for a paint company. I think I would have so much fun!