Mettle

Discrepancies, Happy and Sad

Li-Young Lee

We’ve moved into a bigger house.
Now our voices wander among the rooms
calling, Where are you?

And what we can’t forget
of other houses confuses us
as we answer back and forth, Over here!

It’s a little like returning to the village
where you were born, the sad bewilderment
of discrepancies between
what you remember and what’s there.

No. It’s more like a memory of heaven.
Voices coming closer, voices moving away,

and what we thought we knew
about life on earth confounding us.

And then that question
from which all the other questions begin.

I attended a garden tour on Saturday with a friend. The owners created a beautiful home and garden over 36 years. 36 years! I know plenty of people live in one place for their entire lives, but 36 years seems incredibly long to me. I began to think through all the homes I have lived in over the years, and I have lived in more homes than most millennials have jobs these days. Like each vein on the leaf of the perennial Evans Begonia above photographed on the garden tour, each address marked a significant place and time in my life that has helped shape me into who I am today. 

Upon review, this list evokes not only a feeling of exhaustion but also of pride. One gains invaluable insight into human beings and human behavior when moving similar to that of travel. I see more commonalities and fundamentals among people. And, I see myself as more adaptable to change and confident in the face of challenges. Building new relationships takes great effort but our closest friendships move with us over time and space, too. Choosing a new home, choosing change, tests your mettle. 

Read on and you'll see what I mean:

1) Milwaukee Duplex of My Birth with Leopard Lamp and Seamstress Bust in the Attic

2) Childhood home: Brookfield, WI Ranch for the Entirety of My Schooling From Age 5 to 18

3) McCaffrey House Dorm Room in Sullivan Hall on the Lakeshore at UW-Madison Freshman Year

4) Another McCaffrey House Dorm Room at UW-Madison Sophomore Year

5) Studentensiedlung Dorm Room at Albert Ludwigs Universitaet in Freiburg, Germany for My Junior Year Abroad

6) First Floor of Mill Street Duplex with the "Stomper" Upstairs for Senior Year Back at UW-Madison

7) Cronkite Graduate Center Single Dorm Room Off of Brattle Row in Cambridge, MA for as I Worked to Earn my MEd at Harvard

8) Apartment in Pastel Colored Stucco Complex in Hollywood Florida for First Teaching Position

9) First Floor "Fourplex" in Wauwatosa, WI in Transition Year Before Return to Graduate School

10) Four Month Stint in the Basement of My Older Sister's House After My Roommate Moved Out to Get Married

11) Studio Apartment Back in Madison for More Graduate School

12) Second Floor of Duplex on Madison's Near West Side Owned by Friend's Family Whose Grandfather Was a Longtime Professor

13) Moved in With My Then Fiance/Soon Husband into a Mississippi River Boulevard Apartment with Art Deco Bathroom in St. Paul, MN

14) Second Floor Duplex on St. Clair Avenue Owned and Meticulously Maintained by Our 90 Year Old Landlord, Ciel Garry, Who Lived in the Basement

15) 1,100 Square Foot 1929 Bungalow on Stanford Avenue, Our First Home

16) Return to Harvard and Completely Renovated (Once Owned By a Woman Who Had 200 Cats) Second Floor Duplex on Sycamore Street in Watertown, MA

17) First Floor Duplex on Hillcrest Circle in Watertown, MA

18) My Husband's First Faculty Job and Our Second Home on Nimitz Avenue in State College, PA

19) Third Home on Upland Road in Ithaca, NY as We Moved onto Cornell

20) Fourth Home Called "NOLD" on Highland Road in Ithaca, NY

21) Wayside Place Rental Home in Transition to Charlottesville, VA

22) Fifth Home, Our Current Brick Colonial Called "Nara"

I want to say this is our "forever" house, but who can predict the future? Upon review, the majority of my moves were dictated by academia and the partnership my husband and I formed. From the beginning, he and I shared a vision for the future and a life plan which remains steadfast. However, I think some of the terms are evolving as the time to enjoy life a bit more in the present may be at hand and the desire to stay connected to our girls as they themselves move on in life will be a priority as well. For now, we are settling in and growing new roots with mettle.

Awakening

Guest Bedroom -- Radiant Lilac

Seems we awoke from winter and went straight to summer as I have been hard at work. I have been busy painting inside and vetting contractors to do some repairs and upgrades to NOLD. This winter, my husband and I painted the guest room, including the closet,  as well as the guest bath and the central second floor bathroom.

Guest Closet -- Beach House

The bathrooms in an old house are quite challenging to paint as you cut around all the fixtures and tiling and also work to cover up previous paint jobs that were poor at best. I try to take it slow and steady with small goals each day, inching toward completion. Some days I fair better than others and get more done than anticipated, and other days don't go quite so well. I have an eye for detail and set my standards high. Still, I am progressing with one more major painting push ahead along with a fair number of small projects, detail work and accents to polish and present NOLD, fitting to a house of her grandeur.

Guest Bathroom and Second Floor Central Bath -- Hummingbird

Hot, dry weather set in after the last snowfall just over two weeks ago. As a result, buds and seeds burst forth far too quickly and spring flowers even succumbed to the heat. I could almost see the ferns grow and the irises arise from the soil. The rains of the last day seem to have arrived in time to wash away the pollen but not save the blooms. The daffodils have already shriveled up, and hellebores has seen brighter days.

So, I am trying to match my time indoors with roller in hand with time outdoors in garden gloves with trug at my side, cleaning up the beds, weeding, and planting seeds directly in the soil rather haphazardly to be honest. All the projects tire and invigorate me at the same time. I awaken with to-do-lists dancing in my head and fall asleep with gardening and home magazines in hand, finding it hard to do any substantial reading as exhaustion washes over me.

May is such a busy month for the family as the academic year at the university begins to wind down, and the calendar fills with receptions to celebrate and bid farewell. At the same time, my daughters take exams and trips and perform concerts and recitals. May is such a flurry of activity before summer slowly creeps in with its own demands and an altered pace of life.

Morning in May

Rosalind Brackenbury

Grass grows in the night
and early the mockingbirds begin
their fleet courtships over puddles,
upon wires, in the new green
of the Spanish limes.

Their white-striped wings flash
as they flirt and dive.
Wind in the chimes pulls music
from the air, the sky’s cleared
of its vast complications.

In the pause before summer,
the wild sprouting of absolutely
everything: hair, nails, the mango’s
pale rose pennants, tongues of birds
singing daylong.

Words, even, and sudden embraces,
surprising dreams and things I’d never
imagined, in all these years of living,
one more astonished awakening.

I wanted to share a few recipes for rolls that work well in the summer for hamburgers straight off the grill or sandwiches of fresh tomato, cucumber, basil, and vinaigrette, for example. I can feel the juices rolling down my chin, anticipating an awakening of taste sensations. You can make these in advance by either refrigerating the dough or freezing the baked rolls.

Never-Fail Refrigerator Rolls

Prairie Home Cooking by Judith M. Fertig

2 cups milk
½  cup granulated sugar

½  cup unsalted butter
5½  teaspoons active dry yeast

1 teaspoon sea salt
5 to 6 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1. Combine milk, sugar, and butter in a saucepan and scald (not boil) over medium-high heat. Remove and cool to about 100°F. 
2. Pour yeast on top and allow to proof for five minutes. Add salt and stir.
3. Pour into the bowl of a standing mixer and add flour, one cup at a time, stirring until dough is firm. Knead the dough with the dough hook or by hand until smooth and elastic.
4. Transfer to an oiled bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm, draft-free location until doubled in size or about one hour. (This is when you could refrigerate the dough, covered, for up to five days.)
5. Punch down dough  and divide in half. Lightly oil two large baking sheets or cover with parchment paper. From each half of the dough, portion off 12 to 15 pieces and roll each into round balls. Place balls on prepared baking sheet.
6. Cover and let rise in a warm, draft-free location until doubled in size or about 45 minutes.
7. Bake at 400°F for 15 minutes or until lightly browned.
8. Transfer to a rack to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Yield: 24 to 30 rolls, depending on size

Delayed Gratification

Sometimes, it takes getting healthy again to realize how sick you were. Likewise, a good dose of sunshine also makes you realize how light deprived you were. Both were true for me the last few weeks, but I am finally back to my usual self and finding it so good to do a bit of writing, to put some of these disparate thoughts on the page.

I try very hard not to complain about winter, which I generally enjoy until the season digs in its heels. When the unrelenting cold and snow settle in, I cave after a while. Give me a variable winter any day with temperatures that bounce up and down, snow that falls and melts in short order, and days of clouds mixed with sun.

This winter and last year's version have tested me. In part, I think we find it hard to succomb to the uncontrollable and inevitable of the season in the modern era. It isn't simply the knowledge that the weather remains unbelievably gorgeous somewhere else, and anyone with a brain and the means is boarding a plane to hightail it to paradise. The digital age makes this all far too clear.

I also think that the demands on our lives in the modern era don't allow us to hibernate along with the other living things around us as we had evolutionarily done prior to the industrial revolution. As the farm slept, we slowed down and accomplished seasonal chores close to home, waiting to really jump into action with spring's arrival.

Now, the commute, the responsibilities, and the job remain usually farther afield than one's own home. This is even true for jobs that have a seasonality to them as is the case for my professor husband. The demands of the job now reach far beyond the lecture hall, and he could clone himself and still never come close to meeting the demands on his time.

As far as I can tell, winter is all about delayed gratification. Spring would certainly never be the most natural high I know, if it didn't follow on the heels of winter. So, I shouldn't be surprised that waking to a bit of sun peaking through the curtains over the bed this morning was amazing. Even the cardinal woke to sing in the grand old oak outside the window up in the highest branches, and no song ever sounded so sweet to my ears. I am encouraged to wait with each lengthening day for spring to arrive not on the calendar but with a bit of thaw right outside my door to draw me outside to breath in the awakening world,

Until then, I return to the kitchen, tending to my soul as I tend to those I love. I will brew a pot of a favorite herbal tea. I will put something in the slow cooker to warm our senses with the aromas of deeply satisfying savory food and spices which will meld together all day long and creep into every nook and cranny of NOLD by the time night falls. I will turn on the oven to bake an offering to the gods made of flour and sugar, knowing how truly fortunate I am.

For this can only be said by one, who stands warm and secure looking out into the dark as the temperatures drop and the wind begins to howl in the eaves once again. I never understood the layers of meaning within delayed gratification as I understand them right now in the fading light of this winter day.

Remarkable

Freddy's routine is reliable. He wakes with the radiators in the morning and bakes upon them on and off throughout the day such that he has dandruff all over his tail. He watches the clock and knows the time for breakfast, lunch, snack, and dinner precisely. He loves to drink from the bathtub faucet so that we turn it on for him just right as we get ready for bed. He sleeps curled up next to me each night, waiting until I have put down my book and turned off the lights to settle in. If I move, he regroups, inching closer again to my legs for we must touch.

Freddy loves to play with a pompom or a piece of string. He has a fetish for boxes and baskets and bags. He takes great pride in stalking prey whether a bug that has invaded NOLD or any form of wildlife outside the windows and doors. Such a sighting causes his tail to twitch and growls to emanate from deep down in his throat. In the summer, the neighbor cats often come to taunt him through the screens for he is an indoor cat, one who must enter a closed door as soon as it is opened to inspect and insure that all is well.

A rescue cat, Freddy has a fear of strangers, particularly men with loud, deep voices. As soon as the doorbell rings, Freddy makes a mad dash for the basement, where he has a secret hiding place within the far reaches of the crawl space beneath NOLD. Yet, Freddy never fails to snuggle my girls with an abiding affection, reminding me this is just how he chose us at the SPCA almost eight years ago.

What I find most remarkable of all is this: Freddy believes the sun shines for him. No matter how hot the day, Freddy will stretch out or curl up in a swath of sunshine and sleep for hours. His fur glistens. When you pet him, he is hot beneath your touch and his eyes close in complete contentment and comfort. 

Freddy reminds me to appreciate an ordinary day and to note the most reliable and remarkable of all events, the rising and setting of the sun. Its light and warmth remain my most constant companion on a snow-filled day in early February such as this.

The Cats

Ann Iverson

To find such glory in a dehydrated pea

on the tile between the stove and fridge.

To toss the needs of others aside
when you simply aren't in the mood for affection.

To find yourselves so irresistible.

And always in a small spot of sun,
you sprawl and spread out the pleasure of yourselves

never fretting, never wanting to go back
to erase your few decisions.

To find yourself so remarkable
all the day long. 

Chatter

I walked abroad in a snowy day;

I asked the soft snow with me to play…

William Blake

Today is a snow day, a play day, a day with an excuse to slow down. A day to putter about in our pajamas, if we like with no agenda or a moving agenda or an agenda of our very own design from top to bottom. A day to sip slowly hot drinks like hot cocoa, steaming peppermint tea, and hot cider. A day to watch a favorite movie or read a good book from cover to cover while under the covers, a favorite down comforter in bed or a wool throw on the couch. A day to get lost in a world as fantastic as the falling snow outside NOLD as night approaches, snowflakes catching the flash to sparkle like magic stardust. A day to dream and mingle with one's thoughts for a few extra minutes with the encouragement of the surrounding quiet. 

Winter seems to be digging in its heels as is typical for February in the Northeast. I swing from feeling tired of the darkness, the cold, the muck, the gear, the day-in-day-out effort and feeling grateful for the beauty, the fresh air, the stillness, the slowness, the seasonal cycle that prepares nature to burst forth and bring forth in short order. I will muddle through awash in ideas and words and hope. Even in the midst of a snowstorm, The Little Free Library soldiers on and poetry bursts forth with pen in hand, a haiku the gift:

flurries fall daily

air alight in thick stillness

my thoughts chatter on

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.

Feeder

I am down to one feeder in our back yard. It is large, "squirrel-proof" and filled with nyjer and black sunflower seeds which interests the songbirds while keeping the house sparrows at bay.

I recently watched Margaret Roach of A Way to Garden on Growing a Greener World. The podcast focused on gardening for birds.

Margaret really got me thinking differently about how I landscape and plant on my little acre at NOLD, keeping the health and needs of wildlife in mind.

The fundamental concept is simple: Why place feeders out when your landscape may feed and care for birds all year round, if you plan appropriately and choose foliage carefully?

In large part, this philosophy rests on learning from nature and returning our landscape to a more balanced natural setting.

I will proceed from this starting point when I plan for the garden in the spring -- small steps in the right direction with the long term in mind.

On my walk last week as we saw a brief winter thaw, I could see food for wildlife all around me along the roadside.

The neighborhood is littered with plants and bushes that provide berries and seeds for the taking throughout the winter.

Some were planted purposely; some were not. Some were cultivated plantings; others were "weeds" spread naturally -- one must contain their chokehold, but they provide food for wildlife nonetheless.

Over the next few months, I will be contemplating steps I can take to fill nature's feeder more than the actual bird feeder I set up under the cedar grove in the back yard. I have much to learn, but I can't wait to get started.

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.

Spritz

The holidays are filled with traditions. Religious traditions take on deep meaning for some people this time of year, but I am talking about the traditions we create in our own homes with our own immediate family. Some things get passed down and enjoyed by several generations like spritz cookies at NOLD.

I remember making them as a child and was delighted to find a cookie press at a garage sale long ago before my husband and I even had children. Not one of the new plastic cookie presses found in all the stores these days, but an aluminum cookie press from Mirro still in the original box. Then, I found another one after my second daughter was born; I want to pass one down to each of them.

My spritzer cookie recipe includes brown sugar and almond extract, although I have seen many different versions in print and online. And, I love coloring the dough to celebrate the season and enhance the visual presentation of the cookies.

I remember watching in amazement as a young child how the dough would come out of the mold in beautiful shapes. Once they filled the baking sheet, we could help decorate them with sprinkles of all sorts, usually heavily. As a child, more was certainly better.

Making spritz cookies at Christmas brings me great joy. I put on the carols and sing along. The kitchen gets toasty warm from the oven. The smell of butter and sugar baking waft into the air, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. What fun!

Really, I could be playing with blocks or toy soldiers, but I am playing with dough and a press instead. I have made all sorts of cookies already this year, but I am saving cut out cookies and spritz cookies to make with my girls now that school has ended. I can see how much they already appreciate and look forward to our traditions. The time together is priceless.

Christmas trees are my favorite whether filled with ornaments or as spritz cookies with milk. Beautiful, don't you agree?

Snag

I have run into plenty of snags lately like the new rye bread recipe that I had planned to gift but wasn't fit for human consumption after my first attempt. Or, the unrealistic number of projects I planned to complete in December for the holidays or as a foundation for resolutions in the coming year. Or, an extended snowfall that never reached the volume to cancel school but certainly curtailed plans and slowed carpool travel for this mom.

Still, the snowfall has been beautiful and lasting, because the wind hasn't picked up to knock it from the branches and the temperatures haven't spiked to melt it away. This is winter at its finest and just in time for decorating for the holidays. Here, I inadvertently encountered a snag of another sort and learned something new in the process, too.

The established English Yews on our property have seen better days. The deer nibble incessantly on them in the winter such that the bush closest to the front door had so little greenery left, it died last summer. Instead of allowing my husband to yank it from the ground immediately, I decided to string it with white lights linked by timer with the lantern nearby as a festive touch at nightfall, some ambiance of sorts in my book.

Then, I read about snags, or wildlife trees, on A Way to Garden, a horticulture blog by Margaret Roach that I follow and highly recommend. Margaret suggests cultivating dead and dying trees and bushes as habitat for living things. Remove what is necessary for safety and leave the rest as biomass to balance the ecosystem in your garden. What do you know? The English Yew Snag is not only beautifully lit but also an essential element to the health of our land. I can live with a snag like that.

Finally, I began my cookie baking this week which really brought the holiday spirit into the house along with the snow and some carols. For cookie aficionados throughout the year, I have to recommend a new book, European Cookies for Every Occasion by Krisztina Maksai. The directions are thorough and the recipes increase in difficulty with each successive chapter so that you can bake cookies that not only appeal to your palate but also insure success at your skill level in the kitchen. I am sure someone would reward you deliciously, if you gifted it this holiday season. Just an idea to ponder....