If you do any walking, you have passed many manhole covers, but did you ever stop to notice them? I have to admit, they were not really on my radar until the day one stopped me in my tracks. There was a message on it that informed me the drain below led to the ocean which was many miles from my location. That cover began my interest in manhole covers.
When we traveled in Europe, I always marveled at the art of their covers. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to locate any of the photos of those artistic covers. (Sorry 😦 )
As I walked the streets of my neighborhood I found several varieties of common covers. My neighborhood was developed over time, so I thought it was interesting that the developer changed the style of the covers in each area.
Imagine my surprise when I came upon these covers:
Upstream starts here? Really?! My neighborhood is nowhere close to a river! I can’t even imagine the mysteries that lie below my feet and how water travels. I am thankful that someone figured it out so we can protect our waterways.
Have you ever noticed a message on a manhole cover?
This box is at least 43 years old. The rubber band is not. 🙂
Inside this box are these tins.
My mother gave me these tins, in this box, the first Christmas I was married. I have used them every year for the last 43 years to make
sandbakkels, a Norwegian sugar cookie. I have written about them several times over the past nine years (link to a post). They are the one cookie that is made no matter what or where I am. I have been known to pack my tins when we go visit my son for Christmas.
They only have five ingredients. It is a simple batter. A batch does not take long to stir up (if your butter is at room temperature). Of course, the pressing the batter into the tins is time consuming. I divide the tins into three piles. That way one set is baking, one set is cooling, and the third set is getting the dough pressed in. Sometimes I feel like I am juggling, but the reward is the sweet buttery taste that is Christmas.
This weekend I will make my cookies. Wish I could share them with you. 🙂
Memories are the essence of several books I’ve read recently. In Everything Sad Is Untrue: (A True Story) by Daniel Nayeri, he shares the few memories he has of family. He escaped from Iran as a child with his mother and sister. He counts and hold the memories of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins close.
Michelle Obama’s words resonated with me. Memories are imperfect and subjective. They slip into a pocket in the mind and when probed they jiggle, wiggle, and bounce to the forefront. That’s what Ruth’s suggestion today did.
I am laying on my bed totally absorbed in the book I’m holding. Barely breathing, heart racing to learn the fate of my friend Nancy or perhaps it was Trixie. (Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden). They were so smart, they could solve any mystery. I was always on the lookout for possible mysteries in my life, but usually any mystery was caused by brothers or the family pet.
Today, I am still enamored by mysteries, however, I am not laying on my bed devouring the words of mystery writers. I prefer to sit in a patch of sunlight in my backyard. Since the weather won’t cooperate, I am forced to snuggle down in a recliner, covered by a dark brown plush throw.
I am still a fan of mystery, but I have expanded my net of preferences. Historical fiction is filling in gaps of history. I just finished Kristin Harmel’s novel, The Book of Lost Names. Now I want to know more. Ruta Sepetys is a master at writing about history that has slipped through the cracks.
As a child, I always had a book close by to take me to places in my dreams. As an adult, I am still transported by the words of authors. Not a lot has changed.
I nodded my head in agreement. I started to think of all the blessings I have filling my life. I have been able to travel and see many parts of the world. I have wonderful people in my life. I am in a good place in time.
Then I read the invitation from Ruth today.
I started wondering how gratitude and appreciation intermingle. So I did what anyone does when you wonder something, I went to my friend Google. I was surprised to discover others had asked and answered the question: What is the difference between appreciation and gratitude?
Tanei the Science Guy wrote a blog post back in 2018 with that question as the title of a post. His take on it is time. Appreciation is living in the now. Gratitude is living in the past and the now simultaneously. I love the analogy Tanei gives:
Gratitude is the training wheels. Appreciation is when you take the training wheels off.
Perhaps you might dwell on appreciation this year. I know I am forming a mental list of all that I appreciate. If you are reading this, know that you are on my list and that is a good thing. 🙂
In my twenties, I went to a Mexican restaurant and ordered tacos. When they arrived the filling was shredded beef! I was appalled! What was this? Tacos are made with hamburger, right? I never went back to that restaurant because they obviously had no idea how to make a taco.
Now let’s fast forward 40+ years . . .
Tacos are no longer ground beef, cheese, lettuce, chopped tomato and if I want to be really fancy, sour cream. I have explored the world of tacos and tasted an interesting combination of flavors. A few other unique flavors I have tried include crispy black bean and feta tacos, sweet chili fajita tacos, and roasted cauliflower street tacos.
Perhaps it’s more a taco revolution than an evolution. Whatever it is, I am enjoying the new flavors.
The day was dark, damp with gusty winds. The kind of day best spent with a book, a cup of something warm, and a cozy comforter. Instead, I needed to take my mother to her dentist.
There are perks in my car that make traveling on dark, damp, and gusty wind days tolerable. My seat heater was set to high, but there was another button pressed that made me smile. Do you know what this button on my steering wheel does?
So, channeling Jimmy Fallon’s thank you notes, I write a thank you post to this button.
Dear Heated Steering Wheel,
Thank you for being there for me when my hands grip the cold surface of the steering wheel. You slowly warm my frozen fingers. Because of you, I follow my driver’s ed teacher’s command to keep hands at ten and two. I admit, sometimes I do use eight and four, just to feel the warmth. My palms soak up your gentle heat. When you are on, my hands never leave the wheel. What a luxury you are! Thank you for keeping my fingers toasty!
If you ever get to experience a heated steering wheel, you will want one in your vehicle too. Trust me. 🙂
Did we really appreciate our unlimited human contact before the virus derailed our lives? Meeting up with friends (or relatives), enjoying a bite in a restaurant, saying good-bye with a hug are all actions in a previous lifetime. Hopefully, they will return to our lives.
March 8 was the last time I saw two friends in person. Impending stay-at-home orders were looming. I had belated Christmas gifts to deliver and feared if I didn’t do it on this day, they would never get delivered. The encounters were brief, no hugs allowed, just an elbow bump.
Through the days and months, we kept in contact with a couple of zoom meets, phone calls, and FaceTime. Our usual birthday celebrations were put on hold. Until one of us had enough. She decided we would gather in her backyard and spend an evening together. It was easy to find a date that was free, so it was settled, Friday, October 9, 6:00 p.m.
My friend, Tiffany, is the ultimate hostess. She has a flair for making any occasion special. The fire pit had a small fire going. A nearby table was draped with a tablecloth, multiple lanterns were lit, a pitcher of Autumn Punch waited to fill the copper mugs. Of course there were s’more fixings, but also hand sanitizer and wipes.
A cheese ball (shaped like a pumpkin, of course) and crackers were brought out for a snack before the main event – pizza cooked on the big green egg.
There wasn’t just one pizza or two, no she created FOUR different pizzas! Each one with unique flavors, all extremely tasty!
After pizza, we settled around the fire pit to chat and watch the dancing flames. Decorated pumpkin shaped sugar cookies (made by Tiffany) were the first dessert. It was so relaxing, being with dear friends and visiting. I had forgotten what it was like to be with someone besides my husband and mother. Soon the pokers for the marshmallows were brought out and s’mores were the final touch on the evening.
I hope you have a friend like Tiffany. She brings joy where ever she is. (What makes this evening even more extraordinary is Tiffany is an instructional specialist working full-time in an elementary school that is face-to-face five days a week.) I don’t know how she managed to create this perfect evening, but I am thankful that she did. (FYI – she sent two of the cookies home as favors.)
My fingers fumbled to get those plastic wrappers off the caramel block. I searched for the folded end to strip that cellophane from that nugget of sweetness. Clunk! Another one drops into the saucepan. Soon they are all unwrapped and I am left with a pile of wrappers which I stuff into their original bag as they flip and float around me. I proudly deliver the saucepan to my mother so she can melt them into gooey caramelness.
The apples are washed and each standing tall sporting a flat wooden stick where the stem used to be. Wax paper is waiting to receive the apple draped in caramel. I am waiting for the caramel to harden just enough.
That first bite is tricky. I have to use both hands. One hand holds on to the stick. A finger from the other hand pushes the apple against my teeth so I can get caramel and apple in the bite. If I don’t push hard enough, my teeth only scrape the caramel. Once the apple skin is broken, the rest of the treat can be handled with one hand.
Years later at a craft fair, I discovered apple slices drizzled with warm caramel. Yum! That is now my preferred way of having this fall treat. Of course I rarely get this treat these days. Unfortunately, my husband does not care for caramel. I have been known to buy a container of caramel sauce. You might be surprised to find out how long that sauce can last in the refrigerator. 🙂
Again, I was given another two hours to wander in the Botanical Gardens in St. Louis. I set off in the opposite direction from last week. I quickly came across an area filled with plants that had not yet been planted.
This surprised me! This is the time of year you are putting in new plants? Later, I learned from my husband (who learned it from his class) these were plants being transferred in the garden. Currently the garden constructing a new entrance, so these will be relocated after the construction.
I wandered down the path and came across the children’s garden. The gate was open, so I went in to explore the entrance as the actual children’s garden was closed. Doesn’t this look like a mess?
I was intrigued by the sign proclaiming this a scent garden. I sniffed (through the mask) and smelled popcorn. I inhaled again and this time it was cilantro. This was prairie dropseed and the odor is most prominent in the fall. I couldn’t believe how potent it was smelling through my mask!
My attention was grabbed by this plant: American Beautyberry. I loved the gradation of of the berry colors. This section of the garden had the purple berry, but later I found the white berry in another section of the gardens.
The path led me to the Center for Home Gardening where tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers filled the beds along with a few other interesting plants, such as this one – Okra. I could not believe the size of the okra!
I would have loved to walk under the arbor filled with hanging gourds, but I suppose it was safer to view it from the side.
As I left the garden area, I entered the Japanese garden. It was time for a little zen.
Just imagine creating a gravel garden. Using a special rake to create designs and lines in the gravel. Peace descends . . .
as you move the rake slowly through the gravel.
But sometimes there is a problem . . .
someone (something) can’t read the sign and respect the request. Sigh!
Another sign is often posted. Can you figure out what some people may be inclined to do when they see these trees?
Please do not climb the tree. But isn’t it a tempting idea? Can’t you imagine sitting in the crook of the branch with a book? I can.
Time was running short and I had to revisit a spot from last week to note a change. This week I passed a plant that made me stop and look closely.
This is a balloon flower. This is the flower I saw in images when I googled balloon flower. I could not believe this flower came from the plant I saw the week before also labeled balloon flower.
So my conclusion is . . . there are two plants with the same name. I suppose their technical names are different, because I can’t believe the authority that names plants would give the same name to two totally different plants.
The pruning class is over, so it will be a new season when I return to the gardens and it will look very different.