Wild Plums

Fruit. The botanical temptress of both man and beast. Those of us living in the upper Midwest are all too aware of this fact. Yes, we can purchase squishy berries shipped in from Chile or sad little mangoes from...I don't know where, but the taste will never be the same as eating a peach or strawberry recently harvested from nearby locales. During the winter months, many of us resign ourselves to eating apples, oranges, apples, oranges and bananas. Occasionally, we might pick up a pear or two to spice things up and if we are really feeling exotic, we will go for a parsnip. Technically, not a fruit but they look dangerously able to keep scurvy at bay.

The most delicious fruit memories for me happened during my youth. The countryside was a perfect playground for foraging little vagabonds and we took full advantage of the seasonal opportunities. Our grove of trees included a few wild plum bushes, Prunus americana. Late spring saw the plum bushes sprouting sweetly fragranced white flowers with the promise of abundant fruit a few weeks later. Our daily trek to the mailbox at the end of the grove included a spot check on the plum situation. When the word went out that the fruit was ready to go, the urgency to beat the birds began. We brought out the little buckets and did our best to fill them fuller than our stomachs. No easy task. The branches on a wild plum bush are armed with thorns, demanding a deft hand and a keen eye. The first plum picked was ceremoniously popped into the mouth and the tart sweetness was declared delicious. We proceeded to pick and eat, pick and eat until our bellies could hold no more and our buckets had a reasonable amount of fruit for a jar or two of jam. In reality, wild plums are a thick skinned, mealy and sour fruit, hardly the food of gourmet distinction. We didn't know that. All we knew is that winter had released its glacial grip and spring had offered us a gift of juicy pleasure.

A little later in the season, the mulberry trees, Morus rubra, began sharing their bounty. Our jackpot tree was located down a rutted dirt road, through a barbed wire fence and across a few yards of prickly, stickly pasture land. The trek usually involved a jumbo-tired bicycle and a selfish doggedness to beat the rest of the siblings to the treasure trove. Occasionally, we brought a bucket with us but that was for prop purposes only. We all knew that the sticky sweet berries had only one destination and that was our stomachs. My mother was a wise woman and our attempts to convince her that the birds had gotten most of the fruit were trumped out by our blue stained fingers and shirts. I don't remember that she ever scolded us for our greediness but I also know that we never had an abundance of mulberry jam.

Our most prized culinary harbinger of spring wasn't a fruit at all. It was asparagus, Asparagus officinalis. The precious little spears nuzzled their way out of the cool ground and we watched them with an anticipation given to most newborns. When we could stand the wait no longer, the stalks were snapped gently at the base and gingerly taken up to the house for the first fresh green treat of the season. Usually the diners outnumbered the spears so each asparagus gem was parsed out with great care. To this day I enjoy the buttery "juice" left over from the boiled asparagus because that is often all that was left after the bowl had made it around the table to me. (Full disclaimer: My siblings often disagree with my table memories.)

We are just a few days away from the official vernal equinox and it is not too soon to get the fruit dessert recipes ready to go. Rest assured, we will enjoy every bite of what the sun has to offer.

Peevish

Pet peeves. We all have them. They don't have to make sense but they do drive us senseless. No matter how much we try to ignore them or sing another refrain of "Let It Go", pet peeves continue to niggle us. Occasionally, we are able to set one aside, but most often we are plagued with a persistent few that set our teeth into a grinding motion. Here are a few of mine.

1) Encroachment--I prefer to grocery shop when the rest of the world is sleeping in, but when I find myself caught up with the masses, I am quickly subject to muscle tension. This is especially true when I am going through the checkout line and the customer behind me insists on nudging a cart into my space. It is not like there is any doubt where their cart ends and my ample behind begins. It is more a case of urgency without respect to boundaries. It is difficult to sign my name on the card dealy-bob when I have a cart stuck in my rib cage and and my body is askew. Manners, people, manners.

2) Pop-up ads--One does become numb to the barrage of ads that troll around on our computer screens on a daily basis but there are occasions when it is difficult to ignore the flashing, spinning, cannot-find-the-close-button ads. In addition, there are the belly fat pictures, miracle cures from strange tropical fruits and, in my case, old age stuff. Creepy. And not tempting.

3) Dust--How is it that two people, living extremely dull lives, can generate a coating on so many surfaces in so little time? Nancy Neatnik, I am not, but I do feel slovenly when I see my butt print on the piano bench after I stand up. Not sure if I am more depressed about having to dust again or the size of that butt print.

4) Dibbles--Strictly defined, a dibble is a gardening tool. In my world, dibbles are the leftover bits and pieces from meals throughout the week. Cooking is not an exact science. There always seem to be a few leftover beans, one stray pork chop, a half container of yogurt, one clump of grapes and other such non sequitur items. Thus, there are times we have a dibbles meal with all the gusto of a sloth. More likely, I do the fridge purge and say a prayer for the starving citizens of the world.

5) Prescription drug commercials--They always start out with happy, smiling folks embracing a life free of some malady. And then the shoe drops. Boy Howdy. It is hard to stay focused on contentment when the list of possible side effects is finally disclosed. I am not sure I could muster up the courage to ask my doctor for a drug that can potentially cause double vision, leprosy or persistent diarrhea.

Hope you have a peeve free week. And if you like to dust, just let me know. I can make you really happy.

Popeye

Power foods. Nutritional wonders. Cure-alls.  Secret remedies. Call it what you may, the list of miraculous foods seems to cycle through year after year. Some foods stay on the list for a while and others have a short claim to fame. The guaranteed-to-lose-weight diets are no less fickle. There is the cabbage juice diet (delicious on the first day, not so much by day twelve), the Atkins diet (great for bacon lovers, hard on toast munchers), the gluten-free diet (necessary if you have a medical condition, questionable if you just want to "feel" healthy) and last but not least the pre-packaged food diets (the pictures on the boxes look delightful, starvation can make cardboard taste good),

I don't know how it happened, but my generation somehow managed to grow up without miracle foods. When we were hungry, we ate whatever was put on the table. If it was liver and onions night, that is what we dined upon. If the garden was producing an abundance of swiss chard, we munched away on the boiled green mass. Chicken butchering day meant a sizzling pan of fried chicken and a fight over a limited number of gizzards. Jars of home canned green beans made their way to our table throughout the cold winter months. Lugs of peaches sent us all into high gear as we started our assembly line of blanching, slicing and funneling slippery fruit pieces into sterilized jars. Homemade bread greeted us with a come hither fragrance as we tumbled into the house after a long day at school. The family cow kept our glasses full of milk and our desserts topped with fresh cream. Grunty, rooting pigs gave us salty, smoky bacon for lunch box sandwiches. The kitchen oven cranked out comfy casseroles, tasty bars and a never ending supply of chocolate chip cookies. Never once were we told that what we were eating was Dr. Oz approved.

We did, however, take one recommendation seriously. We listened to Popeye. Popeye was a cartoon character we watched on our black and white TV, snowy reception and all. He was a rather hapless fellow who found himself in situations that required enormous amounts of courage and strength to save the day. Just when we thought he would not overcome defeat, Popeye would grab a can of spinach, chug it down in one gulp and sing, "I'm strong to the fin-ich, cause I eats me spinach. I'm Popeye the sailor man!" And, sure enough, the can of greens made his muscles bulge and his eyes sparkle as good triumphed over evil. If spinach was good enough for Popeye, it was good enough for us.

To this day, I believe in good old-fashioned spinach. It is not fashionable like kale. It doesn't sparkle like pomegranate seeds. It doesn't have celebrity endorsements like pistachios. And it certainly doesn't claim to cure hangnails and warts.

But, the next time you are feeling a bit peckish, I recommend a hearty spinach salad. And if you need to keep up with the latest food miracle, throw a pickle on top. I hear fermented foods are really in this year.

El Capitan

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Recently, two young adventurers made rock climbing history when they scaled a difficult section (Dawn Wall) of a vertical rock formation called El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. Their story is remarkable and captured world wide attention. I do not claim to even vaguely understand why some folks set their sights on such goals but I do know that there are people who survive by living life on the edge, literally. For many of us, I suspect that living on the edge is far less dramatic and newsworthy. Climbing for us happens when we put our head into the wind and accomplish the demanding moments of life.

The profession of teaching comes with many El Capitan moments. Here are a few.

1) Parent Teacher conferences--Nothing says love like sitting in a cold gymnasium for four hours, entertaining parents and students after a long day of teaching. And then doing it again the next day. And the next day. Finally a compensatory day is given....two months later. Makes dangling from a tent in mid-air look more and more appealing.

2) In-service training--Don't get me wrong. I believe in teacher training sessions. I have led many of them myself so I have experienced both sides of such events. That being said, sitting through a presentation on the latest cure-all for students is sometimes challenging at best. My favorite part is when a session leader decides to remind us that "this is what our kids feel like when they have to sit all day."  Well, thank you for letting me know that I am a cruel and evil person who tortures kids all day long. Takes the sting right out of an already long day, for sure. I find it is best to embrace the moment for what it is. A hike through informationville. Hopefully, a little trail mix is provided.

3) Schedule changes--Schools operate on very tight time frames. If a class is supposed to end at 10:03 it must end at 10:03. Not 10:02 or 10:04 or 10:05. Woe be to the teacher who upsets the apple cart of punctuality and regularity. I wish the same could be said for executive decisions. At the beginning of our current school year, we were given six different operating schedules including the back to school day, one-hour late start, two-hour late start, anti-bully program, alternate day schedule and in-service late start day. Makes the OCD in all of us want to get counseling or climb a tall object without a rope.

4) Technology--It's a wonderful thing. It really is. But, it is a butt biter when it doesn't work. From the beginning of time, good teachers have known that every lesson needs a plan A, B and C for sure. Add to the mix the fickleness of techie tools and we need to extend the alphabet of options. I never want to go back to a classroom without a Smartboard and student computers but I know that even a good pair of hiking boots can pinch on occasion.

I know that I will never climb a K2 mountain or wrestle alligators but I get up everyday, lace up my shoes and put one foot in front of the other. I think that is what the El Capitan climbers did, too. So I guess we have more in common than I thought.

Pass the trail mix.

Replacement

Resolutions, goals, target behaviors. All words commonly used at the beginning of a new year. There is something refreshing about hitting the reset button and beginning anew. My word of the year is going to be replacement. I have a household of candidates begging for an update. The budget, as usual, will keep the wind of exchange from blowing too hard so I will need to be judicious in my decision making. Here are a few old friends who are destined for the Goodwill bin or the big truck that stops by every Monday morning.

1) School tote bag--My current bag is circa free from a bus trip taken with my mother a "few" years ago. (I wasn't blogging back then so you were spared two weeks of epicness.) The bag has served me well with its waterproof lining, sturdy handles and handy side pocket. It is also the correct width for stacks of papers or projects that need to be toted to and from school. Alas, the bag is developing holes and is looking a wee bit tired. My daughter gave me a new tote for Christmas so replacement number one is in the finish column.

2) Plastic cup--Don't judge. I like to cook so I often need more than one measuring cup during my exploits. I currently have a sturdy glass Pyrex measuring cup and a sad little plastic cup with illegible markings. I have no recollection of the genesis of the sad little cup but it has been a workhorse for many years. It has now developed a rather significant crack which moves it into a sanitary crisis. Goodbye, little cup. Hello, shiny new Pyrex.

3) Seed bin--I like to feed birds and I keep the seeds in a cast off construction bucket from my husband. It is the right size for a bag or two of seeds, but it has one fatal flaw. The lid does not snap into place with an airtight seal. Enter the dreaded Plodia interpunctella, a.ka. bird seed moth. One evening, in the dead, very dead of winter I spotted a fluttering specter. It didn't take long to discover the source of the home invader. Bird seed. Perfect harbor for the life cycle of moths. Ick. Time for an airtight container and a few moth traps laced with eau de lepidoptera.

4) Purse--I do not have seasonal purses or yearly upgrades. Rather, I drag around my arm extension until a strap falls off or the lining becomes a black hole for keys and stray aspirin. I am dangerously close to both disasters with my current purse. My criteria is quality construction and a low, low price. I also do not like trendy for obvious reasons so I will be in for quite a challenge. Maybe a little duct tape can buy me another year.

5) Potato chips--I am an addict of these crunchy, salty slices of delightfulness and despite my attempts to enjoy one or two chips in moderation, a circus sized portion is enjoyed well before my brain hits the stop button. I've tried a few replacements in the past including a one year moratorium (broken on the exact anniversary date with a full bag of kettle chips), kale chips (pleasant but missing something like, umm, taste) and crispy Wasa toasts (lots of crunch if you like cardboard). On second thought, I might keep my little food demon around and pretend that I can master the slow down switch.

I hope all of you are enjoying a peaceful start to your New Year. Replace a few joy drainers and celebrate the steadfast.

Toast

Nothing says good morning like a stout cup of coffee and a perfectly toasted slice of hearty bread. Apparently, my husband agrees. A few evenings ago, he came in from his man cave garage, clutching a dog-eared magazine, and stated, "We have to get this toaster." I paused my on-line scrabble game and glanced at the bright shiny object of his desire. It was a Calphalon, 2 slot, stainless steel toaster, complete with an "Opti-Heat system that ensures accurate temperature control and even heat delivery." According to the reviewer, the toaster is a wizard at browning to perfection anything you can stuff into its extra-wide jaws.

Before I was pulled into the vortex of complete enthrallment, I asked the question I always ask when I am presented with a possible purchase, "How much does it cost?" Pause. Rustling of the magazine page. "I think you can get it for around $60.00."

Pause. "Seriously?"

"Well, don't you want something that really works? You can't put a price on that."

I sighed and said, "Where's the surprise in life without playing toaster roulette with your bread each morning? Sometimes it comes out a little splotchy. Sometimes it is a bit charcoaly. Sometimes it is still cold in the middle. And every once in awhile you hit the lottery and get the perfect slice of toast."

Not impressed, my husband replied, "Good grief. Why not get it right every time? Here is a chance to up the morning odds for a decent piece of toast. I don't think you can put a price on consistency."

"My, my, haven't we come a long way from our first toaster."

I reminded him of how we procured our first toaster during the early years of married life. It came about rather serendipitously. My husband purchased a dollar box at an auction. Dollar boxes are filled with the miscellany of life. Sometimes you find treasures in them and sometimes you are stuck with a clinker. This time we scored. His box contained a no-nonsense, 2-slice toaster, crumbs included. We cleaned it up and grandly placed in on our countertop. The little toaster pumped out many slices of morning treats, perhaps not to perfection, but with complete economic flair.

Throughout the years, we have had a few more toasters. All were able to toast. All were inconsistent. All were less than $19.99.

Still not convinced that cheap preempts perfection, my husband closed his magazine and said, "I'm going to find this toaster," and back to his man cave he retreated.

I must confess that our conversation has made me more critical of our current Procter-Silex, dull white toaster. The plastic around the slots is a little melty. The knob that sets the toasting level doesn't seem to correlate with the finished product. The slots are too narrow for thicker slices of bread. Every crevice is sprinkled with petrified crumbs.

Maybe it is time for a stainless steel, extra-wide slotted beauty to enter my world. It is hard to resist a kitchen helper that has my safety in mind with her extra-lift lever and cool to the touch exterior. She would add an air of regal luxury to the kitchen and grant us our morning wishes.

I think I know what my husband is going to get for his next birthday.

Christmas

Christmas is not my favorite holiday. There, I said it. Haul out the Grinch paint and color me Scrooge. Yes, I want to rant about commercialism, Betty Crockerism and Holly Jollyism, but I will spare you such redundancy. Instead, I propose that we all choose a Christmas antidote and drink deeply from the calm it may provide. Here are a few of my suggestions.

1) Start a Not-To-Do list--If your crack-the-whip list is bigger than the Bible by the middle of December, consider an eraser and a serious talk with yourself. How much of your list is filled with what you think should be done as compared to what makes sense? A Not-To-Do list is a prioritizing experience. Get rid of nonsensical tasks such as putting up holiday towels that no one dares to use or making pink divinity candy that no self-respecting person should eat. Use the everyday towels and eat graham crackers.

2) Use gift bags--If you insist on buying gifts, spare yourself the task of gift wrapping. And whatever you do, stay away from ribbons that need tying and bows that need making. Packages are containers, not products. Temper the need to tie your self esteem to perfectly wrapped presents. A grocery bag works for me, but I understand that there are those who need pretty.

3) Feed the birds--There is something soothing about watching cardinals, juncos and chickadees peck away at suet and seeds. They don't need holiday bowls, special silverware or expensive napkins. They just need a meal to keep them going for another day. I imagine most of don't need perfect tablescapes (sorry, Martha). What we do enjoy is a meal with friends and family, be it a turkey sandwich on a paper plate or apple juice in a sippy cup.

4) Silence--Pour yourself a cup of coffee, shut off all devices and let yourself ponder. If you have little peeps in your house, tell your family that you are going to the grocery store and stop at a coffee shop first. Shut your phone off and take deep breaths. Let your mind go to a happy place. No passport or luggage needed.

5) Celebrate plain--Adorning every available square inch of space is borderline cluttering. A well placed creche has more impact than a room filled with glitter, baubles and Santa dolls. Look away from Pinterest, people, and let your inner zen speak.

6) Watch a funny movie--Sure, It's a Wonderful Life is a classic seasonal movie, but watching an angst-ridden George Bailey stumble around trying to find himself for two plus hours is depressing. On the other hand, watching a cat chew on a Christmas-light cord or Ralphie spilling a hub cap full of lug nuts in the snow may not be very thought provoking but you will feel better for having been a part of such revelry. Save the heavyweight stuff for January.

All this chatter has inspired me to print this year's picture of a Christmas tree. Easy to put up and easy to take down. My kind of holiday.

Wishing you a merry and mania-free Christmas!