Flash-Freezing Green Beans a la Granny

The beans just couldn't wait until Thanksgiving to shimmy out of their white blossoms and dangle like earrings from their stems. Each bean is long, slender and shapely like a woman's leg in silk stockings with a seam up its back. I pick them by fistfuls; sometimes twice a day I'll go out and see if there are any I've missed, and sure enough, there are.  Last night, I called Granny and asked her how she freezes her beans which she explained in three simple steps. 

Here's what I did this daylight savings morning a la Granny's instructions:

Wash the beans thoroughly, place them in a pot on the burner with warm water and let them simmer just until the bubbles come up through the beans. Remove from the burner, rinse them in cold water and place in a freezer bag. Squeeze out all the air (apparently, this is important). In order to get all the air out, use a straw and suck out all the air from the bag. (Somehow, I can't imagine Granny with straw in her mouth, attached to a bag, sucking the living daylights out of it; the thought of  it made me giggle).

I followed her instructions step-by-step. What she didn't tell me was to make sure once I took the pot off the stove, to be careful not to place the gallon freezer bag on the hot burner, which shriveled up like the Wicked Witch of the West in nano-second in a gust of putrid steam, then, ignited the fire alarm, which in-turn sent Bebe into a frantic barking fit and Felix into the bathroom tub (that's where he hides when he's a scaredy-cat). 

Once the histrionics were over, I placed the freshly flash-frozen fruits of my labor into our new deep-freeze and closed the lid with an odd sense of satisfaction.

 

The Cats' Hallowed Eve

Cats chat -

Sit statuesque.

Some fat, one with a hat;

mews heard only by a toothless

pumpkin

October Fest

Roses are white....

String beans are green... 

                                                                                       Corn's growing silk!

Bebe's  ready for Halloween!

Good Morning, Moon.

  morning moon reflects

   sunshine on the cardinal's breast -

    resting between nests

(click on photo to enlarge)

Fall Garden Update

Luckily, there aren't any rabbits in the neighborhood, otherwise this lettuce would be history.

Some people compare apples to oranges. I think comparing this lemon to a cherry tomato plucked straight off the vine is more dramatic!

The broccoli is getting off to a slow start, but as soon as the temperatures start to drop more at night, we'll be having broccoli every night with dinner.

                   By Thanksgiving, there will be enough green beans for a giant string bean casserole!

                                                                                          

Morning Snapshot

buzzing bumble bee

slides inside petunia's lips

sipping sweet nectar

 

Is That a Lemon in Your Pocket?

No...just in our backyard! Seems our dwarf-like Ponderosa lemon tree is celebrating Fall. The huge grapefruit-sized lemons are slowly going from lime-green to lemon-yellow. I can't wait for Granny to come in January to make her lemon pie. In the mean time, I'll pluck the first one so I can start making lemon ice cubes. They're great for floating in a tall glass of water or melting into a cup of hot tea. I also toss them into a chicken soup base, or in the frying pan with a piece of chicken or fish! Yummy. Thank you, Mother Nature!

Falling for Fall in Michigan

Summer's
lush green trees bend
with autumn's breeze - blowing
golden, crimson red, floating leaves
up north

Geese honk
the morning's horn
playing a symphonic
cacophony - wings beating to
go south

Crackle
the fallen leaves -
naked the outstretched limbs
span blue skies touching sun's last warmth
it's Fall

Falling Back Into Old Habits

Sleepily stepping out on to the damp pool deck this morning, I was greeted by a lemon-pale sun trying to rise past purple clouds. Bebe tore past me in a flash of fur, her nails scraping the concrete as she rushed to race with the squirrels who were feasting from the bird feeders. They tantalize her by swinging from the branches of the orange trees to the palm tree, then they leap to the power lines and onto the feeders. Once Bebe starts her chase, they spring from the ledge of the feeders, spraying seed like rain and dance across the edge of the fence. Bebe chases them relentlessly barking her 7am alarm. The two red-tailed hawks who have taken up residence in a neighbor's yard, circle and watch the chase from above contemplating either Bebe or the squirrels for their babies' breakfast. Cardinals take the opportunity to sneak in a few pieces of seed while the squirrels are being herded away, and the scrub jays sip from the birdbath.

Suddenly, Autumn escaped the lips of Summer in a breath of cool air which I inhaled like a long-awaited drink. The breeze was brief, but long enough to make an impression. Long enough to blow the wisps of hair on Bebe's ears straight back, to make the scrub jays look up from their drinking pool and swallow just a bit longer, to encourage the hawks to circle one more time on the dime of Mother Nature and to make me breathe a sigh of relief that Autumn is back. I knew it was close. The Ponderosa lemon tree's pendulous orbs of fruit are starting to strain the already bent limbs. There have been juvenile Ibis lurking at dawn and dusk plunging their long beaks deep between grass blades for a juicy snack. And, just the other day, I caught sight of two Love Bugs flitting by - a tell-tale sign that the seasons are about to pass the baton.

In anticipation of Fall, I consulted the Old Farmer's Almanac to make sure I planted my winter garden right with the moon's good mood. I tilled and turned the parched grey sand from last year's garden into espresso rich black soil moistened with beads of sweat dripping from my chin. I imported over 200 pounds of coffee grounds from the local Starbuck's where the barisita now knows me by name. Then came the 8 bags of cow manure and the dozens of cracked egg-shells I've been saving for half the summer. Lastly, the layers of rich compost from a local horse farm where Bebe is deathly afraid of the horses. With the soil ready, now comes the plotting and planting. There are 15 tomato plants along the fence, an herb garden to the south, 8 corn plants to the north and in between, broccoli sprouts two rows. Two kinds of lettuce, Romaine and Red Leaf hold center ground and are surrounded by thin lines of ground cinnamon to deter pests. Peppers, red, green and yellow lead the way to 40 or so bush bean seedlings. Every foot or so all along the border of the garden, Elephant Ear garlic cloves have been sunk the depth of a pencil-length to ward off evil aphids. I've left enough room for onions, peas and a few more herbs once the weather really begins to promise Fall and not just tease those of us who live for that first breath of fresh air.

Going UP?

Summer, in other than Florida is a treat. This summer, I've had plenty of treats away from home with numerous trips to both California and Michigan thanks to Jayne's ingenious, ace-up-her-sleeve planning. My last trip to Michigan, we went to the U.P or the Upper Peninsula. On the way, we stopped at Higgins Lake and stayed in our friends Kim and Marvonne's log cabin (it sleeps 17, so if you're thinking about a little cabin, think again). What a fantastic retreat this property affords. Lake-front living, tucked away on a cul-de-sac and bordered by raspberry bushes; divinely delicious in every aspect from the quaint downtown antique shop to the ice cream shoppes which speckled the town on every side of the street. Thanks, Kim and Marvonne, for the great get-away.

The main reason for this trip, was to host a Welcoming Ceremony for Jillian. The mini-vacation to the UP was a perk! Jillian's Welcoming Ceremony was a spirited, intimate gathering of family and friends with a promise to mother and child of unconditional, eternal love and support. If you click on the link (below on the right) to Gen's Blog, you'll see some photos of that special day.

After spending a relaxing night on Higgins Lake, we spent the entire next day, sunrise to midnight traveling the UP. Having never been, I was wide-eyed and smiling from the ferry ride across to Mackinac Island to the full moon who followed us back to the lake that night. On Macinac Island, we walked and shopped, collected sea glass, walked some more, took a horse and carriage ride when walking wore us out, and even climbed the Fort which was well worth the view from the top. We left when thunder rang its bell and dark clouds threatened to put a damper on our day. I almost got on the wrong ferry coming back, by the way. Luckily, I had my personal GPS by my side who guided me on to the right boat!

After a day at the island, Jayne drove us up to White Fish Point where we walked the beach on Lake Superior, looked for sea glass and collected pocketfuls of rocks. On the way home, we found a fish joint and got some white fish to go to eat lake-side in the car. Jayne asked for Tums a little while later; fish has never really been her cup o'tea. We capped-off the night by laying dock-side on Higgins Lake, counting the billions of glistening stars shimmering on the indigo back-drop of midnight. I even caught a shooting star out of the corner of my eye and giggled with glee. Check out the slide show for pictures of our trip going UP.

Rubies Everywhere

Usually, our road trips to Michigan entail a straight shot from Tampa to Attica with a stray pit-stop here and there. We're always in a hurry to get to see family and there's always a full agenda once we get there. This time, Jayne had a few surprises up her sleeve. I should have known something was up when we didn't leave Tampa at the crack of dawn and didn't rush through Atlanta. All of the sudden, this was a leisurely trip and the stops along the way were terrific fun. Our first day, we only drove as far as Georgia and stayed over night in an Atlanta Hampton Inn. We stopped at a local mom & pop restaurant for dinner, bought Georgia lottery, and simply enjoyed not being rushed. The next day, we drove an hour to Cleveland, Georgia to a little spot called Gold n' Gem Grubin' and mined for gemstones! It was really exciting to sit and sift through buckets of dirt and find gems. We had seen a show on the Travel Channel where Becky Worley found all sorts of great gems...and so did we. We found rubies, sapphires, tiger's eye, garnet, emeralds and fool's gold, just to name a few. There were families and couples from all over sitting and chatting. One old guy kept us laughing by keeping a running commentary on what he found in his sifter. A pebble! A cigarette butt! Fool's Gold! I countered him once and said I'd found a kidney stone. That got a chuckle as well. It was a great way to spend the morning and we have bags of gemstones to polish and maybe turn into some great jewelry eventually.

After grubbing for gems, we took the long and winding way around the Blue Ridge Mountains, stopped at great farm markets and made our way to Chattanooga, Tennessee, where Jayne had yet another ace up her sleeve. This time, we stopped at Ruby Falls and took the underground tour to see the falls. What an awesome sight! It was worth the long walk through the underground shaft to stand under the mist and hear the roar of these magnificent falls.



Between our gemstone stop and Ruby Falls, we found ourselves in a little town called Dahlonega. It's a quaint little mountain village just at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains through which we had just spent an hour or so winding our way up and over. For about five miles, from one end of Dahlonega to the other, about every 25-feet, on both sides of the road, there were American flags planted on top of white crosses. Each cross had inscribed the name of a local fallen hero going down the cross, and the name of the war they served in going across the cross - from wars dating back as far as World War I including World War II, Korean War, the Gulf War, and Vietnam War.
Hundreds and hundreds of these flags on crosses decorated a parade route for Memorial Day. If you looked carefully, you'd also see that several streets were named after these same heroes as well. One of the main streets, Morrison Moore Parkway, was also named after a fallen soldier who has his memorial flag-cross planted near his street. The white crosses go up long before July 4th, around the week before Memorial Day, and stay up through July. Then, they emerge, again, in early November, just before Veterans' Day. We were both awestruck and proud. What a gem of a find that was, on top of all the other rubies of the day.

Yet another gem awaited us at the end of the day when we stopped in Caryville, Tennessee, at a Hampton Inn tucked into the side of a mountain. This was not just any Hampton Inn. It had llamas grazing on its property (which I didn't notice until the next morning; I actually thought they were statues until they started moving)! Quaint and historic is how I would describe this museum of a hotel! The owner, Hack Ayers, was on-site when we went down to breakfast and his pride just about busted out of his chest when he talked about the history of Caryville, his family's connection to the town and the way he's maintained that history in his hotel. The walls are decorated with war photos and family photos. Framed in the hallway by the elevator, was his late father's leather jacket with a bullet hole in it; there it proudly stands as a testament Johnny Ayers' bravery. Hack owns the llamas, by the way; a little fact he told me while he was busing tables, serving tea and chatting up his customers. This is one hotel we'll certainly stay in again.

Ode to Granny's Garden

Granny's garden springs alive;
its square now marked by rows.
The soil rich will sprout and thrive.
No longer stunned by winter's snow.

Its square now marked by perfect rows,
Granny's down on her hands and knees.
No longer stunned by winter's snow,
one-by-one she plants her seeds.

Granny's down on her hands and knees,
ignoring her ninety-one years.
One-by-one she plants her seeds,
through all her blood and sweat and tears.

Ignoring her ninety-one years,
the soil rich will sprout and thrive.
Through all her blood and sweat and tears,
Granny's garden springs alive!



**click on pictures to enlarge**

Chasing Mangos and other Sweetness Enroute to Michigan - Part I

It was time, once again, to load the SUV to the hilt, and skim the black-top 1200 miles or more on our semi-annual road-trip to Michigan. It took me three hours to pack the car so that the five boxes of empty jars wouldn't rattle or break and that the coolers and overnight bags were accessible. Not to mention, I had to make sure the pillows weren't in our line of vision and the clothing, suitcases and various boxes of goodies were ingeniously arranged to make the long-haul to Michigan without incident. With Jayne at the wheel and with just enough room left to tilt the passenger seat back a bit, we hit the road. I'm mostly the traveling window-shopper, while Jayne battles the big-rigs along I-75. I do my fair share of driving, much to Jayne's chagrin since I drive her SUV like I drive my little VW. My only request is that it's not my turn to drive when it comes to Spaghetti Junction in Atlanta. That's not my idea of a road-trip; Spaghetti Junction tangles my brain.

Window-shopping on these jaunts to Michigan usually entails a running commentary on interesting or not so interesting sights as we try to maintain the speed limit along the highway. We even have a little book called Along I-75 that highlights points of interest for almost every exit. It also alerts us to speed-traps and restaurants not to pass up. I'll narrate the drive with Outlet mall sightings and give a verbal run-down of all the stores that are lined-up cookie-cutter style. An occasional "moo" will escape my lips as we pass farms, or "ewww" when the road-kill is too much to bear (or should I say deer...we must have encountered 3-dozen dead dear, most of which were in Michigan). My focus this year was to find the cheapest gas. Just when we think we've found it, pull off, fill-up and take off again, the next gas sign boasts cheaper prices. This only happened a few times, however, but each time it does, we felt gypped.

Usually we stop at the Russell Stover candy outlet, but this time, we were "good". Instead, we stopped for Georgia peaches, Vidalia onions and watermelon at one roadside stand. When we first started along I-75, we noticed several tattered and torn pickups loaded to the nines with musk melon and mangoes. One truck we kept passing all through Florida and Georgia. I commented that we needed to follow that truck because when he gets off I wanted to buy some mangoes from him. Sure enough, we coincidentally found ourselves fueling up at the same gas station as one of these pickups and sure enough, I bought a delicious mango from him. Jayne dispises cantaloupes. Even the smell of them disgust her, so I spared her the agony of driving all the way to Michigan with the musky scent of a melon in the back seat. After we bought the Georgia peaches, every time we stopped, I would down one or two, allowing the sweet juices to liberally run down my chin and arms as I stood stooped over by the rear of the truck in absolute peach bliss.

One time, before we found the peach stand, I was looking for a snack and remembered I had a pear in the cooler. When it was my turn to drive, I thought I'd munch on it. Little did I realize how juicy this pear was going to be. The first few bits were just divine and then, I knew I was headed for trouble when the juices started to gush by just the fourth or fifth bite. Trying not to draw attention to myself by slurping too loudly; I didn't want to tick-off Jayne by dual-tasking - eating and driving along I-75 is not the brightest of ideas, let alone trying to navigate eating an outrageously juicy pear. By the time half of the pear was gone and the core was about to snap, so was Jayne, who was eyeing me from the passenger's seat, trying not to laugh. At that point, I started to giggle uncontrollably as the pear was getting messier and messier and the steering wheel was getting stickier and stickier. I mumbled, with a mouthful of pear, for a napkin while trying not to drip too much spittle from my giggle-filled face. Too late. I was in a tearful, giggle-fit, full throttle with a limp, dripping pear dangling from my sticky fingers on Jayne's recently detailed steering wheel. The white-lines on the highway were blurry from tears of laughter, and there was pear juice now dripping down my thighs; the giggles became uncontrollable, choking laughter. I'm thinking Jayne was amused..but just didn't show it. So much for a mid-day snack. I thought it was a better choice than Russell Stover, but apparently not. Our next stop was a real gem..but, I'll save that for another post. Stay-tuned.

Just In Passing: In Memory of Melissa Riggio

Have you ever met someone who's made a profound impression on you just by the way they embrace life, even in the midst of all adversity? If not, I'm sure you know of people whom, after you've read or heard about their lives, you were left thinking about how extra-ordinary they've created their existence. They are truly awe-some individuals.

I've met only a handful of extraordinary people, and know of only a few more. I'd like to know more because they inspire me.

Above: Melissa Riggio shares her thoughts about Down syndrome. Photograph by Annie Griffiths Belt

I've never "met" Melissa Riggio (pictured above). She is the daughter of Steve and Laura Riggio. Steve is the CEO of Barnes & Noble, the company for which I work. Last year, Steve asked all Community Relations Managers to do an event to raise awareness about Down Syndrome since Melissa has Down Syndrome. She had just recently published an article in National Geographic: Kids and he sent us copies of it to read (see below). After I read the article, I felt like I knew Melissa and I admired her outlook on life.

The event at my store was one of the best children's events I've ever held. I networked Karen Dearolff ,the founder of a local group called "Up with Downs". She has a son, David, with Down Syndrome. The day of the event, about 35 families showed up for the program. The children read their poetry, talked about their participation in the Special Olympics, danced, played instruments and shared with us their dreams. The youngest was just an infant and the oldest looked too young to be the oldest! I was left awestruck; inspired by their humor, their positive out look on life, and to this day, I still talk about how wonderful the event was.

Steve had also sent each one of us a CD of Melissa's music, which softly played in the background during the event. As participants listened to her poetry and her music and read her article, they, too, were touched by her way of being.

Melissa passed away yesterday morning from leukemia. She was 20 years old. I'm glad I got to know her, if only in passing.

Meet Melissa:

I Have Down Syndrome—Know Me Before You Judge Me
Text by Melissa Riggio as told to Rachel Buchholz

When I first started to work on this story, I thought maybe I shouldn’t do it. I thought you might see that I have Down syndrome, and that you wouldn’t like me.

My mom thinks that’s silly. “Have you ever met anyone who didn’t like you because you have Down syndrome?” she asks me. She’s right, of course. (She usually is!)

When people ask me what Down syndrome is, I tell them it’s an extra chromosome. A doctor would tell you the extra chromosome causes an intellectual disability that makes it harder for me to learn things. (For instance, some of my classes are in a “resource room,” where kids with many kinds of learning disabilities are taught at a different pace.)

When my mom first told me I had Down syndrome, I worried that people might think I wasn’t as smart as they were, or that I talked or looked different.

I just want to be like everyone else, so sometimes I wish I could give back the extra chromosome. But having Down syndrome is what makes me “me.” And I’m proud of who I am. I’m a hard worker, a good person, and I care about my friends.

A Lot Like You
Even though I have Down syndrome, my life is a lot like yours. I read books and watch TV. I listen to music with my friends. I’m on the swim team and in chorus at school. I think about the future, like who I’ll marry. And I get along with my sisters—except when they take my CDs without asking!

Some of my classes are with typical kids, and some are with kids with learning disabilities. I have an aide who goes with me to my harder classes, like math and biology. She helps me take notes and gives me tips on how I should study for tests. It really helps, but I also challenge myself to do well. For instance, my goal was to be in a typical English class by 12th grade. That’s exactly what happened this year!

But sometimes it’s hard being with typical kids. For instance, I don’t drive, but a lot of kids in my school do. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, and that’s hard to accept.

Dream Job: Singer
I try not to let things like that upset me and just think of all the good things in my life. Like that I’ve published two songs. One of my favorite things to do is write poetry, and this singer my dad knows recorded some of my poems as singles.

Right now someone else is singing my songs, but someday, I want to be the one singing. I know it’s going to happen, because I’ve seen it. One day I looked in the mirror, and I saw someone in my head, a famous person or someone who was somebody, and I just knew: I will be a singer.

It’s true that I don’t learn some things as fast as other people. But that won’t stop me from trying. I just know that if I work really hard and be myself, I can do almost anything.

See Me
But I still have to remind myself all the time that it really is OK to just be myself. Sometimes all I see—all I think other people see—is the outside of me, not the inside. And I really want people to go in there and see what I’m all about.

Maybe that’s why I write poetry—so people can find out who I really am. My poems are all about my feelings: when I hope, when I hurt. I’m not sure where the ideas come from—I just look them up in my head. It’s like I have this gut feeling that comes out of me and onto the paper.

I can’t change that I have Down syndrome, but one thing I would change is how people think of me. I’d tell them: Judge me as a whole person, not just the person you see. Treat me with respect, and accept me for who I am. Most important, just be my friend.

After all, I would do the same for you.

What is Down Syndrome?
Down syndrome is an intellectual disability that about 5,000 babies in the United States are born with each year. A person with Down syndrome has 47 chromosomes, microscopic structures that carry genetic information to determine almost everything about a person. Most people have only 46 chromosomes. It’s the extra chromosome that can cause certain physical characteristics (such as short stature and an upward slant to the eyes) and speech and developmental delays. Still, people with Down syndrome are a lot like you: They are unique people with strengths and talents.

Click here to listen to "The Ring," the song that Melissa wrote.

Biggest Loser Trainer Bob Harper

Big News! Bob Harper, one of the trainers on NBC's Biggest Loser, came to Tampa on Friday night to celebrate the release of his book called Are You Ready? He drew a huge crowd and sold stacks of copies of his new book. People from all over Florida and even Georgia attended the event. Bob is super nice and crazy fanatical about getting people feeling good about themselves. His passion is palpable, his enthusiasm is contagious and his smile will set the room aglow. Looks like everyone who attended were big winners.

Above left: Bob Harper signing books.

Above right: Bob adresses the crowd which was so big, he had to stand on a table so everyone could see. I was interpreting the event for a Deaf couple who attended.

Left: Me and my new friend Bob.