Worth Your While – Day 343

Eagle in a darkening sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Worth Your While

This weekend’s reunion with my college friends was a hard act to follow. In fact, even the weather knew it couldn’t top its performance from the day before, so it just gave up and offered the complete opposite: the skies darkened and rain began pummeling the earth just as we began taking our leave.

It rained the whole way home, and when I decided to make a quick stop at the Wegman’s, I became soaked to the bone in the raw rain. So by the time I got home, I was deeply chilled. Shivering. I found it almost impossible to warm up.

Karl’s Agenda

Although he did demand a quick debrief on the weekend as soon as I walked in the door, Karl tenderly wrapped me in a blanket and snuggled up with me on the couch when he realized how cold my extremities were. I was tempted to take a hot shower or bath, but – curiously – Karl seemed hell-bent on locating a movie he’d discovered while clicker flicking while I was away.

He obviously felt pretty confident I would enjoy it for he persisted. While it’s not unusual for Karl to occasionally suggest that we watch a particular movie on one of our premium channels, it’s not exactly common, either.

Curiosity Piqued

Cuddled together on the couch, he kept marveling at how cold I was, while impatiently flicking through Netflix and HBO. Finally, he got to the Amazon Prime site and found what he was looking for: the movie Life Itself.

My curiosity was piqued. This was not like Karl. Even he commented, “Gee, I hope this isn’t a dud. I don’t know why I’m so driven to find this and watch it with you,” he said. “Now. Tonight,” he emphasized.

So we watched the movie.

Emotional Payday

What a great production. I loved it – we both did. I could not have asked for a more perfect confirmation of the deep and juicy conversations that took place over the weekend.

As a result, if politics or the weather, worry or commitments are weighing you down this week, then I urge you to watch this movie. Again, it’s called Life Itself and you can find it on Amazon Prime. It’s definitely worth your while.

Porcupine Concurs

In conclusion, I just want to include a photo of a little guy who made a rather concerted effort today to get our attention. Somehow or another, I feel this creature is significant to so much of what was discovered this weekend, as well as the message brought home by Life Itself. (Ha ha – I love that double entendre!)

Trust. Have faith. And embrace your innocence.

Photo: wagwalking.com

(T-768)

Whenever I Call You Friend – Day 342

OC Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel

Whenever I Call You Friend…

Anyone who’s around the same age as I am will probably start humming when they read the title to this post.

Yes, I’m conjuring this classic from Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks because it was the theme song and backdrop to the relationships that we made and which in many ways shaped our burgeoning adulthood.

We were busy trying on personas – figuring how who we were and how we wanted to be in the world. We were using each other as testing grounds. We saw each other at our most vulnerable. We held each other close when we weren’t sure who we were, how we wanted to be in the world, or why we loved who we loved when we loved them.

A Bigler Reunion

I’m reflecting tonight on the times spent in Bigler Hall because I’m lucky enough to be spending the weekend with a bunch of friends I made something like 40 years ago. No. I stand corrected. It has to be 41 or 42 years, at least, since most of us met as freshmen or sophomores up at Penn State’s Main Campus. And like most such reminiscences, it is amazing how easily we all fall back into the camaraderie we had those decades – lifetimes – ago.

It’s true that the whole gang isn’t here. Luckily, as far as we know, it’s simply a matter of distance or other commitments that preclude all of us getting together this weekend. Truth be told, Quick-Karl was as important a part of this group as any of the rest of us, as was Goum. We were not ‘ladies only,’ by any means – and the use of the term ‘ladies’ itself is, well, laughable. Leigh-Wee and Oozie-Q are gaping holes in this reunion, to be sure. But hopefully we’ll get another chance…

Some Ocean City Love – Photo: L. Weikel

How many hairbrushes were used as microphones to croon to each other the heartfelt bond we felt as we took refuge in the relative safety yet sometimes utter insanity that was but a blip on our radar screens before plunging into a world that we both eagerly anticipated and freaked out over facing?

I personally find it fascinating how those couple of years we spent together actually feel, in retrospect, like they took place over a much longer period of time. We packed so much living into those moments. So much life happened to us during those college years: so many changes in majors; so many passionate opinions and embraces; so many experiments with going walking a fine line and occasionally going overboard. Sometimes we lost our inhibitions, and in doing so, lost our fears. As we lost our training wheels, so too did we occasionally lose our balance.

But through it all, the thick and the thin, the perms and the turkey hoagies (with extra mayo), the hot stickies and the stickie hotties (OK, I made that up – but it’s late and it is something gross I would say just to see if you were paying attention), one thing we could always count on was that someone would be there to call us friend.

And the coolest thing is that this fact continues to be true – perhaps even more now than then.

This song really and truly captures the best of those years. We were lucky to find each other then. And we’re lucky to have each other now.

Bregettes (A Representative Sample) – Photo: Paulette Speaker

Whenever I Call You “Friend”

Kenny Loggins

Written by Kenny Loggins and M. Manchester.

Whenever I call you friend
I begin to think I understand
Anything we are
You and I have always been ever and ever

I see myself within your eyes
And that’s all I need to show me why
Everything I do, always takes me home to you
Ever and ever

Now I know my life has given me more
Than memories day by day…we can see
(SN)
In every moment there’s a reason to carry on

Sweet love showin’ us a heavenly light
I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight
Sweet love flowin’ almost every night
I know forever we’ll be doin’ it

Sweet love showin’ us a heavenly light
I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight
Sweet love flowin’ almost every night
I know forever we’ll be doin’ it right

Whenever I call you friend
I believe…

Until next time, friend (there will always be a chair for you) – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-769)

Tohickon to the Rescue – Day 341

My Sacred Tohickon, 18 Oct 19 – Photo: L. Weikel

Tohickon to the Rescue      

Yes, I know. I can just imagine your reaction to the title to this post. “Good grief, how can this chick talk so much about a stupid creek?”

But here I sit, at the end of a day that started out as dark and wild as the day before it, at the end of yet another long week of astonishing ugliness and corruption being exposed to our wondering eyes, at the end of a week that brought sadness at a sudden loss of a person of great courage and integrity. Here I sit on my couch, the reassuring snore of Sheila percolating from under her favorite wolf blanket, asking myself what of this day merits my attention and reflection.

View upstream of the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

What Brought Me Joy

And I have to answer: what I feel most compelled to share with you today is the bounty of joy reaped from fifteen minutes I spent beside the Tohickon Creek, on my way home from running some mid-afternoon errands.

Most of the day was overcast and chilly. Taking the ‘long way’ home yet again, as I did last week when I encountered the dazed young deer, I managed to make it to the covered bridge without incident. I proceeded alongside the magnificent wall of black rock rising up a steep hill to my left, emerald moss strategically highlighting the wall’s nooks and crannies. As I crested the slight rise of the single lane road and rounded the blind spot where the rock wall refused to yield and demanded the road meet its terms, sunshine suddenly spilled forth from above.

View downstream of the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

The moment was magical and quite unexpected. It was as if the clouds surrendered, bowing to the warmth of the sun, when actually it was more a function of the wind’s insistence that they part. It didn’t matter to me what caused it. All I knew was that everything around me transformed in an instant. The brilliant oranges, yellows, reds, and spring-like greens on the trees were not only illuminated but doubled in their presentation, as it seemed all of it – everything – was reflected on the surface of the Tohickon.

Capturing the Moment to Share With You

Even as I try to describe this moment of “Ah!” my heart quickens a bit.

Suddenly surrounded by this palette of autumn flavors, I was filled with awe. Breathless with the wonder of it all, I pulled off the road at my favorite spot. All I could do was thank All That Is for giving me this moment.

Knowing and appreciating how truly lucky I am to have the opportunity to encounter such a moment in the middle of an October afternoon, I once again yearned to bring the beauty and inspiration home to you, my readers. So I jumped out of the car and even hopped onto a couple rocks that took me further into the creek so I could get shots both further up and down stream.

Sky and trees reflected in the Tohickon

Reflections on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

What delighted me most were the reflections. Oh my goodness, I was surrounded by the most exquisite works of art in the world.

In those moments, I was soothed. The peace and beauty and ‘eternal now’ of those precious moments wrapped themselves around me and whispered, “We’re here. Look, see, feel, listen. Take comfort. Share us.”

And that was the highlight of my day.

Trees reflected in the Tohickon

More Tohickon reflections – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-770)

Dark Night – Day 340

Dark Night – Photo: L. Weikel

Dark Night

I’m actually being quite literal here. The photo above was taken on our brisk walk around our 2.2 mile loop just this evening. With the wind moaning through the treetops as we made our way along our path, I was reminded why I wear Turtlefur neck warmers and vowed to dig them out of the closet.

This dark night, though, was the perfect ending to a depressingly dark day, as well.

Of course, I’m speaking of the unexpected and untimely death of Representative Elijah Cummings very early this morning. (Follow that link – it’s to an obituary that’s much different than most I’ve read.)

I’ve felt the loss on a visceral level all day. Since hearing the news, I’ve been reflecting on what it was about the Congressman that renders our country’s loss of this man so tragic, especially right now. The answer is integrity. The answer is passion for what is right. The answer is being willing to stand up and call out bullshit.

Our Country’s Still So Young

To be honest, I was shocked to realize Representative Cummings was the son of a sharecropper. He was only eight years older than I am – and his father was a sharecropper? That’s stunning.

For me, I guess, it’s the realization that slavery and sharecropping are such recent conditions of control maintained in our country. I want to think of them as long-ago ‘history’ – as shameful relics of an extremely unenlightened time. But that’s wishful and utterly naïve.

On the other hand, deep down I feel a concomitant celebration, deep in my heart, that a sharecropper’s son could grow up to become Chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Reform.

That is the American Dream I believe in.

Upholding Justice, Truth, and Integrity

Whenever I heard him speak, I was moved by Representative Cummings’s commitment to justice and truth. It was obvious that witnessing the degradation and abuse of our country and its systems, including the system of checks and balances which has been a hallmark of our democracy, and the daily mockery of the gravitas, power, and honor of the presidency, was literally causing him pain and distress.

Indeed, from what I can tell, it literally broke his heart.

Today was a dark day indeed.

Yet we are approaching the time when the veils are thinnest. Perhaps, in his own way, Congressman Cummings knew he would and could find ways – from the other side –  to be an even more effective champion for what’s right and good in the world. He was formidable here; imagine what he may accomplish from there.

(T-771)

An Odd Discovery – Day 339

Dropped Prey? Sad Messenger – Photo: L. Weikel

An Odd Discovery

Karl and I managed to get a shorter (2.2 mile) walk in today before the so-called “bomb cyclone” was scheduled to arrive in our area.

OK, so first of all: Bomb cyclone? Is this what used to be called a bad storm? Do I sound like an old crank wondering out loud about the dramatic monikers we give storms now?

Don’t get me wrong…I realize that a ‘bomb cyclone’ is, indeed a real thing. Indeed, it is a ‘bad storm,’ but one that’s characterized by barometric pressure falling at least 24 millibars (or .71 inches) within the span of 24 hours. Obviously, such a precipitous drop will often cause harsh winds and often bring torrential rain.

The prospect of getting caught in a torrential downpour held no allure, so we got our walk in at the beginning of our day instead of the usual walk at the conclusion of our day.

Sad

Whenever and wherever we walk, we make it a habit not only to pick up whatever trash we may find (the vast majority being cigarette butts, beer, and other bottles), but also to remove any roadkill from the road surface.

We do this in order to protect the black and turkey vultures that live around here from getting hit by vehicles while feasting. Of course, removing roadkill to the side of the road keeps other carrion-eaters such as crows from being in harm’s way as well while doing our ecosystem a solid favor. Our usual response to discovering a creature that didn’t make it across the road is to pick it up, place it respectfully in the grass or weeds on the side of the road, and offer it a few strands of hair in gratitude for its life and in honor of its death.

It’s no big deal – but it is our habit.

As a result, we tend to notice the deaths we encounter on our walks.

Today that meant realizing about half way through our walk that we’d just passed two dead moles. They were next to each other, which added dimension to our discovery and made it all the more remarkable. One was pretty flat, while the other was somewhat sloppily eviscerated. Mealus interruptus, was my thought.

Sad – and Peculiar

After we’d walked about 20 feet further, we discovered yet another dead mole. This one was in pristine condition. Not yet squished, nor did it appear to have been hit by a car. Indeed, it looked, to me, as though it was a dropped meal. I wondered out loud if perhaps a young owl or hawk was practicing its hunting skills and had dropped it. Regardless, it was weird to find three dead moles, all on the left side of the road, within 20 feet of each other.

We continued walking up the hill and, again, about 20 feet further, came upon yet another dead mole. This one, like its brethren before it, seemed to have been felled on the left side of the road. This was getting creepy.

All told, we found six dead moles this morning. The last one we found seemed to lend at least some credence to my suspicion that at least some of the kills were the result of a predator. (A clumsy one, perhaps, but definitely not a four-tired one.) Because I’m odd, I did take a photo of the last one we discovered, just to show how it looked like it had been grasped in the center of its body.

Is There a Message Here?

Even before our official tally reached six, we were wondering what message, if any, Mole might be conveying to us.

In his book Animal-Wise, Ted Andrews states the keynote qualities of Mole to be: “heightened senses (especially touch) and luck in endeavors through one’s own efforts.”

Other attributes ascribed to moles in Animal-Wise: “The mole is well adapted to life underground. The places beneath the earth were often considered mysterious. They were places that lead to the land of the dead and to great treasures. The mole shows us how to dig out our own treasures in life, through our own efforts. In shamanism, they can be guides into the underworld.

…Often for those to whom the mole is a messenger or totem, there is a natural ability to dig beneath the surface of things, to analyze and uncover the hidden.

…The mole’s skin has more organs for touch than any other animal. For those to whom the mole is a totem, the sense of touch is already or will soon become greatly heightened.

…Psychic touch will be a major part of this. Psychic touch is something that should be relied upon by those to whom this animal appears. Do not trust what you see or hear as much as what you feel.

Increasingly those with the mole as a messenger will find that their own sense of touch will let them know what is true. Trusting in what is felt, no matter how strange the impression, will become important.

Moles dig their own ventilation shafts so that they have fresh air. For those to whom the mole is a totem, it will be extremely important for your health to get plenty of fresh air.

…Luck in your endeavors comes now through your own efforts. Treasures you have been seeking are close, but you must continue your efforts.”

Karl and I are both putting in effort on projects that will expand upon the work we’ve been doing for years. We’re both poised to jump with both feet into some new and exciting opportunities. Sometimes – at least I know I can say this for myself – it feels like I’m tunneling in the dark. I’m moving forward more on faith and the feeling, deep within, that this is where I need to be heading.

For now, perhaps this is the message I should take from our discovery. That we need to keep digging. We need to keep moving forward, even if it’s dark and we can’t see much further than the next step or two. If we keep at it, perhaps some unexpected treasures are waiting to be discovered.

Even if I try to find some message we can take from our discovery today, I’m still grieved, nevertheless, that so many little ones failed to make it across the road. I hope the local raptors were able to find the little mole bodies at the side of the road so that at least they didn’t die in vain, but instead contributed to the circle of life.

(T-772)

Lest I Forget – Day 338

My DMV Number – Photo: L. Weikel

Lest I Forget

Lest I forget why I’m sitting here at 11:29 p.m., scanning my experiences of the day to come up with something at least remotely interesting to write about, I need only glance at a photo I took this afternoon while sitting in the Dublin office of the PA Department of Motor Vehicles.

Karl, my son, has an unerring ability to hone right into my consciousness to plant a flag when I need it most.

1111 Devotion

The reason I’m sitting here on my overstuffed couch, doing my best to pull myself back from the brink of imminent sleep instead of tucking myself into a cuddle sandwich between Karl and Spartacus, is my son. I’m awake and trying to write something at least half coherent for you to read because I made a commitment. I accepted an internal challenge to engage in an Act of Power. I made the decision to engage in my 1111 Devotion.

And so it is that a photo on my iPhone once again saves the day. It brings me back, front and center, to precisely why I am sitting here listening to a screech owl wail its plaintive cry just outside our door instead of falling asleep.

It brings me back to the magic of life and the utter amazingness of what some might call coincidence and I might call communication.

Real ID

I recently received my reissued social security card in the mail. I’d had to go to the Social Security office some weeks ago to request a new one because producing your social security card is a non-negotiable requirement, among others, to securing a ‘Real ID.’ Apparently my regular Pennsylvania driver’s license will no longer be valid ID enabling me to, among other things, board a plane for a domestic flight as of 2020.

All afternoon, I kept thinking to myself that I needed to get over to the Licensing Center to take care of business. In my excitement to have received my new s.s. card, I forgot to bring my passport with me. So I had to drive all the way back home, retrieve that, and return yet again to the PennDoT.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked at my ticket upon signing in: ‘I111.’ I had to smile. Karl had been very present all weekend, with all of us convening here for the weekend. Each of us at various times brought him up and remarked how ‘close’ and almost tangible he felt this past weekend.

Here he was. Announcing his presence.

To Mention or Not to Mention

When my number was called, I approached the counter and was greeted by a young woman with a big smile and open, friendly manner. I’d tucked my ticket away in my wallet, and when I did so, briefly considered whether I would mention the significance of the randomly assigned number. “Nah,” I thought. “Too random and wooey for the DMV.”

So I took a double take when I heard my staff person laughingly say to her colleague in the next cubicle, “4:27! That’s my birthday!” (To be clear, she was referring to the fact that it was 4:27 p.m.)

At that moment, I realized not only that she was a kindred spirit in her own right, but that she also would totally appreciate the number of my ticket and its relevance to my life. So when I stood before her and she confirmed my ticket number, I was not surprised when she immediately exclaimed at how the capital ‘I’ looked like a one, thus creating an 1111.

Yes, she brought it up first. So I listened to the nudge.

Sharing the Magic

I rolled with her awareness of the ticket looking like it was 1111 and told her why that number has particular significance to me. Instead of having her look at me askance or judging me as being a woo-ey crystal wearing tree hugger (guilty as charged), we had an amazing discussion that touched upon loss, death, numerology, and a couple other fascinating topics.

Indeed, she relayed a story about a colleague of hers who retired only last year, who lost her 30-something son to a hit and run accident. Sudden. Horrific. Tragic. Just that day, she’d spoken to her friend and found herself worrying about how depressed her friend sounded.

When I mentioned that having the ‘1111’ show up today was my son’s way of connecting with me, she told me a lovely story about how her friend has eschewed the concept of going to a medium or psychic. It’s just not something she has any desire to do. Yet she had been feeling very unsettled over her son’s death – and felt like maybe he wasn’t at peace.

Well, apparently a friend of hers went to some kind of an event – or maybe it was even a private session, I’m not sure – and this woman’s son very clearly came through and gave the friend a message, which he asked her to relay back to his mother.

My DMV friend could barely contain her delight at the shift and comfort she’d witnessed her friend experience as a result of this communication.

They Find a Way

When my new friend commented on how surprised she was that her friend still had no desire to go to a medium herself, I couldn’t help but point out that perhaps there was no need. She’d been encouraged to see a medium to allay her worries and help her with her grief, but she’d refused. Her son, knowing that she needed to hear from him, very cleverly arranged to get his message through to her via her friend – who was open to going to a medium.

He knew she needed to hear from him and he found a way.

Love finds a way. And if Karl hadn’t reached out, sent me love, and rippled my awareness today, I would never have heard this story and had such a heartfelt conversation. At the DMV.

Lest I forget why I do what I do (wink).

(T-773)

Aunt Grace’s Cake: The Recipe – Day 337

 

Aunt Grace’s Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Aunt Grace’s Cake: The Recipe

I hear you! I’m listening!

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. I’ve posted many photos of my valiant efforts to recreate the (extremely unconventional) birthday cake of my childhood, which I refer to as ‘Aunt Grace’s Cake,’ not only here in Ruffled Feathers, as part of my 1111 Devotion, but also in   a number of posts over the years on FB.

I say it’s an extremely unconventional birthday cake because, let’s face it: how many little kids would like – or at least express a preference for – a walnut torte? Walnuts really are an acquired taste. (The icing, on the other hand, is absolutely drop-over amazing.) So I actually think my mother was quite crafty in how she marketed the specialness of this cake to me as a little kid. She had great taste!

Brief History

As best as I can tell, this recipe is Hungarian. It was brought here to the United States not written on paper anywhere, but rather etched in the memory of Grace Jancosko*, who immigrated here from Hungary as a child with her family.

Aunt Grace was not actually related to me by blood, but she was a decades long good friend of my mother’s, and thus our whole family. Over those years, she generously shared the delicacies of her heritage, a partial list of which includes walnut torte (a/k/a Aunt Grace’s Cake), 23 layer cake, stuffed cabbages, kiffels (Christmas morning wasn’t Christmas without a tin of Aunt Grace’s kiffels getting passed around lovingly – with an eagle eye that no one took too many!), and a dumpling soup that was mouth wateringly delicious.

I know I’m forgetting some of her other dishes. And I know my brother and sisters had affectionate nicknames for some of those dishes, which I’m not quite sure I remember. I think our family called the dumpling dish ‘globby soup’ or something like that? All I remember is that it tasted like comfort-food heaven.

Cut to the Chase

Because I know from reading the comments I’ve seen not only on FB but also via email and text messages I’ve received, there’s a clamoring for Aunt Grace’s recipe. Thus, I will cut to the chase and offer you the recipe as I received it, I believe from one of my sisters.

Aunt Grace’s Cake (“Walnut Torte”)**

12 egg yolks (set aside the whites for later use)

1 lb. powdered sugar

2 tsp. baking powder

1 lemon rind, grated

3 Tbsp. bread crumbs

1 lb. walnuts (generous pound)

Mix first five ingredients together with a mixer, then add walnuts and mix well.

Beat egg whites until stiff, then gently fold into the batter until well mixed.

Divide mixture evenly between 3 round pans that have been greased and floured.

Bake at 350 degrees approx. 25-30 minutes. (Start checking with a wooden toothpick after 20 minutes. When toothpick comes out clean, it’s ready.)

Icing:

3 eggs

½ lb. (2 sticks) sweet (unsalted) butter

1 lb. powdered sugar

3 – 3 oz. bars of premium (34-38%) milk chocolate (I prefer Black & Green or Icelandic), melted in a double boiler

Note: I use organic versions of all the ingredients.

________________________________________________________

Fun Fact: Until last night, I never realized that Hungary is known for its exceptionally high quality walnuts. It only makes sense, then, that a recipe such as this one would have made the trip across the ocean and survived to this day.

_________________________________________________________

*Aunt Grace’s last name, Jancosko, was her married name. I do not know her maiden name, and I apologize for that.

**The recipe I have copied down from my sister also refers to this as ‘Dyos Torte.’ However – that same name is also applied to the ’23 layer cake,’ which is a veritable work of art. I’m not sure which cake technically is known as a Dyos Torte.

The recipe for the ‘23 layer cake’ is almost identical to this recipe except there are NO WALNUTS and a slight variation in the other ingredients. The recipe calls for DOUBLING the icing ingredients (YUM). But: I’ve never made it.  So If there’s a request for that recipe, I’ll provide it; but since I’ve never made it (and can’t even offer you a photo), I’m going to hold off for now.

I extend my deepest appreciation to the memory of Aunt Grace, and hope, by sharing this recipe, I’m honoring and doing justice to the love and wonderful memories she provided me and my family by sharing her culinary heritage.

Please let me if you give this a try!

Not much left – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-774)

Aunt Grace’s Cake – Day 336

Aunt Grace’s Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Aunt Grace’s Cake

As I predicted almost seven months ago, I’m finally writing about the cake that was the ‘official’ birthday cake in my home when I was growing up.

First of all, let me just state for the record that I find it absolutely astounding that it’s been almost seven months (just five days shy, so close enough in my book) since I first wrote about Aunt Grace’s Cake. I first brought it up in the post I wrote about Carol’s Chocolate Cake – the cake I traditionally baked as the ‘go to’ birthday cake while my sons were growing up.

As mentioned in that post, my son prefers Carol’s Chocolate Cake because he’s a traditionalist, and that’s the one he grew up on.

But my daughter-in-law just goes for the gold. And if you recall, she’d lobbied for my son to ask for ‘the walnut cake’ when I asked him which cake he wanted me to bake him for his birthday back in in the spring.

Tiffany’s Birthday

Today is Tiffany’s birthday. Yea!

Needless to say, I had no question which cake she was hoping I’d make for her birthday. I didn’t even need to ask.

It’s interesting, though, to observe how Aunt Grace’s Cake is making a resurgence into the lead as birthday cake of choice in our household. I guess a walnut torte is more of a refined taste than a totally decadent chocolate cake. But honestly? I really don’t think it’s a case of walnuts vs. chocolate.

The biggest reason I don’t think so is because the icing of the walnut torte (aka Aunt Grace’s Cake) is made with three bars of melted chocolate, half a pound of butter, a pound of confectioner’s sugar, three eggs and three tablespoons of a secret ingredient.

Bottom line? It’s a nearly orgasmic chocolate buttercream icing. Until you’ve tasted it, you haven’t really lived.

And the walnut torte itself is, well, the perfect complement.

I may not offer a vast repertoire of birthday menu selections. But even I have to admit: the couple of options I do offer have stood the test of time. These confections also make it exceedingly difficult to write a blog post after ingesting a generous piece of either, for a sugar coma lurks dangerously close by as a result, especially this late at night.

I have to say: baking either of these cakes is a wonderfully satisfying way to express my love for my family. I hope they feel it and know it with each luscious bite.

Birthday Girl with Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-775)

Full Moon Cletus – Day 335

Clete and Precious – Weirdness begins – Photo: L. Weikel

Full Moon Cletus

Our ‘thinks-he’s-a-badass’ cat, Cletus, is one of those felines who loves you one second and tries to stab you in the eye the next.

Especially around the full moon.

This is unlike Tigger, who comes to me like a puppy when I call, cuddles with me in bed, and honestly seems to adore me most of the time. Even when he’s angry with me, he just flicks his tail in my general direction. Never does retaliation figure in his  agenda.Nor does Cletus resemble Precious, who flees from any discord immediately, whether it’s real or imagined, and does not return until we’ve all long forgotten whatever it was that made her bolt to begin with.

In the past day or two, with the approaching full moon, Cletus’s been pulling out all the stops to make me think he might actually love me. OK. Have affection for me.

I’ll admit, it can be intoxicating to have an animal look at me adoringly. And I fall for it each and every time. It’s like Lucy and the football.

Weirdness

So I was skeptical a few days ago when, out of the blue, Cletus started randomly showing up on my usual seat on the couch. In fact, the first morning this usurpation of my space began, I was nearly ready to sound the alarm – for not only was Cletus hanging out where I usually sit – so was Precious. And they were sleeping beside each other!

This was some seriously anomalous behavior.

I will eat you and your young! Photo: L. Weikel

Since that initial incident, I’ve witnessed Cletus sleeping deeply on my red backjack a number of times.  Today was no exception.

The only difference this morning was that I managed to snap a few photos that capture exactly the volatility of his emotions. And for the record? He did manage to snag me. Yup; he drew blood. Not a lot, but enough. I swear, he never lost his ‘kitten claws.” They’re so sharp, he often nails me and I don’t even realize it until several hours later.

Watch your feline companions tonight, people. Werecats.  I’m pretty sure they’re a thing.

“What? A Gentle Spirit lives here…” – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-776)

Sycamore Love – Day 334

Sycamore,  Peddler’s Village – Photo: L. Weikel

Sycamore Love

It’s no secret that I love nature. And my love for trees, specifically, is revealed by the way I waxed rhapsodic over The Overstory, and expressed my excitement over the possibility that blight-resistant chestnut trees that may be on the horizon. So I guess it’s not a stretch to acknowledge the truth: I’m a tree hugger.

And while I don’t like to play favorites, and there are lots of trees I adore for all sorts of reasons, there are a couple that truly hold a special place in my heart.

One of my very favorites is the sycamore. I love everything about this species, but especially the vast heights these trees reach, particularly along the Tohickon and the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). They’re massive. And while I’ll grant that the redwoods of Northern California may dwarf our sycamores here on the east coast, in comparison to other trees around here, at least, sycamores tend to grow to significant heights.

Even more intriguing to me, though, are the distinct and fascinating designs formed by the mottled bark of the sycamore. The trunks of these trees resemble jigsaw puzzles created from camouflage uniforms left over from Operation Desert Storm. And the burls that occur relatively frequently often take forms that beg our imaginations to creatively interpret.

Our sons planted a sycamore sapling I bid on at a school fundraiser about nine years ago. It has flourished in our back yard, which delights me every time I go back to chat with it. I’ll take a photo of it and share it with you in another post.

In the meantime, I want to share this beauty with you. It’s located in Peddler’s Village, and is actually located in the middle of one of their parking lots.

Closeup of bark of Peddler’s Village sycamore – Photo: L. Weikel

I took these photos just a few days ago when the beauty of the bark sparked my imagination and kept me in thrall for several minutes. I pulled up and parked underneath this beautiful specimen and felt awe. It felt great, too, to just share with the tree how much I appreciate its beauty and determination to remain healthy in the midst of all of the cars that park right under and around it.

Of course, all of this makes me want to revisit the spiritual attributes that are often associated with the sycamore, but I don’t have enough time to write about those tonight.

Since it feels like the sycamores around me have been demanding that I notice them a lot more often lately, I probably should pay attention and…listen. I wonder – will their message have particular significance to my life and experiences right now? I guess I’ll see.

I’ll let you know.

P.S.: I drove past the thicket where I left my deer friend the other day and there was no sign of her. I took at least a little comfort that there weren’t any buzzards flying around.

(T-777)