There's Porridge, and then There's Porridge

When at home, on a chilly morning, I'll choose to cook up some nice, steel-cut oats, rather than have cold cereal with lots of fruit. Sometimes it'll be eggs and toast, but many times, oatmeal.
I call my version of oatmeal, "Elf Oatmeal", since it contains quite a few sweet things like Will Ferrell would have in the movie, "Elf". I even include maple syrup, as he is partial to, although ours is sugar-free.

My recipe, enough for two, is made to start with only one serving of Trader Joe's Steel-cut Oats, and water and and then I heat it while the pot is covered. As it cooks, I cut up a banana and some strawberries, leaving the pan uncovered as I stir them in. I continue to add a few red seedless grapes, blueberries, raisins, tart dried Montmorency cherries, and as it bubbles and needs more liquid, I add almond milk or low-fat milk, so no worries about being lumpy or thick. For a little special flavor, I add a couple of squirts of sugar-free maple syrup. After it's all placed in the bowls that have been warmed in the microwave, I stir in chunky peanut butter, a little brown sugar, or perhaps Splenda, some sort of berry jam, like boysenberry, and more of that sugar-free maple syrup. I heat a cup of low-fat milk in the microwave, adding 1/2 to each bowl, so nothing gets cooled down by adding it cold. My husband used to turn up his nose at the idea of oatmeal for breakfast, but after he tasted my concoction, he even requests it some mornings.

Sometimes when we go out for breakfast, I hesitate to order the oatmeal that most restaurants serve, since they usually only offer raisins, brown sugar, and milk. Only one time was I pleased with what was offered. It was at a diner in Massachusetts, and we were served by a waitress that reminded me of "Flo", in the old TV show, "Alice". I knew I could get jam and syrup from her, but when I asked if she had peanut butter, she came back with, "Creamy or chunky?"
"God bless you!", I said.  I could have kissed her.

On a recent trip to Ireland, we stayed at a B&B in Kinsale, on the Southern coast, for an entire week. We were served such an assortment for breakfast, by our host, Jimmie Conran, each morning. He always remembered what our favorite things were, and he encouraged us to have porridge, as if it was a tonic for the soul. "Is porridge a type of oatmeal, or is it cream of wheat?" I asked. "Oh, it's oatmeal, but I make it over night and I like to know who will be having it so I'm sure to prepare enough," he explained in his melodic Irish accent. I succumbed, but said, "Only a half portion, if that's all right," since he had already brought out a half pink grapefruit, already sectioned for me. It was a grapefruit from Spain, and unbelievable sweet and juicy. My mouth is watering now, just thinking about it.

Then, along with the French Press coffee pot, which we were instructed to wait a few moments before pressing down, he brought me my half bowl of porridge. He pointed out the ingredients on the table to ad: honey, cinnamon, tiny bowls of raisins and blueberries, butter, and milk and sugar. He didn't balk at all when I asked for maple syrup. Amazingly, this new recipe became a new, if not favorite concoction that I looked forward to each breakfast. I mixed it all in to my bowl every morning as if it was a ritual.

Jimmie's breakfast didn't stop there. He always offered eggs cooked to order, sausage or bacon, (which had no fat to speak of), and white or black pudding. We shied away from the black pudding, since we knew it was usually called blood pudding. The white pudding, he said contains some oatmeal, and I think it tastes like a sausage patty, which I'm partial to. There's always the basket of bread on the table, and we both loved the fruit bread, spread with his soft butter, and brought a few slices of the wheat bread up to our room wrapped in a napkin to save for sandwiches we'd make for lunch. After a couple of days, we figured out that we didn't have to order everything that Jimmie offered us, as if we were eating an entire buffet. Some of the folks at the other tables, we noticed, had smaller breakfasts of eggs and sausage and bread and coffee. It didn't take us too long to learn our lesson.
We left the care of Jimmie, at his B&B called San Antonio,
almost tearfully, in a cab that he go generously called for us, and headed for the train station.

It was a long travel day, with a train to Tralee,  and then a bus that took us the rest of the way to Dingle. Mistakenly, we dragged our rolling bags and backpacks all over town trying to find our next B&B, thinking it was just around the bend. Probably, we should have tried to call a cab, since the walking became too much for Doug. We found a pub on a corner and asked directions. "It's just up that hill," the bartender said. After looking out the door and up the hill, it was decided that it would be best to take the load off our feet and stop for a Guinness.

Reinvigorated, we tackled the hill, stopping to look at the charming rock walls along the way.

We finally found Highfield House, on up the hill, and were thankfully greeted by Stephan. He took took our bags off our hands and manfully carried them upstairs for us.
His Mum, Mary, served us breakfast in the breakfast room,  each day. At first I didn't dare try the "porridge".
On our last day, she said, "But you must try it with a shot of  Bailey's, dear!"
Bailey's Irish Cream, Hmm.... a liqueur that I've avoided, with no reason that I can think of. So I tried it.
Hmm.... Now That was yummy! It wasn't thick, but I added some milk, then raisins, and butter and the liqueur added a savory coffee flavor to it.

They also had a sideboard full of lovely bowls of grapefruit, and stewed prunes, and a platter of cheeses. Then, out comes what we actually ordered....scrambled cheesy eggs for me and scrambled eggs with onions and lox for Doug....and of course lots of bread and butter. Once again, we'll have to learn the lesson that it's not up to us to order everything on the menu.

After we came back to California, we had one night to stay in a hotel. It was a Days Inn, a pretty reasonable price, and it included what they called a "continental breakfast". We could tell we were back in America, by the usual offerings of do-it-yourself waffles, bagels, toast, yogurt, coffee and tea. ...except the waffle machine was broken.

 We almost left to go to a restaurant for breakfast, and then I spotted a big electric pot that said "Quaker Oats" on it's side, and the usual cheery face that I've seen on the side of the cardboard canister all my life. I decided to give it a try.

It was surprisingly good! I found some jam, peanut butter, and raisins, and heated up some milk in the microwave. I even added just a little touch of coffee to try to bring back a hint of the Bailey's. It may have had to be eaten from a styrofoam cup, but it was passable.
No worries. Soon we would be home again and have access to all my usual ingredients. In the meantime, I've found that I don't have to be so nose-in-the-air about my oatmeal, oh er, porridge.

Another Different Kind of Christmas: Thanksmas

We've had my husband's kids and our grandkids come down to visit us in Palm Springs for 4 of the 5 years we've been here. It's always been surprisingly chilly. The kids, being kids, still swam in the pool, just because it was there, and considered the big draw.

So we decided last year to change things up a little bit. Thanksgiving in Palm Springs is usually pretty warm, so why not celebrate Christmas early? We'd still have a nice turkey dinner, which we would all contribute to at the community hall in our mobile park. It would be Thanksgiving to everyone else, but to us..... it would be Christmas dinner.

So Doug and I started to prepare for the great event. To get in the mood, we put on our Amy Grant Christmas album in the car, and sang along, belting out, "It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!" And we took off to the stores to shop. We were happier than most, discovering that stores were decorated early and sold supplies for Christmas way before Halloween.

I worked on things in stages, making lists and crossing accomplishments off.....being rather proud of my obsessiveness. For days, I fussed over the calendar I make for the family every year. Each person has a photo of themself on and around their birthday, and a few are added in the blank spaces at the beginning and ending of each month. The top page of each month displays an array of photos of our travels, or places we visit near where we live. I must admit, it's a nice way to get people to look at photos of "what I did on my vacation" without tying them to the sofa with a big album on their lap. I imagine folks standing and brushing their teeth while gazing at the photos. Well, I do that some times....
My concentration gets so focused on the computer, for so long, that just as Doug is about to complain he's being neglected, Ta-Daa!! It's done! It's sent by computer to Shutterfly, and the hard copies are delivered in a nice orange box in just a few days.

I wonder if anyone will get the meaning of the print?

The next task is the family Christmas ornament, with each person's name written on it. Usually, I can find these at the last minute, at Cost Plus, or Michael's, when everything for Christmas is half off, since  I have to buy over 20 of them. But no. All the ornaments that were available were beautiful, but at full
price, they were over my budget. But then, in Michael's, a huge craft store, they had wood cut "DIY" ornaments, Do It Yourself. Hmm. And.... they were only $1... And they were Half Off! I figured that I could get away with painting a red nose on the reindeer, and just minimal highlights on all the others. I bought a couple of colorful indelible markers, knowing that I had some acrylic paint and brushes at home. I decided to get up early in the morning and work on them. So at 6:30, I sat at the kitchen table with a nice cup of tea, sorting all the types of ornaments according to families, and sparsely painting something on each one. Well, THAT doesn't look very festive! I'll have to add more paint. But THAT should be sparkly, to reflect light from the tree! Another trip to the craft store was made to decide from their grand array of glitter paint, (which I didn't even know had been invented)! Only 2 more early mornings, and I finished, rather proud of myself.

Christmas presents hadn't even been thought of yet. Mainly they're for the grandkids, but so many of them are tweens and teens now, that it was suggested that they might like "cold, hard cash". So checks were in order, but we decided on an amount for each one including a smaller, more personal gift that was more fun to open up. Michael's proved once again to come through with creative things like special pens and journals for the older ones, and there were other arty projects, scientific discovery games and beads to string for the younger ones.

Doug offered to help me to wrap them all when I was ready. I had done a few, and was happy for the offer. He tackled the first box, and was wrestling with the paper and scissors at the same table as me. I quickly realized that he didn't have the gift wrapping gene. As I grimaced and squirmed in my chair, he caught it that I wasn't approving. He said, "I'm sure glad you're not my manager! I'm not meant for this menial type of job!". Grinning, he announced, "I need more of an executive position! I went to Yale, you know!"
Laughing, I came back with, " Well, I'm your manager, and we're shorthanded, so I'm working in the trenches with you.... but, (wanting to save my reputation as a pretty neat wrapper), "I think I'll promote you to the job of unpacking the gift bags, writing names on the tags, and then writing out the checks."
"Oh now that would be fine!", he said, "That's right up my alley!"
After that, manager and employee worked well together, giggling and bantering back and forth all evening.

Now that the gifts were pretty much done, the "Wall Tree" had to be tackled. I've hammered nails in to a wall in the shape of a Christmas tree for the last 4 years, and I've strung lights and green foil garlands around them, and then arranged the ornaments from them.
Last year, we came up with the idea to use a long string of solar Christmas lights for the tree. The small solar panel is parked outside our door, and goes along the floor a bit till it can be included in the tree. We anticipate each evening the exact moment that the sun will go down and the tree lights will come on. Every night they turn on a minute or so sooner.
I really wasn't looking forward to putting it up this year, since arranging the in and out formation of the "branches" is so difficult to plan out. By now, I have made so many nail holes in the wall, I can't copy from last year. (I vow to fill the holes and paint this wall in January. It's getting embarrassing, and no amount of framed paintings that hang there the rest of the year can hide them all.) The new idea is to put a string, like a plumb line, or guide line, hanging from a top nail, and coming down and out to the side, making a nice, crisp, sort of modernistic tree shape. Once again, I was happy, and once again, the lights all came out even, crisscrossing back and forth on the Thanksmas tree.
Here it was, only November 22, and we were ready for Christmas! Oh, er, Thanksmas! Family started arriving a couple of days before Thanksgiving, and it was cold and fiercely raining. There were complaints that it was supposed to be warm in Palm Springs. Then we saw that it was not only raining elsewhere, but snow storms, and something called a "bomb cyclone" was expected to happen along the northern California coast! That appeased everyone somewhat, and the kids ran off to the pool through the rain, accompanied by a couple of adults that watched from the nearby hot tub.

We cooked our turkey for the dinner at the hall, made gravy, and Doug prepared his traditional Danish red cabbage dish. Each of the "kids" prepared something to share, since there were 14 of us. After dinner, we decided that our Thanksmas celebration and gift opening would be the next morning, since we were all so full of pie and good cheer already. And the kids wanted to go to the pool again.

Next morning, we all gathered at our little place after breakfast, and the excitement of the grandkids deepened as we found seats for all 14 of us in what we call the "parlour", (where we parle). Presents were arranged in front of the tree by Sinjin, who appointed himself to be Santa's helper, handing them out to everyone.

The only trouble was, that the tree lights weren't on, since it wasn't dark outside..... It didn't look very festive at all. Suddenly, Doug's daughter, Grace, suggested "What if you cover over the solar panel so it thinks the sun has gone down?" Whoa! What a good idea!  Sinjin ran around looking for something to cover it with, and came up with a tile I had on the stove top to set spoons on. No sooner had he placed it, halleujah! The tree lit up!

Of course, Doug wanted us to do the other Danish tradition of dancing around the tree while singing carols. That was impossible, since we'd bump in to the wall, but we all sat in our places in the little room and sang a few songs, holding hands. It did the trick.

Finally, Sinjin got to hand out the "stocking bags". I used to fill stockings with treats and gifts, but decided to give the antique, handmade stockings to their owners, and just go with $1 store gift bags. Everyone munched on their chocolates as Santa's helper handed out our wrapped calendars. I heard him say to someone, "I think I know what this is.", with a smile. I was happy to see everyone opening theirs up and searching for familiar faces, probably especially for themselves. Someone said, "Patty, this is your best work!" That made it all worth while.

The "Nut Prize" was next on the agenda. That's another family tradition, where everyone gets a cup of chocolate pudding, and only 1 has a pecan secretly placed in it. Quickly, I cover the tops of all of them with whipped cream to disguise the winning cup, and they're served to everyone on a tray. There is quiet, while everyone carefully eats their way through the pudding, and then, Ava, 10 years old, happily announced, "I got it!" She had waited years for this. The prize this year was a fancy, rather adult coloring book about sea life and creatures, and she was pleased.

The kids stayed a couple of more days, occupying themselves with crafts, like these cute reindeer made from Palm tree bark that fell down during the storm. They now live happily on the side of our Palm tree out on the patio, and the birds like to sit on their antlers.

Rainy days kept everyone painting too.



One day, many of us went to the Living Desert, a local zoo that focuses on animals from desert climates. It was pretty cold that day too, but we bundled up  and braved the brisk 45 degree F. temps. Well, That's pretty brisk for Palm Springs!

 The next day, most of the family had long, tiring drives back to the Bay Area, through some snow over the Grapevine and then stalled traffic. The trip that would normally take about 8 hours, added up to 11 or 12. We're thinking they might be too discouraged to come back again next year. Maybe it will be our turn to go to them next Christmas.

Now it's back to just the two of us. It's such a relaxing feeling to know that we have Christmas done already, except for sending out gifts and cards to those who didn't celebrate early, as we did. When we were in CVS yesterday, I saw a woman grabbing about a dozen pairs of warm fuzzy socks and throwing them in her cart. She had kind of a frantic look on her face and a long list in her hand. Phew! Been there, done that.

So we still sit in the room with the tree in the evening and bet when the lights will come on. Only one night they didn't!  I thought, "Oh no! They're broken! I'll have to start the tree all over again!" It turns out though, that Doug had strung a few more lights over the front of the house, and he figured that it was so bright that the solar panel didn't know that the sun had gone down. He had an idea, and out came the little tile from the stove again to save the day. 

 

As soon as the tile was placed, on came the lights! Voila!

Hmm. but now we'll have to find something else to occupy ourselves with, instead of the betting-when-the-lights-will come-on game.

(Retirement concerns.....)



Oh wait! It's still almost Jesus' birthday! We can still wait in anticipation for the gift he continues to give us every year.

    Happy Christmas Everyone! Here's to a very calm New Year.

Traffic Stop

This story has been brewing in my mind, and I feel enough time has passed now, that the cop that stopped me may have forgotten all about it.

The day started out with breakfast at IHOP in Palm Springs. We had our usual, sharing a vegetarian omelet, and fruit instead of pancakes. Always watching the waistline, you know. We read the paper, Doug did the Jumble, and I, part of the crossword.

Coming out to the car, everything seemed fine, until we got in. It REEKED of skunk.....not the animal, but the scent that we've been smelling more and more around here since marijuana has been legalized in  California. We looked at each other, shocked. Our Prius' windows were all rolled up, and the car had been locked. Could someone have left a burning joint under our car? We immediately opened all the windows, turned the air conditioner on full blast, and drove along Hi-way 111 trying to air it out.
We were on our way anyway, to Trader Joe's in Cathedral City, and thought that would do the trick. Almost there, we noticed that the light on the dashboard that tells you it's time to get gas, was blinking. It actually started blinking yesterday. It's pretty embarrassing to think of running out of gas in a plug-in Prius, so we drove a little past Trader Joe's, and I pulled into an Arco station. After Doug finished pumping, washing the windows, and paying, I pulled over to a driveway to exit the gas station.

Hi-way 111 is a pretty busy street, and folks drive along at quite a clip, so after waiting awhile to turn left to go shopping, I gave up and turned right, so I could make a u-turn at the next corner. I scooted across the 3 lanes, and got into the left turn lane. When I looked up, I noticed a "No U-Turn" sign. While sitting waiting for the light to change, I noticed that there was a 7/11 on the corner. Thinking fast, as I turned, I decided to do something, that some of you may have done before..... Doug may have been surprised, as I turned left in to the 7/11 parking lot, since it wasn't in the plan. As I turned in, I said out loud, "Oh, let's go to 7/11", but I was about to then say, kind of laughing, "Oh never mind! We don't need anything here", and then I was going to go out the other end of the parking lot, thus performing a U-turn.

But actually, as I made the left turn in to the 7/11 parking lot, I saw lights on a patrol car following right behind me! I thought, what I consider now, to be quickly, and skidded in to a parking spot, bumping into the cement berm in front, making quite a loud noise. I then, conspiratorially looked at Doug, and said, "You really need a Coke Zero now, right?"
I saw the officer get out of his cruiser, and as I casually got out of my Prius and closed the door, I looked back toward the officer. He was walking toward me saying, "Are you feeling alright Ma'am?"
"Yes, I am officer," I said, "What's going on?"
"Well, I think you were driving rather erratically."
"You do?"
"Yes, well, you made an illegal turn in to this driveway."
I looked past him, over his shoulder to see what was so illegal about my turn. "Hmm, well, there's a double line out there, not a double-double line, right? I think it's okay to turn in to a driveway if it's only a double yellow line", I explained, looking straight into his eyes.
"Well not at this intersection, Ma'am, it's very busy".
"Well, that shouldn't make a difference though, should it?", I asked.
"Um, uh, I had to check to make sure you were okay, as I said before."
"I'm fine, sir. Thanks."
"Okay then", he said. "Drive carefully."
He turned to get back in his police car, and to turn off the red lights that were still flashing. I walked in to the 7/11 to get the planned can of Coke Zero.
As I entered the store, I noticed that the checker's back was facing a big window and I could see our car right outside. The people in her line were all chatting together and then smiled over at me as I walked toward the soda fridge. When it was my turn at the register, I commented to the girl, "I guess everyone saw me outside with the police officer. You must not get much business coming from Hi-way 111, if people can't turn left into your driveway."
She looked at me quizzically, and said, "Oh, no. They turn in that way all the time."
"Hmm", I thought.
When I went back out to the car, Doug said, "Do you know how lucky you are?"
"That did turn out pretty well, didn't it?", I said, proud of the way I had talked to the officer.
"No", he explained, "You were lucky you got out of the car, and didn't just roll down your window! Can you imagine what would have happened if he had leaned his head down and smelled this skunk?"
Eyes wide and feeling my face turn red, I very carefully backed out of the parking space, the low front bumper on the Prius, scraping once more on the berm, reminding me to "drive safely".

Irene Good Night

My husband just played the old song "Irene Good Night" on his keyboard, and it brought back a flood of memories.
I probably first heard it on the Lawrence Welk Show, or maybe my Grandma Cuneo or my Mom played it on the piano. My kids and I learned the first few lines when we had our cherry-headed Conure, Polly. We covered her cage with a king-sized pillowcase and wanted her to go to sleep, thinking there was a chance that she might get past her repertoire of "Hello" if we sang her a song. We made it a habit of singing "Irene Good Night" to her. She never did one "peep" of the song.

While working at the eye clinic at Kaiser Richmond, there was a favorite patient of mine who came in with her daughter every couple of months. Irene, with her metal cane clicking away, was pretty spry for about 92 years. She had a twinkle in her Irish eyes, and was probably pretty spunky back in her day, but now she was a little forgetful, and her mind wandered from her tasks, like reading the eye chart in the hall. Of course, she couldn't see it very well, so she probably got bored trying.

Since my mind connects words and phrases often to songs in my memory, when I first met Irene, I thought of that song. After finishing with the eye chart, she kept stopping on our walk to the exam room, to say something, or just to wonder what we were doing. When I said, "You know, Irene, your name reminds me of a song. Do you know which one?"
She said "Maybe".
"Well", I said winking, "sing it with me if you know it, and we can continue walking down the hall".
"Okay", she said.
I started in singing "Irene Good Night", as she smiled up at me. I shifted her chart into my left hand, offered her my right elbow, and we shuffled along together, arm-in-arm, without stopping, singing to each other,

 "Irene, good night. Irene, good night.
 Good night Irene, good night Irene,
 I'll see you in my dreams".

That was all of the song I ever knew, and Irene didn't seem to mind. She stepped up onto the blue exam chair and was ready to see her corneal specialist. He came in smiling, knowing this patient, and her attitude would give him joy, as usual.
Over the years, it was the habit of Irene's and mine, to happily sing our song down the aisle to her eye appointment.

Too soon, Irene's daughter came asking to see me in the eye clinic. She had tears in her eyes, and told me of her mom's passing. She wanted to ask me if I would consider coming to Irene's memorial service, which would be at her home.
I had never communicated with patients outside of the clinic, but told her I'd be happy to.

The next Saturday, I drove up to the address in the Bay Area hills, and made my way to what was Irene's house. Family was gathered there, and I was introduced over and over again to sons, daughters, cousins......not many aunts or uncles, since Irene was the oldest of all of them. She had been sitting in what is called, "the front row" for some time.
We all partook of the array of spare ribs, chicken, potato salad, baked beans, desserts..... whatever is included in a potluck to honor the dead. Heartfelt toasts, with beer and wine, were made to her in her kitchen, in her dining room, and living room by all her family and friends.
But, when it came to the actual memorial service, I'm not sure what happened. We were all in the living room, which looked out at the San Francisco Bay. As many of us that could, fit in there, and I happened to be among them.
There were a few relatives that stood to speak some words of memories of their auntie, or sister, or friend, but it seemed that the remembrances were falling short.
Someone stood up and started to say, "Thank you all for coming.", but I couldn't help myself, and thought maybe I should speak up.
I raised my hand, asking for attention, and stood. I told of my relationship with Irene in the Eye Clinic, and how we had sung our song. "So, do you think? Maybe? Before we end up this special memorial for her, that we could sing the song together that I sang with her?"
Everyone nodded, or said yes.

"So", I said, "Let's sing....."

And we all sang.......  "Irene, good night. Irene, good night.
                                     Good night, Irene, good night Irene,
                                     I'll see you in my dreams."

There wasn't a dry eye in Irene's house.

Another Different Kind of Christmas, Palm Springs Style

We've adapted pretty well to living in a smaller space, going from a 5 bedroom, 3 bath home in the San Francisco Bay Area with plenty of room for a 7 foot Christmas tree, to a trailer in a mobile home park in Palm Springs, California. Well, as I like to say, ours isn't your average trailer, and just get the thought out of your mind about "trailer trash".

Ours may have been one of the first trailers to be installed here. We think so, because we have our own mailbox. Nobody else does. Our lot butts up to the city street, and we propose that it was one of the first "mobiles" to be installed in the park. It's a 1955 Columbia, and the first owners cleverly added on a big room with a vaulted ceiling and wood-framed windows that make it look more like a beach cottage. One friend enthused that it reminded him of cabins in Maine. Another room was added on to the other side of the trailer probably years later, and now folks have a hard time even realizing that there's a mobile home smack dab in the middle of it.
Still, our first Christmas here, I knew, wouldn't be a big Douglas Fir tree in the living room.

It worried me.
I would have to be creative.

Then came an inspiration. Actually it was in a dream. I figure out a lot of things in my dreams. There's a nice, tall wall in one of the added-on rooms, where we had installed a sconce light on the wall. I decided to use that as the top of a Wall Tree (my new invention).  I made the outline of a simple Christmas tree with strands of holiday lights.

So, I don't suppose we will be doing the traditional Danish singing and dancing in a circle around This tree. After all, someone might bump in to the wall....  I knew it was a good idea, when someone mentioned to us that he had walked by our place one night and saw our tree through the window and he thought, "How did they get that Huge tree into their place?"

The coolest thing about this tree is that we've figured out how to use solar lights to illuminate it! The tiny solar panel sits outside the door. We waited like "Johnny at the rat hole"*  to see when they came on in the evening. At first it was at 4:46pm, and then gradually got a couple of minutes later each night as the days got longer. If you blink or turn away, you miss it. So frustrating!

Along with the cherished ornaments, I brought down the, what I call "antique" snowflake ornaments that we used to hang on our ivy covered wall back in the Bay Area.

Our Ficus hedge was just the place for it here in Palm Springs, so there it twinkles proudly after sundown.

I regretted not bringing down more of the historical ornaments, since my idea of decorating a tree involves not having any uncovered spaces. Never fear though. The entire Coachella Valley is known for wonderful thrift shops, chock full of Christmas cheer for me to pick through.

We have a theory about why there are so many. Palm Springs has been a mecca for retirees for years, and you know, ahem, when they finally go to their final reward, their collection of ornaments are liable to end up in a thrift shop, for all of us to pour over. I have a friend who returns most of her decorations every year and starts from scratch. I would never do that.

I'm too sentimental....but this little guy was chosen to come home with us, and he seems happy hanging on our front door.


So, family traveled down from the Bay Area for our first Christmas here. While I was going through stuff in our Richmond garage I ran across some marionettes my family had made in what seems like another lifetime.

 After a trip to a craft store for some missing parts, I had enough supplies to make 8 puppets and, once again delighted a new generation with our "Boogie Birds", a toy that had been manufactured back in the 70's and 80's......long before any of the grandkids were born.

As dinner time approached, everyone helped out in our tiny trailer kitchen, taking turns with the mixer and the cutting boards and the oven, happily bumping in to each other. The assorted tables were being set out on the patio, but then it was realized we were short by 7 forks!

"How about some plastic ones?", someone suggested?

"Nooo!", said I, since I've been campaigning against plastic for years. I stood there, sweat forming on my forehead both from the oven and the outside temp of 82 degrees. And then it dawned on me.  "Oh gosh", I said, "I remember when Doug and I got together, I bought some new silverware to accommodate his big family, AND, I thought ahead and bought another set of forks" (as, I thought, most assuredly this family would be growing.)

"Now, what did I DO with them?!" We had moved and sorted through all of our possessions so much. Where were they??
Then I automatically started asking .... "St. Anthony, Please come around, the forks are missing, and can't be found."

My mother-in-law, Helen, used to swear by this, and now Doug and I find amazing parking places with St. Anthony's help. Catholics are just that way.

Well, what do you know? I marched right in to the little bedroom of the actual trailer and found a box that we hadn't yet unpacked, and there they were, all still wrapped in their original packaging!!

So....a good feast was had by all, and no one had to share a fork. This will hereafter be called "The Miracle of the Christmas Forks."

Hope everyone had a wonder filled Christmas. Here's to a new and improved 2019.

* What does "Johnny at the rat hole" mean? I believe it refers to an animal, such as a dog, waiting at the edge of a gopher hole, anticipating the emergence of the gopher. ....or someone who anticipates your needs.

My Gardening Obsession: Seasonal Gardening at South Lake Tahoe

Some of you may have read a previous post about what I call my "stealth gardening" at our condo at South Lake Tahoe, California. When we first moved here for the summers in 2014, the landscape was pretty bare, but the watering system was regularly sprinkling the dirt at least twice a day......and this was during one of the worst droughts we've had!
I couldn't stand it, since I consider myself the Water Police when we're in Palm Springs, Even though the HOA (Homeowners Association) handbook said "Thou shall not change the landscaping", I decided I would disobey, and plant a few things in front of our place wherever I saw water being wasted. Our yard started looking pretty nice, so I expanded to the area around the pool.

After 3 years, I finally confessed to the board of the HOA, that it was I who have been beautifying the neighborhood, and they proclaimed that they thought it was great and proclaimed me "The Beautification Committee". They also gave me the dubious honor of being in charge of the sprinkler system, and told the residents to come to me if they wanted to add a little feeder to the existing water hose in their yard. I even got a special tool to attach them..... Little did they all know that I am learning as I go, and have only had success at gardening the last few years.

This year, I decided that I would open my mouth and ask if some of the residents would perhaps give me small gift certificates to the local garden center, since Doug and I had been purchasing all the plants and soil ourselves for the last three years. But our maintenance man, who appreciates the free help I give him, piped up and said, "How about we give Pat $250.00 this season from the budget, and we can address it again next year?" There was some discussion, and then to our surprise, after the maintenance guy pointed out that "She doesn't charge for  labor", they okay'd it. The only thing was, they said, "We'd like you to beautify the WHOLE complex." My jaw kind of dropped, since there are 72 units, but I'm figuring out that I can also plant some wildflower and poppy seeds and then more bulbs at the end of the season. Feeling kind of flush, I got a good deal on a couple of lilac trees...$20. each, since I've seen them making a splashy impression around town. Many of the perennials have come back from the years before, having hidden under the snow in the winter.

The GOOD news is, that the rodents, the "Name that shall not be said.", except in a whisper, "the voles AKA the Little Bastards", haven't shown their fuzzy little heads yet. (Shh!) They caused me such heartache last year, and I was glad to see them gone......I think they are.
I have great fun feeding the squirrels and chipmunks every morning, even though I know they are rodents too.

A squirrel, though, may dig a little hole next to a newly sown plant or bulb, probably thinking there's a new squirrel in town that has buried a nice nut that he wants to abscond with. But no, it was only me beautifying the place. At least he doesn't tunnel under it and eat it's roots.

The birds have great fun eating the nuts and seeds with the chipmunks and squirrels and drinking out of my blue glass bowl of water I provide for them. They've come to expect me to come out the front door in the morning to pick up the morning paper, and shaking my jar of seeds. Blue Jays fly to the tree above me and on the fence and squawk to the rest of their friends, announcing that it's feeding time. I'm discovering that one of them likes to collect the peanuts and set them on top of the fence post of the pool for a later snack.  A pair of Mourning Doves make noises with their wings as they soar to a different branch, but actually one of those doves has "attitude" and chases after the Stellar Jays, who squawk back at him. Quite the drama to behold as we sit on the porch or I peer from our front window.

Chipmunks sit near the steps or hide under a Lupine bush, venturing a little closer if I sit to watch, then run to the rock to get a drink out of the bowl, holding on to the edge of it with their little hands.

When we first arrived in May, there was a pesky bunny that chewed off the tops of most of the plants that I planted. He especially likes the Shasta daisies that I want to plant. He ate them even though I faithfully sprinkled hot pepper flakes on the dirt around the plants, and now, in July, he's been gone for so long, that I stopped doing even that. Guess he burned his tongue. One of the best native plants to plant around Tahoe is Lamb's Ear. I imagine the bunnies don't care for it because it's fuzzy grey leaves probably feel icky on their tongues.

When I finished spending my stipend for plants for the year early, I asked one of the board members if I could get a little extra so I could buy more plants while the season was still young. I was so hot to plant my vision of a bunch of hollyhocks and daffodils and Clarkias, and I was on a roll. He said that the board was trying to stay in a budget, so no. The next day however, his wife came over with a nice donation of quite a bit of cash and 3 plants!

Yellow Clarkias and Magenta Hollyhocks 

We immediately went down to this other  nursery and found plants that I hadn't seen lately, but were a bit more expensive....  hollyhocks that were two in a pot for $12 and close to blooming, and stargazer lilies which everyone had been missing by the pool, since the voles (shh!) ate up their roots last year.
Then, when our friends upstairs, who are becoming my co-gardeners, took us down to Costco in Carson City, we bought $100. worth of daffodils, tulips, and freesias. They went back the next week and bought 5 More bags. All four of us had the best time running around digging holes for a few days, and depositing an "uneven amount" (maybe a wives tale to guarantee success) of bulbs in each hole all over the complex. The effect should be glorious in the spring!

I saw a T-shirt advertised that I should probably have bought,(but I don't like T-shirts). It had a nice, colorful painting of several birds, and on top of that said "Easily distracted by birds". I really have been lately. It's become another obsession. Sometimes I'll be talking to someone, and notice a bird, and interrupt my own sentence, or theirs, to point it out. Well, the birds DO seem to like me.....

Recently I was planting a couple of yarrow plants over near this huge pine tree that looks like the most beautiful, perfect, 30-foot Christmas tree. I've always noticed that a flock of Chickadees likes to hang out in it. The whole time I was digging, they were nearby, making their cute little sounds that I liken to a squeak toy. I was, of course, squeaking back, as I do. I sometimes feel at one with St Francis and his love for animals as I am with the birds, digging holes, planting plants. I took my little watering can to pour some water in the hole, and one of the little birds flew down to get a drink as it came out of the spout! It fluttered mid-air as I kept pouring. Delighted, I poured a little more, and another one came flying to me! I ran to the house to get some birdseed to give them a little gift, and place some on a wooden post that they frequent. When I peeked later, they were busy eating the seeds.  Now, is it just me, or isn't that the cutest thing?

So now, as I finish writing this, at the beginning of October 2018, we've only got one more bag of freesias to plant, and it's scheduled to snow in about a week and a half in Tahoe. Just before then, the watering system will be shut off and my plants will be on their own. The bunny was spotted again the other day, and cute as he is, he was caught munching on a Hollyhock leaf. Humpf! We'll be leaving in about 2 weeks for Palm Springs, so I won't have too many days of watching my growing garden succumb to the cold weather. The good thing is, the bulbs will greet us when we come back in May, and it'll be exciting to see all the perennials popping their little heads out of the ground to have another go at it.
As my Grandma Diddo used to say...."Ain't Life Grand?"

This Artist's Yard Is His Gallery

In the Bijou area of South Lake Tahoe, California, you don't have to travel far to find original art.

Every person who has come to visit us in the past few years, we have treated to a tour that includes a drive past a certain house on Bobby Grey Circle. It's hard to miss the place. The house, garage, and entire property are covered in designs made of barbed wire, branches and old rusty tools.

This artist, Gilberto Ramos, is not new to South Lake Tahoe. Born is Jalisco, Mexico, he's lived with his wife, Lilliana (a dealer at Harvey's Tahoe), in South Lake Tahoe for 30 years and has been working at Cafe Fiore for 27 years.....25 of those as the head chef. The restaurant is just off of Ski Run Blvd, and is known for being a romantic place to go for a special occasion and to taste the delicious Italian cuisine, but it also is another

venue to appreciate Gilberto's rustic art.

You're greeted at the door by a 9-foot tall weathered wood and rusty metal guitar. "Nothing is thrown away," he says, as proven by the rusty nails for tuning pegs and the old wrench as the guitar's nut.














Diners are treated to smaller items by their table while they're sipping their wine. The owner, Nick, lets me fill up the empty spaces on the wall. If someone likes them...." he gestures toward a heart, made out of wine corks and sticks, displaying a blue Lake Tahoe shape, "....they can buy them."

Back home on Bobby Grey Circle, we walk under this mare and her colt, as we come through the gate.

"I don't work so much with barbed wire much any more. It's too hard on my hands", he says.










Still, he has a a huge display of wire-made items, including what I call "Woman Walking", which shows off his talent for design.

Ramos has never been trained as an artist. He says, as he raises up his hands to the sky, "I just receive inspiration from God."










Something that he says he'll never sell is a replica of Roberto, a

small donkey that he grew up with in Jalisco. the baby donkey's mother died when he was one day old, so Gilberto's mama raised him indoors like a family pet. When he grew big enough he was put outside, but Roberto knew how to get into the house, which was made from adobe and sticks.
He commonly entered the kitchen on his own to pilfer some fresh tortillas and then ran back outside.
The donkey lived till he was 25, finally succumbing to a rattlesnake bite. Ramos' model of him is a loving tribute.



When asked which piece was the artist's favorite, he thought for a moment and his eyes landed on the big wooden bird that stands in his yard. It's also the favorite of a woodpecker that has bored a very round hole high up on its neck for a nest.
The majestic bird resembles a Sandhill crane, and it is sturdily attached to the ground by rebar and made to hold fast against the wind by a hardly noticeable wire. The legs are made from branches that have tufts of moss on them, and the body is formed from only a few big pieces of weathered wood.

Finding the right piece of wood for the bird's head is the deciding point of beginning your basic bird. It's a gift that Ramos has, it appears.

There are a couple more of Ramos' big birds hanging out at the pool at the Alder Inn on Ski Run Blvd. The owners, Mike and Laura, are big fans of Ramos' work, and have even included some of his smaller items in their room decors.



Probably the most surprising piece is yet another guitar. Ramos loves it when folks do a double-take and are shocked by his work. That's his goal.

This guitar is made of mostly branches, and is still a work in progress, but the decision has been made to leave the branches sticking out in the back. Now that makes it a "Wow!" piece! It's as if the guitar just blew into town, or it emerged right out of a tree. This piece should have Hard Rock Hotel and Casino's name on it. 







His personal collection of cowbells, spurs and cow horns, reminds Ramos of his past, growing up in Jalisco with horses and cows.

 He once had a booth at the cowboy Fest in

Genoa, Nevada, where he appropriately displayed some of his baskets made from lariats. People told him "you've moved so far away from everybody else.... your work is so different." Those words are ones he loves to hear. 

In his gallery of a backyard, nature has an effect on his work. The stream that runs right now at the edge of his  overflowed so much after the big snow in 2016-17, it crept up almost 2 feet on the "outhouse" he built to keep some of his supplies.

"It was kind of scary," he says, his wife Lilliana nodding in agreement. "We could see the water coming closer and closer to our deck!"     
Just imagine his big bird wading around in the marshy yard.

You'll just have to make a trip to see Gilberto's work for yourself. There is so much more to see, like the big wooden swordfish swimming on the side of his house. The tail was made from one piece and stripped of bark until he came down to the core.
There's the other, metal fish jumping, it seems in mid-air, to be caught on the hook of a giant fishing pole.

Then, there's the life-sized teepee made from barbed wire, rusted knife blades and railroad spikes.

"Everything is recycled," he says.

This guy is prolific! And there's going to be more-

- a beautifully made little wagon is stocked with more branches. "It'll all be used", he says. "God always inspires me."

Many of his items can be found locally at Wildwood Makers Market on Tallac Avenue, in South Lake Tahoe, and more of his art is on display at Fire and Rain Gallery in Folsom, CA.

Not everyone wants to buy the big things, so I make some small things for them."

________This article was printed in the Tahoe Daily Tribune on July 7, 2018, but only with 3 pictures, so I thought I'd do Gilberto justice by putting it on my blog. Pat Reilly Harbo     

                                                               

Seasonal Gardening in Tahoe and Palm Springs

I've always had a garden....or at least tried to have a garden in the San Francisco Bay Area in California. I've never had a great one. We always had high hopes of a beautiful vegetable garden, with huge Beefsteak tomatoes and abundant zucchinis, but I guess since we were working, watering sometimes didn't get done, the soil was hard clay, probably didn't get amended enough, and nothing really ever flourished. I also blamed the foggy weather that headed right for our house on a hill across from the Golden Gate Bridge. Then the drought happened and we resorted to planting native plants and grasses that we got at Annie's Annuals, a magical nursery in Richmond, right near the train tracks. It's a good thing we did, because those plants are still thriving! Now that the house is rented, I don't have much control over that garden, but the perennials that I planted are still holding on.

Our lifestyle has changed, and this year the change has really kicked in. This is the first year that our retirement dream of spending winter in Palm Springs and summer in Tahoe has seemed to fall into place.

This picture of the Palm Springs garden was taken in late December! We have access to a little garden next door to our place, that we share with our neighbor, who has a Kelly-green thumb. The really crazy thing is, that in this climate, we were stunned that we could plant tomatoes in November! The kale and chard that we planted thrived and we felt so healthy. We planted collard greens too, and enjoyed eating them, when suddenly the plant sprouted a lovely cauliflower! I had wondered if it was okay to eat the abundant leaves on cauliflower, and now I can tell you they are NOT poisonous, and they are delicious, steamed with some kale and chard, and served with butter and salt and pepper, and maybe a little vinegar if you're so inclined.

Makes your mouth water, eh?

We'll have to start again from scratch when we come back in mid-October though. The temps that go up to over 125 degrees during the summer don't allow many things to keep growing. We pay a neighbor to try to keep the orange and lime trees that we planted alive while we're gone. And then there's the hibiscus tree that went in this year. Others have installed automatic watering systems, so maybe that's a project for next year.

a giant Lupine near the pool

In the summer, when in Tahoe, I've been doing what I call "stealth gardening", since I saw in the condo rules that we shouldn't be changing the landscaping. Well, the sprinkler system kept going on regularly, and I just couldn't stand it! I figured if I put some native plants in next to the sprinklers in front of our place and near the pool, who could complain? But here I was watching to see if anyone was looking from their porch just waiting to report me. In the next three years, I didn't get reported, but I did gradually get thanked for beautifying the place. Folks came by and talked to me and told me how much they appreciated my taking it upon myself to spruce up the place. In fact this year, at the meeting of the HOA, (home owners association), I confessed to what I had been doing, and was given a title. I AM the Beautification Committee.
That made me bold enough to go out and buy a little gardening seat, and an "old lady" grocery cart to put my soil and supplies in. No money was offered for my services, just praise, but my husband Doug says he's supporting the arts and my hobby since I enjoy it so much. I've loved going over to the local Nel's Garden and Hardware to buy my plants at such good prices.
Sometimes I go to their "clearance rack" to try to save a little on the damaged plants.

 So, I've just kept on planting next to the already spouting sprinklers. The day I "came clean", I told the board of the HOA that I had visions of planting a mass of hollyhocks near the pool fence to fill in when the existing lilies had passed. Running off to the garden center, I bought 2 six-packs of promising looking hollyhocks and planted them. The next morning, I discovered they had all been devoured by voles, their young lives cut short by ravenous critters that are related to field mice and moles! Heartbroken, I  went to the internet to study up on these destructive rodents, or "little bastards", the name I've coined for them.

The garden ravaged by vole holes and trails.

Turns out, they had made themselves a home in a system of tunnels under the juniper bushes near where I had planted my doomed hollyhocks. It was suggested online that putting granulated garlic, crushed dried chili peppers, or cayenne pepper in the hole when planting would deter them. I made a concoction of all 3, and then also left a dose on top around the plant. There was also an idea, about scaring them away with a predator. I saw a neighbor brushing masses of fur off his German Shepherd, and asked him, rather awkwardly if I could have his dog's fur to put down the vole holes. He started leaving little gifts of balls of fur on our patio table, until he moved and I lost my supplier. Going to Petco's grooming department didn't do much good, since all they had was hair from poodles that day, and it didn't seem to work as well.
Hearing that voles don't like plants with yellow flowers, my neighbor and I invested in dozens of daffodil bulbs, which had thrived the year before. I was also told they didn't like mint, but our voles have different tastes, I suppose, because they thought it was delicious!
Another idea presented to me was JuicyFruit gum, which they are supposed to choke on, but they ignored it. Fire crackers down their holes was a notion that we rejected, along with poison. But no, we're trying to stick to non-violent methods. Besides, we don't want to have the death of a family dog or cat on our hands.

The rest of the garden was thriving when we left in the fall, so it will be interesting to see what revives after a snowy winter. I look forward to walking along the path to our place, head down, watching for any new growth.
So after so many years of being a frustrated gardener, I can't say that now....except for my nemeses, the voles. The little bastards.

A baby squirrel taking advantage of my water bowl.

Glorious foxgloves.