In my bride’s family birthdays are celebrated with endurance and fanfare. In fact, my bride’s late father preferred to think of birthdays as commemorative seasons, not days at all. Celebrating for anything less than a week was simply barbaric in his estimation.
Corn Cake Batter
So, over the last decade I’ve become accustomed to multiple birthday celebrations, abundant gift-giving and the family birthday dinner: game hens, artichokes and mashed potatoes or rice followed by birthday cake. For my vegetarian bride swordfish is substituted for a game hen, but few other exceptions are made.
Tradition is tradition. Comfort food is comfort food. These are the givens.
Most families enjoy revered meals steeped in nostalgia and embraced generation after generation. And yet my family’s most traditional comfort food, corn cakes and turkey gravy, provokes looks of bewilderment and lame excuses when I invite friends to experience meal.
Care to Try Corn Cakes and Turkey Gravy?
Conjured out of Thanksgiving and Christmas leftovers, neither holiday is complete without the lumpy griddle fried cakes and rich turkey gravy, thick with chunks of leftover turkey. Eaten for lunch or dinner, the meal is filling, tasty and a delightful flashback to the autumns and winters of my childhood.
Corn Cakes
Over the years I have introduced countless friends to this quirky combination of ingredients. And though most have been polite, few have devoured the meal or asked for the family recipe.
My bride’s recent phone call with her mother offers the typical response to my corn cake and turkey gravy invitations.
“Why don’t you join us for corn cakes and turkey gravy on Sunday,” Susan asked.
“Corn cakes and turkey gravy?”
“You’ve never had them? Oh, it’s a tradition in George’s family…” Susan went on to explain the dish.
“Hmmm, that sounds interesting, but…” It was clear to me that my mother-in-law’s interesting was akin to, “Are there any other options?”
So we ate steak with leftover mashed potatoes and green beans. Delicious.
Craving Corn Cakes…
Turkey Gravy
But on Monday evening I fired up the griddle and prepared corn cakes and turkey gravy. Leftover mashed potatoes, green beans and Brussels sprouts rounded out the meal (as did a mind massaging Chardonnay from South Africa.)
I got carried away and prepared enough corn cakes and turkey gravy to eat all week! Now, who can I invite over for the leftover-leftovers so that they can politely demur when I offer then seconds?
I suspect there’s a forgotten history explaining my family’s post-Thanksgiving and post-Christmas culinary comfort food, but I’ve been unable to ferret it out. Yet.
Time to Interview Mom
I’m pretty certain that the tradition comes from my mother’s family, so I’ll pose a few questions to the world’s best (and my favorite) mom, Melissa Davis.
Me: Is it fair to say that I inherited my appetite for corn cakes and turkey gravy from your side of the family?
Mom: Yes, I don’t know anyone else who ate them other than the Duvalls, so from my side via my mother.
Me: Do you know anything about the origins of corn cakes and turkey gravy?
Mom: No, just that my grandmother Lela made them. Or I thought she did. I suppose my mom could have made them up!
Me: Did you eat corn cakes and turkey gravy as a child or did the tradition start later?
Corn Cakes and Turkey Gravy
Mom: We always ate them the same way we Davises now do, following a turkey dinner (which for us Wellers was the traditional Thanksgiving and Christmas meal). We would also have them if we had a random turkey meal at other times of the year. I’m trying to remember if my Aunt Margaret Liggett (my granny’s sister who lived near us in Colorado) also made them. I vaguely think so which would increase the chances that they came from that side of the family. They were daughters of a union of a Swedish American and an Irish American.
Me: Did you actually enjoy corn cakes and turkey gravy the first few times you ate it?
Mom: I can’t remember the first time I had them, but I loved the meal always. For a while when I was little, I preferred them to the first meal of the turkey. I loved the holidays because I knew the corn cakes and turkey gravy inevitably would follow!
Me: When you serve corn cakes and turkey gravy to people for the first time, how do they tend to react?
Mom: Politely but without enthusiasm! Our guests on Friday were complimentary, but only one person ate seconds. Do you remember when I fed them to your college Christmas visitors? They were all polite, but I don’t remember anyone gobbling them up. I can hardly think of anyone to whom we introduced this fabulous meal who genuinely liked them!
Me: What do you consider the best accompaniment for corn cakes and turkey gravy?
Mom: Browned leftover mashed potatoes or hash browns (so you can add the gravy to them) and a green salad. If you like cranberry, it’s a good place to get rid of the leftover cranberry sauce. I don’t especially!
Me: Can you offer any special tips on how to prepare corn cakes and turkey gravy?
Mom: I have always just used the basic Joy of Cooking pancake recipe, cut back on the sugar amount and added canned corn. I’ve doubled it without problem and added a second can of corn. I use any leftover gravy from the main meal and make new gravy from the first round of “stocktaking” off the turkey bones. I also add lots of leftover meat if it is for our family. I don’t always make it as meaty for guests since the meat seems to be off-putting to some.
My mother’s brother, Uncle Herman, admitted an enduring fondness for corn cakes and turkey gravy while confirming the maternal family link, and he offered a possible clue.
I wonder if they were a Pennsylvania Dutch recipe Mom discovered. ~ Herman Weller
Perhaps. Or Swedish-Irish. Or just a creative way to get kids to eat leftovers?
It worked. I still love them! What’s your family’s comfort food?
Corn cakes and turkey gravy aren't the most elegant victuals ever laid upon a dining table, but they're deli http://t.co/iAALP5mR
What wintery wonders shall I share with you today? How about a celebration (and showcase) of upcycled Christmas gifts dreamed into existence by three allstar members of our icehouse rehab team?
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
[pullquote]These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal.[/pullquote]
I talk and I type, but these three creative characters have reimagined and reinvented deconstruction debris into functional art and decor. They transformed a piece of old garapa decking and a handful of icehouse artifacts (uncovered during laborious hand excavation for the new foundation) into a handsome coatrack, and they transformed a gnarled piece of rusty steel back into a museum-worthy ice hook that turns the clock back 100+ years.
Let’s start with the photograph at the top of this post which Pam accompanied with the following note of explanation.
Hroth, Tony and I wanted to wish you both a very Merry Christmas. We came up with the idea to make a coat rack out of repurposed items. The wood is old garapa. I found the spikes in the icehouse during inventory and the hook was also discovered in the icehouse during excavation for the concrete floor/footers. Hroth custom made a handle for the ice hook. We also wanted to add a new hummingbird feeder to the garden outside of the breakfast area. Merry Christmas! — Pamuela Murphy
Perfection! Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I was curious how Hroth had fabricated the garapa handle for the ice hook out of old decking boards. It’s so round/cylindrical that it looks as if he’d used a lathe.
Two pieces of garapa laminated together. Started out about a 16 inch because it was easier to run through the table saw. I made an octagon out of it on the table saw, then used the big belt sander… I roughed it up a little bit. Didn’t want it to look too perfect. Then Pam suggested that we take a propane torch to it. Made it look older.
It was a fun project. I still need to seal the wood and the metal. Penetrating sealer works well on metal. It’s sharp… We were thinking you might want to put some corks on the ends… or garapa balls. That was the first thing I thought of. We can certainly do that. — Ottosen Hroth
Carving tiny garapa orbs to install on the spikes strikes me as the perfect way to complete the coat rack so that jackets can be hung without getting spikes. It’ll be a difficult-but-intriguing challenge! There must be some technique for creating a small wooden sphere out of a block of wood. Hhhmmm…
I can’t imagine more perfect Christmas gifts. Their collaboration has rendered layers of Rosslyn history — from the late 1800s and early 1900s when the icehouse was in use, through 2008 when we built the deck that yielded this garapa, to 2022 when the old deck was deconstructed and the icehouse rehabilitation was initiated — into timeless beauty that will adorn the icehouse when it is introduced/revealed next summer. These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal. Our gratitude is exceeded only by Hroth’s, Pam’s, and Tony’s collaborative accomplishment.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gift 2022: antique ice hook with handmade handle (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The flip-through gallery above offers a few more details, and all three (as the two featured photographs above) are documented inside the icehouse with mid-construction backdrops: old studs with new spray foam insulation and new subfloor ready for interior framing and hardwood flooring. It’s tempting to offer tidier or even fancier backdrops, but authenticity prevails. Future decor created from old materials, documented midstream the icehouse’s transformation. Future, past, and present. Concurrent history and hope, a timeless present, an artistic representation of this liminal moment.
Backstory to Upcycled Christmas Gifts
Susan and my gratitude to Pam, Hroth, and Tony is (and obviously should be) the focus of today’s Rosslyn Redux installment, but I can’t conclude without first considering a slightly more amplified retrospective, the backstory, if you will, to the new coat rack and restored ice hook.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
In the photograph below, taken exactly fourteen years ago today, Warren Cross is putting the finishing touches on our first deck build. Although the perspective may be misleading given the still unbuilt garbage and recycling “shed” which today stands directly behind Warren, this is the northernmost extension of Rosslyn’s deck. The stone step (actually a repurposed hitching post chiseled from Chazy and Trenton limestone (aka “Essex stone”) and the rhododendron shrubs are not yet in place either.
But it you imagine the perspective as if you were standing just north of the morning room, looking back toward the carriage barn and icehouse, you’ll be oriented in no time. Oriented, yes, but nevertheless a bit disoriented too, I imagine, as you look upon a carpenter laboring in the snow to scribe and affix the garapa deck skirting / apron that will complete the installation that had began in the autumn with far more hospitable conditions.
Warren Cross completing garapa decking installation on December 22, 2008 (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s worth noting that Warren, already in his mature years when he worked on Rosslyn with us, not only threw himself into difficult endeavors like the one above, he contributed decades’ of experience and an unsurpassed work ethic that inspired everyone with whom he worked in 2008 and 2009. But there’s an even more notable memory that describes Warren. He was a gentleman. And he was a gentle man. It was a privilege to witness Warren’s collegiality, and Rosslyn profited enduringly from his expertise. But it was his disposition, his consideration, and his kindness that make me nostalgic when I hear him mentioned or when I catch sight of him in photographs.
In terms of memories conjured by this repurposed garapa decking, I should include Hroth’s “research” this past autumn into how best we might reuse the lumber. There was such anticipation and excitement in the hours he experimented and explored. The image below perfectly illustrates the hidden gold just waiting to reemerge from the deconstructed decking material.
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Hroth’s discoveries underpin our plan to panel the interior of the new icehouse bathroom with what for a decade and a half withstood the Adirondack Coast elements season after season, and a rambunctious parade of footfalls, barbecues, dog paws, wetsuits, etc. It’s as if the new coat rack exudes the anticipation and optimism that many of us brought to the journey of upcycling the old decking into the new paneling.
And there is an aside that I’m unable to resist mentioning. Pam’s late husband, Bob Murphy, who worked as our property caretaker and became an admired and dearly respected friend, several times removed and reinstalled Rosslyn’s garapa decking over the years — monitoring, triaging, and compensating for the failing TimberSIL substructure. He knew that we would need to rebuild the entire deck soon, and yet he waged a relentless campaign to extend the useful life of the deck as long as possible. I think he’d be proud of the work accomplished by the team this summer, and he sure would have loved being part of that team! And the icehouse rehab would have thrilled him. Needless to say, these upcycled Christmas gifts from Pam and Hroth and Tony also exude Bob’s smile, familiar chuckle, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
And what about that antique ice hook?
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. (Source: Icehouse Rehab 01: The Ice Hook)
Isn’t a beauty? Well, rusty and corroded, but a beauty nonetheless, I think.
Antique Ice Hook, artifact unearthed during the icehouse rehabilitation, 2022 (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The prospect of restoring that ice hook crossed my mind at the time. But it struck me as a challenging proposition given the advanced state of decay. What a surreal transformation from rust-crusted phantom to display-ready relic! It too is marinated in memories, some recent and personal, others vague and distant. In the near rearview mirror are the painstaking efforts made by our team to secure the historic stone foundation beneath the icehouse while ensuring the structural integrity demanded by modern building codes. A labor of loves on the parts of so many. And today we can look back from the proud side of accomplishment. As for the more distant rearview, the antique mirror has succumbed to the influence of time, the glass crazed and hazy, the metallic silver chipped and flaking. And yet we can detect traces of laughter and gossip as blocks of ice were cut from the lake, hooked and hauled up to the icehouse, and stacked in tidy tiers for cooling and consumption during temperate times ahead.
A Glimmer of Springtime
In closing this runaway post, I would like to express my warmest gratitude for the upcycled Christmas gifts above, and for a new hummingbird feeder to welcome our exuberant avian friends back in the springtime. Taken together this medley of gifts excite in Susan and me the enthusiasm and optimism for the coming months of rehabilitation and mere months from now the opportunity to celebrate a project too long deferred and so often anticipated. With luck we’ll be rejoicing together in the newly completed icehouse by the time the hummingbirds return to Rosslyn.
Hummingbird Feeder 2022 Christmas Gift from Pam, Tony, and Hroth (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Thank you, Pam, Hroth, and Tony for these perfect presents. And thank you to everyone else I’ve mentioned above for enriching this home and our lives. I look forward to rekindling these memories when I hang my coat or my cap up each time I enter the icehouse. Merry Christmas to all!
Let’s rewind back to my discovery of this early 20th century song.
Care to join me for a singalong? Today I’d like to share with you the sheet music cover image for the song, “On Lake Champlain” by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble.
[…]
So for now I’ll pause this post in the hope that the vintage color lithograph for Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble’s sheet music will miraculously move us closer to an audible version of “On Lake Champlain”. If fortune smiles upon us, I’ll update this post. (Source: “On Lake Champlain” Song by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble)
I have some good news for you. Today I’m ready to pass along the original sheet music, several early recordings (pops, scratches, and all), and a stripped down midi recording if you’d like to rig up your own karaoke.
Columbia Record’s “On Lake Champlain” by Sterling Trio (Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble)
Sterling Trio & Mills Brothers
Without further ado, I invite you to hear the song as it was originally recorded. Enjoy.
If you experiment with pitch and tempo, you might modernize this ditty by a few decades, possibly rendering it a little catchier in the process.
Silvertone’s “On Lake Champlain” by Sterling Trio (Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble)
MIDI Sans Vocals
The time distorted sound of an old 78 speed LP is evocative and slightly romantic, but what if you’re ready for a “On Lake Champlain” singalong? More good news! You can download Geoff Grainger‘s midi recording of “On Lake Champlain” (part of his online repository and resource called Ditty Box Enterprise) for hours of fireside enjoyment. Of course, you might need to play around with the raw file to make replay convenient. I just slurped it into Garage Band and then output it as an MP3. Good luck.
“On Lake Champlain” by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble (song sheet, p.3)
“On Lake Champlain” by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble (song sheet, p.4)
“On Lake Champlain” by Alfred Bryan and Albert Gumble (song sheet, p.5)
“On Lake Champlain” Sheet Music
Now if you’re feeling ready to invite the neighbors over and spark off the bonfire, I encourage you to first download the sheet music from Duke University’s David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library so that everyone can join in the revelry. After all what fun is an “On Lake Champlain” singalong if you’re solo-ing through two verses while everyone else roasts marshmallows?
And, once you’re good and comfortable with your new-old song, how about recording it and sending it my way?! Thanks in advance.
Starting today, Epiphany will be Shirley Bacot Shamel Day.
Susan chuckled this morning after reminding me that her family hadn’t celebrated Epiphany when she was growing. I had reminded her that my family had, and for some reason she considers it slightly droll. It’s true that we did celebrate some holidays that my peers did not. I’m not certain why. In addition to Epiphany, we celebrated Saint Nicholas Day (aka Saint Nick’s Day) a month ago on December 6.
We celebrated all sorts of holidays that my friends did not. Christmas, yes. But also Epiphany (Three Kings Day) and another near-to-Christmas night when we placed our shoes at the top of the stairs and St. Nick (I think) came and filled them with treats. Pistachios. Chocolates. Silver dollars. (Source: Rabbit, Rabbit « virtualDavis)
Other Davis family habits and traditions make her chuckle as well, including rabbit-rabbit-ing the end and beginning of months; using “Christmas crackers“ to celebrate not only Christmas, but New Years, Thanksgiving, and just about any other festive meal; and corn cakes and turkey gravy as a customary follow-on meal after Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Although Susan thinks some of these observances amusing, it’s worth noting that she has embraced year-round crackers with gusto. Any excuse for miniature fireworks and crown-wearing appeals to her!
It was encouraging to hear Susan start the morning today with a chuckle. Today, of all days. Her spontaneous laughter instantly lifted the ominous if unspoken heaviness that had settled upon her, settled upon us, over the last 24 hours.
In addition to Epiphany, January 6 marks a more painful anniversary. Susan‘s mother, Shirley Bacot Shamel, passed away three years ago today. The loss remains palpable, and grieving is ongoing, intermittent, and usually unanticipated, triggered by a song, a memento, a photograph,…
Today’s melancholy was anticipated, and by yesterday memories were being shared. I knew that today would be difficult, but I hadn’t come up with any clever ways to support my beautiful bride.
But Susan’s early morning laughter lifted my hopes and prompted an epiphany! (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) Suddenly I had an idea how to transform this solemn day into a more joyful remembrance. Let’s start a new tradition of our own.
Starting today, Epiphany will be Shirley Bacot Shamel Day.
Epiphany2
To follow my logic, if there is any (and I’d venture a suggestion that epiphanies needn’t follow the laws of logic), we might first take a look at capital “E”, Epiphany.
January 6 observed as a church festival in commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles or in the Eastern Church in commemoration of the baptism of Christ. (Source: Merriam-Webster)
For some readers this is familiar. For others, not, so here’s a slightly more expansive explanation.
After the 12th day of Christmas, believers take down their festive decor. But they don’t let January 6—or January 19 for many Orthodox Christians who still abide by the Julian calendar—pass by without another Christmas-connected celebration.
Tied to biblical accounts of Jesus Christ’s birth and baptism, the holiday of Epiphany is a chance for Christians to reflect on the nature of God’s physical manifestation on Earth and pay homage to three important visitors in the biblical account of Jesus’ birth. (Source: National Geographic)
The three important visitors in the second explanation and the Magi mentioned in the first are one and the same. Also known as the three wise men, the three kings (sometimes even by name: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar), and sometimes more by association with the gifts they bore: gold, myrrh, and frankincense.
If you’re anywhere as keen a Christmas carol aficionado as I am, you’re familiar with these three gift bearing gentlemen, but if not, you’ve at least a basic understanding now.
So that’s capital “E”, Epiphany. What about this morning’s lowercase “e”, epiphany?
Again I need to reach back a little. I’m as keen on getting and decorating a Christmas tree as I am on Christmas carols, and given the anticipation it represents (and the beauty it adds to mornings and evenings) I prefer to jumpstart Christmas by finding a handsome evergreen and decorating it midway between Thanksgiving and Christmas. And that means I’m ready by New Year’s Eve for it to morph from crispy needle-dropping leftover to lush, colorful memory. But we rarely manage to get the tree down by New Year’s Eve or even New Year’s Day. So, in keeping with National Geographic’s observation, it had struck me that today might be the perfect time to un-decorate the Christmas tree.
But that’s not the epiphany. In trying to anticipate a way to brighten my bride’s morning on a particularly mournful morning, I thought wishing her a happy Epiphany and proposing that we start a new tradition of removing the Christmas tree each year on January 6 might shift her perspective and strike her innate sense of logic. But…
That chuckle.
Starting today, Epiphany will be Shirley Bacot Shamel Day.
Shirley Bacot Shamel Day
The eureka moment catalyzed by Susan’s superpower smile and laugh suddenly made it all clear. Yes, we needed to launch a new family tradition. From now on Epiphany should be a holiday to celebrate the legacy of Susan’s mother. Three years ago we lost Shirley. On this day. And on this day we recognize three kings bearing gifts. Loose logic? No logic?!?! But sometimes the universe rhymes, and in that moment I could hear the singing underneath, connecting these nominally connected dots into a perfect picture of Epiphany as Shirley Day. Sure, we could remove ornaments from the tree, and I could drag it out back for wood chipping. But maybe we should think bigger. A hooky day. No work. A day to remember and celebrate and show our love for the lady who blessed our union before it even existed. (That story for another day.)
And so today we started a new family tradition. We canceled commitments, bundled into our ski gear, and headed into the snowy mountains for some outdoor bliss. And you know what? It worked. It recalibrated our brains. It lifted our spirits. Whether or not the tree is going to get tackled is still uncertain. But a delicious dinner this evening; a hot tub soak as we were enjoying the night Shirley passed; and some time together gazing up at a bright star that guided three kings, a star that Susan named after her mother three years ago, a star that now helps guide us; this is 100% certain.
Griffin Considers Winter Solstice: December 22, 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Welcome to day one of the Adirondack Coast‘s coldest season. Today is the winter solstice, the first official day of winter, and — more importantly for the likes of my mother and others who favor longer days and shorter nights — the threshold between the briefest day and the most prolonged night and imperceptibly-but-steadily lengthening daylight. If you live in the North Country it seems peculiar that winter should only have just begun given several weeks of wintery weather. Seasonality, in these parts, might suggest a slightly earlier autumn-to-winter transition, closer to Thanksgiving than to Christmas.
But the choice is ours to remark and not to make, so we soberly observe this hibernal milestone with tempered optimism that sunnier days await us on the other side. And, for the astronomically exuberant, it’s time to celebrate. Cheers!
If you’re longing for more sunlight, Wednesday is a day to celebrate: Dec. 21 is the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year — and first day of astronomical winter — in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s a sign that longer, brighter days are upon us. (Source: Justin Grieser, “First day of winter: Shortest day, longest night on December 21 solstice“, The Washington Post, December 21, 2022)
But, as with most tidy transitions, this threshold isn’t actually so tidy. Winter solstice may mark the shortest day and the longest night of the year, but the sunrise and sunset equation is slightly more muddled.
The bottom line: mornings will get a bit darker until early January, but we’ve already gained a few minutes of evening light. On balance, daylight will start to increase after Dec. 21, even as winter’s coldest days still lie ahead. (Source: Justin Grieser, “First day of winter: Shortest day, longest night on December 21 solstice“, The Washington Post, December 21, 2022)
So let’s focus on the lengthening days. And, if those increasingly cold days ahead bring snow, then let’s focus on that as well. After all, winter — proper, snowy winter — is one of our four favorite seasons of the year at Rosslyn! It’s a time for dog adventures, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, alpine and telemark skiing, bird feeders flush with avian wildlife, and that unique flavor or crystal clarity that only a subzero morning can catalyze.
Winter Solstice & Onward: December 21, 2022 (Image: Dark Sky)
And speaking of colder days ahead, this screenshot from Dark Sky appears to corroborate the generalization, albeit with a curious exception on Friday. Winter is here, and it looks probably that we’ll be able to enjoy a white Christmas (unless Friday’s warm weather melts the existing snow and delivers rain instead.)
In closing, note that the handsome Labrador retriever atop this post is not Carley, our current dog, but Griffin, a prior pal-o-mine. We lost him just over two years ago, and the ache hasn’t subsided. Maybe with longer, colder days ahead…
I’ve waxed whimsical on autumn before, and I’ve celebrated wonder-filled winter aplenty, but what of the blurry overlap between the two? Well, today I’d like to pause a moment betwixt both current seasons. Or astride the two, one foot in autumn and the other in winter. To borrow a morning metaphor from my breakfast, let’s pause for persimmons (as a way to grok — and hopefully embrace — our present seasonality.)
What?!?!
For the time being let’s sidestep the vexing fact that almost a dozen years into cultivating three persimmon trees in Rosslyn’s orchard we’ve never produced a single edible persimmon. Instead let’s look at persimmoning in terms of this morning’s sweet and sour, ripe and rotten persimmon episode.
Fuyu Persimmon, Sliced (Photo: Geo Davis)
I’ve been monitoring two pretty persimmons in the fruit bowl. I’ve been checking them daily for ripeness. Firm, firm, firm, less firm, slightly supple, soft, ready! Or so I thought this morning. I lifted the first much anticipated fruit in the lightless shadows of 5:00am. If felt perfect. I gathered the second and grabbed a small cutting board. I prefer to allow my mornings to illuminate naturally, calibrating by circadian rhythms holistically, so I generally avoid turning on the lights, even this time of year when 5:00am is still shoe polish dark. As I prepared to plunge a knife into the first persimmon, I detected something unsettling. The slick surface of the persimmon had a fuzzy spot about the size of a quarter. I turned on the light, low, but enough to show that I’d missed my moment with the persimmon. It was rotten. Moldy. Both. I’d literally been checking daily, often lifting both fruit from the bowl to examine them, but somehow this previously perfect fruit had suddenly become rotten. The second fruit showed not fuzzy rot spot. I carefully cut out the leafy stem, and sniffed the inside of the persimmon. Perfection. Somewhere between the consistency of gelatinous custard and viscous liquid, the persimmon was divine.
Fuyu Persimmon, Sliced (Photo: Geo Davis)
At this point seasoned persimmon aficionados are aware that I’ve been recounting an experience with hachiya persimmons (rather than fuyu persimmons), and the photos portray the latter. You are correct astute reader/persimmon connoisseur. And as my prologue likely betrays this morning’s experience was not well suited to photography. But it did remind me of a previous persimmon apropos of the actual topic I’d expected to explore in this post (but have so far mostly skirted.) And that memory, of a similar morning anticipating and then partially enjoying a persimmon is what lead me to these photographs. Why partially, I can hear you think. I partially enjoyed that persimmon, a fuyu persimmon, because the first few slices were ripe and delicious. But partway though the small fruit the sweet turned to astringent. And this puckering experience is a sure sign that the fruit is not yet fully ripe. Now, lest I’m misleading you again, I’m sorry to say, the photographs in this post are not of that persimmon either, though they are, in fact a fuyu persimmon. And, as a discerning eye might note, this photographed persimmon was delicious throughout.
So why all the persimmoning? The memories of this morning’s fruit and the part ripe, part unripe fruit a year or two ago, offer me a glimpse into the sort of autumn-into-winter transition we’re in right now. Almost ready, almost ready, over ready! And sometimes ripe and unripe at the same time. And, as I understand it, persimmons are often culturally associated with joy, good fortune, and longevity. I am hopeful that our present season change, still in limbo, but creeping closer and closer to that transition from autumning to wintering, from autumn vibes to winter vibes, might — like persimmons in the best of circumstances — may portent joy, goof fortune, and longevity for the rehabilitation projects underway in the icehouse, the boathouse, and our home.
1-1/2” ZIP System insulated panels reading for installation (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Willing Winter Away a Little Longer
There’s something meditative about this time of year, a marginal meditation on interstices, on the span between autumn and winter, harvesting and larder hunting, biking and skiing, Thanksgiving and Christmas,… This liminal space is tied with winter-to-spring for most dramatic transitions in the circle of seasonality. And yet some years, this year, the switch is far from binary. There are moments when we appear to be on the crux, the hinging moment between the most abundant season and the leanest season. And other moments we’re currently in both concurrently. Ripe and rotten. Well, not rotten, really, but in terms of exterior carpentry, the going gets exponentially more challenging once snow arrives and temperatures plunge.
And so, for a while longer, we’re willing winter away. Tomorrow we’ll be installing the first round of spray foam insulation inside the icehouse, and we’ll *hopefully* begin installing the ZIP System paneling outside the icehouse. In other words, we’re getting really close to having the icehouse ready for winterier weather. The boathouse isn’t really winterizable, however, and temperate conditions are a huge boon as we forge ahead. At the risk of temping fate I’ll admit that it’s almost as if nature is holding her breath, stalling between autumn and winter. With luck, we’ll be able to take advantage of a little more borrowed time. But she can’t hold her breath forever, and we’re all aware of that…
This non-harvest, autumning haiku was born of Carley‘s lethargic mid-morning siesta by the fireplace. Contentment, canine style. It’s a tough life.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CljJSOFgoFV/
Wintering: unhaiku
Between blushing vegetation and gingerbread outbuildings, what name for this season?
Hustling pre-hibernation and melting flurries with breath, what post apple appellation? What pre skating designation?
I echo my own refrain again into the autumn interstices ringing with wintering song.
Willing Autumn Linger Longer
Like ripening persimmons, the transition from unripe to overripe happens whether we’re watching for it or not. Likewise fall vibes have been exiting gradually, and winter’s stark contrasts have been insinuating themselves into the autumnless voids. It’s inevitable that winter will arrive, and it will be glorious in its own right when it does. But here’s hoping fortune smiles upon us a little longer, that we can dwell in this construction-centric liminality for another week or three. Or right up until Christmas!
Merry Christmas from the three of us — Susan, Carley, and yours truly — to you and yours. Today’s a time for family and friends and maybe a few memories. So, instead of waxing wordy, let’s celebrate the Christmas spirit with a few memories of Rosslyn past.
Christmas Spirit 2012 (Photo: Geo Davis)
These first two snapshots are from 2012, a decade ago according to the calendar, but yesterday in every other way. I enjoy the quirky sense of balance, symmetry even, in that photograph above. Three stockings beneath the three charcoal figure drawn it’s by Susan’s cousin, Rafael. A coincidence, if you believe me, but a decidedly agreeable one.
Griffin embodied the Christmas spirit, eager to unwrap gifts, shred wrapping paper, sit confidently by as Christmas treats were enjoyed (all his DNA-driven retriever skills focused on falling crumbs), wearing goofy elf caps or antlers to please Susan, or just sitting by the tree at night watching the lights twinkling. Although two years since we lost him, Griffin is still very much with us this time of year.
Susan decorating, Christmas 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Christmas is enriched and savored as much in preparation and anticipation as the actual day of celebration. And there’s nothing finer way to cultivate the Christmas spirit than finding and decorating a Christmas tree, listening to Christmas carols, and reminiscing and pipe dreaming together.
Christmas 2014 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Camouflaged in that evergreen darkness above is a silver silhouette with Susan’s name inscribed, a reminder of the first Christmas we celebrated together in Santa Fe, a looong way from Rosslyn in so many ways.
Christmas 2015 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Back in Essex in 2015! So much of the Christmas spirit is tangled up in our childhood associations, nostalgia, maybe even sentimental souvenirs like timeworn ornaments that have passed from generation to generation. In our family, two of those slightly unusual Christmas traditions are Christmas crackers during the big meal and corn cakes and Turkey gravy as a follow-up to the big meal. But more on those later…
Upcountry Christmas Spirit
I can’t resist wrapping up today’s holiday post with Heather and Lee Maxey’s “Christmas in Essex” mashup. As Mr. and Mrs. Clause they infused our annual town wide festivities with their own unique enthusiasm and Christmas spirit. And that quirky green “sleigh” is a perfectly delightful afterward to the John Deere “truckling” story.
Clauses Celebrate Christmas in Essex (Credit: Heather & Lee Maxey)
Thank you, Lee and Heather. And to all, a merry Christmas!
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Last night, I enjoyed Christmas dinner, the sequel. No, not the movie. The leftovers. Leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, roasted, butternut squash, all smothered under her blanket of gravy. And for dessert, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie.
And, as you may have predicted, it was delicious. Perhaps even more delicious than the first go round. Have you ever noticed that some meals just taste better the second time around? Hold that thought…
And note that I didn’t mention leftover turkey dressing / stuffing. There’s still plenty of that, but I’m one-and-done with stuffing. I enjoy making it, but after an initial scoop (and a small scoop at that) on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m on the the tastier dishes. It’s too filling. Too heavy. Too, well, just less appealing to me, even when drowning in gravy.
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Leftovers
This post is brought to you by leftovers. Yes, the ones crammed into your refrigerator right now. But not just those. Let’s expand our thinking beyond food. I imagine you have all sorts of remainders and vestigial scraps tucked into the nooks and crannies of your home. Junk drawers, closets, garage,… I’m thinking about all of those items (I’ll stick with “items” for now, but fair warning that I’ll soon ask you to consider them “ingredients”) that you could have thrown away but didn’t because you suspected that you’d be able to use them again in the future.
You with me?
Don’t worry, I’m not going to show you photographs of the two ingredients above as they after becoming turning dressing, after being served on Christmas, after getting scooped into a glass container, and after spending some time in the refrigerator. Sure, the turkey dressing is still edible, but it’s decidedly less photogenic at this stage.
But last night while feasting on our Christmas dinner sequel I got to wondering why the leftovers tasted better during their debut. It’s different than stew and soup and even some pasta dishes, all of which seem to hit their stride only after they’ve had some time to rest a while. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that my first experience with this meal followed a morning-until-late-afternoon cooking frenzy. Whereas last night I simply sat down and devoured the goodness.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Ingredients
This post is *also* brought to you by ingredients. Yes, like the fresh celery and onions above, we joyfully imagine crisp, colorful ingredients bursting with flavor. But poking through the fridge, pushing aside containered leftovers, wondering what in the world to eat, we get a different feeling. Less joyful. More resigned. But sometimes, last night’s dinner for example, we are surprised when we embrace the sequel.
Sometimes we get creative and reimagine the leftovers, decide to experiment with different combinations, different preparations. We cease to think of the leftovers as unfinished extras from the first meal, and we repurpose them as the ingredients for a brand new creation. Remember corn cakes and turkey gravy? Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
While overeating Christmas dinner for the second time it struck me how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Leftovers as Ingredients
You see where I’m going with this?
I’ve repeatedly mentioned that the icehouse rehabilitation is an adaptive reuse project. Transform an obsolete utility building into a useful, relevant multi-use space that adds value to our life at Rosslyn. And, in addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process.
I’ve talked about the repurposed columns and the loft flooring experiment, and I recently celebrated the upcycled coatrack and the antique ice hook (which will be displayed prominently as decor once rehab is complete). I’ve post a couple of updates on our “research” into upcycling garapa decking and re-milling our homegrown lumber into flooring (and other interior millwork). In the weeks and months ahead much of Hroth and Pam’s focus will shift indoors, and I’ll be relating additional opportunities that we’re exploring for repurposing our building leftovers as the raw ingredients for a brand new working and relaxing space that will fuse more than a century’s ingenuity and artifacts into an integrated, cohesive (and hopefully beautiful+charming) space.
As we journey through the icehouse rehabilitation, endeavoring to create relevance and value for leftovers while ensuring that the final result achieves these lofty aspirations of functional and aesthetic integration, cohesion, and attractiveness, brainstorming and collaboration become more and more important. And more and more enjoyable! With such a diverse cast of contributors, I’m hoping that we’ll cross pollinate and evolve ideas that none of us individually would have come up with. Co-creation is sure to conjure out-of-the-box ideas and original solutions that draw upon the diversity of experiences and passions and perspectives. So, please consider this an open invitation to share your suggestions!
