This flag hung over a Marine base in the Philippines, where my father served as a medic, during World War II. It is now on display at the World War II museum in New Orleans, LA.
Rest in peace.
Donald Lloyd Winslow,
1925-1995
That’s what we are.
WARTIME FARM is a reality series on Amazon Prime Acorn (which costs extra per month but if you love British shows it’s entirely worth it) about life in the English countryside during World War II.
Ruth Goodman is a historian (and knows all there is to know about domestic living in any decade) and her cohorts are archaeologists who absolutely thrive on learning how to survive. They have done other shows, such as VICTORIAN FARM and EDWARDIAN FARM.
In 1939 Britain was importing 2/3 of its food. Their grains came from the US and Canada, so they specialized in beef, pork and lamb. And then the Nazis blockaded the island and prevented food from getting in, which meant that the Brits would have to grown 100% of their own food or risk being starved into submission by Germany.
And what they did was absolutely astounding.
WARTIME FARM covers all four seasons as Ruth, Peter and Alex learn ways to overcome the challenges of the war. The government had food quotas, farm rating systems, rationing and strict oversight of the agricultural system. Refugees poured into the countryside from bombed out cities and had to be fed and housed. Old rusted farm equipment was salvaged from hedgerows and repaired. Fuel was rationed, of course, which made farm work even harder
As we watch this (we’ve only seen four episodes so far) I am awed and inspired by what people can accomplish when their backs are to the wall. It truly was a “do or die” situation.
Plus…I’ve learned how to cook a stew in a well-insulated box of hay. The original Crock pot? I think so.
I found this on Youtube. There were quite a few videos of how to cook food this way. The secret is to bring your meal to boiling temperature and then pack it into an insulated container. Old coolers were suggested as a “box”, too.
Banjo Man just hinted that he would like to try this up at his off-the-grid cabin. Which is a definite possibility.
Ben, my oldest son, loves Snickerdoodles. Sadly I stopped baking cookies when I started writing books. It was an “either/or” thing.
So I decided to bake these cookies for him (he’ll be here at the lake in about a month) and googled the old recipe from Betty Crocker that I’d used over 40 years ago. And since Google can find just about anything, here they are.
BETTY CROCKER’S SNICKERDOODLES:
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup softened butter
1/2 shortening
2 eggs
2 3/4 cups flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
Coating:
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp. cinnamon
Steps: Heat oven to 400. Mix sugar, butter, shortening and eggs in large bowl until fluffy. Mix dry ingredients and add to the sugar-butter mixture until mixed completely.
Shape dough into 1 1/2″ balls. Mix the 1/4 cup sugar and cinnamon and roll the balls into the mixture. Place 2″ apart on ungreased cookie sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes. Cool on wire rack.
(I doubled the recipe, made the balls a bit bigger and ended up with about 5 dozen cookies).
And then I sent a picture to Ben to show him what is waiting for him. I think he is really happy about that.
Pardon my finger.
Here is the Beast. Welcome, Beast.
Have you experienced the shortages in lumber, building supplies, caulk, generators, etc. in the country right now? Banjo Man sawa a different generator in a store in town and came home to research it. Two days later he returned to the store to buy one, only to find out they were gone. As in, we don’t know when we will ever get another shipment.
So he saw a friend in the parking lot of Home Depot and the friend gave him some advice on generators and Banjo Man returned to the other store and bought a different model.
We think it’s going to be a huge success.
When we saw a camping stove and a griddle in the same store I insisted we buy it NOW. That’s what you have to do now: buy it when you see it.
In fact, that’s what I have always done with quilting fabric. I buy it when I see it. See? Who knew how smart I am?
I went to my very first yoga class Monday night.
I think I survived it, but I’m not quite sure.
It was the easiest yoga class in the history of yoga, billed as a Beginner Yoga workshop for three Mondays in a row. Monday night about ten of us sat on our brand new mats at the Community Center and learned how to breathe.
I loved that part. I’ve read a zillion times how deep breathing is important and good for stress and anxiety and promotes all sorts of health. I am not a healthy breather, but I will learn. The sweet, patient instructor advised us to practice.
And then there were some “basic” positions. We sort of learned four of them. I was in the front row (big mistake) so I couldn’t see if anyone else was as twisted and confused as I was, but several times the instructor came by and told me to “sink into your hips.”
I still don’t know what that means, but next Monday night I will try to do it again.
Yesterday I expected to feel sore, but I didn’t. And then as the day wore on? Everything was sore–but not in a bad way–from the top of my head to my toes. I was in bed at 7:30. I wasn’t asleep, but I spent some time shopping online for a keychain wallet that will hold my driver’s license, gym card and a $20 bill (in case I go to the Pantry after swimming to get a sandwich).
As I told Banjo Man, I am an athlete now and I need the proper gear. And more Tylenol.
Check out that beautiful round ball. And the rock that looks like a leather ear. And the perfect “skipper” for Banjo Man.
As my mother would say, there’s “no rhyme or reason” to my choices. She said that to me a lot and it wasn’t necessarily a compliment, only a baffled observation. But it always made me laugh.
I also picked up a few scraps of driftwood for our Mother’s Day campfire.
First campfire of 2021.
Am I excited about the upcoming summer? You bet I am. Yesterday I made up the guest beds, hauled all of the quilts out of the closet and ordered a new cotton blanket on Amazon. Banjo Man intends to rebuild the fire pit and I have written “marshmallows” on my grocery list.
My daily mission is (a) search the beach for arrowheads, (b) pick up driftwood for future campfires and (c) cook or bake something to freeze.
Today it might be cookies.
See the white plastic bag in the back? A bouquet of flowers was lovingly protected from the rain.
I went to town this morning and, boy, was it busy in the grocery stores! And you know what that meant: people were getting together with their families to celebrate Mother’s Day tomorrow. Families will be together again!
Be still my heart.
I remember one particular Mother’s Day here at the lake, when the boys were young (Will was two, I think, so it was 1979) and the four of us went down to the Denton Slough to “fish”. We mostly sat and played by the water on a warm, cloudy day. I have a picture of it somewhere. I am wearing a halter top and look undernourished.
That is a sweet and treasured memory from a very, very simple time.
There were two other Mother’s Days here in the last dozen years or so. One time I was totally alone and spent hours on the beach looking for arrowheads, drinking coffee and taking pictures of rocks. It was lovely and quiet.
Another time I was with Banjo Man, George and Sarge. I have a photo of the three of them looking a bit grumpy at a restaurant in town where we had lunch. Hilarious!
Last year at this time I had just buried my mother. We were in the midst of the Covid lockdown. I just asked daughter Nancy if she remembers anything about last year, but she said it’s a blank. I agree. I’m sure we stayed away from each other. Rhode Island was shut down, as almost every state was.
The year before that we had a crazy, miserable, insane family breakfast at Denny’s. My mother was not in a good mood, it rained buckets for what seemed like an endless drive to the restaurant, the breakfast took over an hour to arrive, I hadn’t told anyone about the cancer and was in pain. My daughter kept shooting me looks, the kind that say I know something’s wrong and you’re not telling me.
I spent the rest of the day in bed, under the covers, feeling sorry for myself and guilty for not providing my mother with the kind of Mother’s Day she had expected.
Tomorrow Banjo Man has offered dinner out. Or breakfast out. Or lunch somewhere. But I think I’d like to go down to the beach, drink coffee, look for arrowheads and take pictures of rocks. And maybe take a ride to the Denton Slough, just for old time’s sake.
I hope your Mother’s Day is filled with love and lots of hugs!
I’m so sorry for the delay in posting. An issue with WordPress is now solved and I am back on track once again.
The trick now will be to access my photos from the phone and for some reason this has become impossible. For now. But getting better. I may or may not have it under control.
Our trip from Boston was uneventful, but wearing a mask pretty much non-stop for 11 hours is not something I recommend. Even Banjo Man was grumpy and had a headache after the seventh hour. I’m usually the one who whines and bitches incessantly, but this time he joined me.
We arrived after 11 PM and spent the night in Spokane. The next morning? Groceries!
Stop #1.
Woods sausages at Stop #2.
And then, at last, the lake.
The water is down, but coming up a little bit more every day.
And a trip to the cabin.
And so it begins…and we are so happy to be here.
We are packing up and getting ready to head west in a few days. Oh, the joy of it all!
Harley Chick brought me a present (she made it herself–I am so impressed with someone who can sew zippers).
This will be in my carry-on bag, of course. I love it. So pretty!
Finish #12, as of this morning. The binding is on, as is the label. The hand-stitching will have to wait until the fall, when I am on the couch watching Nebraska football. I thought it was pretty fifteen years ago, but now I don’t.
Almost finished #13. I’m not sure this will be completed in the next four days, but sitting at the machine keeps me from pacing, which is always a good thing. I call it “Piano Keys”.
And finally…
Banjo Man is putting in long days in the office. There are evenings when he can’t stay awake long enough to watch tv with me.
We have emptied our upright freezer (it’s on its deathbed) and have nothing left to eat but scallops, brussels sprouts, bacon and French fries.
I’m not sure how this is going to work, but we are definitely going out to dinner tomorrow night.
Fourth of July
Glen the Banjo Man
LIVE at the Dump
is there any more pie? 