Today is Easter Sunday. Family will be here this evening. I decided to take a time out from the kitchen chores to prepare for our get- together through Brazil Buzz.
This everyday housewife is living the good life and cooking up a storm.
I will serve my loved ones chicken and homemade noodles, a choice of sides, including morels.
A beautiful 13x9 carrot cake, topped with thick cream cheese icing will be dessert. I added some thinly sliced orange slices to the picture perfect cake that rests on the countertop.
This cake makes up for all of the lopped sided "worst of shows" of the past.
Iced sweet tea with strength is chilling in the fridge.
I thought about serving rabbit, but Paul still believes in the Easter Bunny. Just kidding!
I worry that the grass is already getting out of hand. We need to rid ourselves of the rain for a few days. The yard has standing water in some areas. There is no shortage of dandelions either.
There is, in fact too many in this country landscape to fuzz over.
Dad admired them every springtime. Mom, on the other hand, viewed the green leaves as a healthy food source for her family.
When my sister and I were little girls, yet old when played house near the summer kitchen, by the coal pile, we tried our hands at canning.
We found a few empty fruit jars and zinc lids. We washed them in a bucket of water pumped from the cistern. My little sister and I used a shard from a bar of laundry soap to sterilize those jars, in the cold untested water.
Then we gathered up dandelions and other greens that thrived in our yard and stuffed the jars. My buddy and I covered the greens with murky water from the same container and sealed our work. The quart and pint jars filled with greens and things we failed to see during prep time at the upside down orange crate work center, albeit; nothing could ever look as nice as the rolls of colorful jars of home-canned goods that our mother provided for our family and stored beneath our bedroom on certain shelves in the cellar.
Sandra Elaine and I lined our jars up in a similar way against the external north wall of the pigeon shed and allowed a few days for the contents to acquainted themselves with the housing and undergo full fermentation and semi-deterioration and then we dumped them in the big chicken pen.
The smelly contents in those old Ball jars was an instant hit with the poultry every time we discarded the waste and waste of time.
How sweet it was, when out of the blue one hot September day in the late '40s, Mother began teaching me the proper way to can.
I can very seldom these days. The cellar my family once depended on has long since been filled in by a dozer.
Some day, someone may disturb that area at the home place and think that they foundgold when they view what the heavy machine covered up.
Maybe, they will find a jar of dandelions in the pile of rumple hid and hiding in the fill.
I hope no one ever finds the diary that I kept when I was a kid. Many thoughts were added during potato de-sprouting times, in that dimly lighted work room.
This senior often wonders what happened to the little birthday gift with a shiny key full of day to day secrets, hopes and fears.
Other diaries saw me through my teenage years. I wonder where they went and more; what did I jot down? Did I mention the lovely meadow in the springtime or Forest Park in the fall? Were happy thoughts throughout the pages or did disappointments fill all.
Do not call me if you found them! They may not mention the de- sprouting of old potatoes beneath the bedroom floor.
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