The Royal Wedding

You, too, can own a set of these royal gnomes.

I have always been a complete and total Anglophile (among other things my ancestry goes back to several English kings and I love **McVitie's Chocolate biscuits). Today brought back so many memories of watching the wedding of "Chuck and Di" on July 29, 1981––nearly thirty years ago now! I was home for the summer between my freshman and sophomore years at college. My mother and I set the alarm early, made some coffee, noshed on some Danish, and tucked into the large couch in the farm living room (that we still have, reupholstered) with our large St. Bernard and Newfoundland, Molly and Nana. Back then you couldn't TeVo the wedding or even tape it onto VCR or watch it streaming on the Internet. It was live, but limited, coverage and it was just fine. After the wedding I headed to my summer job for 8am at the Kernel Bakery in nearby Peterborough.

Diana was iconic for my generation. Only a year older than I, her life seemed a fairy tale at the time. Everything about her was intriguing, even though, as in our own lives, we would later learn that the fairy tale was myth. But she still captivated my generation of women in a way that few have.

Catherine Middleton (for many years "Kate" and dubbed "Waity Katie" for her long time with Prince William) is now Her Royal Highness Princess William Arthur Philip Louis, Duchess of Cambridge, Countess of Strathearn, Baroness Carrickfergus. [HRH The Princess of Wales seems a lot more succinct to me.] Her story, while still a bit Disney-esque, is more relatable. She is a modern woman: college educated, with hardworking parents, no title or royal heritage. The couple has been living together for many years now and has managed to live below the radar or the press or any scandal. She also had one long introduction to royal life, something that Diana, despite her background, did not.

But I have to say, as happy as anyone is for a newly-married couple, there hasn't been the wow factor for me. I find myself reflecting instead on that Diana is not there, or what would she have thought? What might she have worn as mother of the groom? One thing is certain: she would have been proud of her son William as she clearly did a magnificent job in raising him (as has Charles, despite his private gaffs). They are all human, after all.

Yet the pomp is much fun and a pleasant diversion and the music magnificent! [I was less interested in the fashion, although what a gown, and more into the many anthems by the Romantic Victorian composer Sir Charles Hubert Parry: "I Was Glad" has such memories for me, both as I have sung it in two choruses and of my father who was a big Parry fan.] We enjoyed the BBC coverage because we wanted more history and less "chat." And watching with my three children this morning––22, 13 and 11––and my husband was the real highlight [as was making cinnamon scones for them]. Sitting in our doublewide on a Kentucky ridge I also reflected how my life has changed in the past thirty years, how I have changed. Viewing London from afar I also realize that, while I was glad to have lived there as a student, I am quite happy to be where I am now.

On another note, my daughter and I are planning the menu now for our May Day tea party that I'm hosting for some Kentucky friends in a few days. I'll post some of the recipes––and photos––next week.

You come back when you're ready!

Catherine

**And how cool that the Groom's Cake is made of McVitie's biscuits? When I was at University College London my friend Bethan, from Wales, gave me a recipe of her mom's that involved crushing up chocolate biscuits into a pan. It was divine. I have lost it but maybe with the wonders of the Internet I can find it again. It would seem the cake is an extended version of this idea.

Easy Easter

Melvin's hat and a favorite book that a friend gave me many years ago––"Heart's Delight Farm"

Ida's mint––used in our iced tea––made an easy centerpiece.

This Easter was one of our most memorable––even the kids, all three of them, said so. Perhaps it was because it was the first holiday we shared together at Chickabiddy Cottage (where, with a few tweaks, we're trying to figure out if we can move permanently––but at least for the summer months). Or because it was the first holiday we shared with our daughter since Christmas 2007. Or because it was just effortless (even Betty and Duncan provided our dessert!). No fussing. No Easter decorations (despite my best intentions: next year?). No hauling out old china or silver (most still packed). Not even a bouquet of spring flowers!

Joberta and Anna share a "hoot."

Perhaps it was because we just sat around the big old English farmhouse kitchen table for hours with some of our Kentucky friends. No, we didn't go to church but we praised, prayed and felt blessed all the same after what I would best describe as a contemplative Lenten season.

Joberta brought the Cupcake wine!

Our daughter is staying at Chickabiddy while she is here and every meal we have had there together has been wonderful. We sit around and talk before and afterwards: often on the porch. Or read or play. We have no TV, phone or internet at the cottage. I intend to keep it that way. Across the street and up the road a bit from our doublewide, it is the needed domestic center of our farm life. As Addie says, "You can look out any window and catch a view." And the breezes find us and gather off the knob. There are much-needed vistas and new and changing horizons. It truly does provide a needed escape from life's distractions while allowing us to communicate with each other––or for me to see what's going on at the farm while working away inside. [Soon my office will be there, too.] I can even holler out the door when a meal is ready or visit when someone stops by. For the first time in a long time, I feel at home. Settled. Dare I say, even permanently so?

The kids pitched together and decorated the Easter cakes––
a lamb and a rabbit from old tins that my mother used to use.

Thank you Betty and Duncan for making dessert so easy this year!

I can not sing enough praises for Betty Crocker® "home style" Fluffy White icing: it is like Seven-Minute icing, which can be difficult to make (or make quickly), and all you have to do is add boiling water! [It's also fat free.] Our cake was a Duncan Hines® lemon cake: moist and tasty––and easy.

The Remains of the Cake and the delightful Cadbury Creme Egg, one of England's greatest exports!

We are so enjoying our family time altogether again. Even though our daughter
is thriving in her own life "back east," her presence is something I miss throughout the year.

The festal lamb––our son requested it again for his 11th birthday just two days after Easter!
The only difference in the menu was that we had mashed potatoes instead of oven-roasted.
Oh, and he got a "from scratch" chocolate cake with homemade mocha icing. (Sorry, Betty.) 

You come back when you're ready!

Catherine

Have a Blessed Easter ~

Each season has its own charm, each bestows its own blessing, and we welcome each in turn. The planet we inhabit may be only one of countless planets, but it turns in its accustomed orbit and we accept this unquestioningly. There is security in knowing that spring follows winter and summer comes after spring. As I go back into my house, I wish all my friends, everywhere, the joy and sweetness of spring.

~ Gladys Taber, author of the many "Stillmeadow" books

Easter Blessings from our farmyard to yours ~

Little Blessings Everywhere

The glorious white trillium––as majestic as an Easter lily.

The beguiling and delicate wood violet.

Springtime in Appalachia brings true meaning to the season: it is prolonged, glorious, breathtaking. When Daniel Boone described Kentucky as "a second paradise," he was likely referring to its cool green hollers, hillsides laced with redbud and dogwood, and the emergent flora in the wooded landscape. And two centuries later, in his expansive chords and melodic tributes to mountain folk music, Aaron Copland wrote "Appalachian Spring" as a virtuoso ballet suite to both the subtleties and the richness of the season here. I can only hope that Copland spent a few weeks in Kentucky––rising early in the morning, hearing the bird song and watching the landscape transform around him like a veil lifted. Appalachia extends up from the south-central United States to New England like an old tumbling wall: spring travels along it from south to north, ever so varied as it goes.

O Appalachian Spring! I gained the ledge;
Steep, inaccessible smile that eastward bends
And northward reaches in that violet wedge
Of Adirondacks!  ~ Hart Crane, "The Bridge"

Trillium and trout lily in the forest.

The appearance of the delectable morel on the dappled forest floor in late March has now given way to trillium––white and pink and, if you are fortunate to find them, yellow and red––bloodroot, larkspur, wild phlox, purple violets and the more delicate wood violet, trout lilies, miniature iris and unfurling ferns, among others. There are even patches of wild strawberries blooming along the roadsides or in scrubby, open places.

A bank of trillium in a secluded valley near our home.

My favorite is the pink trillium––I saw all but yellow today.

Everyone seems to have their "secret" wildflower spot in the region and I've certainly found mine: some on our own land and others that I like to look for each year when driving past. Of course, I only take photographs, never a flower. Those who do try to transplant––and I do confess to wanting to move some miniature iris, but only because there are so many in this one spot on our land––often do not succeed. Wildflowers seem to be God's gift to us all, but only in their place: their self-chosen and rightful spot. Their only purpose seems to bring delight to the world. What a marvelous job description! Perhaps this makes them even more glorious––precious discoveries in the forest that would seem to contribute to the annual pageant of color, light and glory that is the Spring! And yet a reminder that everything has its place in the world or its important contribution.

A cache of larkspur along a roadside in nearby Casey County.

Later in the summer, usually in August when the children return to school, I enjoy seeing the Joe Pye weed, purple ironweed and various rudbeckias along the roadside. Even the goldenrod flower is a lovely, late summer contrast to the mauve tones of the other flowers. These are all tall and seem more like sunworshippers. The wildflowers of spring cling more towards to the ground, not really wanting to boast of their beauty or purpose other than to surprise and delight us before the longer, heated summer days.

Morgan Cemetery and an old redbud in front of our knob field.

Wild phlox is everywhere now.

Springtime in Kentucky is a reminder of why we are here in this land, why every spring––this being our fourth full spring season––is a reminder that as dark and bleak as the earth can be for a few months each year, there will always be light and color and bird song again. Spring seems to remind us of why we are here at all: because everything has its season under Heaven and everything lives again.

A trout lily pokes through the forest floor.

Above all, we should always try to find––and allow ourselves to be surprised by––the little blessings along the way. I am blessed and I am equally fortunate to see and appreciate what is around me. I am always thankful for the spark.

You come back when you're ready!

Catherine

Puppies!

Henry with Willard, left, and Roscoe, right. These are Black-Mouthed Cur puppies from the same litter,
almost seven weeks old. They are a delight and will be great farm dogs!

Roscoe in a rare, still moment.