Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Dear Diary in England
The Diary. It's August 4, l970 (Aunt Cella is 7 months pregnant) "Lovely rest all by ourselves in this big open lot under a shade tree near York. Beautiful sunny but cool day again. We both exercised on a tiny road, & then drove into York. Found it a delightful place, esp. the old narrow winding streets near the Cathedral. Walked up the famous Shambles Street, a quaint little touristy-charming walking lane with no cars & bosomy overhanging 2nd stories on the houses & shops, so crooked they nearly touched on the tops. Found a sweet little beamed & wall-papered Shambles Restaurant, & having just cottage cheese & peaches for breakfast (& no dinner the night before because I was both resting & punishing my stomach for eating a big breakfast & then apple pie with cream yesterday afternoon), I was hungry! We enjoyed a delightful but cheap lunch (85 cents each) including everything! Soup, rolls, full delicious entree plate (mine was chicken fricassee with Yorkshire pudding & Mike's was steak pie & both were delicious), coffee & dessert! Wow, never such a bargain again I'm afraid. (some lovely camp sites are 50 cents for the night with facilities.) Anyway, "Dessert was gooseberry & apple tart in custard sauce which needed sweetening--but 85 cents!!! After touring the famous cathedral, now being restored & nearly impassable in places, but a beautiful creation, we strolled back through a quaint area till I spotted a winsome old timbered 2 story restaurant, standing amid the stalls of the open market. This place, the Tudor Rose, was delightfully old & beamed & we enjoyed an orange squash on the 2nd floor. Anything to get into these places was our motto! How we sacrificed & suffered! Drove then right on towards the Lakes District & Beatrix Potter country, passing through a town where we stopped for.......let me guess, yes 3 (THREE!) soft ice creams each! And absolutely bereft of our long-used alibi that eating something was just an excuse to get into these places--shameless. We then crossed the Pennines, the rocky backbone of central England via small grey stoned farming towns. This Pennine area is much akin to Scotland, wild, brooding, craggy, green, & lovely. Found a campsite among the many available, high on a hill & commanding a wonderful view. Enjoyed the outlook immensely & also the price of 50 cents!"
* * *
Aunt Cella comments that "the diary goes on & on. I have notebooks full of those 30 years of traveling. I'm so glad I've got them".
She ends her note to me with this: "Now is there room for a recipe? Lemon-Buttermilk Pie 3 eggs, 1 & 3/4 c sugar, 4 big rounded tbsp. flour, 1 stick butter or margarine melted, l c buttermilk, juice & rind of 2 lemons or more ( I use about 4 because we both love strong & tart lemon taste, but then of course you should increase the flour amount). Pour into unbaked pie shell & bake for about 1 hour at 350. Take out even if a bit soupy in the middle. Will set. Yum, yum."
*The photo shows Aunt Cella preparing a "porch tea" in January. Only in Arizona!
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Little Bavaria
Friday, January 14, 2011
An Unforgettable Horseback Ride through Killarney Countryside
"An Unforgettable Horseback Ride through Killarney Countryside"
by Aunt Cella, posted by permission
Originally written October, 1969/a true story
part 2 of 4
The strangest tea I will ever have in my life occurred in Ireland, which, by the way, is green, friendly, progressive, and lots of fun. In the wild, rugged, southern Killarney Lake country, Mike and I took an all day trek, making a complete circle, first by pony cart, then by horseback, and later by boat, which circled us back to the starting point again in the evening. Not being so lucky weather-wise in Ireland (where are all those green shamrocks?), we had rain most of the six days we were there. This memorable day was no exception, but we wanted to take this trip badly enough to do it in the pouring rain. We had another lady and a foolhardy couple from California with us and a little sort-of-girl-guide. We set off in high spirits, which sank lower and lower as we got colder and wetter. Transferring from the pony-trap after an hour, we found the horses typical nags, and cantankerous to boot! However, I felt somewhat smug and self-assured, since I was almost raised on a horse. After two hours on horseback and getting into deep, wild mountains, we were stiff and frozen. Our sack lunch became a mass of mush, vitamin pills in my purse ran red all over, our clothes were sodden, and our limbs were paralyzed with cold. Our little-girl-guide reassured us by telling us we only had three hours left to go! We saw an isolated house that offered tea, and gratefully groaned off our horses and dripped inside, running rivulets on her kitchen floor, and apologizing between chattering teeth. We gulped hot tea with Irish soda bread, and stayed as long as we dared. Again, we struggled aboard our plugs, who would not do anything they did not feel like doing.
In the meantime, the country was frighteningly beautiful, with deep gullies, broad rocky valleys, and treeless craggy mountains --- what a fantastic trip in good weather! After two more frozen hours, Mike and I approached the summit (we were ahead) and looked into desolate virgin territory beyond. My tendency was to go left, because it look like we might meet our boats there. But my horse was going right whether I consented or not, and trusting the sure-direction instincts of a horse, Mike and I went right. After a while, Mike wasn't so sure, so turned his horse back to the crossroads, but mine would not go. I kept assuming the others would come (since my horse insisted this was the right road) but, hill after hill, I kept looking back. No horses appeared, and soon the crossroad was far behind me. Gradually I decided this must be the wrong way, and tried again to turn around. I tried to go into the lane of an isolated house, I tried to stop. . .I tried everything, but that broken-down horse was impossible. When I tried to let the horse know who was in charge, he promptly backed me right down a bank into a ravine. Then, for the first time I was frightened, because I knew that I could not handle that horse. I began (in growing terror) to contemplate spending the night out in the wilds of Killarney and likely freezing to death. I had no idea where we were headed, but it certainly wasn't toward human habitation. These were very bad moments. Spying an inhabited old cottage, I decided to stop, even if I had to leap off the horse, but surprisingly she was willing and I lumbered off, hallowing to the occupants. . .
To be continued.
Photo credit/Creative Commons: Tony Hisgett
Monday, April 06, 2009
To Japan with Love
"The fabric place is just awesome. There are many small shops. Not big at all. The shops are mostly old and have bare walls. BUT there are so many varieties of materials there. Materials I've never seen! And so inexpensive. I enjoyed visiting all these shops. Often times they sell cotton for a dollar for 1m (1yd is 92cm, 100cm is 1m). They are not the best quality in Japan but good enough for everyday thing. Some places sell more expensive materials from overseas."
"One shopkeeper told me they used to be wholesale shops. Individual customers couldn't buy any. They sold like half a roll or for a whole role. Now they made the place to be inexpensive, varieties of kinds, and some of the shops sell the same yardage as from Japanese pattern and sewing books."
Many fabric rolls were displayed right on the sidewalks. What was unusual about this is that the space they were stored might not be close to the shopkeepers store. The honor system is well and alive in Japan! According to Toshiko, some of the signs shown in the collage above said:
The yellow sign said "Please go to pay at the third shop from here.
The blue sign said "Please don't take these " and "Please don't take these to the next door shop, but take the to our shop - HAPPY. Please take them to HAPPY" (I thought they are saying not to take them home, but they meant not to take them to the next door neighbor).
The town of fabric consists of 92 associated shops with fruit, flower, and other shops interspersed. The assciated shops sell not only textiles in raw form, but shops for jeans, clothing, beads, hats, buttons, belts, and quilts. Awww, wouldn't it be fun to visit there?
Toshiko and I have been enjoying conversations about kimonos. They are held in high regard and are quite valuable. Our discussions have led to modern clothing designed and made with elements of the traditional kimono. In the collage above, you will note a Japanese Hoari jacket. It is an American version of the Japanese design. It was a photo from a local quilt show and had an attached note that said that the length of the sleeve is made according to the age of the individual (the younger you are, the shorter can be the sleeves). I am not sure why, but I like the concept! Toshiko's experience and expertise doesn't mesh with the Americanized version of the attached note, though. She says that all kimonos have sleeves of the same length.
Thank you, Toshiko, for sharing so generously with us!
Photos are by Toshiko@2009 and her son, Joel@2009.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Window Shopping and Wishing
Saturday, March 24, 2007
For the Birds
Bluebird Houses
Situated at 3,000 feet above sea level, this rural community is known for wheat farming and abundant crops. It is also known as the bluebird capital of the world! Farmers and community people for miles around place welcome birdhouses of all colors and designs on fenceposts, sometimes only 1/4 mile apart. On one birdwatching trip, we counted more than 100 birdhouses and that was just on the route we took! There are more, more, more! Each little feathered friend can find room at the inn in this neighborhood. Today we were pleased to see vibrant bluebird pairs winging around birdhouses as if to say "Is this the one for us?".
Vibrant Blues
Thrush of a Bluebird
Nests Needed
A Community Serves
It was a wonderful day! Tomorrow I will share more --- of old houses, deserted cemeteries, and a tail-gate picnic. I'll see you then!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
More Desert Beauty
I cannot resist posting a few more pictures of Tari's recent trip to Arizona and the desert southwest. From barren, flat spaces to boulders stacked high, much beauty can be found there. Cane cholla and saguaro cactus, petroglyphs, sandy washes filled with pebbles and colorful rocks and crystals, pools of water from a rainy winter, and caves and boulders at Cochise Stronghold; according to Tari, all were interesting to explore and appreciate. This is the time of year that the desert wakes up and blooms in abundance! Enjoy your armchair tour with me.
Photos copyrighted by Tari
Monday, March 19, 2007
Desert Wishes
My friend, Tari, just returned from a trip to Arizona and New Mexico last week. She shared her pictures with me and I especially like this one of her dog, Scarlet. The mountains, the rock, the cactus, the tall Saguaro, and the spiny and spiky landscape are so appealing to me! This was taken at the home of Tari's aunt and uncle. Maybe that's why it brings such an emotional response from me, as their home is not far the home of our Grandmother and of our Great-Uncle's ranch. Wishing I was there, but being here instead. . .I have a touch of wanderlust! Trying to be content in all things today. . .
Photo copyrighted by Tari
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Savor Content
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Mother's Notebook

"A few months ago I rode a little vintage train up the Hood River Valley from Hood River to Parkdale, Oregon. We started out along a quiet, rocky river and then switched back and started up a woodsy incline. Finally we leveled off through the peaceful pear orchards of the high valley.
As we rode along, sometimes precariously close to nothing, I thought of the couplings holding each car to their power source --- that big, black, capable engine. I was mighty glad that the couplings held secure, keeping us moving safely along the tracks.
Prayer and faith are couplings --- the connecting links --- that hold us fast to God, our source of power.
Periodically I think of moments of hope and promise; a reminder that God longs to hear and answer our prayers. We must stay connected. We must receive His power.
Our prayers of faith will connect our fickle human hearts to His steadfast Divine Love power and keep us on track, bonded securely within His will.
Pray often, trust much, receive His love."
Written by Mom Marj; about 1995 and recorded in one of her notebook/journals











