Post Collection

What a lovely thing it is to have a small gift arrive in the mail...  the snail mail. You know... the metal box that you have been receiving all the bills and political hogwash in lately. We have a rural box out on the highway, a mile and a quarter from the house. I worry about people taking things in the middle of the night but I guess there are more honest folks in the world that I give credit for. We have only had a theft once in 13 years.
So, on Monday, the prospector made a run to get the mail in the afternoon and , low and behold, I got a small gift and a REAL letter from my friend in Michigan. This would be the childhood friend that I lost for almost 50 years. The one who was cute and blond.... and made crop tops out of her sweaters before they were in the stores. Her name is Dawn. A post about her and her early fashion statements here.
So, she sent me a little package with a LETTER and a really wonderful gift that she found at a farm/orchard market where they buy fresh apple cider.....

Happy Goat  goat milk soap with a "lovely lilac" fragrance. Oooou!, does it smell good.
The letter is filled with stories of a trip that she and her husband took in their camper for a weekend.... two old mansions in Muskegon, the market where they got the apple cider and the goat soap, and a casino  at Manistee. What fun! Then she had to tell me about a big antiques mall in Lidington and the wonderful cranberry glass that she bought; the Lake Michigan shoreline and a little village called Pentwater with MORE antique shops. Then she came home and sauteed some sea scallops for dinner. I was ready to get on a plane and fly to Michigan right then and there. This girl needs a blog. She's always doing trips like this. She needs a "travelblog".It was like I took the trip with her.
Are you reading this girlfriend. TRAVELBLOG???? You could do it.
So,write someone a letter.... a real letter. It's so nice to receive one. Even if Dawn hadn't sent the soap with the letter it would have been a wonderful surprise. There's something about getting something in the mail that is personal and just for you. It makes you feel special. Try just one. It's a guaranteed "feel good" for both parties.

OK! New magazine on the supermarket rack. It's from Hobby Farms and it's all about CHICKENS.

Someone really loves chickens. This is not only an interesting magazine with great articles but the titles are wonderful. The "Coop Corner", "A Nest of Her Own" and "Surviving Fowl Weather". How about "eggs-cellent" winter tips? Makes you want to read the articles doesn't it?. Pulls you right in.
And then.... "The Incredible Edible Egg", the recipe section by (and I have to believe she gave herself this name) September Morn. Honestly.... she's a farmer and dog trainer in Shelton, Washington. I just love that  name. This is the Recipe Roundup section and the article is called The Eggs and I. You have to buy the magazine to get the recipes but I'll tell you that they are "eggstraordinary" recipes that are worth the $5.99 price of the magazine. Try to find it . I found it at Raleys.

And I leave you with this discovery as I drove up our road to the house a few days ago.

Isn't this amazing? There it was, growing right out of an oak tree. If I looked it up right it's called a Sulfur Shelf or Chicken of the Woods ( free ranging on a tree). It says that it's edible when young but causes gastrointestinal distress and can be poisonous depending on what tree it's attached to. Good grief. Why take a chance. They have "safe" ones at the grocery store. That's why I don't pick and cook mushrooms around here. I just don't trust them or myself. I have an uncle who picks them and cooks them all the time. I trust him.... kind of.

Funny line in my mushroom book....All That the Rain Promises and More.... A hip pocket guide to western mushrooms by David Arora.
"Conclusion: If you eat and enjoy this mushroom, always cook it thoroughly and do not serve it to lawyers, landlords, employers, policemen, pitbull owners, or others whose good will you cherish."
I think I will leave this  pretty fungi right were it is.....

Being There

When I was about 10 years old a little girl came into my life. She lived down at the end of the street with her Mom and grandparents. She was a wild child, a free spirit and the spark of life to my quieter, more passive personality. She became my very best friend in all the world. I will call her "D".
At 13, when "D" 's Mother remarried, she had to leave and travel the world because of her new father's job. I saw her off at the San Francisco Airport every year with solemn promises to write and see each other again the following summer..., and that we did. She wrote about Holland, American schools, new boyfriends, wonderful adventures and her new life. I wrote her and told her about Junior High School, new boyfriends and life in Pleasant Hill, California.
Every summer "D" would come back to her grandparents house. I would wait for a phone call , hear her voice and then run to the end of the street to see her.
We would spend everyday talking about her adventures. She would show me wonderful new things that I had never heard about. When she came back ,one summer, from Kuwait in Saudi Arabia she brought "Cous-cous" in a bag and showed me how to make it edible. She had clothing that was so "European" and then...., there would always be something for me. She never forgot to bring me some beautiful thing from some interesting place in the world.
We wrote letters for 5 more years and every summer we would spend our wonderful, fragile time together sleeping in the backyard, sharing boyfriends, skinny dipping in her grandparents backyard pool and laughing our way through the hot summers of our teenage years.
My Mother became her "Summer Mom" and she became another child in our house. She still lived at her grandparents house most of the time but she loved being at our home.

"D" graduated from an air force base school in Northern Africa and returned to the U.S. We started college, got married and she went back east for a few years, then moved to Montana, became a nurse and stayed in the Big Sky state never traveling to another country again.
The story is long, the distance has always been far and the visits few, but the bond we forged so long ago has never been broken. We have stayed connected all these years and when she knew that Mom was dying ..., she came.

She drove from Montana, hoping to get here before Mom passed but didn't make it . I'm sorry she wasn't able to see Mom and talk to her. Mom knew she was coming and looked forward to seeing her other "daughter". There are things in life that just don't happen the way you want them to. It's sad but true. But, there was so much more.
"D" stayed for a week. She cried with us and laughed with us. She helped bring all of Mom's things home in her truck. She listened, gave comfort and told us things about our family that even we had forgotten. . She became a support system of love and humor..., and wisdom. My sister has always known that "D" was part of this family in so many ways. There are blessings that you just don't see in your life and then they arrive with arms open and you don't question them.
My friend was always there; in the summers of my childhood, in letters from around the world, playing in creeks and old oak trees and under a white parachute that bellowed on a green lawn in her grandparents yard (she knows what I mean)..., and she was there last week because she is my friend and we love each other.

She was there.
















She came home with me. Gave an old friend(the Prospector) a big hug; Met Carl for the first time. Fell in love with him and he returned the affection. and she settled in for a few days . She got to met the goats and Annibel, listen to the Coyote and Fox at night and take photos of bumblebees with me..., and sit on the porch. We talked and I cried; and she was there.....
We had two lovely days and then the familiar leaving. It would be a long drive back to Montana and her hubby that waited, their dog and chickens..., and her job.
She called twice on her way back. Now, she is safely home.

Thank you my sweet, sweet friend. I hope you know what this meant to me. Your friendship is a gift of memories and love. Like the Oak tree we played in as children, you gave me support to climb to a new level of my life, a place without parents and you did it silently asking for nothing.