Looking Back on a Day of Jelly Making

Clouds
Think of the cooling shadows of summer which benevolent Nature spreads over her darling forests and gardens.....summer shadows of wonderful depth and brilliancy like the wings of a mother bird over her young."
~John Muir~ from a journal, 1913?~
This is what we woke up to this morning....

We have not had clouds in our skies for a while and to wake up this morning and see this... well, it kind of made my day. All the technical reasons for this summer sky, with words like "fronts" and "lows" and "relative humidity", just pale in comparison to the beauty of standing outside looking up into a sky like this. I, of course, grabbed my camera.
So, it's a good thing that I saw this before I heard the Prospector say, "If you think that's amazing, look at this." I turned around to see this...

A huge branch of our beautiful Flowering Pear tree had broken away from the trunk and the wonderful limb that has shaded our kitchen window and patio for the last few years was resting on the front porch roof.
So, instead of writing my post about the amazing Jelly Making endeavor, I spent the morning helping my husband cut and remove this huge branch that decide to fall. not during a storm or massive winds, or from some accidentental UPS diver that didn't stop soon enough. Oh no!
Sometime during the calm and beautiful night this tree limb just decided to take a dive for no apparent reason other than gravity. I'm very glad that the limb landed on the porch roof and not on my kitchen garden window, with all the McCoy pottery in it. In fact...no damage was done at all, except for a few cuts and scrapes on the two old farmhands (that would be us) that spent the morning doing something that they had not expected to do.
I think it looks much cleaner and I'm glad it didn't fall on anyone sitting in it's shade....like me.... with my ice tea, enjoying my well deserved rest yesterday afternoon after making jelly.
See how nice it looks...

 We lost a good amount of shade but it's a lot safer.
Ok, on to the jelly making.....

 I first want to say that without a website called Pick Your Own, I would have probably floundered more miserably at my first foray into making jelly. These are the most precise directions I have ever seen and I needed PRECISE directions. I think that this website is even better than having my husband's grandmother right there in the kitchen with me.
I loved ya Vannie! You showed me how to use lettuce cores instead of throwing them away and you taught me not to whine about things; which stuck like gum on the bathroom ceiling until gravity let it fall. You didn't live long enough to see this computer revolution but you would be amazed at the information that can be found.
Even the Sure Jell directions didn't explain this process as well as Benivia at Pick Your Own. I just want everyone to know that she leaves nothing to guess at....she even has pictures. She has prices and where to find everything you need.  She made it look easy. Now, that's where I think she failed me.
I have made Jam lots of times. I just make a batch of Strawberry jam a few weeks back. Jam is easy. Jelly is easy once you get to the "cook it and put it in the jars" part. I don't want to bore you with details but I probably will. I just want to say that 5 lbs of fresh grapes does not always equal 5 cups of grape juice. Mushing the grapes with a potato masher looks easy in theory but it's a bear and .... the juice does not FLOW through the jelly strainer. It sits there and looks at you. It takes an hour, with a spoon, not 20 minutes. Benivia called it "decanting" the clear liquid. I call it a mess.

N

 Now I know why women wore aprons all the time. They made serious messes....for serious domestic goddess jobs.
That might as well be blood on my foot. I feel like I sweat blood over all of this... but it's just some crushed grapes that decided to leave the debacle in the kitchen while they still had a chance. I know, I should have shoes on but I love being domestic in my bare feet. Sorry Vannie. I know it's just not fittin'.
So I finally got enough juice to make the jelly... and yes, I squeezed the bag.
Benivia said that I could stop after this step. I could even finish the next day. That was tempting but I didn't want to get tartrate crystals in my jelly and have to strain the damn juice again. It was lunchtime and I needed to eat something. I went straight for the Ben & Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream.

After "lunch" I added the dry pectin (with about 1/4 cup of the sugar) and cooked the juice over medium to high heat in a BIG pot. Do you think the pot was big enough?
Because I used the "no sugar" pectin I only had to use 4 cups of sugar instead of 7 cups. But you still have to use sugar in the "no sugar" pectin. That's weird. Benivia says it tastes better. Well, yes. Everything tastes better with sugar in it...especially Jam and Jelly. These are the mysteries of making jelly that confuse me. Why would it say "no sugar" if you still have to put sugar in it. and....she says that she,"... never has success using NO added sugar with the no-sugar pectin." What?
I followed the directions and added 4 cups of sugar and even though I need to work on controlling the MESS...

I finally got the Jelly in the jars and processed those little guys....

Cleaned up the kitchen....

....at least 3 or 4 times.
Did you know that you have to process things longer at higher altitudes? I didn't. In fact, and here comes a confession, I usually don't process my jam at all. I just ladle the hot jam into the hot sterile jars, put the sterilized lids and rings on, invert them and wait for the lid to "pop". I will process from now on, for 10 minutes, just to be safe. It said that if you live between 1001ft. - 6000ft. (I'm on the low end of the range) you should boil them for 10 minutes. Of course the water took that long to re-boil once I got the jars in the water, so I may have done it for 20 mins. or so.... but they are PROCESSED.
I removed the jars, carefully, with my new lifter tongs and let them cool. They all "popped". Then I 
 cleaned up the kitchen for the 5th time and  took a nap.

Look pretty don't they. It's very satisfying to look at my work...MY JELLY IN JARS. I figure that with buying all the equipment and my day of labor, each bottle is worth about $20.00 per jar.
I still have another 5# of grapes in the garage. Anyone interested? They're yours.
Don't ask me if I'm going to make Jelly again.... at least until next summer.

Those Summertime Blues... well, kind of purple.

This is were I want to be..... But, do you see me sitting in this chair with an big glass of ice tea in my hand and a smile on my face?

Does the view from this chair say..."It's Summertime. Come, enjoy the cool evening. Be a kid again. Run though the sprinkler. Watch the puppies play...."

No, it doesn't.  My inner voice is saying, "Stop wishing that you were Paris Hilton. She's not even your BFF." ( I sat through 15 minutes of her pathetic new show the other night. Don't go there.)
So....the half done projects are sitting there looking at me every time I go out the backdoor and open the garage door. I need some serious help.
 OK, back to the "inside" projects. The kitchen says it all....

Yesterday I cut some basil (hopefully for the last time) and made more Pesto for the freezer. The Basilico (as my grandma use to call it) is growing like a weed out there in the garden. Must be the mild weather.
The tomatoes have decided to ripen all at once. I have given away tomatoes until my only two neighbors pretend they don't see me coming down their driveways anymore. I think I may have to "put up" some of these tomatoes. Sounds like I know what I'm talking about, doesn't it?
Then, there are the GRAPES. The beautiful grapes that we planted two years ago have decided to give birth.
Yesterday, the Prospector picked almost 10 lbs. of grapes. The prepared ones are on the washing machine in the laundry room. Today I will make grape jelly for the first time in my life and my dear hubby says that it's EASY...his grandmother use to do it all the time. It was probably easy because he got to sit there and WATCH.
The sign says it all. There are more snakes to keep you hopping around here than Rattlers. They're called  "harvest" snakes.

But, I'm ready.... I've got the directions and the equipment. 

The grapes are ready....whither they like it or not.

 And if I goof up....I have a whole lot more in the garage refrigerator, with all the other unfinished business.

Can I go sit down and think about this before I start? Will someone peel me a grape?

A walk with Annibel

She walked ahead of me the other evening as if to say..."You have been taking the dogs for too many walks lately so hurry up and come along with me."

We walked to the top of the road that continues onto our neighbors property. The sun was just setting.

 The end of summer grass is dry and I stay on the dirt path. I'm aware of snakes in the grass on hot evenings like this so I avoid my favorite grassy hiking places. The California Buckeye is the first tree to go dormant and drop its leaves. It's beautiful against the dark oaks and pale grasses. It will drop leathery brown seed capsules soon that I love to use in baskets for the holidays.
Some critter jumped out of an oak tree below me and ran down into the ravine to the right. I heard the movement but didn't see what it was. This caught Annibel's attention. She started to move into the grass and I called to her. Fortunately she came back and we started toward the road down to the house. She kept stopping and looking back as if she wanted to go check out this other animal. That's a worry to us because she is outside all the time, but when she is not walking with me she never goes this far. She stays around the house, mostly in the garden.

As most cats would do, she saw a leaf move with a slight breeze and chased it. She got quite silly and ran about pawing at anything that moved.

I put a leaf on her back just for fun. I got caught up in the moment. It was probably not the best leaf. I think it was a poison oak leaf, but very dry and very pretty. I thought that she would try to shake it off or try to reach around for it. I thought that she would get all goofy about it and roll over or something. Oh no....

 She stopped her silly behavior and walked away with her tail in the air. She was obviously bored with the game and annoyed at my conduct or I had scored the winning point. I'm not sure. Whichever it was...the game was over.

...and off she went, down the hill toward the house, acting like I had ruined her whole day. Good grief! The leaf was still on her back and it stayed there until we got to the chicken house. Then she made a quick move toward something that caught her eye and the unwanted decoration slid off onto the ground.
I said, "See ya Annibel. Nice walk." and went to see the goats before it got too dark. They are so much more agreeable that cats...and that's saying something because you know how one of my goats can be.
I always feel like Annibel tolerates us. She appreciates the food and water but wants to maintain a dignified detachment. Maybe she thinks we should let her live inside the house. I know that she likes us, but she acts like she could just as easily move to my son's house in the city and not miss a step.  She's the perfect example of an animal that lives vertically.... in the moment. We are just one of her nine lives.... a place for her to have control, bother the dogs and sleep in a safe place. I kind of like this about her. Attachment can be a heavy thing.

"When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me."
~Montaigne~ (1533-1592)

And the cheese making continues....

You all know how sometimes I say that goats are magic? Well, making goat cheese is kind of magic in itself. I got so excited that I forgot to get the camera and chronicle my cheese making process this morning. I left the cooked goat's milk in the pot, put the lid on it and set it on the sink for almost 20 hours. When I woke up this morning....VOILA! Goat cheese. I removed the cheese from the pan with a slotted spoon and put it into a colander that was lined with cheese cloth. Then, I tied the cheese cloth together with a wooden spoon and suspended it over a Rubbermaid container.

Now the cheese will drain for another 6 to 12 hours depending on the consistency I want. We taste tested the cheese right out of the pot and it was delicious. No goaty aftertaste. No strong flavor. Just a very mild, almost lemony flavor. I think that using the frozen goat milk is a good idea if you don't have a milk goat to get a fresh gallon of milk from. I think that if we had brought home a fresh non-frozen gallon of milk it might have had a stronger taste after a few days of sitting in the refrigerator.
This cheese is delicious. When it's done draining I will divide it up and refrigerate it or freeze some of it. I had some cheese that was left in the pot so I scraped it out, squeezed the moisture out  and added some garlic, salt and a bit of Herbes de Provence. Then I put it on some MONET vegetable crackers and sliced up some small tomatoes from the garden. This was my mid morning snack....

I'm thinking that this cheese making may become a big part of our lives. Look at this photo above...
two days ago that cheese was a gallon of goat milk and NO animal was harmed in the process. The tomatoes are fresh from the garden and the plate is one of my mother's set of everyday dishes. Recycle, reuse, plant a garden, research something new or something old that needs reviving. Start a small revolution. Pick up the trash on the side of the road and dump it in a trash can..... and don't get angry at the folks who don't know any better.
Do things that you haven't ever done before. Look at this. I made cheese from the milk of a goat. That's an amazing thing, don't you think?
Do one thing that returns the smile to your face.....

I'm makin' goat cheese today

See the big pot on the sink. That's going to be a wonderful goat cheese or Chevre. This is the first time that I have made goat cheese, so  if it all goes down hill from here and I didn't do the first part right, then this is my disclaimer.... I knew what I was doing, but something might have been wrong with the goat milk... or the recipe....or the thermometer.... or the culture...or the goats. Yea, I'll blame it on the goats. They can't talk back because they live on another farm.
When the Prospector went to the goat farm (where our goat boys were born) to get the trailer that took Brownie on his great adventure, he brought me a gallon of fresh frozen goat milk. The owner of the farm is so sweet. She gives us goat milk any time we want it....free. When she found out I was going to make cheese with it, her only request was that I bring some to share at the next meeting. Fair enough because a quart of goat milk at the store is almost $5.00 a quart. So I figure that this was a really good deal.
This morning after breakfast I reread the directions and started heating the milk. I had to pasteurize it first. This is a fairly simple process of heating the milk to 145 F. and maintaining the temperature for 30 mins.
After 30 mins. you place the pot of hot milk into a sink of cold water with ice in it. When the temperature cools down to 86 degrees (which it does rather quickly) you add a packet of Chevre direct set culture to it, stir it well and then cover it and allow the milk to set in a cool place.  That's where I'm at as I write this. I'm waiting. I'm not really good at waiting.... but I have to wait for 12 to 20 hours until it's firm. So I took a shower, went on line to read more about goat cheese making and took a look at Ricki Carroll's website at www.cheesemaking com. She's the lady who knows all about making cheese. She's the CHEESE QUEEN. Check her out if you're interested. I bought the goat cheese kit from her after I had taken a class from one of our goat club members.

You will enjoy this website and if you're interested in making cheese her site will really help. She even has recipe for Chevre Pound Cake and Whey Bread. This is the "whey" of  Little Miss Muffet fame. After all these years of reciting that poem I finally know what curds and whey are. The curds make the cheese and the whey is what will drain through the muslin tonight. Isn't this exciting? Curds and Whey....and NO Spiders.

And while I'm waiting for the milk to curdle, I leave you with a bumper sticker I ordered from Cafepress.com. I will add it to the others on my car....or I could slap it on the door of the goat's house where they will see it. It could be something for them to contemplate on days when they feel the urge to break into the vegetable garden or complain about their lot in life.
I will let you know how it goes with the cheese making....

Brownie Comes Through

As usual, Brownie deals with adversity in his own unique way. The photo above shows him with his arrant horn growing into his eye. The photo on the right is Brownie showing off his symmetric handsomeness for People Magazine.... well, not really... but I'm sure he wishes it was so.
I had a meeting yesterday morning so the Prospector and our neighbor "D" drove Brownie down to the Bradshaw Veterinary Clinic in Elk Grove and, without taking him out of the trailer and without any sedative, they removed half of his horn. What a goat!! He just stood there while the assistant held his head steady and the Vet use a small flexible saw that quickly removed the offending horn. No pain, no blood, no bandage and no "drama queen" theatrics. He was the perfect gentleman. The vet told the Prospector that older goats don't always bleed and that this part of the horn was like a fingernail. The deed was done before Brownie had time to think about it.
When he arrived at home he was given extra hay and he got a very interesting reaction from the other goats...

Bart's little temper tantrum, yesterday, turned into care and concern. They touched noses and I swear that Bart was saying, "Sorry, Brownie. I was just worried about you. I didn't know where you were going and I'm so glad you're back." There was a genuine display of affection from Murphy and Freckles too.  It was very interesting. I think goats are very intelligent creatures and their reputation for being somehow connected to the devil, with cloven hooves and Satan horns, is absurd.
I'm always putting words into their mouths, but it's only with my human way of thinking.  I do this knowing that  these animals have their own way of communicating with each other and how they view the world is a mystery to humans. I'm in awe of how they interact with each other and how they live in a world that will always lie beyond our understanding. We are only their caretakers.

"Yes Brownie. We will always take care of you, Bart, Murph' and Freckles. You are a proud goat and no matter how much trouble you cause, how many times you jump the fence and how often you try to pull rank on the other goats....We will always love you. Your symmetry is back to normal and your eye has been saved. Is that side long glance a thank you, Brownie? If it is....You're welcome."

My troubled goat

If it isn't one thing, it's something else with Brownie, our Nubian wether. As you know, Brownie is always trying to be the best, the strongest, the boldest and the most obnoxious goat at Three Dog Farm. He is the one that we spend the most money on at the vet. He's the one that gets into my vegetable garden....and he's the one goat who always has to have the last word.... He's the goat with an attitude.
Tomorrow we have to take him back to the vet AGAIN. His right horn is moving in the wrong direction and is growing into his eye. Yes, of all the directions this horn could have grown, it's heading right for his eye. These photos were taken a week ago and the horn is even closer today than the photos show.

This morning the prospector has gone over to the goat farm to borrow a trailer. Tomorrow we will drive down to Elk Grove to the large animal vet. They will sedate Brownie, cut the horn back and bandage it. We went through this procedure last year with his other horn. It went smoothly and Brownie thought he was on a great adventure. He was really good and pranced around like the "show pony" that he thinks he is.
He wasn't suppose to have horns. We had the horns of all four goats removed when they were babies. Without horns they don't hurt each other and they don't get caught in the fence. Brownie's horns kept growing back and by the third time we decided to let them grow. BIG MISTAKE. We have had nothing but trouble. I would guess because they were removed three times (and started growing over again) that they began growing in odd directions. That's the problem. They couldn't just grow back and look majestic like a proud mountain goat..... Oh no! They have to grow all cattiwompus and back into the side of his face. Good grief!
So tomorrow we will take him down to the vet and spend some more money on him because  regardless of the attitude we get from him, we love him and this is just what you do when you love your animals. You pull out the old credit card and bite the bullet.

This is what Bart thinks of Brownie's dilemma.  He said, and I quote,....." Brownie is always grandstanding. He wanted those horns so that he could act like he was king of the hill around here. Serves him right. I never have anything wrong with me and I'm stronger. I would like to go for a ride too sometime. Pspitt!! "

It's OK Bart. We love you too.

The Concertina Eggcup Song and the Button Mouse

As some of my friends and family know, I have a wanderlust that is only restricted by my upbringing and common sense.... and  (if I'm honest) too many animals and "stuff". There are many times when I have wanted to move just for the sake of seeing life from a different point of view. I have moved eight times in the last 40 years and still think that there must be a thousand places that I have to see before I die. I don't like to vacation much because you don't really get the essence of a place if you don't stay for a while.... and I don't like to fly.
  Most of this desire is inside of me and under control as long as I'm living in a beautiful environment. I think that a lot of this gypsiness, this nomadic DNA, came from my father who loved to travel and, if not for my mother, would have lived in many different places. He always wanted to travel and I suspect that if he had stayed in the Navy after WW2, we would have gone to many places and seen many parts of the world. I would have love this. I would have made a great "Army brat". My mother and sister... not so much.
My point in telling you this is because I have found a blog that helps me weather the attacks of wanderlust that hit me frequently. The name of the blog is The Hermitage and the author is a young woman named Rima. She is an artist and she travels with her husband, around the English countryside, in an old bus that has been made into a home. Please take a look at this blog and, if you have any wanderlust in you at all, you'll love the stories of this couple's way of life and the people they meet.

I have sent for her prints and she always includes a small extra print and a card with a note thanking me for my purchase.

This is one that I had framed. Beware of having prints professionally framed. The framing was more expensive than the print. But I love the results.
Please notice the goat.... It's name must be Brownie because it is on top.

This was my last order. Two of Rima's mice. Her critters are different and a bit strange. So it is with her humans. There is a unique vision in the alteration of life in her work. I love looking at the details...like buttons for wheels and framing the drawing in what appears to be an old torn card. Something about her drawings bring the weight of life into focus. This "weight" never overpowers her drawings, but adds a quiet, fragile grace to her visions and produces a world of wit and creativity.
Please visit her website and enjoy the last story about "Outsider Art". It's an amazing post about some older woman artists who live their art. 
How many of us have a lifestyle that reflects our artist vision? How many of us live what we feel inside?

Grape Thoughts

“Wisdom doesn't automatically come with old age. Nothing does - except wrinkles. It's true, some wines improve with age. But only if the grapes were good in the first place.”

The grape vines are producing with vigor this year. I think we might have enough to make wine but this is not our goal. We have planted them for beauty and for eating. I wish I could send the fragrance and the taste of these grapes to you with this post. It's the wonderful taste of summer. These grapes are "good in the first place" and would make great wine.


Wisdom does not come automatically. As with growing grapes, it takes effort and time. I know that there is a certain amount of nurturing and care to achieve a final product. Before all of this, there has to be acceptance and love for what you do. It's an effort that produces insight. It's the reward.... after you water and care for the soul of things.

Friday Shoot Out: Tastes and Smells

There is the overwhelming fragrance on a walk through the Amador flower farm in the Shenandoah Valley of the California Foothills....

And the wonderful, spicy smell of freshly sliced strawberries from the Great Central Valley....

But have you taken a deep breath while picking the tomatoes from your own garden?

 Have you smelled the subtle sweetness of a hand full of beans?

 

Or the fresh watery aroma of a freshly picked Zucchini ?

 Has the Basil captured your senses as you walk by on a hot summer day?
Nature has it's own way of getting your attention, but if you want lip smacking, in your face, goodness for your senses....
Put some fragrant flowers on your table, then go into the kitchen and make some Pesto with the freshly picked basil leaves. Cook some of the beans, cool them and put oil and vinegar dressing on them.  Now, slice some tomatoes and zucchini and add them to the beans.
Add some Pesto to some cooked pasta. Sweeten the strawberries and add a dollop of whipped cream for dessert.
How is that for the aromas and  flavors of Summer? Want to come for dinner?

Please go to this site for more photos on the subject of "taste and smells".

Vintage Thursday; Photo of a young man

The man on the far right is my maternal grandfather on a hiking trip with friends around the turn of the century. His name was Ludwig Markowsky Lytjen.  He was very handsome.( My oldest grandson looks like him. ) He appeared to love photography. His family was Danish/German and they were Christian Scientists. He was born in October 1883 and  he died in his early 30's. This is all I know of him.
The IOC letters on the man's sweater may stand for the International Ornithological Congress, if my research is at all valid.  It's the only organization that I could find in existence back at the turn of the century. If I'm wrong and the acronym is ICO then it could be the Illinois College of Optometry or the International Coffee Organization, which doesn't shed any light on anything. It's all a guess and really has nothing to do with what is happening in the photo except that the man might be carrying eye drops or he might have brought coffee for everyone. I just thought that I could find more information about where the photo was taken. Acronyms sometimes give you more insight. .
There is a building above them on the left and two people on the rocks in the upper middle of the photo. They are all wearing warm clothing so it's probably not summer....or maybe near the ocean.
I love this photo not only because it's one of the few I have of my grandfather, but because it's so indicative of the times. I think my grandfather was quite the "dandy" and seemed over dressed for the occasion. The group as a whole seems more casual. I love the hats.
I think that the blond man in the middle of the photo is taking the picture. It looks like he is holding a remote camera button. What do you think?

This is the same group of handsome young men on the same day, having lunch and relaxing. My grandfather is on the right in front. He still looks like my oldest grandson. Look at him! No wonder my grandma fell in love with him.
The young man on the left, in front, is still up to his clever deceptions. See his hand? He's taking the picture. That might be driftwood behind them. If so, my guess would still be the ocean.  It does seem awfully rocky. Maybe it's around the Cliff House in San Francisco.
It doesn't really matter where they are. I love these photos. I see a grandfather that I never knew who looks like my son and grandson. I see his hands..... that look familiar too. Something in that steady, staring countenance that reminds me of my people.  That he once lived and loved my grandmother and walked the earth before us, gives me connection and continuance. This is why I love photography. It is, in a way, "calling something by its real name."

Please take a look at Colorado Lady's Blog for other vintage stories.

My Grandmother's House

This was the very first place in my life that I truly and forever fell in love with. This was my maternal grandmother's house. It was a small two bedroom house in the hills above Napa, California. Before there were Wine Trains, fancy bed and breakfasts, balloon rides over the valley and golf courses with gate keepers, there was a very small town were everybody knew your name and folks lived in the same place their whole lives. It was a beautiful town.
My grandmother's name was Johanna. She was raised  on a ranch, on the Silverado Trail, outside of  Napa. Johanna married a man in the last part of the 1910's who was from Berkeley. He was the love of her life. She moved there with him and settled into domestic life. In about 1923 he got sick and died. He was 30 years old and left  my grandmother with three children under the age of five.
She returned to Napa, and the Ranch, where her Italian parents and sisters could help her and she went to work as a cook at the Napa State Hospital in Imola. She was a widow and single parent in the early 1920's without any skills but she did know how to cook.
My mother remembered the ranch as her real home even though they frequently moved into town and rented a house, on Bailey Street near the fairgrounds, when Grandma got tired of living with her parents. She also worked as a dinner cook for a wealthy Italian family in town. My mother, being the oldest, would take care of her brother and sister until her mother got home.  Even though Grandma was tired and worked long hours she would always read them stories before they went to bed. Sometimes she would bring home leftovers or a special dessert for the children.
The year I was born my grandmother built a house with the help of her only son. It was 1944 and she finally got to have a home of her own. She lived there until 1965, surviving two awful fires that came down through the canyon, threatening her house and destroying the surrounding vegetation. Both times the firemen were able to save her home and she would return to her house on the hill. Then in 1965 she got very sick and had to come and live with us.  I think that this was the last blow. She lost her husband, then her youngest daughter,  and then, finally, had to leave the home that she loved. She had cancer. She died in the Spring.

The Prospector and I got married that Summer. Mom rented the house to other people, but in the Summer of 1972 we took our son "M" and moved into my grandma's house. Our son was four years old.
This was a dream of mine ... to live here with the huge rocks, the beautiful view and the memories. We cleaned and painted. We had to replace the floor in the bathroom because one of the renters had let their cat use a corner for a cat box and it rotted the floor out. We fixed everything. I made curtains and decorated "M"s room in blue cowboy things. The Prospector was going to get a job transfer up in the Napa area and we were going to live there forever.
We bought a brand new green truck (for me) and the Prospector commuted to Concord in our little Volkswagen Bug.
 I enrolled "M" in a preschool that was in an elementary school in town. It was the same school that my dad had gone to when he was a boy. There was such a connection to everything. I felt as if I had finally come home.
One night when the Prospector was doing shift work and getting home at 11:00 p.m. he fell asleep driving down Silverado Trail. He was almost home. He woke up just in time to side swipe an oncoming car. He didn't wake me because I was sleeping. I found out the next morning. He was fine, but the Bug was totaled.  The next weekend we went down and looked at homes in Antioch, Ca. The hour drive was too much for him that late at night and there were not going to be any transfers in the near future anywhere around the Napa area.  Two weeks later we bought a house. It was a new house but it was already built. Everything happen so fast. I didn't have time to think about anything but the pending move. We had only been in my Grandma's house for about 6 months.We ended up raising our boys in Antioch. We were there for 23 years.
I love this photo of "M" and I, with our dog Greta. I was pregnant.....

That Spring we had our second child "J". He was the sweetest baby. Greta liked him too. Two boys, five years apart.... just like we had planned. Just what we wanted.... good old birth control pills.

"M" was such a good "big" brother. He helped me with everything. He loved bringing diapers and holding the bottle. He was my little helper.
We had a neighborhood and friends that lived close by. We had a babysitter who lived two doors down, in our court, who could called her parents if she needed help. It was wonderful for the boys to have such a safe place to live. This was where we needed to be. We didn't have to worry about Rattlesnakes or Poison Oak and the likelihood of fire was very slim. It was a beautiful home and life was good.....but....

.... I will always miss the way the sun came in the kitchen windows at my grandmother's house. I painted the kitchen yellow and made blue gingham curtains for the windows. It was a pretty kitchen.
When grandma was living there the kitchen was always a mess. She was not a good housekeeper. When I went up there every summer, I would clean up the kitchen for her. She always wanted to go for a hike or work in the garden rather than clean anything. But I remember the kittens in a basket under the wood stove and the Sears catalogs that I would spend hours looking through.These far outweighed the dust and dirt.
 As a child, I loved the fragrance of the manzanita bushes on a hot day and walking down to the creek, taking my shoes off and splashing around in the water. I would find the biggest Banana Slugs and the smallest tadpoles. Grandma would tell me the real names of the wildflowers and bugs; the Latin names. Then we would climb back up to the house and  take a nap together. She would read me stories and we would talk about things.
A few years after we moved to Antioch there was an awful fire up in Napa. It burned some of the huge homes to the ground around and above the Silverado Country Club. The fire was fast and intense.This time my grandmother's house didn't survive. The Prospector and I drove up there right after the fire and there was nothing left. I found a melted piece of the metal heater cover. That was it.
Someone had bought the house the year before the fire and I guess they had insurance because they built another house right away. It was ugly.
 I have only been back once in 35 years. I will never go back again. The memories are inside of me now. I don't need to see the paved road, or the new house with no windows. The little brown house with the knotty pine walls and the stone fireplace is gone. My yellow kitchen is not there. The wood stove with the basket of kittens will never be again.  What I remember isn't there anymore, but the memories survived the fire...., and the ghosts. I know that my grandmother is walking around up there looking for wildflowers and calling them by their Latin names. I know she went back. It was the only place she was ever really happy.