Monday, November 08, 2021

Monday Journal

 


November 1, 2021

I took a walk with a friend today.  Too many things had kept us from walking together recently, and we had a lot of catching up to do.   As much as I treasure my alone time and go to great lengths to guard my personal space, I realize that we as humans were not intended to face the world completely alone.  While some people gather friends around them and find it easy to spend time with them, I must consciously make the effort to structure time with those outside of my close circle so that I don’t become completely self-absorbed.    I am thankful for those few friends I have who understand my need for long stretches of quiet time and my need for deep and meaningful conversations when we do connect. 

November 2, 2021

I awoke around 4:30 am this morning and set out to accomplish as much as possible.  I wanted desperately to get enough of the basic workload finished so that I could sew.  A refrigerator full of milk left me no choice but to find useful ways to free up space before we milked again in a few hours.  Having been forced to give up my beloved coffee several years ago due to dietary issues, I had learned to drink tea like the English, making it strong and topping it off with heavy cream.  I started my morning with a strong cup.   I then made my cottage cheese from the four gallons of clabber I had started the previous day.  Once I completed that task, I poured up eight gallons of milk in two large pots and began heating it to the proper temperature to make an aged Colby.  While the milk came to temperature, I washed up all my dirty jars and put together my milking machine.  Before heading out to milk the cows, I added my starter culture to the warmed milk and set the timer so that I wouldn’t forget what I was doing when I returned from milking.  About an hour of outdoor chores and milking would correspond perfectly with this step of making cheese.  Once back indoors, I strained and poured my fresh milk into jars, washed up my equipment and cleaned out the sink.  Then it was time to add rennet to the cheese I had started.  While the cheese set for another 45 minutes, I worked on laundry and managed to grab a shower, after which I cooked my curds, drained, salted, and pressed the cheese.  I was able to get all of this accomplished by noon which meant I had time to sew for about an hour before leaving with Mike to run to Mt. Airy on an errand.  We got home around 4 and I started putting my Ziti together for supper using homemade tomato sauce, homegrown pork sausage, and parmesan, ricotta and mozzarella cheese made from our fresh, raw milk.  While the ziti cooked, I walked the dog and then turned the oven off and went out to milk the cows.  By the time chores were complete, supper eaten, and dishes cleaned, it was 8 pm.  A busy day for sure, but at day’s end, I felt accomplished and satisfied.  Except for the trip to Mt. Airy, most of my days follow this very same routine to some degree.  Milking and then finding uses for the excess milk so that it isn’t wasted take up a large portion of most of my days.  The basic household chores and care of the animals take up another segment of each day.  Finding time for anything extra is sometimes a challenge. 

November 3, 2021

And just like that, the splendor of autumn recedes, the colors fade, and there are more leaves on the ground than on the trees.  I noticed the difference today when I walked.  The air had a cold bite and it’s easy to imagine winter standing at the door.   It felt good to take Buddy on a proper walk today.  Between weather and other obligations, the last few days, I have only taken him on short walks.  Today, we took our time, Buddy sniffing and exploring while I checked out the cattle on the Back Forty and took in the gorgeous views.  There are days I don’t want to get out there and hike the steep terrain but once I am outside and walking, I am always happy for this daily routine. 

November 4, 2021

It’s ironic how a sudden loss causes us to remember things we have not thought about in a very long time.  The details of days long ago become crisp, clear, and sharper, perhaps because we know that we have lost touch with what is physical, and we don’t want the memories that remain to slip away as well.  We process them in our minds and tuck them away in our heart, hoping that we can carry them with us forever even as we say goodbye to the physical body of someone we love.

We received word last night that my (maternal) grandpa’s sister had passed away.  She was 93 years old and until this past year, continued to drive herself to her appointments, keep house, and keep in touch with her family by phone and by writing letters.  It wasn’t too many months ago that I received a long letter from her.  In her nineties, her handwriting was clear and precise. 

She and my grandpa must have been a pair when they were growing up.  They were the two oldest, close in age, and to hear my grandpa tell it, he was a master at getting Aunt Lola into trouble.  I can remember clearly hearing them laugh together as my grandpa would tell his stories of leading her astray on some forbidden adventure and of them returning home where they were punished for their actions.  Watching their smiles and hearing their laughter, I could feel the sibling bond and the love they shared.

I have many memories of my Aunt Lola but probably the sweetest memories I have are visiting Sunnyview Store.  My Aunt Lola and her husband Uncle “Short” had inherited the family business from my Great Grandpa and Grandma Starnes.  The original building and gas pumps sat next to my great grandparent’s home in the Ozarks of Missouri.  I can still remember as a very small child, being allowed to go in the old building and walk through the items that remained in the rooms and on the shelves there.  How I wish that I had been old enough to remember in detail the things I saw in that building as a three-year-old child in 1970!  I am not sure when my aunt and uncle built the new store on a plot of land on the other side of my great grandparents’ home.  The long, cinder block building held a garage, gas station, general store and living quarters all in one unit.  It was modern compared to the old building, but still it felt like stepping back in time.  There was the old, refrigerated cooler with the drinks inside, glass bottles of Mountain Dew, RC Cola, Pepsi, Coke and Orange Crush.  There was a metal bottle opener built into the side of the cooler.  Aunt Lola would allow us to get a drink and pick out a snack.  It felt like the greatest place in the world to be to a young child.  I was also allowed to “shop” with my cousin Vickie who was a few years older than I; we would walk down the aisle and pretend like we were buying groceries, putting them in baskets and going through the motions of checking out at the cash register.  When were finished, we carefully put all the items back on the shelves.  I don’t remember Aunt Lola ever being impatient with us or ever acting like we were “under foot”.  When it was time to eat, she would go behind the counter in the back and slice bologna off the roll in the “deli section” of the store and make us a sandwich.  That white bread, thick cut bologna and mayo sandwich tasted wonderful to me!  During the week, Aunt Lola made sandwiches in the Deli, pumped gas for customers, rang them up at the counter, kept the shelves stocked, and somehow managed to keep a perfect home and raise a family while always maintaining a pleasant attitude.  She ran tabs in that old store for people who didn't have money to pay up front, and I remember her telling my grandpa of certain families who probably wouldn’t pay their tabs off at the end of the month.  Unpaid accounts at the end of the month must have made it difficult for them, yet, I don’t think she ever refused anyone of a legitimate need.  When someone broke down on the road or ran out of gas in the middle of the night, they would beat on the doors until Uncle Short and Aunt Lola opened them and went out in the night to get the folks back on the road.  On Sundays, she faithfully headed across the street to the little, white, Freewill Baptist church. 

The memories of my Aunt Lola make me feel secure and loved, a part of a larger family who instinctively knew the value of investing time, attention and love into small children.  Just as important, the memories remind me how important her efforts were to never lose contact with me, writing long, handwritten letters even when her health failed and life became harder for her.  Her efforts made a mark on my life and I hope I don’t soon forget her example of investing in the lives of others.

 

November 5, 2021

 With a hard freeze and a low of only twenty-two degrees overnight, the leaves that had been stubbornly hanging tight to the tree’s branches were finally succumbing to the changing of the seasons.  They drifted to the ground, the wind blowing them around the yard, first in one direction and then another.  Not as tall as the Maples, a forlorn walnut tree stood already completely bare of leaves and dropped in quick succession a dozen nuts still encased in their green, protective outer shells.  Mesmerized by the activity outside our window, Mike and I stood watching Nature’s display.

 Seasons change and sometimes we are hyper aware of the changing.  Other times, we seem unconscious to the changes until we suddenly realize time has passed.  Perhaps age and experience help us become more perceptive of changes.  We reach a certain age where anticipation of the future is no longer the driving force that motivates our actions.  We realize how quickly life passes.  Throughout my life, I have been blessed to spend precious time with aged family members and know that there is a point in life where we as humans accept that the days ahead are limited and that most of our life has been lived in the past.  But there is a glorious middle between the anticipation of youth and the reflections of the aged, a standing still in the moment, watching leaves fall to the ground, neither wishing for yesterday nor grasping for tomorrow.

 If only we could live all of life in this manner.

November 6, 2021

The morning started out with the routine of milking the cows, feeding the dogs, letting the chickens out and eventually making a meal for Mike and I.  Our meal habits change frequently depending on our work schedules and honestly, the weather.  In the summer months when we have long daylight hours and we are both so incredibly busy, spending a lot of time outdoors, we may not eat our evening meal until 8 pm.  However, the older I get, the less inclined I am to eat a heavy meal that late in the evening.  I simply feel better and sleep better if I don’t go to bed on a full stomach.  When we are able, we like to eat our main meal late in the morning and then eat lighter in the evenings.  I like getting a major part of the cooking out of the way. It makes my already busy evenings a little less stressful.

By middle of the afternoon, I was finally able to dedicate some time to my sewing, but evening came far too quickly. After a quick, light meal and the evening chores, I walked with Buddy.  Living down in the hollow, we do not see the sunrise or sunsets that we saw when we lived in the Shenandoah Valley in our big house on the hill.  Here, our house gets dark before the sun sets.  When I made it up the steep incline and glanced across the field, my breath caught in my throat and I exclaimed out loud to Buddy at the unexpected beauty of the magnificent sunset.  Rarely am I walking at just the right moment to be able to see the sunset, but tonight’s timing was perfect. 

With my great aunt’s passing this week and my Pa’s birthday today (my maternal grandfather), my mind has been on loved ones who have passed to the other side. The sunset seems celebratory and I’m thinking of this huge reunion they are having there.  So many of the people I love are gone from this earth, but I believe together in a better place.  I imagine the big smiles on their faces, as a contrast to our sad hearts.  It’s easier to think of my loss when I imagine them all together, free from pain and fear, and just waiting on the rest of us to get there.  Perhaps, I oversimplify things and maybe I contribute too many human emotions and comparisons to the spiritual, but it’s the best I can do.