All posts by Laurie Graves

I write about nature, food, the environment, home, family, community, and people.

A Short Leave of Absence to Work on My Novel, Maya and the Book of Everything

IMG_1221Exciting news at the little house in the big woods. Soon I will be publishing a book I’ve been working on for some years. It’s called Maya and the Book of Everything, and here is the tagline: One Girl, One Boy, One Book Against the Forces of Evil.

This October is the projected month for publication, and in the meantime there is much to do to get the book ready.  Therefore, I’m going to be taking a little break from the blog. Oh, I might post a picture from time to time as I do like taking pictures, but I won’t be writing much of anything for the next few weeks.

The book feels a little like my baby, and how gratifying it will be to see it in print.

Stay tuned for an upcoming synopsis of Maya and the Book of Everything. Here is a teaser: Some of the book is set in East Vassalboro and Waterville, Maine, and some of it is set at the mysterious Great Library.

 

Ephemeral Blue and a Jazzy Beauty

I have a friend who has the most beautiful garden, and—lucky me!—she lets me take pictures of whatever is in blossom.

“Come anytime,” she has often said. “Come whenever you think the light is good.”

This I have done. Several years ago, when her hydrangeas were in glorious bloom, I took this picture, and it has been a favorite with both my friend and me.

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“It would take a lot to beat the picture of the blue hydrangeas with the yellow daylily,” I told her recently. “I was in your garden just at the right time.”

My friend agreed, and I added, “But still, I am going to take more pictures of your hydrangeas, even though I might not get anything as good as the one I took a few years back..”

And so I have. When it comes to flowers, I have beginner’s mind. I never ever get tired of photographing them, and each season, the flowers seem new and fresh.

Here is what I got from a week or so ago.

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Not as nice, I know, as the one with yellow daylily, but as I am crazy about blue, I will make some cards with the new photos.

And then, for something completely different, here is this jazzy beauty, also from my friend’s garden.

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Again, how lucky I am to have such a friend! You can bet she’ll be getting some cards in the very near future.

Street of Riches By Gabrielle Roy

Street_A while back, a friend and I formed a little book club, comprising just the  two of us. One year we read Victorian novels, and this year we are reading nineteenth- and twentieth-century French literature—translations because, alas, neither of us reads French well enough to make it through a whole novel.

My friend and I are quite different. He lives in a big city with his husband, and I live in the little house in the big woods. He is the sophisticated city dweller, and I am the country mouse. But we are bound by our love of books, and we recognized this in each other immediately after we met, when we could talk of nothing else except books, books, books. For me, and perhaps for my friend as well, it is the best kind of talk there is.

I would like to think that Gabrielle Roy, the author of Street of Riches, would have been right at home with us. Roy (1909-1983) was a French Canadian writer who was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Street of Riches is a collection of interconnected short stories starting when the narrator—Christine—is very young and ending when she goes away to teach school.

The blurb on the back of the book calls the stories “semi-autobiographical,” and it doesn’t take too great a leap to imagine Christine as a stand-in for Gabrielle Roy. The slice-of-life stories are set in Manitoba in the early 1900s, and they chronicle the sadness of Christine’s parents, who are better apart than they are together; her mother’s restlessness; Christine’s childhood illnesses, which earned her the title of “Petite Misère”; the struggle to find her true self; and Christine’s yearning to become a writer.

Roy was a shrewd yet sympathetic writer—my favorite kind of writer—who gives both of Christine’s parents their due. In each story there is piercing clarity and wisdom, written from an adult’s point of view but with great empathy for the young Christine and her family.

Street of Riches is, so far, the best book I’ve read this year, and through interlibrary loan I’ve ordered Roy’s The Road Past Altamont. I’m so grateful that my book buddy suggested Street of Riches for our little book club. I had never heard of Gabrielle Roy, and now she is one of my favorite writers.

I’ll end with a quotation from Street of Riches, from the story “Whooping Cough”:

“Why does one not learn sooner that one is, oneself, one’s best, one’s dearest companion? Why this great fear of solitude, which is merely an intimate commerce with the sole true companion?”

Why, indeed? Written like a true writer.

Leaning into a Rainy Day

A much-needed rainy day, but I will be ready to see the sun shine, as is forecasted, either tomorrow or the next day. Daughter Dee is visiting from New York, and she and Clif have headed to the Maine International Film Festival. As they are both movie hounds extraordinaire and love seeing movies back to back, I have graciously—I think!—offered to stay home to tend our old dog, who really can’t be left alone for more than six hours.

Dee and Clif left at 11:00 am and won’t return until 11:30 p.m. Oh, the stamina those two have for movies! While I,too, like movies, all day is a little much for me. Hence, my offer to stay with the dog. Plus, it gives Clif and Dee time for a little father/daughter bonding.

Still, I felt a little at loose ends when they left today. So I made myself a cup of tea, read some of my favorite blogs, and checked out a recipe for blueberry lemon bread, which I am craving and might make when a friend comes to visit. I have other projects planned, and it will be a productive day.

Also, the rain let up, allowing me to take some pictures. And any day I can take pictures (or ride my bike or eat some chocolate or read) is a good day for me.

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Jurassic Park at the Little House in the Big Woods

At the little house in the big woods, it’s that time of year again. The full-grown hostas, only slightly chewed by slugs and snails, have gotten so large that it seems as though I’ve stepped back in time to the Jurassic era. Really, the hostas are so huge and so muscular that they are almost unmanageable. I know I should cut them back, and from time to time I do, but mostly I just allow them to have their own way. My yard is not exactly a gardener’s dream, and hostas are one of the few plants that actually thrive here in the dry shade. So, let ’em grow!

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Despite my grumblings, I must that admit there are other flowers ablooming, and in fact my gardens are at their peak right now. (Note, however, the fringe of the ever-present hostas.)

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I have lived at the little house in the big woods for over thirty years, and I thought I had seen every insect that makes its way into my yard. But, no. Yesterday I came across this little fringed creature. Anyone have any idea what it is? It just goes to show that even after thirty years, a small plot of land can teach you something new.

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There can be no doubt what the little winged creature below is. The wonder is that my wee camera managed to capture him at all. Score one for the persistent photographer who constantly takes pictures of birds but seldom gets a good shot.

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A moment of triumph, indeed.

Oh, Artichoke Dip!

Being a foodie, I love cuisines from many cultures, but one of my favorites is Mediterranean food.  To my way of thinking, basil, olive oil, and garlic form a holy trinity, and in my little herb garden, I am happy to report that my  basil that is growing very well. I also love sage, oregano, rosemary, lemons, feta, olives, and artichoke hearts. I get positively dreamy over the thought of going to Italy or southern France or Greece and eating the glorious food.

Therefore, when my friend Jill told me she was bringing artichoke dip for our Fourth of July gathering, I could have jumped for joy, if my creaky knees had allowed me to do so. I have never met an artichoke dip I haven’t adored. With spinach, with cream cheese, with crab—it’s all good.

However, Jill’s artichoke dip, made from a recipe given to her by her mother, is one of the best of I’ve ever had—smooth, creamy,  a little garlicky, with bits of chopped artichoke hearts. I could have some right now, and I will be making this dip to bring to an upcoming appetizer night we’ve been invited to.

Jill has graciously allowed me to post the recipe.  It can be served with carrots or other raw vegetables, crackers, or toasted pita bread brushed with olive oil. And on a warm summer’s night, as you are drinking wine and eating this dip, you can pretend you are in the Mediterranean, where the sky and the sea are bright blue and the food is oh so good.

Jill’s luscious artichoke dip next to Alice's beautiful salad.
Jill’s luscious artichoke dip next to Alice’s beautiful salad.

 

Hot Artichoke Dip

Servings: 16 servings, 2 Tbsp. each

1 can (14 oz.) artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
2/3 cup mayonnaise
1/3 cup sour cream
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 clove garlic, minced
1 dash hot sauce

Heat oven to 350°F.
Mix ingredients until blended.
Spread onto bottom of 1 quart oven-safe serving dish.
Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until lightly browned.
Serve with rye bread, pita chips, or fresh vegetables.

Lesson Learned: A Splendid Fourth with Plenty of Food

Yesterday, the weather was absolutely perfect for the Fourth, and the patio was a very fine place to be. We had a feast of appetizers, and the consensus was that this should be an ongoing plan for future Fourths.

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Simply put, in the past, there had been too much food. Like most Franco-Americans, I have a horror of hosting a gathering where there is not enough to eat. For me, ’tis the stuff of nightmares, akin to going out in public without any clothes on. So naturally I overcompensate, and usually there is so much food that I’m actually a little queasy long before we come to dessert.

If my knees hadn’t spoken up, so to speak, I might have conintued with my excessive ways for many more years. But after last year’s Fourth, when my knees protested mightily after going up and down the cellar stairs too many times, Clif came up with a solution, not only for the Fourth but for most of our other summer gatherings as well.

“Why not have drinks and appetizers so there is only one setting?” he said. “That’s what they used to do in the old days.”

It is true that the 1950s and 1960s were famous for their cocktail parties, where drinks and nibbles were served. Somehow, though, it seemed a little skimpy, but then I asked myself, How would I feel if I were invited to an appetizer and drinks party? Would I think it was skimpy? No, I would not. I would be absolutely delighted.

So the die was cast, and last summer we had several drinks and appetizer parties. Then an amazing thing happened—the appetizer theme crept forward to other events. Last Christmas, we had a houseful of dogs and cats, and not wanting to leave them for hours when we went to my brother and sister-in-law’s house, I suggested we come over for appetizers rather than for the usual big meal.

My sister-in-law’s response? “Sounds like a great idea!”

In truth, I had been worried that she’d be offended if we didn’t stay for a full dinner. Au contraire. The appetizer Christmas feast was such a hit that we all decided this should become an annual tradition.

But what really clinched it was when my friend Judy recently said to me, “Your appetizer parties have really inspired me. It’s such a great way to entertain without getting completely tired out.”

Indeed it is, and here we come to one of life’s lessons. (Drum roll, please.) As we age, we often can’t do as much as we could when we were younger. But that doesn’t mean we have to give up entirely. We can scale back and still have a good time. In fact, our friends, who are ageing right along with us, actually appreciate the scaling back, and they don’t find appetizer nights (or pizza nights) skimpy at all.

So lessen learned. Scaling back is not always a bad thing. In fact, it can be an extremely good thing, and in some cases, even better than the old way,

Onward and upward!

 

 

 

A Very Happy Fourth with Appetizers and Dessert

Today, the weather for the Fourth of July is about as perfect as it can get—sunny, warm but not too hot, with a bright blue sky. Because of my creaky knees—aka arthritis—we decided to simplify our Fourth of July gathering this year and celebrate with an appetizer and dessert party. There will just be two seatings, which means far less running up and down the stairs for me. Tomorrow, my knees will be so happy.

Besides, as my daughter Shannon noted, who doesn’t like an appetizer party? I know I sure do. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Everything prepared ahead of time so that I can just relax when the guests come. And even though we don’t look like it, Clif and I have gotten to the point where we can’t eat as much as we did when we were younger. A good thing, too, because if we did, then we’d be in real trouble.

Here is the menu: Chopped salad and dough for grilled bread (Alice); devilled eggs and artichoke dip (Jill); a salsa and cream cheese spread, tortilla chips, cheese and crackers, and grapes (Clif and me). For dessert, homemade vanilla ice cream pie with a blueberry sauce and a strawberry sauce (both sauces are also homemade).

The ice cream pie has become a Fourth of July tradition at the little house in the big woods.

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Ice cream pie from a previous Fourth of July celebration

 

A very happy Fourth to all American readers!

The Gloaming By the Lake

A couple of nights ago, my husband Clif took these pictures after our twilight bike ride. He’s been taking pictures since he was a teenager and is a very accomplished photographer. (All right. I know I’m prejudiced. But he is.) I’ve only recently begun taking pictures, and he’s helped me a lot.

Anyway, these pictures catch the lovely light of dusk—the gloaming—by the lake.

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