All posts by Laurie Graves

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

Movie Night: Black Narcissus (Based on the Novel by Rumer Godden)

January 22, 2016 Laurie Graves 13 Comments

About a year ago, Clif and I decided we would host a movie night at the little house in the big woods. We have three friends—Diane, Joel, and Alice—who love movies as much as we do, and Clif and I thought it would be fun to get together to watch a movie and then discuss it afterwards.

Over the course of the year we have fine-tuned the event. We start at about 5:30, we provide pizza and soft drinks, and our guests bring salad and dessert. Clif has a very good hand with pizza dough—he knows just how to stretch it—and we are able to buy a good frozen dough from a Maine company, Portland Pie Co. (The dough is available in our local supermarket.) I make a quick sauce using Muir Glen’s crushed tomatoes with basil, garlic, and a little dried oregano. Clif likes to use a mixture of cheeses—mozzarella, cheddar, and Monetary Jack.

We have two large pizza pans, one of which is cast iron, a present from my brother and his wife. And miracle of miracles, our blast-furnace oven does a great job with pizza. We bake the two pizzas for twenty minutes or so and voilà! Pizza for five or six, at a fraction of the cost of take-out.

We take turns choosing the movie, and last night was Joel’s turn. From his own film collection, Joel brought several to pick from, and we quickly settled on Black Narcissus, a 1947 film, staring Deborah Kerr and Jean Simmons and based on the book by the late great English writer, Rumer Godden.

Black Narcissus is the story of a small group of Anglican nuns, led by Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr), who travel to a remote former palace in the Himalayas to open a convent. At the new convent, the nuns plan to teach the local girls, open a health clinic, and grow much of their own food. But high on the mountain, the air is thin and the wind always blows. The local British agent, the charismatic Mr. Dean, warns them not to stay, feeling that the mountain will be too much for them.

Naturally the nuns stay, and naturally Mr. Dean is right. It isn’t long before the mountain and the people who live there exert an unhinging force on the various nuns, in particular Sister Ruth, played with an over-the-top relish by Kathleen Byron. A chaste love triangle forms between Sister Clodagh, Mr. Dean, and Sister Ruth, resulting in tragedy.

First, the good. Black Narcissus is extremely strong on the visuals—on the cinematography and on the sets where most of the movie was filmed. The colors, the framing, the vividness of place—even though it was mostly a set—is nothing short of astonishing. The cinematographer, Jack Cardiff, won an Academy Award for Best Cinematography, and he certainly deserved it. Visually, the movie is a work of art.

Unfortunately, the move was weak with character development, relying too much on bug-eyed melodrama and crashing music. Apparently, this sort of melodrama was big in England in 1947, but it marred the story written by an author who excelled at character development.

Nevertheless, Black Narcissus is a movie worth seeing, if only for the beauty of the filming. Diane was right in suggesting this was really a group film, best seen with others so that we could all react to the various over-the-top scenes.

Next month is Alice’s turn to pick, and we will be heading back to India with Monsoon Wedding. I’m looking forward to it.

Books

Book Group: The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry

January 21, 2016 Laurie Graves 14 Comments

Last night, I went to book group, which is hosted by our town’s library and run by the inimitable Shane Billings, the Adult Services Librarian. He started the book group over five years ago, and I’ve been with it since the beginning, with a few breaks here and there.

This month’s book was The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin. Here are the basics of the story: A young but cranky man, A. J. Fikry, runs a bookstore on Alice, a fictitious island off the coast of Massachusetts. When the story opens, A. J.’s wife has recently died in a car accident, and the grieving A. J. plans to drink himself to death. His suicidal plans are interrupted by Maya, an abandoned two year old who is left in his bookstore. A.J.’s love for Maya—and hers for him—gives his life meaning. (And, yes, there is more than a little similarity between this story and Silas Marner.) From there the story sweeps out to include Lambiase, a kindly police officer; A.j.’s dodgy sister-in-law, Ismay—how can she help being dodgy with a name like that?; and Amy, a dedicated bookseller from the mainland. There isn’t much of a plot—more a sweep of years, handled beautifully—spiced with the theft of a rare manuscript and another car crash that might or might not be murder. Finally, and perhaps best of all, there is the love of books that thrums through the story and connects the characters.

As was noted at book group, this is a sentimental story, but it is redeemed, to a large extent, by Zevin’s fine writing. In short, it is a sentimental tale told well.

There was a lively discussion about Ismay, the dodgy sister-in-law. Most of the members of the book group—composed mainly of older women—felt sympathy for Ismay, but the one young man who comes loathed her character. He didn’t see that Ismay had any redeeming qualities. Certainly, this point of view, while a little harsh, could be defended, and indeed in the book, young Maya doesn’t much like Ismay either.

One of the great things about our book group—Title Waves, it’s called—is that by and large, for over an hour, we discuss the book and nothing else. There is little chit-chat about personal matters, and we take the books and the discussions very seriously. After all, we are people who love books. At the same time, we are able to laugh and joke about our disagreements. There are some, like me, who have been there since the beginning, and there are many newcomers, too. All are welcome.

As Mona, one of the members, put it, “We all feel safe to express our opinions. It’s all right to disagree, and we do it respectfully.”

Yes, we do, and it is this attitude, along with the books, that has kept me coming to book group for over five years.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday: Frosty Heart

Image January 20, 2016 Laurie Graves

Books, People

Apple Crisp and Stories

January 19, 2016 Laurie Graves 16 Comments

On Sunday, our friends Cheryl and Denny and Judy and Paul came over for homemade apple crisp and talk. As I’ve noted in a previous post, I really love hosting afternoon get-togethers with friends. We have a good-size dining room with an old Victorian table—the original chairs, long gone, were filled with straw—that can easily be expanded to accommodate eight to ten people. However, for me, six is the perfect number for good conversation.

Apple crisp must surely be one of the best desserts to serve at a gathering. It can be made ahead of time, tucked in the refrigerator, and baked forty-five minutes or so before guests arrive. Old apples, a little wrinkled, taste perfectly good, and my blast-furnace oven does a fine bubbling job of baking the crisp. The recipe I use comes from a Craig Claiborne New York Times Cookbook, and I just follow his instructions. If I had made enough modifications to call the recipe mine, then I would happily share it. But I haven’t.

Then there is the smell of apples, cinnamon, and cloves as they blend and bake. It wafts from the kitchen and drifts to the dining room, and I expect this smell stimulates the appetite. (Let’s just say that it’s a good thing I made plenty for seconds.) So you have warm spiced apples and a crunchy, buttery topping. Perfect, right? Almost. It needs a scoop of vanilla ice cream to slowly melt into the warm mixture. Whipped cream is all right, but to my way of thinking, ice cream is the jewel in the crown, so to speak.

As we sat around the dining room table, we talked about many things, but one topic in particular stuck with me because I’ve been thinking about it lately—the importance of stories and how we all have them.

Judy told of how one day, when her mother was young—this would have been in the 1930s—she came home to find her mother (Judy’s grandmother) sobbing as she did the ironing.

“What’s wrong, what’s wrong?” Judy’s mother asked.

As Judy’s grandmother ironed, she listened to the radio, to an afternoon soap opera, and something sad had happened to one of the characters. Hence the tears.

After hearing this story, I replied, “I think the story gene runs strong in humans. Whatever the medium, we will always have stories. I’m sure of it.”

Everyone nodded, and Cheryl recounted how one Christmas her book group listened to a recording of A Child’s Christmas in Wales read by the great man himself, Dylan Thomas. All the lights were turned off except for the ones on the Christmas tree, and by the sparkling lights they listened to this fine writer read his own words.

“Sounds wonderful,” I said, thinking that I might like to do this next year, but with just Clif and me. (My book group meets at the library, and somehow, it just wouldn’t be the same to do it there.)

“It was,” Cheryl said, smiling as she remembered.

Warm apple crisp, friends around the table, shared stories. Another finest kind of way to spend a winter’s afternoon.

Art, Food

Lunch and Art: A Trip to Riverside Farm Restaurant and Wine Market and the Colby College Museum of Art

January 18, 2016 Laurie Graves 19 Comments

On Friday, Clif and I went to Oakland and Waterville for lunch and art. (Oh, the joys of being retired. We can go any day we choose.) For Christmas we had received a gift certificate to Riverside Farm Restaurant and Wine Market, which serves fresh, tasty meals. The day was gray, but the following photo gives some idea of the beauty of the place.

And the welcoming but snowy entrance. (It is January in Maine, after all.)

Inside, it was warm and cozy. Clif ordered a burger, and I ordered a chicken pesto sandwich. Both were delicious. When we were done, not a bit of food remained on our plates.

Not far from where we sat, two elderly women and a much younger woman were discussing hummus. (A granddaughter out with her grandmother and a friend? We didn’t ask, of course.)

One of the elderly women observed, “I wouldn’t have eaten hummus when I was younger.”

The younger woman replied. “I used to be afraid of it, but now I love it.”

A good example of how taste changes. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t eat pie. It just looked too messy to me. Now, I love pie with a passion that is almost beyond comprehension. And there are so many other foods I have not only learned to like but have come to enjoy—turnip, carrots, cilantro. I’m still working on peas.

After lunch, it was on to the Colby College Museum of Art. A quick aside and a note of gratitude: Central Maine, where Clif and I live, is small and rural. Our town’s population is 6,000, and many surrounding towns have even fewer people. However, we are within easy drive of three fine private colleges—Colby, Bates, and Bowdoin—and they all offer many cultural events. Nearby, we also have Railroad Square Cinema, which shows independent films and the Theater at Monmouth, which features classic plays every summer, two of which are usually Shakespeare’s. Clif and I often reflect on how lucky we are to live in a rural community yet still have many cultural events to choose from.

But back to art: The Colby College Museum of Art is the largest art museum in Maine, and admission is free. The museum’s focus is “on American art, and commitment to collecting and exhibiting contemporary art.” They have a large permanent collection, and they also feature various exhibitions with art from away, as we Mainers might put it.

William Zorach’s Mother and Child greets museum visitors, and as I find snow and sculpture to be an irresistible combination, I had to take a picture.

Unfortunately, on Friday, the museum was in the process of taking down its Whistler exhibit and installing a new one:”Turning Back, an exhibition of 164 photographs by acclaimed photographer Robert Adams…” This exhibit will be on display at the art museum beginning February 2. (We did get a sneak preview as we were allowed to go through the galleries where this exhibit was being hung.)

Never mind. We still enjoyed looking at work from the permanent collection. And February 2 isn’t that far away. We will be back to see the photography exhibit, and we even have enough left on our gift certificate for another lunch at Riverside Farm Market.

A finest kind of thing to do on a winter’s day.

Home

Silent Sunday: The Little House in the Snow

Image January 17, 2016 Laurie Graves 2 Comments

Animals - especially dogs

Liam Is Eleven

January 15, 2016 Laurie Graves 16 Comments

Normally, I don’t post two pieces in the same day, but today is Liam’s birthday, and I thought I would make an exception. As the title suggests, Liam is eleven years old. He is no longer a young dog, but he is still spry, still energetic, still ready to bark at a moment’s notice. Liam is sweet but aloof, as many herding dogs are, and we love him exactly the way he is.

So happy birthday, Liam. Maybe, just maybe, there will be an extra treat tonight, a little vanilla ice cream to celebrate your big day.

Animals - especially dogs, Food, People

Lunch at Diane’s

January 15, 2016 Laurie Graves 8 Comments

Yesterday, we went to our friend Diane’s house for lunch. Clif had agreed to help set up Netflix on her computer and television. In return, she made lunch for us—spicy vegetable soup, cheese and tomato melts, salad, and chocolate gelato for dessert. I think we got the better end of the deal.

While we were eating, Diane told us the story of her German grandmother, who came to the U.S. when she was eleven, all by herself on a boat across the Atlantic. She landed at Ellis Island and made her way through the immigration process, with no adult to help. Once this task was finished, it was on to Chicago, again by herself, to stay with relatives. She was widowed twice, supported herself and her children by being a seamstress, and lived into her nineties. A hardy woman with a very, very strong personality.

Also, it’s interesting to think of this story in terms of immigration. Diane’s grandmother left Germany because she (or her family) felt there were better opportunities for her in the United States. (I can’t help but wonder how much a child of eleven would really want to leave home. She was the eldest in a big family.) Nowadays, Germany is seen as the land of opportunity for so many. It’s funny how things change.

After lunch, Clif helped Diane install Netflix streaming, while I took pictures. First, of Casey, Diane’s cat.

Enough with pictures, already! — Enough with the pictures, already!

And then outside for some winter pictures.

After Netflix was installed and pictures were taken, there was more tea. And more talk, of course. We stayed until dusk, when the sky was dark but not black, and a waxing crescent moon shone in the night sky.

Animals - especially dogs, Nature

Beautiful, Mercurial January: A Sapphire Sky, Liam through the Ice, and a Snowstorm

January 14, 2016 Laurie Graves 17 Comments

Gideon, little guardian of the yard, with a snow cap

This year, January has been such a variable month. On Monday, when I went to a library meeting, I was dazzled by the night sky. It was just past dusk, shading into night with a sapphire blue horizon. Into that beautiful blue came the rising moon, a glimmering sliver, a slice of brilliance.

On Tuesday, knowing that a snowstorm was coming, Clif and I (and Liam!) took to the woods, where the ground was nearly bare. There were patches of ice on the trail, which meant we still had to walk carefully. To borrow from Paul Simon, the sky was a hazy shade of winter. When we got to the brook, we found that ice had been thrown this way and that, just perfect for taking photographs, some of which were featured in this week’s Wordless Wednesday. While I was taking pictures by the brook, I heard a mighty crash.

“What’s that?” I asked, whirling around.

“Liam fell through the ice, but he’s all right,” Clif answered.

Already on the shore, Liam was shaking his back legs. This confirmed one of my worries about Liam and winter ice—his basic unawareness of thin ice. When we have walked by the Narrows, where the water is deep, I have watched him carefully, only letting him on the ice when it was completely frozen. With the brook, there are no worries. The water is shallow, and the current is gentle. Still, this was a reminder that my concern is genuine.

We came home and had fresh homemade bread and leftover red bean soup. While we ate, it snowed outside, and before I went to bed, I turned on the porch light. “A nice little snowstorm,” I thought, seeing several inches on the porch.

On Wednesday, we woke up to find that about six inches of perfect, light, fluffy snow had fallen. This, of course, meant clean-up, with Clif on Little Green, me with the shovel, and Liam to leap, bark, and supervise.

Somehow, January is never long for me. I don’t mind the cold, and I don’t mind the snow, as long as it’s not heavy, and we don’t get more than a foot with any one storm. I suppose it’s because I was born in central Maine, and I have lived here for most of my fifty-eight years. To me, snow and cold are a normal part of life.

Then there is the beautiful winter light, which my small camera cannot always capture. Brilliant during the day, deep and mysterious at nightfall, this light makes January a month to look forward to.