i carry your heart…

A week ago my daughter married on a brilliant golden aspen day in the mountains.  I had the honor of reading the poem, I Carry Your Heart With Me by e.e.cummings.  In the previous weeks leading up to the special day, my husband was my speech coach.  I practiced my enunciation and intonation, repeatedly.  The ceremony arrived, and I remember being motioned by the officiant to stand by my daughter.  The narrow heels on my sparkly silver shoes were sinking into the moist soil.  Apparently, the lawn is well maintained on a daily basis by an underground sprinkler system.  I opened my mouth to share a few words before proceeding with the touching verse, which lasted approximately 59 seconds.  Before returning to my chair, I was at least conscious of the fact my shoes were embedded in the lawn.  The moments passed so quickly. It seemed as if the vows were said immediately upon settling onto the folding metal chair.  And, there she was, a Mrs.  The celebration began, and what a joyous one it was.  After the elegant dinner, the father of the bride toasted, along with others, and the music began.  We danced through the end of the evening.  My husband and I, for lack of better words…had such a good time that we decided we should become professional wedding crashers.

This was the best wedding I have ever attended.

turning of the leaves

Labor Day signals the phaseout of summer as we know it;  a brilliant green and pastel tapestry begins to transform into ocher and umber.  White shoes are stored in the back of the closet.”

I don’t like to rush time for obvious reasons, but I’m content that summer is coming to an end.  I wore my white slacks and shoes only once anyway.  Hot weather garments are not my choice for making a fashion statement.  Besides, I am eager to fire up the oven and demonstrate my new found ability in pie making.  Yes, pie making!  Within two weeks I baked two pies, one blueberry, one cherry, both with fresh berries, not the canned stuff.  I confess the pie crust was found in the dairy section, already rolled and waiting to be placed in a 9″ pie plate.  The next challenge is making the crust from scratch.  I’m excited to try the lattice design; it’s not merely pretty, but it serves a function, as well.  From my experience with the two pies, if the top crust is solid, the berry juice will spill over.  It still tastes the same, but I couldn’t enter it in any pie contests.  The pie plate makes a world of difference.  I have traded in my old tin ones, which were used for dipping fish into egg and bread crumbs, for an attractive blue ceramic that’s oven, microwave, and dishwasher safe with a fluted edge to boot.  I read somewhere that it heats more evenly than the metal, but I think I gravitate to it, because it’s simply cute.  To find a new interest is always exciting and never too late.  In fact, I have dubbed myself the Grandma Moses of pies.