Author: carin

a rough cove…

~ carin ~ Leave a comment

“I heard me grandmother say that when the first of our family came here, the French settlement was abandoned. They said it was too rough a cove for fishing out of. It just suited our people….”

“Those old midwives that were here then, they were only trying to do the best they could, the best they knew how. Didn’t know very much, but they’d try to born the babies and do whatever they could. I often heard my mother telling about it. When the baby’d be born, you’d be put to bed for nine days; and what clothes you had on you when you went to bed, that’s what’d be on you when you’d get up. She said you’d be so sore you wouldn’t be able to walk; you’d be chafed to death with the clothes. That was their belief. If you took off the clothes you had on—all the warm clothes—you’d get cold then. Die then.”

— from Outport: The Soul of Newfoundland, by Candace Cochrane (Flanker Press, 2008)

things missing something

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Twinkle lights on front yard bushes. Pretty but they seem out of place without a reason, xmas for instance, to attach themselves to—a purpose other than simple loveliness during these still dark early evenings. My, how narrow we are. I am.

A horse trailer without a horse. And in a neigh(pun not intended, but I like it)bourhood that can in no way accommodate a horse, secretly, in a backyard. Or in any way otherwise.

A bright orange wrist thingy with a whistle attached. I don’t like seeing this. Makes me wonder how it got detached from its wrist. And if it belonged to a child, when did we start making children wear whistles? And did wearing it [or worse, the need to wear it] make him/her [I suspect it was a her] feel safer or more afraid?

i’m not your honey, toots

~ carin ~ 4 Comments

I finally did it. For years and years I’ve been swearing that one day I’d respond in kind when someone called me Dear or Sweetie. (Anyone, that is, outside a grandmotherly type, or kindly uncle-ish/auntie-ish soul, or anyone in Newfoundland… or, for that matter, anyone who does it correctly, like the British, who are masters at endearment, as are several other nationalities in various languages and dialects. Delivery is everything with this; it’s what comes with it that grates, more than any specific word.)

Well. Today someone did it. Incorrectly. Honey, they called me. About my age, maybe a bit younger. (And yes, it does make a difference sometimes.)

As usual, I was momentarily taken aback—wrong person, wrong tone—and normally, in my taken-abackedness, I miss my opportunity. But not today. Today, still within the window of normal response time, I rallied, answering in a reciprocal tone, casual, as if nothing unusual was going on a’tall, a’tall.

When she said Would you like a bag, honey?  I said: no thanks, sweetheart.

I’m not sure what I expected to happen. (Would bells go off, the manager be summoned?) Thing is, I didn’t do it for a reaction; it just needed to be done. To be honest, I assumed she wouldn’t even notice but she glanced at me in what felt like an awkward beat before things got back to normal. As if she was also slightly offended but hardly in a position to say so.

I was smiling the whole time of course, which may have confused her even more.
Most importantly, I realized it was the right thing to do. I enjoyed it immensely, and, who knows, maybe she got something out of it too.

So, yeah, I’m kind of looking forward to the next time. Go ahead, call me Dearie—and be prepared for a Snookums in return.

airing my laundry

~ carin ~ 8 Comments

If you, like me, have always thought hanging laundry in winter results in plank-sheets, you, like me, have probably not been leaving them out long enough. 

I first heard the rumour last year, that letting them go beyond the plankified state is the way to get things soft and dry. I heard it from a Saskatchewan woman and why it didn’t sink in, I can’t imagine. Who would know better about the dynamics of wind and air? (I’m sure my mother may have mentioned this also, but I was probably too busy knowing everything at the time to listen…)

Well, seems they were both right. Laundry will dry in below freezing weather as long as the air around it is drier than the laundry itself, as explained here in the Globe and Mail’s ‘Collected Wisdom’. Temperature doesn’t matter; you just have to leave it outside long enough.

If you, like me, get a weird thrill from hanging laundry year-round, this will be happy news.

If, on the other hand, you hate laundry in all forms, read this, from Geist, and feel better about your placement in the freshly scented, fabric softened, evolutionary conga/laundry line of life.

dear lady

~ carin ~ 14 Comments

Dear lady in the check-out line at Sobeys who the whole time the cashier rang in your stuff you were on the phone… So how ARE you? Uh huh, uh huh…. and in this way you managed to ignore her, the cashier I mean, even as she gave you the amount and set up the ATM machine and thanked you and printed out your receipt and handed it to you… all during that you never once made eye contact… And how is Brittany? Uh huh… oh wow… uh huh…

Yes, it’s true, I was watching you. And listening. Forgive me. I assumed you wouldn’t mind given how your personal space (and everyone else’s) doesn’t seem overly important to you. Forgive me also for any sarcasm you may detect in this note, of which there is plenty, especially if Brittany, et al, are in the throes of dysentry or scurvy and you are their ward nurse, checking in (though even that could probably have waited until you were in the parking lot).

Mostly, dear lady, I’m writing to say how much you missed. The cashier was a lovely person and when, after you left, it was my turn, and I said to her, in an exaggerated way: So, how are YOU?…  she got it and laughed (please don’t think we were mocking you although we were) and then as she rang in my yellow tulips and my spinach we talked about Spring and she said she was thinking of planting her first garden ever in Canada this year, flowers mostly, and I suggested including a few tomatoes and some lettuce and she said she would do that even if her husband thought she was mental. And I said good. Because the world needs more gardens.

That is what the world needs, dear lady. Gardens. And conversations with people who are standing right in front of you.

from soup to nuts

~ carin ~ 4 Comments

And things to do with flowers.

♥

EEL SOUP

Take a big eel, clean and wash it two or three times in water, and then once in vinegar. Put it to boil in a saucepan together with two onions scorched on the fire, one or two bay leaves, a sliced carrot, a few pieces of celery and fennel, pepper and salt. Boil for about two hours, then rub liquid and all through a sieve, seeing theat the flesh of the fish passes well through. Put it on the fire, adding a piece of butter and a spoonful of tomato sauce. Serve hot with small pieces of toast.

PISTACHIO CREAM

Take out the kernels of half a pound of pistachio nuts, beat them in a mortar with a spoonful of brandy and put them into a tossing-pan with a pint of cream and the yolks of two eggs finely beaten. Stir it gently over a slow fire till it is thick, but do not let it boil. Put it into a soup plate, and when it is cold, stick some kernels—cut longways—all over it.

MARMALADE OF CARNATIONS

Half a pound of sugar, a cup of water and half a pound of fresh red carnations. Crush in a mortar the tops of the carnations, seeing that you use only the red part. Put the sugar and water in a saucepan and boil to a syrup, add the crushed carnations and boil very slowly till they are in a pulp. Stir well and pour into little cups. (This compote is very useful for people of cold temperament.)

From Venus in the Kitchen, by Norman Douglas, 1952, Bloomsbury