Monday, November 16, 2009

Galloping molars and the looming beard in the periphery

While I was home in the northern panhandle, I picked a huge bowl full of apples from the tree in the yard. My mother told me to watch out for stepping in deer poop, but the ground is so saturated by their droppings (and the droppings of some bigger creature--elk? bear? *gulp) that it wasn't possible, and I embraced the grossness on the soles of my shoes. For years we thought the apples were no good and left them to the deer. Only now are we realizing how sweet and delicious they are. We've got a lot of apple consuming to do to make up for lost time. The ground where the tree grows is incredibly uneven. Placing a ladder on the ground even remotely close to the tree would be suicide. I took a rake and gently rattled the branches until the apples dangerously rained down on me.

I wanted to make juice with the apples. Mostly apples--a few carrots, one orange. My parents gave their "good" juicer to my brother and his family, but they still had another juicer, which had belonged to my grandmother. Roughly half of the objects in my parents' house once belonged to one grandmother or the other. Case in point: the night table in the room where I sleep has four lamps on it. Two are nondescript store-bought lamps from the past 15 years or so. The other two appear to be antiques of some sort. That's how it goes. Really, you only need one lamp, but four are also fine. So the juicer. My mother remarked how old it was. She said she remembered it from her childhood, though I'm not sure whether the comment was meant to be literal or just kind of a general hyperbolic note about the juicer's age. I'd say it was maybe from the 1960s? the 1970s? The brand was Coronation. The ancient thing still worked like a charm and the juice was delicious (though it didn't prevent me from catching a cold some days later). The tragedy: after pulping up the old juicer, none of us could figure out how to take it apart for cleaning. My father and my sister both had vague memories of it being a difficult endeavor, but couldn't retrace their steps of how they'd cleaned it many years ago. I was sad. My mother shrugged and said that they hadn't used it for years and years anyway. I'd have liked to use it again, though.

My mother took me to see an exhibit of quilts at the [new] public library. Some of them were really extraordinary. It was nice to spend time with her in a civic space and admire the craftsmanship. Above are the two new fabrics and threads that I bought at a local store. I paid a little more than I'd like to have, but I really liked the way they looked. I particularly like the shape of the alligator on the animal print. I also enjoy the look of the old Belgian rug in the background--it reminds me of childhood, which is a fun feeling, one of the many pleasant sentiments I have when going home.

1 comment:

Jill said...

I could read your posts all day. Love the animal fabric and can't wait to see what you make with it.