Myrtle's Mom

msn photo

Friends who raised sheep called and asked if we wanted to raise a spring lamb? Excited, sister and I pleaded, "Mom, Dad, can we?" Living in the country, we had lots of room, and we'd never raised sheep. It would be an adventure. They nodded in agreement.

A few days later our friend arrived with a long-legged bundle of curly white wool in his arms. We frowned at how little she was and asked why she was taken from her mother. He said, "She wasn't taken, her mother wouldn't feed her. She was rejected."
Our jaws dropped. What? We thought all mother's were like ours. It was unimaginable a mother, any mother, could/would turn her back on her own.

Dad fixed a place in the cellar with a heat lamp. We traipsed down first thing in the morning to bottle feed her and after school. Mother fed her during the day. The heat brought out the ticks in her wool. One moved over to my sister's head. Mother found it when washing her hair, removed it and placed it in a pint jar where it lived more than 30 days off sister's blood. Yuk! And it wasn't even Halloween.

When the weather warmed, Myrtle graduated from the cellar to the yard bouncing around stiff-legged, as if on springs. She liked to be chased. When we caught her we rolled around on the grass. Squeezing our fingers in her wool put lanolin on our hands. Mother appreciated it the most. Under her fertilization our lawn improved, and she became our watchdog. Guests at our gate didn't try to enter when she bobbed her head in butt mode.

Being an active 4-H family, Myrtle became my project for the county fair. Hours were spent training her to walk with my left hand under her chin and my right on her rump. Many leaps were attempted before she learned to cooperate and stand still with her feet evenly spaced.

In August I bathed and curry combed her until she was fluffy. We gathered our sewing and baking projects and Myrtle and went to the fair. I walked into the ring holding her under the chin and on the rump and stopped in presentation. She stayed calm. I knelt on one knee. The judge felt her hind quarters and fingered her wool. We waited. Low and behold we earned a blue ribbon for showmanship. I still have it.

Fair animals were sold at the close of the fair, unless they were champions and going on to higher competition. Not Myrtle, she lived with us several years. Wherever we went she was right behind us.

The smell of wet wool reminds us of our friend and pet. I've not eaten lamb or mutton since. Spring lamb means a bouncing, playful bundle of wool in our yard, not on my plate. And mint jelly is fine on toast.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Post St. Patrick's Day Cabbage Math

After weeks of cold, rainy, gloomy weather reminiscent of Ireland, 3/17 was a sunny blessing. For me, no sun equals no sense of direction. JB points and says, "That's north." Nuh-huh, that's east. Nebraska's roads are generally square miles. Mississippi roads follow old Indian trails, creeks, and around stumps.

On the 17th, friends of JB's stopped by for a chat. Lawn chairs were pulled out and placed in the shade at the nose of the motorhome. They reminisced hunting and drag racing, while I pondered how to feed them with a single head of cabbage .

Hunger interrupted their tales; God knows they will never run out. Hilton said he had some fresh slab (2 lb.) crappie, hushpuppies and potatoes. Cecil had a fry daddy. Derek said coleslaw would taste good. I volunteered our cabbage. He offered tomatoes, onions and mayo. JB setup the table.

Cabbage + fish + friends = a tasty feast with leftovers.

©2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Easter 2009 AD

Mother Mary relieved
He's alive
overcame death
the world changed
forever
He did it
for us

Thank you.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Fresh Fish and a Tea Cozy

I love hot Earl Grey with fresh homemade Irish soda bread Southwestern style. Walnuts and japlaenos added. The recipe is from "Jump Up and Kiss Me" spicy Vegetarian Cooking by Jennifer Trainer Thompson. From her I learned to add cayenne and cinnamon to my chocolate Texas sheetcake.

Hand washing my tea cozy I remembered a faraway friend. My pale blue and white striped cozy was handmade for my navy teapot with a hole for the handle and one for the spout. A white and a pale blue puff ball are attached to the top. Crocheted or knitted? I can't tell. I started knitting a blanket before Krysia was born and finished it three years later when I brought Corrie home from the hospital. I knit too tight. Corrie's nimble piano fingers make her knitting look like marshamllows, gorgeous.

While in London I purused Harrod's, if we haven't got it, you probably don't need it department store. Yes, they have a dress code. A shopper in torn geans and flip flops might be turned away, even though Harrod's might sell the items at the store. People dress up to shop.

I had worked my way through the thousand thread count bed linens to the foods. At the seafood department I was stunned to see a fresh fish display of arranged rows of hand-sized fish in a sunburst pattern on an upright 5'x5' panel with cold water tumbling over all. Overhead lights made tiny rainbows. Admirers of all ages paused, nodded to each other and shook their heads in amazement. The display is changed weekly.

The best part of travel is meeting people. Mae was from Dublin, Ireland, the place of brightly painted doors. She had come to London to shop. We metat the fish display. A world traveler, she had been to the States four times, to the European continent eleven, Russia four, Australia six, to five African nations, and two South American countries to name a few. Her favorite place? Home. We exchanged addresses.

Months later a package arrived from Ireland. Mae made and sent a tea cozy. Every time I use it, I think of her. Here's to you Mae, my far away yet close in heart friend. May we meet again, on this side or the next.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Signs of Spring

in our corner of the world. Flushing out the season, Krysia grew narcissus bulbs in a bowl of rocks. Garden books replaced winter books of polar bears and snowy Alps. The summer picture of her and Schatzie is a constant.

Hardy red, yellow and white tulips come up in our landscaping. A high school science project inspired me to cross-pollinate my grandmother's tulips. Pollen from a red tulip was tapped onto a knife and sprinkled into the center of white tulips. The next spring they boasted red stripes. It took three seasons for the red to fade out. White remained white and red remained red.

Krysia liked tea and scones for her birthday. Tomorrow I will enjoy them in my mind remembering her.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

PALM SUNDAY 2009

Holy Week begins
Mother Mary's ordeal
even if she knew
the plan
of what
was to become
of Him/Her son
it still hurt

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Zimbabwe, Africa

photo by Leroy & Alice Patocka-Fortner

I have not been to this area of Africa, Alice and Leroy have.

At the base of this monstrous Zimbabwe, African Baobob, we strain to see our friends, Leroy and Alice. He has been a big game hunter all his life. Alice and I went to high school together. A country kid, she didn't expect to travel the world. Together they have been to the Dark Continent numerous times and driven to Alaska.

Baobob or Boabob? I found it spelled both ways. Africans call it "the upside-down tree" and "the monkey bread tree." One folklore tale says the tree was planted upside down accidentally by a hyena.

Football-sized seed pods house seeds Leroy says taste like cream of tartar. Acording to The Illustrated Guide to EDIBLE WILD PLANTS Dept. of the Army, a mix of pulp and water cures diarrhea; cut into strips and pounded, pulp is made into rope; young leaves are a soup vegetable; for a refreshing drink, a handful of pulp is added to a cup of water; seeds are roasted and ground to make flour. The hollow trunk is a source of fresh water. Its circumfrence changes as water is absorbed and released.

Without bark and rings, the tree's age is determined by carbon dating. This one could be 2,000 years old or older, in spite of elephant and smaller animal damage. At about 1,000 years, the trees start to hollow out. The most famous Baobob, 3rd largest in the world, is located in Limpopo, South Africa. Limpopo shares borders with Botswana, Zimbabwe and Mozambique. An average of 10,000 visitors a year visit the carved-out pub and wine cellar of Doug & Heather van Heerden.

In her long-legged life, Alice never dreamed she'd visit Africa and sleep in a thatched roof lodge under a mosquito net and be glad for it. She and Leroy took anti-malaria medicine two weeks before leaving the states, the duration, and two weeks back home. It worked. No sweats to flash freezing.

Meals were prepared according to old English ways and without electricity or refrigeration. White bread was baked daily in wood burning ovens. Alice said, "The wild kudu stew was delicious with locally grown organic potatoes, carrots and onions. It reminded us of our beef stew. The kudu are antelope-like with tall corkscrew horns. Custard or pudding was dessert. The local sudda brew tasted bitter."

Expecting to see John Deere tractors, they were surprised to see natives with oxen work the land around abandoned farm equipment. Included in the rusty graveyard are Nebraska irrigation systems. When the government expelled white landowners, they had three days to leave. Anything related to the farming operation could not be removed. They left with the clothes on their back and some personal items. Natives used the equipment until it ran out of gas or the batteries died. Where it stopped, it stayed. The modern was replaced by people and oxen. Square one, back to methods as old as the Baobab tree.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series