Spring by Kathryn White
Showing posts with label Gladys Taber. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gladys Taber. Show all posts

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Spring Cleaning and Gladys Taber



"Housework is tiresome in spring. Almost any woman gets that feeling of being simply overcome because she can never get through it...The light is brighter now, and lasts longer, and it shows up everything! You can't do it all at once, curtains, rugs, woodwork, attic and cellar.

The thing to do, I told myself yesterday, is to make a comprehensive list of all the spring jobs. I began very tidily with,,,clean attic, spray, weed out all books...discard any piece of clothing you can get along without. Give away all blankets and rugs not actually in use. Check bed linen and give away all except for beds used. Take magazines to hospital...
By the time I made my list, I was worn out. So, since it was a warm April day, we went off with bread and cheese, hard-cooked eggs, a vacuum of boiling coffee. Sat by the falls at Eight Mile. I felt marvelously restored. The wild white violets were in bloom and below the falls the skunk cabbage was like the third act of a play, so dramatic and final. It always reminds me of Van Gogh, for it is a violent plant and greener than any green could ever be. The unfurling leaves look tropical.
As we sat quietly eating the crusty bread and cheese, spring was tangible. The red-winged blackbirds made a good landing in the maple trees and talked their heads off about the journey up...
the water, still sharp with snow, poured over the rocks. It was free at last. A hawk went over, riding the air....
“Maybe it would be better to leave the attic and cellar until fall”, I said dreamily, “there isn't any special hurry”...

"This year, I vow, the attic will be weeded out, and all the possessions which cannot prove their usefulness shall be ruthlessly cast out on the dump. It shall be a bare and lovely place, where it might be pleasant to go and think sometimes. Of course we'll have to spare the little trundle bed that Ned slept in as a child, and my sewing machine, even though I don't often use it, since it is inimical to me, and then, I must keep the rag-bag. I am old-fashioned enough to like one; you never know when you may need a piece of this and that...Now perhaps you can see why the attic has never really been cleaned out." (in this case, it is our basement)

"This is the time of year when the house looks shabby and between mop-up jobs, we notice the wear and tear of winter. This year, we decided to get fresh pull-curtains for the family room, a soft apple green with an antique brown pattern over it.
“But that is all we will do,” said Jill, firmly. “We've got those insurance bills coming in. Just the curtains.
“You are absolutely right.” I say.
The curtains looked lovely. But after they were hung, the walls of the room looked worse. The open fires all winter long, plus the coal gas which our furnace affects had ruined them. So we repainted the walls to match the green in the curtains. It really looked beautiful but the woodwork was a sight. We had to do over the woodwork, which led inevitably, to new slip covers for the chairs and sofa.
“Certainly dangerous to put up new curtains,” said Jill.
“Well, it's done now,” I said, and added, “except we really have to paint the insides of the corner cupboards. That cherry red looks awful. We need a darker tone of green.”
“And wouldn't you like the floor sanded and redone too?”
"Well, not until the mud season is over,” I said meekly."

"A full pink moon-April's autograph in the sky-shines down over Stillmeadow. Remembering the white gold moon of January, the ball of pale copper at harvest time, June's daffodil eye of night, I ask myself:
Who can say which is the most beautiful? Each season has its own charm, each bestows its own blessing, and we welcome each in turn. The planet we in habit may be only one of countless planets, but it turns in its accustomed orbit and we accept this unquestioningly.
There is security in knowing that spring follows winter and summer comes after spring.
As I go back into my house, I wish all my friends, everywhere, the joy and sweetness of spring.
"

"I pray God's blessing may fall on us as softly as apple blossoms in fall in spring. And then I put the guttering candles on the trestle table and go to bed feeling like tomorrow will be another adventure in living!"

"I resolve to be more patient, less selfish, cherish my friends, and in my small way help whoever needs help. I cannot conceivably influence the world's destiny, but I can make my own life more worthwhile. I can give some help to some people; that is not vital to all the world's problems and yet, I think if everyone did just that, we might see quite a world in our time!"

"Seasons flow one into the other, today moves inexorably toward tomorrow and we cannot keep even the most enchanted hour. World events shape different unknown destinies for mankind. Nevertheless these abide: love, friendship, faith in God. These arm us against the transitory aspects of life on this planet.
And so as I look forward to (spring) summer, my heart is thankful. And may God bless my neighbours all over the world, I pray, as I open the picket gate..."


artwork by Sue Lynn Cotton

All excerpts above are written by my beloved Gladys Taber and are taken from Stillmeadow Sampler, Stillmeadow Calendar, and Stillmeadow and Sugarbush.
Can you see why I love her writings? I sense a kindred spirit and although she is no longer here for me to tell her this, I have really appreciated her wonderful thoughts, her witty and amusing anecdotes, her nuggets of wisdom and the pearls of life she shares with her readers.
Like her, I would much rather escape into a good book, visit over tea with friends, enjoy a hearty meal along with lively conversation, become introspective when I consider the state of the world we live in...
But I have taken time to write my list and it is growing, so unlike Gladys, who longs to put it off, I will be tackling the jobs over the course of the next few months.
I have papers to organize, sort and file, books and magazines to donate, clothes to sort, landscaping projects to complete ... oh, joy!
Spring Cleaning here we come! Maybe this new book I ordered will inspire me .......
What are your spring-cleaning goals?

Thursday, January 6, 2011

In Grandma's Kitchen

Recently I came across a poem that has hung in many kitchens in the past generation. It reminded me again of the importance of making the kitchen the center of the home with each meal prepared as a service to my family and to those who grace our table.
It makes me feel nostalgic and sentimental to reflect on the days when the kitchen truly was the epicentre or heart of the home and the dining table was where great conversations happened over a hearty meal.
It was a time of coming together, sharing the events of the day, and offering encouragement to one another around a comforting and nourishing meal.
Life has gotten so busy for many families, including our own. I think that is why
I cherish the Christmas season so much.
It is such a joy to be gathered around the table with family and friends, making me so grateful for those special times.
It is my renewed desire to make each meal a pleasant event around our dining table as I create special memories for my family and for all those who grace us with their presence at our table.




God bless my little kitchen,
I love its every nook,
And bless me as I do my work,
Wash pots and pans and cook.
And may the meals that I prepare
Be seasoned from above
With Thy great blessings and Thy grace,
But most of all Thy love.
As we partake of earthly food,
The table before us spread,
We’ll not forget to thank Thee, Lord,
Who gives us daily bread.
So bless my little kitchen, God,
And those who enter in,
May they find naught but Joy and Peace,
And Happiness therein.
Author: M. Peterson (1944)


I have mentioned Gladys before in a blog post recently as I admire her gentle reflections and astute observations of the world around her. Gladys Taber (1899-1980) is the author of 59 books and was also a columnist for the Ladies Home Journal entitled, Diary of Domesticity.
She is a kindred spirit in her love of country life, nature, good home-cooked meals and being a keeper of the home.
You can take a visit to Stillmeadow here


“Traveling is all very well if you can get home at night. I would be willing to go around the world if I came back in time to light the candles and set the table for supper. I cannot conceivably influence the world's destiny, but I can make my own life more worthwhile. I can give some help to some people; that is not vital to all the world's problems and yet I think if everyone did just that, we might see quite a world in our time!”
"At Stillmeadow, there is no predicting. (the time of our meal) But in the end, we always manage to sit down to a candle-lit table and the rib roast is not overdone and the Yorkshire pudding is crusty and tender with rich juices bubbling at the edges and the salad is not wilted. I even have remembered to take the cheese from the refrigerator so it has become room temperature, and I did not park the fruit bowl on the radiator! When everyone takes that first mouthful and breathes a happy sigh, that is the time I relax and become the gracious hostess. My hair may not look like a Vogue illustration and my face is shiny and I never did find time to slip into that fresh frock, but I am a very happy woman."
~Gladys Taber



The ordinary arts we practice every day
at home are of more importance to the
soul than their simplicity might suggest.
~Thomas More



No matter where I serve my my guests,
It seems they like the kitchen best.


Bless this Home
Ella Miller

Bless this home, O Lord, we pray
Guard it safely night and day,
Bless the family living here
Bind them close with love and cheer.

Bless the food which is prepared
And each guest with whom it's shared.
Bless the children through the years
Guide them in their joys and tears.

Bless the Mother - tender, kind
And the Father by her side
Bless their pure and faithful love
Making home like Heaven above.

Bless this home, O Lord, we pray
Where we live and walk and play,
Bless us all that ever we
May live O gracious Lord, with Thee.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!
01-01-11 or 1/1/11 or January 1, 2011

Oliebollen and Sjoelen

"Ollie-bollen, or (Oliebollen) is a dutch pastry similar to a doughnut. It typically is a deep fried pastry filled with raisins and dusted with powdered sugar. Some modern variations serve them topped with berry filling, but this is a traditional recipe. Oliebollen are a traditional treat on New Year's Eve."
There are a variety of recipes to choose from, many to suit your own taste. You can add apples, raisins, cinnamon to the batter.
The method remains the same: deep fried doughnut dusted with icing sugar.
You can check out some recipes here or here.
At my sister's home yesterday we were treated to oliebollen compliments of her husband who makes close to 100 each year as part of their New Year's Eve. traditions. They are so good and were enjoyed by all who drop by for a visit.

Thank you M&L for your wonderful hospitality shown to all of us!

This was my version of making oliebollen this past week, using a package of Koopmans oliebollen mix. For a taste of The Netherlands, I have included this video...


This was the results of our experiment. The oliebollen were not as light as my brother in law's but we still enjoyed them.

And the shuffleboard/sjoelbak game is another tradition that the dutch play on New Year's Eve. We didn't have time last evening due to our travels, but we are eager to play some games today.

As we travelled yesterday to the Niagara area, I spent some time reading excerpts from my Gladys Taber collection. I thought that I would close this post with some of her thoughts which you can find here

It is time to put up new calendars, and as the old ones come down I wonder where the past year went. some of it is now what Emily Dickinson would call "an amethyst remembrance." Perhaps some of it is better forgotten, but there is so much to remember and treasure.There is, I have found, at least one good or lovely thing in every single day. Everyone has sorrow, endures difficult times, but loveliness abides if we look for it.
What the new year will bring, we cannot know. I think of the year that has been folded away in time. There has been much good in it, although some sorrow. but here are always, in any year, many lovely memories, and I shall cherish them. Life is not, for most of us, a pageant of splendor but is made up of many small things, rather like an old fashioned piecework quilt. no two people have the same, but we all have our own, whether it be listening to Beethoven's Fifth with a beloved friend or seeing a neighbor at the back door with a basket of white dahlias. Or after a long, hard day having the family say, "That was a good supper."

As the clock moves irrevocably from yesterday to today, I go out on the terrace and fill my heart with the intensity of the winter moonlight. This is the time when the heart is at peace and the spirit rests. I think of the words, "Be still, and know that I am God." Far off a branch falls in the old orchard, and sometimes a plane goes overhead bound for a far destination. I wish the pilot well, in that cold sky, and hope the passengers come safely home. Silently I say, "Happy New Year to all of us, all over this turning earth and may we make it a year of loving-kindness and gentle hearts."




Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Season of Thunderstorms

Early Monday morning we awoke to loud thunder, followed by flashes of lightning accompanied by heavy rainfall that lasted several hours, bringing relief from the hot and humid weather we have been experiencing lately. The relief wasn't for long!
Today was spent in the Niagara Penninsula, where we gathered with friends for a birthday party to celebrate my dear friend Marianne, who is back from the Netherlands with her husband after a wonderful time dutch family there. We were thankful for their air conditioned home as it felt like 38'c with the high humidity factor. As we travelled home, the storm clouds gathered and the rain began, followed by clashes of thunder and streaks of lightning across the evening sky.
The two most basic elements that cause a thunderstorm to develop are moisture and rising warm air, especially in areas of high humidity and we certainly have experienced both!


This reminds me of a favourite author of mine who would be considered a journalist or maybe even a blogger today.
Gladys Taber (1899-1980) wrote about the changing seasons, life at her old Connecticut farmhouse, her gardens and her home, her neighbours and friends, the joys of every day simple life and good old-fashioned values, something that resonates with me today. I really enjoy reading her thoughts on life and living in the country, where she experienced both the joys as well as the trials and tribulations.
This is what she had to say about July and thunderstorms:
"This is the month of violent thunderstorms. I always begin to feel tense when the air gets heavy and threatening. Then the fierce white lightning scissors across the sky and black clouds empty tons of rain on the hot earth as the thunder roars and rolls around overhead. Father would go outside, so he wouldn't miss any of the splendor of the the storm. He was what I call a storm buff, but no matter how hard he tried to persuade me to enjoy them too, I never learned to care for them. However, they do break the heat, and the brief presence of pure cool air, sparkling wet leaves, and lucient sky refreshes the earth."


Below: Gladys Taber in the kitchen of her Connecticut farmhouse:

We arrived home safely tonight from the Niagara area and went straight to the front porch so that we could all watch with fascination the thunderstorm and witness God's power in the heavens, while enjoying the refreshing rains that fell and the cooler night temperatures.

"From where does lightning leap, or the east wind blow?
Who carves out a path for thunderstorms?
Who sends torrents of rain on empty deserts where no one lives?
Rain that changes barren land to meadows green with grass."
Job 38:24-27