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Yes, I know Shakespeare is spinning in his grave, and I’ve been playing fast and loose with that quotation, but it was just too much fun to pass up after I read about the momentous decision made recently by The International Chili Society.
And what did Adam say, when asked about biting into that forbidden fruit? Why, he blamed Eve, of course. “The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.” (Genesis 3:12)
Right now, on one countertop and in the fridge there are pears, peaches and plums, keeping company with apples and berries. They are all ripe, ready and in need of attention.
If you’ve been driving in and out of Langley lately, on Langley Road, you may have noticed the unusual amount of activity in and around the old Langley High School building, perhaps wondering what was going on.
Everywhere I go, I see them: the apples of autumn. Three of my neighbors have trees, loaded with ripe and ripening apples, many already falling to the ground, to the delight of the ever-present deer. And along the drive I take from our end of the island to anywhere else, apple trees dot the wayside, all currently heavy with fruit.
Back in one of my other lives, I looked forward eagerly to the beginning days of the new school year. I was a teacher, then, and couldn’t wait to meet my new batch of students. My own kids, of course, were moaning and groaning about having to give up their too short summertime fun and put on those stiff new “back-to-school” shoes and clothes.
It’s been a tough week, a strange, confusing, terrifying and very discouraging week. As remote as we are from the recent Colorado massacre, it’s impossible not to feel within ourselves some of the pain and suffering everyone involved there must be going through. We may never find out or understand what triggered such insanity in the previously brilliant mind of a seemingly promising young man, but the questions this event has raised may be with us for a very long time.
Are you ready for the onslaught? After the lousy June, slow springing spring, we’re suddenly thrust into summer, and not a moment too soon. However, it also means it’s time to prepare for the deluge of all things wonderful.
Thanks to readers, friends and family members (who are often trying to reform my eating habits), I receive a lot of food/health related information, which I appreciate even if I don’t always follow through with some of the suggestions.
Tuesday was officially the longest day of the year and the first day of summer, which means it’s time to celebrate, right?
Monday is Memorial Day, the first big summertime celebration, although I still have a hard time dealing with a Memorial Day that doesn’t fall on May 30.
There’s no denying that we who live in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, especially in the greater Puget Sound area, go a bit nuts when summer comes early, as it has just done.
The first column I ever wrote for the South Whidbey Record was about rhubarb, and it appeared on May 9, many years ago.
Eating one’s words. It’s not the first time nor, I suspect, will it be the last, but I am here today to eat my words; not all of them, just a paragraph or two. Corrections are in order whether or not you even care about the topic.
Heaven scent. There’s something new in the air, something that smells of new-mown grass, with overtones of tree blossoms, and just a hint of holiness.
During all the years you’ve been sipping a Coke, or swallowing a cold Pepsi, did you ever think about cancer as you drank? Of course not; why would you?
We’re all familiar with pull dates on food, something that didn’t exist when I was first learning to buy our daily bread, and all else at the grocery store.
What are you planning to do with your extra day today? Something special, I hope. After all, it only comes our way once every four years and somehow it just shouldn’t be another routine, ho-hum day.
Today, as I’m sure you’ve noted, is Ash Wednesday. If you’re not Christian, it matters little, although similar periods of fasting and inner evaluation also occur in other religions.
It’s that time of year again. No, I’m not talking about rain, snow, sleet or hail, nor February weather in general.
February, as you may already know, is National American Heart Month, and one of the most important days of February, Valentine’s Day, also has to do with hearts. Candy hearts, flower hearts, heart-shaped pillows, T-shirts covered with message-filled hearts; everywhere you look now and for the next week or so, you’ll be seeing hearts of all types, shapes and sizes.
It began yesterday, the Chinese Year of the Dragon, one of the strongest signs of the Chinese calendar. But if you’re a Dragon yourself, or are closely acquainted with a Dragon, you already know that.
My bedtime reading has changed considerably. I used to fall asleep, my paperback book falling to the floor beside the bed, or ending up somewhere in the bedclothes with me.
Whether you’re Christian, agnostic, Muslim, pagan, Jewish, Druid, atheist, Buddhist, Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Seventh Day Adventist, or any other appellation you can come up with, it really shouldn’t matter when it’s the holiday season (or any other time, as far as I’m concerned.)
Most of us who’ve been fortunate enough to grow up in close and loving families have some very strong traditions associated with the holiday season, things large or small that we must have or do, no matter what else happens.
It’s been a rough November, friends and not only because of the weather. The world is a mess, or so it seems when we read or listen to the news.
Here we are, on the eve of Thanksgiving, wondering how that came to be when Halloween was only last week. Forget that old saw, “Time flies when you’re having fun” — the truth is time flies whether you’re having fun or not.
I have a Thanksgiving question that some of our readers may be able to answer for me.
The bad news hit newspapers throughout the country last week and it’s no small peanuts (sorry).
They suddenly appeared last week, by the hundreds; from small enough to hold in one hand to huge, round whoppers; all of them a beautiful bright orange.
Remember when eggs were on the “poison” list, condemned as potential killers?
Well, summer’s end certainly came in a rush. I’d just written about what a beautiful summery few weeks we’d had, then woke up the next morning to clouds and chilly winds. But, in this part of our world, ’twas ever thus.
In typical Pacific Northwest fashion, we’ve gone from moaning over our lack of summer weather to mild complaints about how hot and dry it has been this month.
Following is a letter I received last week regarding last Wednesday’s column in which I sputtered over a malnourished, allegedly starved young girl being fed Pop Tarts, popcorn and pretzels by Mukilteo police who took her in charge for safekeeping until Child Protective Services took over.
There are times when words fail me, although some friends and family would no doubt disagree. This morning was one of those brief periods when I was struck dumb, sputtering and wordless because I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
It’s a boring job, but someone has to do it and I really don’t mind; in fact, I rather look forward to it. Every year about this time, it happens; I begin hearing from people with too much zucchini, asking for help. As I said, boring, but what we do with the annual surfeit of green Italian squash need not be.
“The backbone of a nation is the good housekeeper, and the home maker’s greatest asset is the ability to prepare good food. The future happiness of children depends on their health, and health is obtained only through well prepared foods, fresh air and exercise.”
We wait and wait for too many months it seems, for our short but sweet summer to begin; then when it suddenly appears, everything seems to happen at once.
It’s important, occasionally, to remind ourselves why we’re celebrating one of our more important holidays of the year. The upcoming Independence Day, aka Fourth of July, was originally created to commemorate the official adoption of the Declaration of Independence, which followed the winning of this country’s freedom from the rule of Great Britain.
We’ve all played “Let’s pretend” at some point during childhood.
With many thanks to Boeing, I’ve finally discovered just the right terminology, as well as an explanation for what most of us experience on a recurring basis in our lives but didn’t know, until now, what to call it or that it’s apparently quite commonplace.
Well, it would appear I’m not among the chosen enraptured few, because I’m still here today and, while I am quite happy, I wouldn’t say I’m experiencing anything close to rapture.
If someone sent you a check for $3 billion every year, what would you do with it? And how would you feel about the group that sent you that money every year?
The affair began innocently enough and, frankly, I never thought it would last as long as it has. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and still do.
If it’s April, it must be time for spring cleaning. Unfortunately, that happens to be at the very top of my “Most Hated Chores” list, primarily because even before I begin, the job seems virtually hopeless.
Reading in Jessie Stensland’s story last week that the population of Island County is growing grayer by the year was no surprise. Even Boomers are eventually going to gray, no matter what their hair color may appear to be, and we all know there are plenty of them who’ve settled on our island.
There it was, in the third paragraph of a very brief article about the final flight of Shuttle Endeavour, one sentence that sent my mind into a tailspin and my imagination on an out-of-control binge.
In spite of a certain lack of cooperation from the weather, spring is showing itself.
Today is St. Patrick’s Day, actually one of my favorite celebratory days…
If you’ve just finished breakfast or lunch, or if you’re feeling a bit squeamish, you may want to skip reading this column, at least for awhile.