Summer Bucket List

August 7, 2018September 15, 201812 Comments

I always feel sad this time of year because summer is half over and I haven’t done everything I planned. Winter is brutal and long here in Canada which makes us appreciate summer even more but even if you can’t afford to rent a cottage most of these summer pleasures are free. We still have almost a month left though….how many things have you crossed off your summer bucket list? There is still time to:

Have breakfast outside on the deck

Dry your sheets on the line….ah the smell

Vintage clothes dryer

Go to the beach and watch the waves

Buy some colorful beach towels

Read a big fat beach book with your toes in the sand

The Perfect Beach Book

Build a sandcastle with some little ones

Feed the seagulls French fries

Go strawberry picking

and blueberry picking…..make a pie

Feast on summer fruit

Lay on the grass and gaze at the stars on a starry starry night

Starry Night Over The Rhone

Visit an art gallery or museum

Watch tiny fireflies

Watch major fireworks

Toast marshmallows around a bonfire

Nap outdoors on the swing

Barbecue a steak on a charcoal grill while camping

Dine alfresco at a restaurant with a view of the water

Visit a farmer’s market

Peaches for Sale

Make jam

Go fishing

Make a pitcher of punch or lemonade

1/3 pineapple juice, 1/3 cranberry juice. 1/3 ginger ale

Listen to summer music while driving (see Summer Playlist)

Watch a summer storm over the lake

Drink coffee on a park bench

Pack a picnic lunch

Have an ice cream/gelato cone

Simply the best Canadian gelato

Go to an outdoor art/craft show

Watch a sunset

Attend an outdoor concert

Watch the sailboats race

Eat corn on the cob and ribs

Have key lime pie for desert

Gaze at your solar lights before bed

Watch a summer blockbuster on a hot humid day

Have an afternoon nap on a rainy day

Clean out your summer closet

Shop the summer sales (keeping in mind next years vacation)

If you’ve missed any, you still have time left – get moving, and don’t forget to wear sunscreen!

Summer sailboat

What is your favorite summertime activity?

Summer Playlist

August 2, 2018May 16, 201912 Comments

Here are six pieces of musical nostalgia for your summer playlist, and a list of activities to accompany them – because life should have a soundtrack. As I am a fan of all things vintage they are oldies but goodies, dating from the 50’s to the 70’s. A millennial told me recently that he wished he had been born in 1960 because we had better music, and we did, but I would welcome any newer suggestions.

Old Cape Cod – I love all those old classics from the 50’s and this song paints a picture of a part of the world I would love to visit, being a big fan of Elin Hilderbrand’s Nantucket novels and Susan Branch’s Martha’s Vineyard books. It was first recorded in 1957 by Patti Page, but I like Bette Midler’s 1972 version as well. Best served with a lobster stew in a restaurant with an ocean view.

You have to be crazy to try this…

Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer. Originally recorded in 1963 by Nat King Cole, this happy summer song is best served with soda, pretzels and beer while reading a book on the beach and wishing summer would always be here.

Indian Lake

Indian Lake – another tune from the sixties – 1968 The Cowsills. I remember listening to this (now politically incorrect) song when I was a kid and we would go up to the Grove-on the-Lake to swim on summer Sundays after church. Best served with a snack at the Grove diner after renting a canoe or while camping.

Hot Fun in the Summertime – recorded in 1969 by Sly and the Family Stone shortly after their performance at Woodstock. Best served out in the country sun with a picnic basket or at any outdoor music concert.

In the Summertime – Mungo Jerry – a British rock band debuted this hit in 1970 which became the carefree summer song of the baby boomer generation. Best served with a milkshake or smoothie while driving a jeep along the lake. (Don’t drink and drive!)

photo from poolsuppliescanada.ca

Sunny Afternoon – recorded by The Kinks in 1967 as a protest to the British taxes paid by rich rock stars. Best served while lazing in a swimming pool with an ice cold beer in hand while dreaming of winning the lottery.

Postscript: I suppose I could have called this six summertime hits from the sixties. Notice I said we had better music, not hairstyles or clothing!

What is your favorite summertime song?

A Midsummer Garden Tour (The Color Purple)

July 30, 2018July 30, 20188 Comments

It must be a bad year for garden tours as I have not seen anything advertised and July is almost over. We had a late spring, then it got very hot very suddenly. We had too many days of over 40 C and very little rain and were fast approaching the crispy grass dried out part of summer where everyone but the most die-hard enthusiasts has given up, when the skies opened to a whole week of torrential downpours. Now everything is green again but soggy. Mother Nature is being temperamental this year, but at least we can go to the beach guilt free.

It’s nice to go on garden tours to get inspiration and new ideas, plus it gives you a good excuse to wear a stylish hat, perhaps something with a broad brim and a navy grosgrain ribbon? (I’m always in search of the perfect hat and sometimes the hats are more fun to look at than the flowers). Two years ago, while on a garden tour I snapped a picture of this shady oasis of calm.

While purple and green are not colors that I would ever have thought of for a garden bench, the combination was eye-catching, and I believe the homeowner was ahead of the trend, or maybe I was two years behind as usual. It wasn’t something I thought would work in my predominately pink garden, but I did steal their idea for the birdcage with the ivy flowing from it. (Check Michael’s end of summer sale for birdcage bargains). My ivy did not fare as well being exposed to too much sun, so this year I tried wave petunias which also did not do well either in the small space. Maybe next year a fake ivy plant from the thrift store? Would anyone notice?

I noticed the purple and green theme back in the spring when the nurseries started carrying colored pots. Purple looks particularly striking with pots of herbs,

and since then I have seen deep purple Adirondack chairs as well.

So onto my own little garden space. I will spare you the bedraggled bits and concentrate on the things which looked lovely in June, the most popular time for garden tours.

It was not a great year for the Knock-out roses as I pruned them the first of April and then we had two more weeks of winter, so lots of buds but not as much foliage and many dead branches. For those unfamiliar, Knock-Out roses bloom all summer and are essentially maintenance free.

I have lots of pink roses in my garden and purple can be a great accent color for pink. It can be a dark shade, as in these Jackmanii clematis vines next to the John Cabot climbing roses,

or the purple Salvia, next to the pink Knock-Outs. It can be a mixture of both dark and lighter shades as in this Purple Iris belonging to a neighbor. I bought two clumps of this at the horticultural plant sale in May anticipating next spring. Or it can be a pale lavender shade as in this Russian Sage, and Rose of Sharon. The Russian sage has been in for five years now and is thriving at over three feet tall. It is drought resistant. The Rose of Sharon, eight years old and covered with blooms every year, was another wise choice.

Then there are the mauve hydrangeas who can’t make up their mind if they are pink or blue, (wrong with the aluminum sulfate again).

And of course we can’t forget the lilacs, the delight of every May.

The majority of my lavender plants did not survive the winter so I had to replant, leaving me with a few spiky survivors. This two year old French lavender plant in the back corner although not very full compared to my older English ones, blends in well with the pink wildflowers. Then there were the mistakes. Not every shade of purple is attractive. These foxglove seedlings from the farmer’s market came up a fuchsia color I did not care for at all as I was expecting a rosy pink.

And the Pink Champagne clematis I planted last year bloomed the same bright shade, lovely in it’s own way but clashing with the bubblegum pink of the rose bush beside it. It’s unfortunate these two fuchsia friends could not be together but one is in the side yard and one at the back. Some days I swear I will never buy anything again unless it is in flower and able to speak the truth.

This year I planted multi-colored morning glories in front of this old recycled trellis…..twice. They came up and then seemed to disappear. I suspect the rabbits who lounge in my backyard in the evenings have been munching them for desert. (They were upset because they couldn’t get at all those glorious carrots in the potager. They have now moved on to sampling the petunias). I was pleasantly surprised to see how much purple I actually have in my garden, but as every gardener knows there is always room for more and that neglected corner was telling me to buy a purple clematis to go with the lime green cart, and to think it all started with a garden tour…..

What great ideas have you discovered at a garden tour?

The Simply White Dinner

July 24, 2018July 25, 201822 Comments

The Simply White Dinner is an annual event which originated in Paris twenty-five years ago and has now spread to cities all over the world. The local version of this outdoor picnic has sold out again. Every year this event gets bigger and more extravagant and every year people pay for the privilege of sitting with 300 other guests all wearing white on a summer evening and listen to jazz music while they dine on their own picnic fare. Tickets are $60 per pair, (only pairs as the organizers want an even number of tables), and every year it sells out. And yes, you bring your own food. The $60 charge is only for the ambiance. Bottles of wine (presumably white) are available for purchase, but you must bring your own bottle opener, white picnic basket/bag/cooler, white china, glass ware, real cutlery, (no plastic please), white linen napkins (to wave in the air for the group picture) and centerpiece (perhaps white hydrangeas). You must wear white, and only white, except for footwear. Elegance is encouraged, hats, fascinators, white boas, white gloves etc. They supply the tables and chairs, the white tablecloths and the music. The rest is up to you. The location is top secret until the day before the event, presumably to avoid gawkers (although it might be hard to hide 300 chairs) but is usually somewhere along the waterfront. This year they had a perfect summer evening with a lovely breeze coming off the water, last year it was sultry and sweltering hot. It’s hard to dress chic when the humidity soars to over 40 C.

Now if you are a romantic at heart this sounds very enticing. The event organizers promise a magical evening of outdoor dining, music and dancing under the stars. It does sound wonderful and very Gatsbyish….who wouldn’t want to dress up like Daisy Buchanan?

Except even the local newspaper christened it The Chic Potluck because……where are all the men? The closeup in the paper showed a long table of stylishly dressed women with hats and white flowers or wreaths in their hair, with a few dapper men here and there, coerced into white suits or white golf shirts and white pants by their wives, but they were older, grayer men who may have grown up with John Travolta’s white disco suit in Saturday Night Fever, or perhaps Don Johnson’s pale linen jackets in Miami Vice, or maybe even Humphrey Bogart’s white tuxedo in Casablanca. White is not a color favored by a lot of men, except for the classic white dress shirt which accompanies suits and ties, and I believe even that has fallen out of favor except for funerals and weddings. Women enjoy wearing white, and as Jane Austen famously quoted in Mansfeld Park, “A woman can never be too fine while she is all in white” but I think Jane was probably thinking of younger women. I abandoned white years ago as it can be unflattering to the skin tone of women over fifty. In fact I don’t believe I own a single white item in my wardrobe. I also can’t sit in the direct sun for three hours – would my beige parasol be confiscated at the door?

Informal poll: Female readers would your boyfriend/husband/male significant other be willing to don white (and we’re not talking white t-shirts here), to attend such an event? (Male readers I would like your opinion too). Men might be enticed by the promise of a good meal, but remember you are bringing your own food and it probably won’t be them making or packing the picnic lunch. All of these are perfectly valid reasons to just stay home. Still I am feeling a bit wistful about missing the promise of an enchanting evening. (musical interlude from South Pacific)

The first year they allowed registrants to pre-order a boxed meal of a salad with protein/chicken for $22 (has anyone noticed that the $15 salad has now become $20) but that was soon abandoned, probably for liability reasons. There are suggestions for picnic fare on the website…..appetizers, sandwiches, deserts. The food does not have to be white, but what if it was? If we’re going to have a theme here let’s go all out. How about aged white cheddar with crackers, and white radishes and cauliflower veggies with ranch dip as appetizers. Lobster or lobster rolls, or tuna on French bread. Or that perennial picnic favorite, cold chicken and potato salad with white chocolate mousse or crème brulee for desert? Sounds like a plan, and you don’t have to pay sixty dollars to do it – you can put the money you save towards the lobsters. Just organize a party for your own backyard some soft summer evening. Invite some friends over and serve Prosecco or Pina Coladas. Play old vintage Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin tunes instead of that horrible screechy jazz. You might even cheat and stay out until midnight if your neighbors don’t object, instead of packing it in at ten as the official white party does. (I’m not sure how much dancing under the stars would get done when it doesn’t even get dark here until well after nine, but you might get a good forty-five minutes of twilight twirling in).

Being possessed of an analytical mind, I decided to do the math. 300 tickets X $30 is $9000. Nine thousand dollars to cover the rental of the table and chairs, the tablecloths and the jazz trio and DJ, might still leave some money left over, but as I don’t know anything about event planning, maybe they just break even? They say they do it for the fun, it’s not a charity event. It does seem like a lot of money though for some ambiance. Last year I had tickets for a Local Harvest dinner, where for $30 a person you got an actual meal outdoors at the local farmers market square. Although it was the end of September (timed for the harvest moon) and a coolish night they had heaters and a band played later. (This reasonable price however might have been subsidized by the culinary arts students from the local college learning their trade). The meal itself consisted of artisan bread, potato soup, locally sourced salad greens, a beef and a turkey entree, rustic vegetables and assorted homemade pies for desert. And recently I attended a church dinner where the menu was a starter chopped salad, roast beef, chicken cordon bleu, mashed potatoes, carrots, coleslaw and homemade strawberry trifle for desert. (This meal however might have been subsidized by the church coffers as a thank you to the volunteers). And last June I attended a WW2 swing dance in an airport hangar, with a truly memorable roast beef and chicken buffet with the most scrumptious cheesecake for desert with a choice of lemon, cherry or blueberry toppings, and afterwards an evening of big band music with a 23-person orchestra. Vintage dress was encouraged, some women did, most men did not, although I did see a few who might have been wearing their grandpa’s old uniform. Tickets for that charity event were $75 per person, but as they have increased it to $100 per person this year they must not have made any money. So, it is possible to have both food and ambiance for a price, (and it is possible to get members of the male species out for an evening of dining and dancing if there is a vintage B17 bomber on display to tour).

Perhaps it is a case of country mouse versus city mouse, but if given a choice I think I prefer food over ambiance. Still if Jay Gatsby offered to buy the tickets next year and pack me a picnic basket I might be persuaded to attend.

Song of the Night: Dancing in the Moonlight

Quote of the Day: “There was music from my neighbor’s house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. (The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald)

On Books and Reading

July 13, 2018August 21, 201823 Comments

I am writing this in the waiting room of the Eye Institute watching the computer board for my mother’s cataract surgery to be finished. Hospital technology has advanced to the state that you can now track the patient’s journey from pre-op to OR to recovery room, and then a volunteer will come and kindly escort you to your loved one’s bedside. I suppose it saves the nurses time not having to answer all those pesky questions. My mother has a particularly dense cataract which has been interfering with her ability to paint. (Most of the paintings on the website are hers, she is also under The Artist on the main menu). Claude Monet had the same problem in his later years, as his vision loss progressed his colors became more muted. (If you look at this paintings after the surgery the blue green colors are so vibrant). As a painter her eyes are important to her, as painting is her passion, while mine is reading. Both our hobbies are dependent on clear vision. A cataract is easily fixable, but some other eye conditions such as macular degeneration, are not. I hope someday medicine will have progressed to the point where they will be able to implant stem cells into eyes and restore vision. What a miracle that would be for those facing vision loss. You hear a lot of tragic stories in the waiting rooms of eye clinics like these, but these doctors, they are the unsung heroes.

Not being able to read would be the worst nightmare for me. I know there are audio books but I want a book in my hand. I don’t remember ever not being able to read, although I have a vague recollection of taking one of those Dick-Jane-and-Sally-see-Spot-run books to my mother and proudly showing her I could read by myself. The letters made sense, they were words! It was a momentous discovery.

I read vicariously and from an early age. I started school in a rural one room school house, and as there were only three of us in grade one, I listened in while the very frazzled teacher taught the older grades. It seems archaic now but I suppose it isn’t much different than home schooling, all ages together. Our farm was within walking distance of the school but after it closed in grade two (it was archaic even then), my parents drove us into town to the Catholic school until the bus service was started a few years later. One of my earliest recollections is sitting at the dining room table while my mother helped my older siblings with their homework. I would sit and soak it all in. To me learning was fun, a whole new adventure.

I always loved books. My maternal grandmother immigrated from Holland so English was a second language for her. Her verbal English was good, her reading not so much, and I, a precarious four-year-old, would correct her if she strayed too far from the story-line or the ending wasn’t the way it normally was. When the teacher assigned a short story to read in the grade five reader, (a Stephen Leacock tale about Mother’s Day), I took the reader home and read the whole book. I read the usual children’s books, Black Beauty, Heidi, Pippi Longstocking, The Five Little Peppers and How they Grew, a series called the Borrowers which involved tiny people living in a big house, and the rare treat of a Jack and Jill magazine once when I was in the hospital for tonsils, which was full of puzzles and activities. Around age ten I went through a Trixie Belden girl detective phase, (no Nancy Drew for me, it was the sixties, who would wear a twinset even if they did get to drive a convertible). Living on a farm with few playmates, I read for entertainment. It was something to do in the summer, and as I was not good at sports and hated the heat, you could usually find me on a blanket in the shade of a tree reading. As a middle child I was accustomed to being on the periphery, but I could always be found somewhere with my nose in a book. When the library opened my mother would take myself and my younger brother every Saturday (after his hockey game and penny candy treats), and I would stock up on books for the following week. The library was one of the few air conditioned buildings in town and I still remember the blast of cool air that hit you when you entered the vestibule, and the musty smell of books. The librarian would often comment on my choices, because while our little library stocked picture books for kids and adult fiction, the selection for Young Adults, if that genre even existed, was limited…. perhaps only L.M. Montgomery (I read the whole Anne series) and Louisa May Alcott (like many girls Jo was my heroine). And so I read the classics, Dickens, the Brontes, my mother’s copy of Gone With the Wind, what ever I could get my hands on. Occasionally, when I would come across a Young Adult book, I would find it fascinating reading about teens my own age. Several of those books stand out clearly in my mind, although I can’t recall the titles, one in particular about a young girl going to work at a summer resort. I’m picturing bonfires on the beach right now. If you lived an isolated life without a driver’s license, those literary ventures into a normal teenage world (parties, boys, jobs), can seem memorable. Once I was in high school I discovered Seventeen magazine (50 cents an issue), and it became my fashion bible, and then later Mademoiselle and Glamour. Although I read it for the clothes, magazines used to publish short stories back then and I read my mother’s Good Housekeeping and Redbook magazines for that reason as well as her condensed Reader’s Digest books.

Vintage June 1970 Seventeen Magazine – from farmhouse attic

I was one of the few students who didn’t groan about doing book reports, because it gave you an excuse to read a book. I would read on the bus ride home, although often I would get all my homework done then too.

During my university and early work years, I hardly read at all, only scientific stuff – it was hard to keep up with the sheer volume of information, between work terms and school. I only picked up reading again as a hobby at around age thirty, and then it was mostly vacation/beach reading. Throughout my working years I read at least a couple of books a month, mostly before bed instead of watching TV, or after I got home if I was working evenings and needed to wind down. (There are entire decades of TV I have missed, although lately I have developed a taste for anything Masterpiece). I am still an avid reader but now that I am retired, it’s more like one per week, and reading has crept into the daytime hours. Reading outside on the swing in the summer is pure bliss. I used to have a hammock where I read but the trees had to be cut down due to ash-bore disease.

My taste in books runs to more mainstream with a few eclectic choices. I tend to haunt the best seller and new release lists, and recommendations from friends with similar tastes. I avoid the Danielle Steele romance genre (romance is okay if it’s part of the story, but not the whole point), sci-fi fantasy, most Canadian prize-winners (too weird), and the majority of Oprah’s book club selections. I don’t like too light and fluffy but I don’t want depressing either. I enjoy fact as well as fiction, lately my choices have ranged from First They Killed My Father, a Cambodian refugee memoir, Quiet, a fascinating must-read for introverts, to The Sleep Solution (see Counting Sheep blog), and I still love a good medical book such as Five Days at Memorial, a tale of evacuating a hospital post Katrina.

I often try to work a book I particularly enjoyed into my blogs if it suits the theme, and sometimes it serves as the inspiration. Lately I have been reading a lot of mystery thrillers and a few months ago I discovered the bookoutlet website, wandered into the travel section and never left, (see April Paris and Italy blogs). I have my favorite authors, Jodi Piccoult, Cathy Kelly, Elin Hildebrand, John Grisham, Mary Higgins Clark, Clare MacIntosh, and often pre-order from the library so I can be number one on the list. The bookoutlet is a discount website (both US and Canadian sites), for remaindered or overstock books with very cheap prices. Recently I ordered eleven books for $102, (free shipping over $45), which came Canada Post. There’s nothing like getting a big box of books in the mail – and isn’t there something wonderful about opening a brand new book and inhaling the scent of newly cut paper.

There have been a few times in my life when I have been too stressed to read – I could not concentrate on the words on the page, but luckily those were few and far between. Reading can be a distraction, a solace, a balm for over-stressed minds, a portal to another universe, when this one is too hard to bear. That is why one of the most often requested items in a refuge camp is a book. It passes the time and takes you away to some other universe, if only for a few quiet hours.

A book journal is a lovely way to keep track of your reads, although I am not always diligent about recording the authors and the dates.

Old Book Journal

The editor of the New York Times Book Review, Pamela Paul, wrote a book about her book journal (My Life with Bob – my Book of Books – click here for my review). I used to keep my own BOB/book journal but lately I have been recording my reads on my Good-reads profile. It you aren’t familiar with it, Good-reads is like a candy store for bookaholics. To quote L.M. Montgomery, “I am simply a book drunkard,” with no wish to recover.

Recently I found a new book journal with a lovely lavender cover on a remainder table, a bargain at $2.99. A lavender pen would be just the thing for writing in it. There is something about holding a book in your hand…

Quotes of the Day: “I opened up two wonderful gifts this morning – my eyes.”

“Oh for a book, and a cozy nook, Oh for a quiet hour.”

What was your favorite childhood book? What are you reading now? What is the best book you read last year? Please leave a comment if you wish.

Strawberry Fields Forever

July 2, 2018June 28, 20198 Comments

Strawberry fields forever. It sounds like a strawberry lover’s dream, but fortunately the science of greenhouse genetics has come up with a new strain of strawberry plant which bears fruit for four months – June, July, August and September. Last year I planted two of these ever-bearing varieties which produced enough berries all summer to garnish a salad,

: Mandarin salad with raspberry vinaigrette

and provide the odd nibble, both for me and the birds.

I think the birds feasted, whereas I was more like Emma of Jane Austen fame, the pleasure was in the anticipation. (see literary postscript below)

Although the farmers markets are now full of gorgeous red berries, there is a certain satisfaction to be had in growing your own or in visiting a farm to pick your own fruit, plus it is certainly cheaper. The farm outside town sells quarts for $6 versus $2.50 to pick your own, a significant savings if you are buying enough to make jam or freeze.

I remember going strawberry picking when I was a teenager, (long past the age when helping out was fun), and then spending a couple of hours at the kitchen table hulling the stems before my mother would place them in freezer bags. We always had a long freezer at one end of the farmhouse kitchen, a freezer so vast and deep that if you tried to get to the bottom of it to find the last roast or bag of corn you might topple in. Every summer those berries would go in the freezer and the next summer they would get thrown away. I remember my mother making a strawberry shortcake in the winter exactly once and nobody liked it because the berries were soggy, but there is a vast difference between fresh and frozen soggy.

Our farmhouse strawberry shortcake was not like any of those anemic-looking store-bought cakes or biscuits garnished with a few berries. My mother would start with a golden cake mix, (never white), baked in a long glass pan, and then crush a big bowl of berries (leaving some whole) with a bit of water using a potato masher, adding sugar to taste.

When it was served you would cut your own size of cake, crumble it up, and then the bowl was passed around with a big spoon and you would ladle on a generous portion, certainly enough to make the cake soggy and wet with berries and juice. Whipped cream was optional. I still make my strawberry shortcake this way. Guests who were not used to this old-fashioned version might find it a bit odd but in retrospect it was more like a trifle.

I had a wonderful homemade strawberry trifle last week at a church dinner and nothing beats homemade, but if you want a quick alternative just layer the leftover cake and berries with store-bought vanilla pudding cups (instead of custard) and garnish with whipped cream (from a can but scratch would be divine). It makes a nice easy desert plus it gives me an excuse to use my Downton Abbey thrift shop crystal goblets.

Strawberry Trifle

I made a non-alcoholic and an alcoholic version, adding some brandy to the bottom layer of cake to make it soggy, and it was very good indeed.

Last summer I made strawberry freezer jam for the first time (as part of my Jamfest frenzy), and into the freezer it went, where it still resides and will soon be thrown out……it must be genetic!

I am trying to be more conscious of food wastage, as studies show we throw out a quarter of the food we buy, but a fresh strawberry is such a wonderful thing and the season so short I think we can be forgiven for being extravagant in our stock-piling. Is there really any comparison between a fresh picked berry and those berries the grocery stores pass off as the real thing the rest of the year – tart, tasteless and hard and pulpy inside to withstand shipping.

Still on the rare occasion I need jam for scones I can easily buy a good brand of strawberry-rhubarb jam from my friend’s shop.

I did however make a fresh stewed strawberry-rhubarb preserve this year,

equal cups of strawberries and rhubarb, with a tiny bit of water plus sugar to taste, cooked down to a soft texture on medium heat, which I keep in the fridge and mix with vanilla Greek yogurt, because with all the varieties of yogurt available why don’t they make a strawberry-rhubarb flavor.

Literary postscript: Jane Austen’s Emma wherein Mr. Knightley has issued an invitation to Donwell Abbey, “Come and eat my strawberries: they are ripening fast.”…..”Mrs. Elton, in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket, was very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or talking — strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or spoken of. — “The best fruit in England — every body’s favourite — always wholesome. These the finest beds and finest sorts. — Delightful to gather for one’s self — the only way of really enjoying them. Morning decidedly the best time — never tired — every sort good — hautboy infinitely superior — no comparison — the others hardly eatable — hautboys very scarce — Chili preferred — white wood finest flavour of all — price of strawberries in London — abundance about Bristol — Maple Grove — cultivation — beds when to be renewed — gardeners thinking exactly different — no general rule — gardeners never to be put out of their way — delicious fruit — only too rich to be eaten much of — inferior to cherries — currants more refreshing — only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping — glaring sun — tired to death — could bear it no longer — must go and sit in the shade.”

My sentiments exactly. 34 C today or 40 with the Humidex….

A Walk Down Peony Lane

June 25, 201812 Comments

One of the rewarding things about gardening is the legacy of loveliness you can leave for future generations. Gardening requires patience as often it takes years to establish something. You might have moved on to a different house or a different life before you see the fruits of your labor, but future generations will stop and bless you when they see the end result, (and part of the pleasure of blogging is sharing these small doses of beauty).

Every June when I was working I would drive by this old house on my daily commute and admire the rows of flowers flanking both sides of a long narrow driveway. The house was on the outskirts of a small town, which must have been farmland at one time due to it’s deep lot and wide expanse of front lawn. Being a novice gardener and knowing next to nothing about flowers, one day I decided to stop and inquire what kind of shrubs they were.

I parked on the side street and knocked on the back door. An elderly gentleman answered, wiping his hands on a towel as I had interrupted his preparations for lunch. Peonies, he said, and if I wanted some I was welcome to dig them up. He had often thought about tearing them all out, but his wife liked them. His father had planted them seventy or eighty years ago. I quickly pleaded with him not to do so, as I and many people driving by had the pleasure of looking at them every year.

I never went back in the fall to dig them up, but the next time I was at a nearby nursery I asked the owner for some peony bushes just like Mr. Peony Lane’s. She was familiar with the house, so I requested one medium pink and one darker one, expecting to wake up to a riot of color in the spring.

The following year when mine flowered,

: my pale pink peonies

two pale things appeared. I know some people like a whitish garden, but I crave color. Although I was disappointed, they were nice in their own way and did so well that I left them and every year they flower, faithfully, because that’s what peonies do!

Postscript: Should you wish to take a walk down peony lane, the video below was taken this past June while driving through the town. (It is my first time posting video so it may or may not work, so I posted lots of pretty pictures). Lest you think I am the kind of person who randomly invades other peoples property, I only ventured a short distance up the lane and tried to focus on the bushes using the zoom lens. I considered knocking on the door, but my initial visit was ten years ago, and I wasn’t sure the elderly man still lived there, plus I had my mother in the car who was tired from an afternoon out. It was a lovely early June day, sunny and warm but with a nice breeze, the kind of day you wish would stay all year. It was cool under the shade of those giant trees – peonies like sun, but will tolerate light shade – a perfect vista of a summer day. Maybe next fall, I will take a shovel and go back….

Under Pressure (Instant-Pot for Beginners)

June 18, 2018June 18, 201811 Comments

Several months ago, I was gifted an Instant-Pot Pressure Cooker. I would never have been brave enough to buy one myself. Anything that boasts about it’s ten safety mechanisms on the box makes me extremely nervous.

10 safety mechanisms

Of course, I realize the marketing team felt it necessary to reassure those who remember their mothers or grandmothers pressure cookers blowing up on top of the stove and coating the ceiling with the meal du jour.

Museum display of old pressure cookers

And then there was the Boston Marathon tragedy, all those lives lost and missing limbs. I remember a co-worker telling me several years ago that her husband had bought a pressure cooker from Amazon and staring at her quite puzzled as to why someone would want such a thing, in fact I even reminded her that the government was monitoring online purchases of such possible terrorist devices. I was blissfully unaware of the cult of the Instant-Pot, which can cook food two to six times faster, but her newly-retired-now-in-charge-of-supper husband was not, and anything that could promise to whip up a meal in thirty minutes might also conserve precious couch sitting time. If you check out Amazon, the reviews tend to be favorable, lots of “life-changing” comments, a few mentions that it stopped working after a few months, some complaints about older models, and recently there was a company recall on the Gem 8 in 1 model which overheated and caused a meltdown. I am probably already making watchers of the American TV show This is Us very nervous, (the main character dies after a crock-pot catches fire and burns the house down but this was in the seventies when crock-pots were new).

The Gifter was a millennial, and aware of my technological ineptitude, but also aware that I, the Giftee, would persist, with gritted teeth, until I figured it out. Like many of my generation, I lack the technology gene, the devil-may-care, let’s-try-this-and-see-what-happens attitude of younger people, who don’t remember when “it should work” usually required four hours of trying to restore it to it’s previous state. When I bought my first computer back in 1986, a glowing orange DOS dinosaur currently awaiting museum status in the basement, it did not even come with an instruction manual and there was no internet back then to google solutions. I still have PTSD from my first laptop in 2000 when I recall spending a whole afternoon reinstalling Windows the very first day. Now laptops have become so efficient nothing ever seems to go wrong with them, and on the rare occasion it does, they fix and upgrade themselves. I may hate it, but I must admit technology can be a wonderful thing.

Still, it was several weeks before I took it out of the box, but finally I read through the Instruction Manual and checked out all the menu buttons.

: The Hissing Monster

It didn’t seem too bad until I read the troubleshooting guide – “Intermittent beeping after the cooker starts for awhile could indicate overheating due to starch deposits on the bottom – Stop the cooker and inspect the bottom of the pot.” Stop the cooker? How? There is no stop button. Hit cancel? Pull out the plug? Do a Quick Release before or after? After that, I was not brave enough to try the initial steam test. My mother was having eye surgery soon, and I had visions of burning my hands or face and not being able to drive the several hours to the clinic. I put it back in the box and it sat there in a corner of the dining room glaring at me while I did my best to ignore it, although once in a while I would stare at it and sigh.

Several weeks post-op, the Gifter (waves at Gifter), emailed me asking how the pressure cooking was going. The Gifter had also previously sent me an email recall of Insta-Pots melting down, but a quick model number check reassured me mine was not one of them. Nevertheless, I was starting to feel under pressure.

So feeling guilty for having ignored the gift for so long and with some trepidation, I did the recommended steam test first, which involved adding 3 cups of water and hitting the steam button for 2 minutes. This is to ensure your machine is not defective, and horror, might have to be returned. The steam shot out like a mini volcano then stopped. It didn’t seem too bad, but if you have small children or dogs be forewarned they might find the hissing part scary. (Lock up the cat too, it might hiss back). I know I did, and donned safety glasses just in case. I can’t quite figure out the mechanism of the steam release, as it does this when the proper pressure is reached before it starts the cook countdown, and then after when it is done, it either releases naturally or you can do a quick release, but I am sure there is a sound scientific theory behind it.

Part of my dilemma, when researching the literally thousands of recipes online, is that I have the Mini-Duo 3-quart pot, and all the recipes are for the regular 6-quart size, (there is also an 8-quart size). The Mini is designed for 2-4 portions, and people who don’t want leftovers – it’s ideal for singles, college students or empty nesters. I found it made four regular but not man-sized portions, but then I was careful not to overfill it past the 2/3 fill line, due to fear of clogging the release mechanism. I wasted several days trying to find out if I needed to reduce the cooking time as well as cut the recipes in half, but the Instant-Pot support person told me to use the regular cooking time in the recipe, (as in the oven temperature is set the same for one piece of chicken or ten), but then she said it depended on the thickness of the meat/food. It was all very vague. She finally came out and said there was no official cookbook for the Mini, although there are lots of regular recipes on the Instant Pot website. There is also an official Facebook page listed in the instruction manual, one for beginner’s (and those who are scared) and one for cult members, (lots of gushing and pretty pictures). There is also a small recipe book in the box, with things like coconut fish curry, Moroccan lamb tajine, purple yam barley porridge and turnip cake (and no I am not making this up.) The only recipe I found appealing in the booklet was for roast beef, so I started with that.

I had bought a small sirloin tip roast but had to cut the end off to get it to fit in the pot. I stuck the rest in the oven with some baked potatoes. My dilemma then was whether to set the roast on top of the trivet thing, or to rest it on the bottom in the 2 cups of chicken broth. I posted the question on the Facebook support page and when I checked back later, two women were having a fight – one said resting it on the trivet would result in steamed meat and the only way to get any flavor was to let it soak, the other said it would be soggy and boiled if I set it in the liquid. Having spent the better part of the afternoon researching recipes online I was exhausted so I posted that I was going to take a nap and left them duking it out. I seared the meat on saute, plopped it on the trivet/steam rack (as it was also recommended by the tech support people and majority rules), added the broth, and set the timer for 40 minutes (the Instant-Pot recipe booklet said 50-60 min for roast, but I cut it back as mine wasn’t as thick), and went to take a catnap. I woke up feeling much better, and after doing a quick release, the meat was perfectly done and perfectly tasteless – it tasted boiled, to me anyway, but the recipient of the meal seemed pleased.

Blame it on the Facebook lady, who when I reported back on my lack of success, suggested I feed it to the dog, and since I do not own a dog the neighbor’s would have to suffice. This picture is taken through the fence, as the dog has the strange habit of peeing on my shoes in some strange form of enthusiastic greeting, and I am rather protective of my shoes, size 5 being hard to find. I did get the owner’s permission of course, (as some dogs only dine on dried dog food), but the dog was so happy, he will probably pee twice as much the next time he sees me. I know he doesn’t look happy but that breed looks perpetually sad.

Luckily, the end piece of roast I had put in the oven was tender, and the baked potatoes were nice and fluffy. With some salt and lots of butter, a baked potato is a perfectly fine meal, (it must be my Irish Roots). The Instant-Pot went back in the box…..and might have stayed there had the weather not turned cold again, and I turned into the Soup-Chef. I am a soup lover, and we were still having winter here. What is more warming than a hearty bowl of soup. Since then I have made Loaded Potato Soup (the potatoes cooked in 8 min, but I would have nixed the cream cheese), Potato and Leek Soup (again 8 min potatoes but I cheated and used a Knorr Cream of Leek dried soup mix to flavor the broth because I didn’t have any leeks, next time ½ package as it was too onioney),

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Potato and Leek Soup

Split Pea and Ham soup (using the leftover ham from Easter, too thick, too many peas), Cheesy Cauliflower Soup (the best so far, but maybe less onion), and Beef Stew (with cheaper stewing meat, but it was too watery, had to remove some broth before I thickened it, and with recommended cooking times ranging from 12 min to 45, I chose 20, and although the beef was very tender, the potatoes had turned to mush. Next time I will cook the beef for 15 min and add the veggies for 5 min). After the countdown is done, the keep warm function will come on, so you can add the milk, cheese or other ingredients to thicken the soup. I also made macaroni and cheese (perfect pasta in 4 minutes), but when I vented it a thick white liquid (instead of just steam), came spewing out all over the kitchen cupboard (which since my cupboards need replacing didn’t bother me too much other than I had to wipe up the mess). Page three of the instruction booklet warns that certain foods such as macaroni, noodles, spaghetti, oatmeal, split peas, cranberries etc may foam, froth, sputter and clog the release mechanism, “these foods should not be cooked under the pressure cooker settings unless directed in Instant-Pot recipes.” I was aware not to overfill it with foods which could expand, but were they suggesting that frothing and foaming like a rabid animal is normal – proceed at your own risk if you have nice kitchen cupboards? A puzzling, rather ambiguous statement considering the sheer volume of recipes available containing these ingredients.

The saute feature is also useful for searing the meat first in the pot, as it saves dirtying an extra pan on the stove. When using Saute of course you must keep the lid off. There is also a slow cooker function on the pot which I have not used, you have to have the lid in the venting position for that, or you can buy a special glass lid. There is also a yogurt maker function, which some people raved about. While browsing recipes someone had made sourdough bread in his, and I wondered about baking as deserts are my thing. I noticed there is a recipe for Crème Brulee in the small recipe book.

There are seven features on my model, (see pic below), but I see from the Website there are now 9 in 1 models which add cake baking and sterilizing functions, a Bluetooth model you can control from a smartphone or tablet, and a new Ultra Deluxe 10 model which can customize pressure and non-pressure cooking for the perfect combination, as well as 16 different functions, including make perfect eggs and probably also set the table, empty the dish washer and put out the garbage. Can kitchen robots be far behind? A pot like that deserves a name – perhaps Louis?

Seven different functions

To sum up, I see this machine as being particularly useful for busy working people who want a nutritious meal on the table fast, especially if you have prepped your ingredients before hand, plus it has the added advantage of fresh ingredients, (perhaps from your Potager), but it is definitely a learning curve and a process of experimentation. While I don’t think I’m a Pot-Head yet, and might never be, I think if we spend a little more time together we could become quite good friends.

Some additional tips:

The Instruction Manual, like most instruction manuals, is simultaneously ambiguous while also making it seem more complicated than it really is. Of course, I have not encountered anything which requires real troubleshooting yet.

To be reassuring, it is impossible to open the pot when it is in the locked position and under pressure. It also makes a cute little chirping R2D2 sound when you lock the lid or remove it. Do not open the pot until the float valve drops down and all the steam is released, either naturally or a quick release. To do a quick pressure release is not difficult, but you do have to be careful of the steam, use tongs or oven mitts to move the valve to venting, and keep your face away. Be careful also when taking the lid off the pot, in case it is steamy. Pay attention to your recipes and follow whichever release is recommended for the food you have in it…..a natural release might result in overcooked food, and vice versa. Some recipes combine the two, calling for a natural release of 15 min, then finishing up with a quick release. After a couple of uses, I was not worried about the pot exploding anymore, as it is quite sturdily built, and you cannot open the pot when it is locked and in the sealing position. I even put the safety glasses away.

The official Instant-Pot website has lots of recipes, a help line, and FAQ’s. I found the Youtube videos helpful also, more for quantities and cooking times, but make sure you look at the finished product as my beef stew recipe did not need 3 cups of water, (and that was one of the few Mini recipes I found). You must have the required minimum of liquid in the pot to achieve pressure, but that was overkill for the Mini. (The tech help line said a minimum of 1 cup for mini, 2 cups for the larger size).

The advantage of the smaller 3 qt Mini is that it takes a shorter time to reach pressure, (less than ten min), so this cuts way down on the meal prep time. I made soup in 30 minutes. Whereas the bigger pots (6 to 8 qts) can take up to 20 minutes to reach cooking pressure before they start the cooking countdown, so factor in the preheat time when deciding which size pot you want to buy, as well as the size of your family, and whether you want leftovers.

I am still skeptical about cooking plain meat, unless you like to add lots of spices, like in a curry or stew. (I tend to be more a plain meat/potato/veg person). As well as pasta, I am sure the pot would be wonderful and fast (4min) for rice dishes, as well as baked potatoes. I cooked my potatoes for the potato soup in 8min, but some recipes said 5min. As for the soups, I don’t think you get the same mingling of flavors as you would if you simmered the soup on the stove for several hours, but the quickness of the cooking might outweigh the difference. For that reason I wonder if the new Ultra Deluxe 10 in 1 model with it’s customized programs might be more beneficial in terms of taste, as you would have the best of both worlds, the flavor of a slow cooker and the speed of the pressure cooker.

I am not sure if Instant-Pot’s are popular elsewhere or if this is a North-American phenomenon? I read somewhere they were invented by a Canadian company. They were certainly one of the most popular Christmas gifts last year, and everyone I run into has a relative who got one for Christmas and loves it and gushes about it (members of the cult), or hasn’t taken it out of the box yet. I had an interesting conversation with a lady in the grocery store aisle when buying dried split peas. I asked if she knew the difference between the yellow and green variety, and she replied that her family wouldn’t eat anything that green unless it was St. Patrick’s Day, a valid point, so I bought the yellow ones. She had been given an Instant-Pot three weeks earlier but hadn’t used it yet, it was a re-gift from her sister who had been afraid to open it at all. Fear seems to be a common theme. One woman posted ecstatically on the Facebook group that she had found one in the original box at a thrift shop for $5. If you don’t want to spend too much, or think it might end up living in the Cupboard of Unused Appliances, you could check out the thrift stores for donations by those who feared too much, but beware the safety mechanisms have been improved on the newer models, so I would check the age of the model. Also if you see a sale in a flyer, act fast as they sell out quick. So, chose your side – Team Instant-Pot or Team-Stove. For me I think it will be both, the Instant-Pot for quickness and convenience and the stove for a leisurely afternoon and a house filled with the aroma of something good cooking.

(Disclaimer: I received no remuneration for this review, unless you count the bone the dog greeted me with on my next visit to the neighbors – see you can teach an old dog new tricks).

The Potager

June 5, 2018June 5, 201820 Comments

A potager is a French term for a kitchen garden. Because of my intention to take a break from all things floral, (see the Danger Zone blog), I decided my gardening project for this year would be a vegetable garden. Flowers are pretty to look at but hopefully this will be a more productive endeavor, with the end result being healthier meals to enjoy plus the added fun of growing my own food. Who doesn’t like the convenience of a salad freshly picked from their own garden?

Mandarin salad with raspberry vinaigrette

My first foray into vegetable gardening was last summer as I had bought a raised garden bed and started with some romaine lettuce and two strawberry plants,

plus twelve tomato plants, obviously way too many for such a small space, as a Tomato Jungle (see Sept blog) quickly ensued.

So needing more space, last fall I bought three more raised garden beds at the New England Arbor Charity sale (75% off, $25 each) and after dumping seventy bags of $1 dirt and compost into them, they were the regular price. Never underestimate how much dirt a 4X4 square can hold, or how quickly it can settle. I placed them in the sunniest spot in my yard, but the aroma of lilacs in the back corner is an added perk.

I am not completely unfamiliar with gardens. Growing up on a farm (the homeplace), we always had a large vegetable garden. It was a way of life back then, as anyone whoever spent the hot summer months canning and preserving can testify, plus it was a healthy and cheap way to feed a family. The farm garden was always planted in the cornfield closest to the house for easy access, spread out among the rows of corn, so as not to waste precious corn acreage. It was never planted until the first of June when the danger of a late frost was over. Sometimes we would help my dad plant it, he dug the holes, and we put the seeds in and covered them up with dirt, but other than that I don’t remember it being any work, it just grew. We didn’t weed or water it as it was in the cornfield, mother nature did the rest. It had the usual garden staples, tomatoes, cucumbers, yellow beans, sweet corn, squash plus pumpkins for Halloween. The beans and tomatoes were canned, and my mother made dill pickles with the cucumbers. Many a hot August day, in the years before air conditioning, I would wake and go downstairs to find rows of inverted mason jars covered with tea towels on the kitchen counter-top, as my mom would have been up early to can in the cool of the morning. Later they would be moved to pantry shelves in the basement. I don’t remember eating the canned goods, (as a child I was a picky eater), but I recall my parents having the stewed tomatoes with onions and a fried steak, and we would always have the sweet corn in August, slathered with butter. So, I had great ambitions for my little white squares and visions of a bountiful harvest.

Last year I had bought two ever-bearing strawberry plants and had berries right up until October, (what a wonderful idea, why didn’t someone think of that sooner), that is if the birds didn’t get them first. So this year I bought two more, but covered them up with garden netting. A few days ago, a big black ugly starling lured by the sight of all those green berries, managed to get under the netting, and in a mad flapping panic tried to get out through the chicken wire. I undid the top netting, but the stupid bird still couldn’t find it’s way out, so I turned the garden hose on it and sprayed it (gently, on shower not jet) towards the opening. Bet it doesn’t try that again! (I could understand a little brown sparrow or a hummingbird getting in but a starling the size of a crow? It must have been part of the Cirque du Soleil acrobat team).

Into the same bed, went some romaine and red leaf lettuce. Lately I have been buying red leaf lettuce at the grocery store, but it is also nice to mix the two. The romaine I grew last summer was the best I had ever tasted, or maybe it just seemed that way as I grew it myself. Because I had these in early before the holiday weekend, they are almost ready for picking. Hopefully, they will regrow after, but I intend to fill in two of the other squares with some more in a few weeks to stagger the crop.

Into the second square went the tomato plants, big fat Beefsteak for sandwiches and smaller Roma for salads. I gave up on those tasteless little cherry tomatoes, you can buy those year round in the store, but a big fat home-grown tomato has a distinctive taste and aroma and is a truly wonderful thing.

Into the third square went two rows of carrots, because they are good for your eyesight, one orange, and one multi-coloured. I imagine they will look pretty curled on a salad like in the food magazines.

I am hoping these bunnies aren’t high jump Olympic champions in fence hopping.

Somebunny is waiting for me to plant the carrots.

Also, into that square went three seed potatoes, barely breaking ground now but at least they made it. My dad never grew potatoes, perhaps lingering ancestral memories of the Irish potato famine, so I have no experience with growing potatoes. Maybe I will get enough for a potato salad?

Into the fourth square went my Acorn squash for Thanksgiving, (not butternut as most people prefer), plus one cucumber plant designed for small gardens, so hopefully it won’t sprawl too much.

I did not plant any radishes, because my memories of the farm were the radishes were always way too hot and/or tough depending on the rainfall, nor butter beans as you can buy those in the store cheap and they are often tough as well. My mother often planted gladioli and zinnias in her farm garden, but I have had zero luck with zinnias, although I do have glads planted along the back fence. What I planted seemed like enough for a first-time endeavor – I am looking forward to the harvest. (Next week I will tell you about a new way to cook all your nutritious produce, in my blog, Under Pressure, Instant-Pot for Beginners).

Lately, I have been neglecting my book recommends. This book, In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan, plus his first book, An Omnivore’s Dilemma really changed how I think about food and eating. Perhaps a bit out of date now, with the current popularity of the high protein Paleo diets, but it made me really stop and think twice before eating any processed food. Much better to eat food in as natural a state as possible, and for those who don’t want to grow their own food, the farmer’s markets are now open!

In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

“Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Simple words that changed my eating habits ten years ago when I first read this book, or at least made me stop and think first. Don’t eat anything your Grandmother wouldn’t recognize as food. Also wise words. This book provides an interesting history and peek into the multi-million dollar processed food industry – what started out as an attempt in the fifties to make food better and healthier and last longer, has backfired so that we now have transfats, plasticizers and softeners in our bread and fast food burgers which never decompose. Certainly an eye-opener – you may never eat the same way again.

Four Quotes and a Wedding

May 25, 2018May 25, 201810 Comments

A month ago, Chomeuse with a Chou, knowing how much I love quotes, challenged me to a repeat of the Three Days Three Quotes Challenge. The whole month of May was devoted to gardening and all things floral, so I set it aside to ponder while digging in the dirt. And speaking of dirt, while viewing the Royal Wedding on Saturday, this Jane Austen quote came to mind as being particularly appropriate, because who doesn’t love a little gossip.

While the royals would hardly be considered my neighbors, I do live in a commonwealth country, (which makes me common and them royal), and I remember learning God Save the Queen years ago in grade school, but otherwise the monarchy doesn’t mean much here in Canada anymore, other than the occasional royal visit, which are few and far between now as people complain about the wasted tax dollars. (Imagine how you would feel if people were expected to give you a party but then complained about the cost – would you want to go?) I am not a royal-watcher but I do have a bit of a soft spot for the Queen as she is the same age as my mum and she has been through so much in her sixty-year reign. So, a few random observations about the wedding of Harry and Megs.

I thought the Queen looked lovely and spring-like in her lime green and purple ensemble – so kudos to whoever put that combination together, plus Prince Philip was looking dapper and quite spry too – no cane two months after hip surgery at 97!

I remember getting up at 5 am to watch Lady Diana’s fairy-tale wedding (and we all know how that turned out, poor girl), but on Saturday I slept in until 7:30 and woke up just as they were saying their vows, so I missed the grand entrance into the church but like fashionistas everywhere all I wanted was to see The Dress. I think it is the nicest royal wedding dress yet. Lady Diana’s was lovely and fitting for a young girl of 21, full of frills and bows and puffy sleeves in the style of the time, but Meghan’s was classic and elegant, in an Audrey Hepburnish way. It was covered, and form-fitting, but not too tight, and no cleavage, (I hate it when brides yank at their strapless gowns to pull them up), so everyone’s attention was on her face. (Beyonce-lovers of the barely-there-strategically-placed-cut-out look should take note of what true elegance is). The veil was exquisite with the additional feature of all that embroidery representing the 52 countries in the commonwealth. Her hair was lovely too, a simple chignon, but those strands on the one side that she kept pushing back annoyed the heck out of me so I can imagine how she felt, plus they ruined the first kiss by dangling in her face. Was it a windy day? Was there a shortage of hairspray? Or maybe they were supposed to be there, as in one of the official photographs they have pulled them out even more, perhaps a quick repair job? Conversely, I did not at all like the dress she wore to the evening reception, some high-necked halter thing that looked saggy in front, but I did like that little Jag convertible, very James Bondish. Imagine driving away to your reception in that little gem.

The bridesmaids and pages were cute, but there should be an age limit on that position. That littlest toddler waddled up the aisle like she was still in diapers. As for Charlotte, she has that royal wave down pat, but no child should be required to wear a hair wreath with flowers bigger than she is. The Mulroney page boys were cute, even if they did photobomb the entrance pic with their missing-teeth grins. One of my favorite pics was a silhouette of the twins holding up her train at the entrance to the church.

Meghan seemed to be a very composed, relaxed, happy bride, but wouldn’t you expect a bit of nerves on your big day? I suppose if you were an actress you would be skilled at covering it up. I recall Kate barely cracked a smile in the church on her wedding day, and looked pale and tired, (plus her and Wills barely glanced at each other so nervous were they), and Diana who was young and nervous (and searching for Camilla), also looked tired under her veil. In contrast Megan was smiling and looked rested, like she’d had a good night’s sleep. But perhaps that is the difference between an introvert and an extrovert. An introvert doesn’t like being the center of attention, (especially when millions of people are watching), while an extrovert actually enjoys it, and as an actress she would be used to having all eyes upon her. If she was nervous, it didn’t show. She certainly has a lot of poise, which is admirable in a way. But all that gaze-into-your eyes and smiling just seemed a wee bit much to me, (like roll playing to the camera), but maybe it just seemed excessive in contrast to the rest of the royals and guests none of whom looked very excited. Maybe it’s against protocol to smile on such a solemn dignified occasion? When they panned the camera over the pews, all I saw was a bunch of blank stoic faces, probably thinking, let’s get this over with and on to the party, although even coming out of the church they didn’t seem like a very joyful crowd. (This could just have been the Canadian telecast however, maybe others had a different point of view?)

The guests: Amal Clooney. If you are that tall, you don’t need sky high heels, even if you do have bored-looking George to cling to if you feel off balance, but no one should ever wear mustard yellow, so pass on the mustard unless you’re at a barbecue. And why oh why did they keep showing Harry’s old girlfriend – she’s jolly well relieved she didn’t sign up for all that pomp and circumstance. Oprah, that dress was too tight, and too pink, and that hat way too extravagant. I didn’t recognize anyone else, but I am not a big TV watcher, and have never seen a single episode of Suits even though it was filmed in Toronto.

Meghan’s mother did well to survive all the attention with dignity and style. She looked nice in her soft green but should have had a better hat. She must be commended for raising such a strong, confident daughter, (and Lady Diana likewise. I hope she was looking down with love on Harry’s special day). Hers was the only face I saw which showed any true emotion, as she was fighting back tears several times. Hey, it’s a wedding, it’s okay to get weepy, although Harry apparently wiped a few tears away too. I felt sorry for her being the only member of her family in attendance, as anyone who has ever gone to the wedding of a friend or colleague and known absolutely no one can sympathize. I just hope they didn’t stick her at the singles table. I felt bad about what the media did to Meghan’s dad before the wedding, but have to wonder, if she’s been going out with Harry for two years, and engaged for six months, and if the news reports are correct that her father had never even met Harry, well that should tell you something. But what would a wedding be without some family dynamics or someone from either side disapproving? Wedding drama always reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Pride and Prejudice.

Although single, Jane Austen had many quotes on the marital state, being the astute observer of human nature that she was. She was a great defender of marrying for love, which was not a common theme in her time, as women were in need of financial support and expected to marry well to have advantages in life, (ie a carriage instead of a Jag). Although it must be said, no one really knows what goes on in a marriage except the couple, as a seemingly ill-suited match might be perfectly happy, while a perfect looking marriage might be hell.

Hats – the day was full of women of all ages in silly hats – if you are going to wear a hat, make it a hat, not a six-inch fascinator. But Kate’s and Camilla’s hats were too elaborate and must have been strategically designed to hide their faces during the service. They were even looking down when the vows were being said. Perhaps they were in shock over the sermon, (does love require a 15 minute sermon, or did the happy couple know he was going to go on and on), and that gospel song I haven’t heard in decades and would rather forget. As Meghan apparently attended a Catholic high school, (where she wore a navy and white uniform similar in ugliness to mine), I’m not sure what religion she is, if any? If that was a nod to her heritage that’s fine, but it did leave me wondering. I did however love the wide-brimmed hat she wore at her first post-wedding appearance – very chic. I have faith in her choice of hats. Except for the Queen, (I loved the purple sprigs on her matching hat), the rest of you ladies are hereby sentenced to watch reruns of Downton Abbey – take notes – not a bad hat to be seen in all six seasons.

Mr. Darcy – Harry was Harry, a decent chap, red and scruffy as usual. (I know grizzly beards are in style, but could he have shaved on his wedding day? His bride was perfection, while he looked ungroomed, pardon the pun). Appearances aside, they seem well suited as a couple. What impressed me was the fact they had gone to Botswana, (must be one of the 52 commonwealth countries), for a three week vacation early in their relationship. Perhaps they just wanted to be alone, but any couple who can safari together can probably live together. But who knows maybe it was glam camping. But then she will be glam living. (Perhaps she was very smiley at a future of not having to work, clean house, do laundry etc. There’s something to be said for having servants, not to mention an unlimited clothing allowance). Plus, if you can handle a herd of wildebeests on safari, you can probably handle the paparazzi. I’m sure she knows what she’s getting into and has the poise and confidence to handle it. I wish them all the best in their married life. As Jane said, they have as good a chance as anyone.

The weather gods certainly smiled on them – it was a picture-perfect day for a wedding, and there’s nothing like some sunshine to light up the mood of the waiting crowds. Even the horses were in high spirits. I noticed they were having a really hard time controlling some of them in the carriage procession. I’ve often wondered who cleans up the streets afterwards? Maybe they don’t feed them beforehand and they were hungry and galloping towards the stables…

Speaking of food, I made tea and rhubarb scones in honor of the occasion while watching the two hour recap in the evening, but the recipe was not the best, so I won’t post it. I should have known better, as it did not have any butter just cream, and the oven temp said 400, which in my oven should be 350, so they turned out burnt on the bottom and soggy in the middle and rather tasteless overall. But they were certainly edible with some strawberry jam, and it gave me a chance to use my new blue teapot. As my grandmother used to say, “there’s a lid for every teapot.” I think I’ll stop now, as I have exceeded my three quotes.