Paddy's Wanderings

Pickle Mania

That, my fellow wanderers, is heaven in a jar, pickled mana, green ambrosia.. need I go on? Ok, I will do just that.

Better 1/2 and Gammie canned twenty(20!) jars of pickles yesterday. Why is this awesome? You have to ask? Ok, then let me lay it down for y'all...

When I was a wee lad, my grandmother canned pickles, lots of pickles. Right from their garden, I got to help pick cucumbers that were just the right size for the pickle jar. Along the east side of the garden, there was a forest(to my wee eyes a veritable forest) of dill growing. I plucked that too. That was my way of helping. When it came to the actual canning part, I stayed out of the way of the meister.

Many, many moons ago, better 1/2(who is rather handy in the kitchen and loves to can, much to my delight) helped my grandmother can pickles. She learned from the master and got the super secret recipe. Yesterday, once again, it is pickle time and the house was filled with the smell of dill!

So I wandered home from work, too tired to think, and walked into the smell of grandmother's house and the sight of jars of pickles. I woke up. This is cool.

And.. now.. we wait. The jars must do their thing for about two weeks, then we can sample how close she came to the 'original' with this batch. She has before, and I have no doubt this batch will be just as yummy. Better than 'store bought' any day of the week!

This is why we need a new domicile with plenty of yard so we can grow our own. Don't get me wrong the container garden is doing fine, and the Farmer's Market is cool, but still.. I know they would be even better coming from our own soil from a back yard.

We got the pickling down, the canning in general down. All we need is a new place with a back yard. Oh, and a Jersey cow. You would be surprised how often the fact that you can't have a Jersey cow on the property is a deal breaker when we are looking at houses!

One last thing before I wander off. No, you cant have the super secret recipe. If everyone had the recipe, it wouldn't be secret then would it? It would still be super though...

 

Four Book Stores

So I went to four different independent book sellers this past weekend, purchased a book from each too. Why do I bring this up? Because with big chains dropping like flies, the little guys and gals, the mom & pop stores, become even more important. Besides, this is nothing new for me, I find the best books in those kind of places.

So Many Books, So Little Time:I have been here many times over the years. It is a small, crowded store filled with so many books, there are piles on the floor in front of the shelves. The titles are in, and I quote, 'roughly alphabetical order by author and or title, in more or less genre sections, books in piles on the floor are not.' Located in downtown Traverse City on Front street, they sell new & used books at great prices, and are always on the lookout for new titles. They do not have a website and use a circa 1950's adding machine to ring up purchases. I bought The Complete Book of Swords by Fred Saberhagen, a book I read as a youth for $3.50.

Brilliant Books: A very nice book store in Suttons Bay that sells new books and has a great selection. I discovered this place over two years ago and keep going back. It is an old building filled with some interesting titles all stacked neatly on wooden shelves. The hard wood floor slopes a bit and creaks, adding to the charm. Oh and watch out for the screen door, it snaps close behind you with a loud bang! They do have a website, click here and all the accoutrements of an upscale store, computer and all. I bought Zero History by William Gibson, a couple years ago I got Spook Country there.. must be some kind of pattern recognition going on there.

Dog Eared Pages: A very nice book store in Northport that has moved around the village a few times over the years to it's present location, a charming old building filled with slanting wooden floors that creak and the smell of old, old books. They sell new, used and rare books there, the rare books being ensconced in old roll top desks and curio cabinets. The smell of old books is ambrosia and I did not mind the temperature one bit. Mind you watch the big dog sleeping in the front room, he looks like a rug, but is in fact, just an old dog who moves very little. Couldn't blame him, it must have been over a hundred in there, but I did find a gem. They do not have a website or anything fancy ether, just a lot of cool books. I bought Roughing It by Mark Twain, a book I once owned but never finished and somehow lost.

Horizon Books: Located on Front street in downtown Traverse City, Horizons was once the old J.C. Penney store but today houses a huge variety of books, children's stuff, a coffee bar and downstairs, in the magazine section next to a second coffee bar is a small stage for local performers, jazz, local author signings, you name it. Very bright, filled with everything from  Curious George to WWII History books and all points in between. I have been going there for years and have bought some fantastic books there. This time, I bought a copy of Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind. Yeah I read the first book years ago, lost it and finally decided to re-read the series. You gotta start somewhere, may as well start again. They do have a website, here.

A pretty good day if you ask me. Sure I like eBooks and all that, but I do love old, independent book stores. I shop there often. I passed on the Borders sale, figured I had already hit for the cycle and my day was done. I did stop at the Leland Book Store but did not find anything. They were having an author signing which was cool, but alas, a book on the history of the western Michigan coastline, while very cool, was not in the budget.

Thats the thing about these kind of places, the hidden treasures, their unwavering support for authors, big and small, and their true love of all things books. This seperates them out from the big chains, where angst filled teens boringly punch in the numbers for your purchase, or make the latest, greatest mocha whatever. It is just not the same.

The lady at Dog Eared asked if wanted a cup of joe, she had sugar and cream. I passed, it was a bit hot for that. Nothing fancy there, and the coffee was free. Kinda cool if you ask me. The lady at So Many asked if I had any books I wanted to trade, she was always on the look out for more titles.

The fella at Brilliant said he appreciated the business a great deal, and pointed to the sign on the counter. They have a deal with online eBook sellers, if you use their name when you purchase, they get 5%. I will remember that, for sure. Horizons? Oh we spent so much we upgraded our card and got 10% off for the next year. I hope to get there before that runs out.

What these places have in common is that one thing. You know, what Curly from City Slickers said (and I paraphrase a bit here) Only one thing in life matters, that one thing. You gotta figure it out, but once you do, the rest don't mean shit.' These folks figured it out, do that one thing, and do it well.

Well enough that an interent junky like myself(who often buys eBooks), who has a Borders(soon to be closed true) a B&N and all the big box stores within five minutes, will drive 2 1/2 hours north and spend one of the hottest days in recent memory driving(at $4 a gallon for gas) all over and swelter in non air conditioned stores and really shop(guys dont shop, this guy will in a book store) and talk to the proprietors and enjoy the experience, so much so in fact that, in limited fashion on an obscure little blog, will prate on and on about a day filled with the smell of old books, creaky wooden floors, and people who love their trade to the point of manic obsessiveness with the glory of the old fashioned store.

That, my fellow wanderers, is doing that one thing right.

This is why I wander.

 

 

 

Dinosaur Gas Station

Better 1/2 took this picture as we went to the Farm a couple weeks back. Why? I am glad you asked.

This was, and still is, one of the road signs leading to the Farm. As a kid, I always looked for the dinosaur at the gas station near Fairview. I loved dinos as a kid, still do, and that sign has always fascinated me, still does.

Now I am not sure when the last time it was a working service station, I don't know if it ever was in my lifetime. My memory has always been like it is today. A very old, broken down station by the roadside with a cool sign surronded by rusty old cars and looking like a relic from the past. In a way, it really is just that.

On the road north, I always look for that sign, and it is still there, much to my delight. I have traveled that road many times over the past 45 plus years and it hasn't changed all that much. I knew I was on the right road, heading to that magical land of 'up north, at the farm', when I saw that sign. Worked again a couple weeks ago too.

You wanna know something really cool? That is the sign from The Sinclair Oil Co. Yeah, you see that on the sign, and if you happen to live where there are still Sinclair service stations, then you know. But it was always unique to me, always a cool sign post. I never knew just what that sign meant, always thought it was a local thing until a few years ago. Then I used wiki and found a cool little blurb about the company.

Today I googled Sinclair and hit on the website for the company, here. I had no idea, totally floored by this huge oil co and fascinating history. My little dinosaur gas station was a part of something that is so cool, so big, and so awesome. I did not know.. Read the history, check it out if you don't know. I am fascinated beyond words, I said that already, but its true.

For all of that, it is still that wee sign post on the way, and if anything, the magical part of it is even greater now. I will tip a wink that way, next time I past by, and wonder even more of who and what was there. Some road signs never go away,some just get bigger and more mysterious, magical even.

This is why I wander...

 

 

Then & Now ~ Sand Castles

This is the beginning of the sand castle. The t-k is having fun just playing in the water and sand at this point, running amok and having too much fun on the beach. I was just enjoying the quiet morning and thinking I wanted to park right there and do nothing but play in the water and build sand castles all day.

So that is what we did.

Way back in the Fashioned Challenged Seventies, I am pretty sure I built a sand castle pretty close to that spot, Traverse City Beach, West Bay, Lake Michigan. One of many over the years, on many beaches, all over time and place. I remember that beach as a kid. Much has changed since then.

The Mom & Pop Motels are, for the most part, gone, replaced with big corporate hotels. The downtown is older, a bit more modern as well. The Zoo has changed, but it is still the zoo. One of my all time fave places, Arnold's Fun Land, is long gone, just an empty lot now for the past decade.  The shoreline has changed, thats for sure. The view may have changed a bit as well, more houses visible on the peninsulas.

But the water is still the same. The sand, well the sand changes so slowly over time as to be unchanging to my eyes. The sun still shines and the breeze still pushes little waves to the beach. Imagination still runs deep. There are castles to be built.

Me and the wee lad sat there, in a bubble of time, and built a big castle close to the waters edge. Slowly, the waves crept closer and closer and the lake front crumbled into a wave. As all sand castle builders, we shrugged, and added another wall to the back and continiued building, outward and upward. It is what you do.

We would find small stones as we dug the moat and added then as windows and doors. A feather from a passing gull floated up and we added that as a flag. A piece of driftwood became a bridge, then washed away in a wave that filled the moat and sapped an outer wall. The te-k was dismayed, until I pointed out we would just keep building, and scoop the washed out wall into a handfull of wet sand to drip onto a new tower.

With wind and wave, our castle changed. The wet towers would dry in the sun, then a wave would collapse it and the wind would blow the loose sand into our laps, the feather drifting off on a breeze. Our castle grew along the shore, and up the bank. We played.

Change in time, change in place. Then again, there is a constant there, is there not? But of course there is. The castle in the sand, deep down, has always been there. Some days it sees the sun and takes a temporary shape when two sets of hands are at play.

As we walked away, the t-k says, 'I want to do this again, even when I am big like you.'

Who says there are no secrets in a castle made of sand?

 

 

 

From the Cellar: The Farm

Nooo, it is not a scary cover from a horror novel. And nooo, I am not in the habit of taking scary pictures to frighten people, nor am I writing a horror story or any such thing. This pic, is in fact, not scary. Let me put it in context.

These stairs lead to the cellar under the barn at the Farm. Now you may think its scary, and maybe when I was a kid it was a wee bit scary and dark, dank even. But inside, that was a whole different story. Down these stairs was a room filled with canned goodness.

Inside this room was the bounty of the Farm. My grandmother canned(I know I will forget something here) peas, green & yellow beans, carrots, tomatoes, corn, peaches, pears, apple sauce, strawberries, black & red raspberries, beats, pumpkin, squash, dill pickles*, bread & butter pickles, venison, pickled pigs feet, a plethora of jam.  Pretty much if it could go into a Ball jar, it did.

There were wooden crates filled with potatoes and onions, turnips and ruderbager. Rough hewn plank shelves filled with glass jar after glass jar lined the walls and in rows. It was always cool, never cold in winter, and always a bit of water in the hollows of the dirt floor. Above in the barn proper was the bales of hay and it always had the dry/musty slightly damp smell. A bare bulb in the center of the room provided little to no light and a flashlight was always necessary.

Scary? I don't thnk so. Inviting is more my take. Then again, I have fond memories of my grandmother canning and taking a batch via my grandfathers old red wagon to the cellar to put up. It may be scary if you are used to buying your canned goods at the local mart and never have been on the farm. To me, it is simply the way it should be.

*My grandmother passed on her super secret best dill pickles in the world recipe and taught better 1/2 how to make 'em. I remember her first batch, I could not tell the difference. If anything sealed the deal, that may have been it. Then again, it was one of many deal makers, but it was the pickle on the burger kind of thing.

Happy Wanderings

 

At the Farm

That sign was placed in 1982, made my Grandpa very proud. I took this picture last weekend when we went to the farm. A lot has changed since 1982, let alone 1882. Much has changed in just the past few years. I don't even know where to begin.

The techno-tot had his first real look at the farm, its 2 1/2 hrs from my home and really, since he was born, we have not gone up there much, except for funerals, and he stayed home then. That is going to change, that I know. He had so much fun and was so excited, it was.. awesome. The bigger boys have been there of course, and still go with my Dad to cut the grass and keep the place up. Me? No, I have not been there like I should, and that is a shame. Another thing that is going to change.

I had so much fun as a kid, I really need to share that with my boys. I tell ya, seeing the t-k run across the old barn yard had me seeing ghosts. Ghosts from 15 years ago, ghosts from 40 years ago. Strange, but true. The old house is gone, has been for some time. My grandparents garden, which I spent countless hours in every summer, is long gone too. The field is planted every year by the neighbors, and that is good. But still, the old place is looking pretty deserted.

I took a bunch of pictures and it was pretty cool. We stayed for just a couple of hours and then had to go. You know what was cool? No cell phone reception down by the creek in the swamp. It was quiet, and off the hot dusty road, cool. Saw some fresh deer tracks, no deer though, Nothing else really either, and that was fine too.

We stopped by my old fishing hole, looks pretty much the same. The water level in the creek is pretty low, but other then that? Yeah, I saw a ghost sitting down by the water's edge, cane pole over the creek, yellow bobber floating in the gentle current.

They say you can't go back. You know..'they'. I say you can indeed. The view has changed, but not so much that you don't know where you're at. Not at all. You can even catch a glimpse of that time, feel like that kid again. I know this, for certain. I want to do that again.

Today's thought: Time is not a linear constant. Don't believe me? Try it sometime, you can go back, you can glimpse that other place, and really you can glimpse that future. It is all in how you look at it.

...more to come in the Farm thoughts...

Happy Wanderings

 

Paddy's Poetry Corner, Old Haiku

Welcome to the Poetry Corner. Short, sweet and to the point today. I have no idea, it is a very old attempt at haiku maybe from the 80's? I dont remember, but gotta keep moving... can't hang with the hip cats long today..

 

full moon at nightfall

falling flowers of color

Summer time travel