Love Song of the Butterfly Pea

Nothing is so strong as gentleness.  Nothing is so gentle as real strength.  –  Frances de Sales

However does she do it?  Withstand the dangers of the forest floor? Paws trampling rough shod within inches.  I cringe at how close they come to harming her.  Little ones scampering the forest floor tearing at the leaf litter and digging for nourishment and treasure.  Summer storms showering her with debris from the heights of the woodland canopy.  She has brought joy to my path for three glorious days now.  How blessed am I?!  She will never see the ocean.  She will never travel to far off lands. She has only one tiny place to tend to in this great big world. Whatever may come to her on this one day, she cares for it with a beauty and grace that staggers my imagination. She moves as gently with the breeze as she stands strong in her place.   But how?  How is it so?  Has she something unseen deep within her petaled heart?  yes, my love…always…my love…

Both…

I Love the way day and night, night and day, melt so softly into one another. A pure moment. Bold strength in the way everything is a silhouette as all colors fall away or are yet to be awakened. Mystery hidden in the shadows. Disguised hope of what may come next. Or a veil slipped over the glory of what has just been. If you’re not in the moment of the passing, if you see with your eyes just what I share, You are free to let go. Let your imagination fly with possibilities. Is it this one? Or that one? What has been? Or what will be? Your choice. Neither is wrong. Both are exquisite…There is only now.  Whatever you choose, open your heart… don’t miss it…

What are you hungry for?

“When I write of hunger, I’m really writing about love and the hunger for it, and the warmth and the love of it…and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied…and it is all one.”  M.F.K. Fisher

 

I’m so so hungry this morning.  For food?  Yes and no. We hunger for so much more than sustenance. The foods we love and the foods we don’t love all have stories for us, about us. When we share a story about our food life, if you listen closely you’ll hear more than a recipe for the perfect turkey.  Today I’m hungry for the food of childhood summers reminiscent of long lazy days. I want the foods that tell stories and satisfy with love even more than with calories. This week that means chocolate sheath cake! 

 In my family as in most there were fine cooks and simple cooks. People tell me that my Mother was a great cook. But as I remember her kitchen she didn’t cook very often and then it was food food because one should eat.  She used to say – we’ll play like it’s done. By the time I was eight years old she was cooking for only the two of us.  And after all, a little girl doesn’t eat that much. Once in a while she would conjure up a feast. Mostly though, we ate simple fare and spent our time on other pursuits. My Mother could tear the whole house apart when she was inspired by a project. She wasn’t afraid to try anything even if it made a horrible mess.   Although Mother gave up cooking for the most part she loved food and miraculously never gained an ounce.  I think she was too busy for weight.  It just couldn’t get a grip on her.  She moved too fast. 

 Later in life when I was grown and she moved more slowly, after taking her to the doctor I would ask – what would you like for lunch, Whataburger or Mexican? Mind you, we still had donuts left from our morning pre doctor stop. Without skipping a beat, she  always answered – Both – and she meant it. I would make a few mild attempts at encouraging her to choose one or the other. Both, she insisted. And so, Both it was. First, we would have a sit down lunch of Mexican food where she cleaned her plate as I struggled with how full I felt. Then, I’d drive through Whataburger to pick her up a large burger, fries and coke which would be enjoyed and gone before the day was over. Mother loved food, all food. I’m not sure if it was sheer gusto for the enjoyment of the simple pleasures in life. 

Or Perhaps she remembered what it was like to be without. There were times when I was a girl that work was hard for her to come by and the fridge was pretty bare. A few slices of cheese and a jar of pickles doesn’t offer a great many choices. She was so clever that she once made tomato soup from saved up ketchup packets!  I assure you we never went hungry.  And Mimi’s house wasn’t far away, with something always simmering on the stove. We’d leave her house with a full tummy and Tupperware laden with leftovers. 

 That is probably why I try to feed everything and everyone who comes near me. You think I’m kidding? Just ask anyone who’s been in my kitchen. Seriously.  there’s bird seed for the wild birds. Nectar for the hummingbirds. Crumbs for the fish at the lake. Even my composted scraps are offered to the animals.  They’ve been gobbled up by raccoons, opossums and coyotes now and then. Those animals, the wild ones, sneak up at night and drive the dogs crazy! Why are you at my house? Why?! Those egg shells belong to me! 

 Where was I…oh yes… So, although I have good strong food memories of my Mom, they aren’t so much to do with her actually cooking. For that I only have other people’s stories of her skill in the kitchen and a handful of treasured recipes.  Yesterday, I baked her Chocolate Sheath Cake in the same silver pan that she always used.  Ah, chocolate cake you say.  That’s nice.  I must have a dozen chocolate cake recipes.  Wait, no, no, you don’t understand.  As a girl I didn’t like chocolate.  That’s right, I didn’t like chocolate.  I can hear you gasping in horror.  When you’re a kid chocolate is everywhere!  It’s the thing! Chocolate cakes, chocolate frosting, chocolate ice cream, chocolate candy, hot chocolate, chocolate milk, chocolate is Everywhere.  All I could think was – oh, chocolate, do you have anything in vanilla or maybe some refreshing lime sherbet.  Why does everyone want chocolate? Are you still with me? Have you passed out and hit your head on the pavement? It was hard to be a kid who didn’t like chocolate.  You’re instantly different in a rather odd sort of way.  What do you mean you don’t like chocolate? Everyone likes chocolate.  Not everyone.  Not me.  I learned not to share that part of myself, the part that other kids didn’t understand. 

 You will be pleased to know that I’ve grown to the point where I like chocolate fine now.  A nice piece of dark chocolate after a meal is perfect and yes I can be satisfied with just one.  That’s only because it’s not my be all, end all, go to food.  That would be cookies! Did you hear my deep sigh of contentment.  The world’s most perfect food – Cookies! No plate, fork, or napkin necessary.  When things are bad and getting worse, keep a cookie in your purse! I am utterly convinced that if you slather on peanut butter and add a side of milk or maybe fruit you have a perfectly well balanced meal.  When I’m having one of Those kind of days I even bake them warm for dinner.  The veggies can wait until tomorrow.  This terrible horrible no good very bad day will be redeemed by cookies for dinner.  I’m off topic again…but seriously, cookies, I’m just saying.  Now you know why one of the names I answer to is Cookie.  I can live with that.  

So… a Mother who didn’t cook much, creative meals now and then, a kid who doesn’t like chocolate, and cookies Rock.  What does all of that have to do with my Mother’s chocolate cake? Why is It so special?  Cookie, You don’t even like chocolate for goodness sakes.  Chocolate Sheath Cake is one of only two cakes I recall my  Mother baking.  And, until I was rather grown it was the one and only form of chocolate that I liked.  The only chocolatey food that made me sigh with ease and light up my face with joy.  The only form of chocolate that made me like everyone else, my mother’s cake.  Although these days my pantry is blessedly full and my choices are many,  Mother’s Sheath cake still does that for me.  Is it the chocolate? I doubt it.  When it comes to chocolate I can take it or leave it.  It’s my Mother, of course.  She did something for me that no one else could.  She loved me whether I liked chocolate or not.  My first gift of unconditional irreversible love. 

 

I don’t like chocolate.  You don’t like broccoli. She doesn’t like soccer. And he doesn’t like football. Not everyone will love you unconditionally.  But, we’re each lovable just as we are no matter what we don’t like to eat or to play.  Jack is different from Huckleberry is different from Ellie is different than Bo.  My Ellie girl loves cookies just like me!  Huckleberry is crazy for cheese, all kinds, and pancakes.  Bo is a bacon aficionado.  And Jack j juice box, well, Jack likes a little taste of everything. Don’t you Jack?  I love the ways they aren’t like each other.  I love the silly things that only they can do.  We needn’t hide that which makes us different.  Rather, share it and see how much fun there is in another way.  Bo doesn’t like rough play so he climbs up on the picnic table and watches instead.  The other dogs like him just the same.  

From time to time when I’m hungry for something more, for something undefined, then I bake Sheath cake.  My Mother’s cake in my Mother’s pan.  I love the way the lid slides on and off.  It gives a satisfying click when it’s closed up all the way.  I love the window that lets me peek through to see the goodness inside.  I love to leave a fork in the pan so I can easily snag a bite every single time I walk through the kitchen.  No, it doesn’t last very long that way.  But yes, if you should arrive before I’ve polished it off I will share with you, from the opposite non fork side, of course.  When the pan empties, I’m good.  I’ll go months without making it or even thinking about it.  Then all of a sudden I am missing something… hungry for something I cannot quite define.   A secret anniversary of the heart perhaps. 

There is food that fills our tummy.  There is food that provides a well balanced diet.  Then, there’s the food that speaks to your heart.  Whatever yours is, eat it slowly, savor the taste of it, recall its story, and please, share it with someone you love.  


Chocolate Sheath Cake


In a bowl mix


2 cups flour
 
2 cups sugar

In a saucepan bring to a boil


1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup shortening

4 Tablespoons cocoa

1 cup water


Pour over dry ingredients and mix

Add in  


1/2 cup buttermilk 

2 eggs

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon vanilla


Mix well and pour into a greased 9×13 pan

Bake at 400 for 30 minutes 


Five minutes before the cake is ready make the icing

In a saucepan melt 

1/2 cup butter

4 Tablespoons cocoa

6 Tablespoons milk


Stir in


4 cups powdered sugar 

1 teaspoon vanilla 

1 cup chopped pecans


Pour the thin hot icing over the hot cake.

Let cool

Enjoy!

Midsummer’s Eve Tea







May your day be enchanted and ever so bright, filled with magical surprises meant to delight…

May you happen upon a tiny feast set just right, fit for the fairies and their sweet friends the sprites…

May you be touched by the whimsy of midsummer’s eve night, dance a jig neath the moon and its silvery light…

And whatever may come with the dawn of the day, may you always be loved as as you wander your way.  





Maybe…

The sun. Our sun,  is a star.  A star is a star through and through, inside and out.  It doesn't have to decide what it will be.  It doesn't question what it is.  A star just rests in its own innate starness. It does not shine for me or for the earth. It does not fret over what it will do today.  It radiates warmth and nourishment because that is the nature of what it is, to only and always give from the center of itself.  Or maybe, it does shine for both me and the earth and that is one more thing I just don't know.  What if the shining and the warmth and all the goodness of it is like a beacon reaching out across all that we cannot see as an act of love to its own love.  What if the two each moved to close the distance between them in deep affection for one another.  Would we be blinded by their oneness? Would they lose themselves sweetly in each other?  What if they shine for each other, not us, and we simply benefit from their gift of love? We come into this earthly world where there are five senses, taste, touch, smell, vision and hearing.  From start to finish in this life, we are called upon to let go, give up, give away.  In this world, one can lose any of the five of the senses. We don't much like to think about that.  When you are faced with such a loss, do you reach out to understand it or do you turn away a bit fearfully? Then, there's Love… I wonder, could love be a sense as taste and touch are senses?  Could it?  Perhaps, it is the one and only sense of our soul.  The only thing needed for a soul to find its way.  Soul, the unseen at the heart of who we are.  We experience life through vision and hearing and such. But when we are born into this earthly way of being we bring love with us too.  It is not something easily explained.  It is more something indescribable deep within our nature.  Love sits at the edges of all that we do waiting patiently for our hearts to open to the sweet truth it offers.  Maybe we bring the only thing, the only sense, a soul can bring into this world, Love.  And as the love of one awakens in the love of another it sparkles and bounces joyfully from here to there and back again.  But, the more we grow into an earthly way of  seeing and doing we forget what the oneness of love can be.  Not do.  Be.  We are always like the star.  Our shining is never outside of us.  Our warmth is not in an other.  It is forever inside of us.  We simply forget that sometimes. It is in the forgetting that we suffer as we look outwardly for something to touch us and give us the gift of love.   The rich blessing that we seek is deep within all along.  You love another just because you do.  You cannot help it.  We mistakenly think we need something from them in return.  But you don't.  Imagine anyone that you have ever loved.  If time or space or circumstance kept you apart, would you stop loving them?   We forget, I think, what love really is.  We tend to think of love through the eyes of this world as something we can acquire and hold.  Love isn't like that.  Love is like being a star inside and out.  Through and through.   We tell ourselves that we must see or touch someone to love them.   We don't though.   Seeing and hearing are of this world and this body.  Love is of the soul.  Love is so much bigger than all of the five senses put together!  A beautiful enormous invisibility that is hard to even imagine.  So glorious in its brightness that like our star, the sun, it is impossible to look at it straight on.  Simply close your eyes and feel the warmth of it.  Be very still and quiet.  Remember the only sense of the soul.  Love.  Love, that comes with us and stays with us even when we forget to know it.  Waiting tenderly to be awakened.  Learn to let go of the world,  remember what you are at heart… soul created from love to love.   Then… it is enough to know.    

Rare Jungle Birds

**

**

Pileated woodpeckers!

They are huge birds at two feet tall.  

They don’t show themselves very often.  

Once in a while I catch a glimpse of them as they sweep through the forest.

But I always hear them before I see them.

They sound so out of place in east Texas. I ask myself if something has escaped from a rainforest exhibit at the local zoo. Seriously! Their resounding call is tropical, even Amazonian.  

The first few times I heard it, I thought, what is That?!  Now, I recognize the song and smile inwardly.

Recently I found this tree. After a bit of research I figured out that it is their handiwork.  Clearly they are as fierce and powerful in their hunting as one might imagine.

Pileated woodpeckers dig more thoroughly than an archeologist fresh on the trails of ancient history. The fresh pale color of the shavings tells the story of spring nesting and hungry babies. I have not sighted the birds themselves yet.

But, no doubt, they are nearby…

Rare jungle birds have come home.

****

ellie894 March 18, 2019

St. Patrick’s

May you find light

To chase away the shadow

May you find peace

To a weary soul give rest

May you find cheer

To brighten every moment

May you find grace

To forever fill your loving heart

****

ellie894 March 17, 2017

The sun is trying so hard to light up St. Patrick’s Day this morning ☀️

all shall be well 

All shall be well…And all shall be well… All manner of things shall be well…

– Dame Julian of Norwich

Julian of Norwich was the first woman to write a book in the English language around the year 1395. 

When my world is spinning seemingly out of control I recall her words and try to rest in them.

****

ellie894 March 15, 2017