Goodbye to 2012; hello to 2013

               An early poem of mine is appropriate today: Titled “Farewell,” it is a double-form piece, an acrostic and a Farewell pattern.

                        Galloping swiftly, as on fire; 

                        Over minutes, hours and days,

                        Obeying nature’s agenda,

                        Dashing through time down the

                        Backstretch of December,

                        You daze us with speed – an

                        Entire year gone.”

            Winter has arrived, calendar-wise, and though we usually consider all of December “winter,” we lived through some nice warm days earlier this month and snow at the end. My tubular wind chime pealed a lot.

            Finally, in time for gift-giving and for Christmas, I got to those molasses balls’ ingredients that had sat on the countertop for several days.

After two hours, 77 of them cooled on wax paper and rested in air-tight containers until they were needed. (There would have been 80 but I had to taste one. It was nearly supper time and I was hungry. I ate one more. And it was nearly Christmas, so I ate just one more.)

            Here is Steve Long’s recipe for Molasses Balls that appeared in an Arkansas Democrat-Gazette’s recent Wednesday's Food section. He noted that these store well. If they last that long. I recommend them.

            In a large bowl, sift together 4 cups all-purpose flour, 4 teaspoons baking soda, 1 teaspoon salt.

            In a separate large mixing bowl, cream together 1-and-1/2 cups shortening, 2 cups granulated sugar (you’ll need more sugar for rolling). Mix in 2 eggs.

            Stir into that mixture 2 tablespoons PLUS 2 teaspoons molasses, 2 teaspoons ground ginger, 1 heaping teaspoon ground cloves, 1 heaping tablespoon ground cinnamon and 1 heaping teaspoon allspice.

            Add flour mixture to make a stiff dough. (I used a portable mixer which ran hot before I finished. A wooden spoon might have worked just as well.)

            Roll dough into 1-inch balls, then roll each in a bowl of sugar. Place balls on ungreased cookie sheet and slightly flatten each one with a spoon or the bottom of a glass. (I used a glass with a deep “tread” on the bottom. The pattern was star-shaped, but after cooking, it was not visible.)

            Bake at 350 degrees for 12-15 minutes (I used 13) until light brown. Cool and store in an airtight container.

            Makes about 10 dozen cookies. (I rolled mine out to the size of a large marble and made only about 7 dozen. They are nearly twice the size of a ginger snap.)

            Since Christmas is over, you might bake a batch for New Year’s. Or Valentine’s.

The Paulus-Laster gathering at Couchwood on the Sunday before Christmas was fabulous. As usual. Even with the unusual (Norfolk Pine) tree.

Ready or not, here comes two-thousand-thirteen. May it bring you and yours much joy. # 

Count down to Christmas

Couchwood dining room buffet & secretary, Christmas 2011

by Pat Laster

 

                By the time this is posted, it will be almost too late to think about getting the house clean and decorated, the molasses balls mixed, mashed and cooked, the mincemeat pie baked, the gifts wrapped, and still have enough holiday joy left (or restored) to welcome the folks from Florida. Or from wherever your relatives live.

                A week ago Thursday, my house was a mess. (Wasn’t everyone’s?) Boxes brought down from the attic held ornaments, Santa Clauses—one with a sleigh and a lone deer from the old, old set of three– plastic icicles from the Paulus grandmother and plastic-circles-with-Christmas-figures-inside from the Couch grandmother.

                By Sunday night after the morning choir service of Lessons and Carols and the church’s evening Family Night (Sights and Sounds of Christmas), my molasses ball ingredients still sat on the countertop. The dry ingredients had been sifted three day ago and covered.    

                Our tree this year is not the expensive (at the time) pre-lit job. That one's still in the attic where I hauled it last year after grandson Billy broke it into its three components so I could manhandle them up the stairs after he’d gone back to HSU.

                No, this year, the “tree” will be my late mother’s 6-foot tall Norfolk Pine that has miraculously stayed alive. Never mind that several branches fell off as I was shaking it before deciding whether to use it. Oh, what the heck, I might as well be different this year. Give the family something to talk about and visit over.

              To begin, I spiral-wrapped the three major stalks with silver tinsel. Then, selecting weightless ornaments, I hung them from the branches. Cutting red tinsel into 9-in strips, I draped them over the tallest limbs (a kitchen stepstool was required).

              No lights, of course, but I directed a high-intensity desk lamp upward and it helped. If any more branches should fall before Christmas, I might be left with a large Charlie Brown tree. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

             On Monday morning, the molasses-ball stuff still sat on the countertop. But I had other fish to fry. I’d “dressed” the dining table but not the buffet and the two china cabinets. So that morning, I kept saying aloud, “Dining Room,” when I’d want to stop for a different project. As I write, the buffet is done as are the two china cabinets--one in reds and the other in blues. And, the molasses balls after baking turned into cookies.

             Gifts are yet in the bedroom closet—or unbought. But I know what I’m looking for and where to find them. One luncheon date today (Wednesday--I received another invitation for the same date but declined) is all that’s on the week’s schedule. That is, until family from Florida arrives Friday.

          Attending holiday programs of the Arkansas Chamber Singers, the Horace Mann Arts and Science Magnet School, the Hendrix College choir, and singing in a church choir presentation of Lessons and Carols infused many with as true a meaning of the season as is possible, given the horrible massacre in Connecticut.
                May the God of love and peace be with us every one this Christmas. Amen and amen.
c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press, Benton AR

Happy New Year! (the new liturgical church year: Advent)

by Pat Laster

 

In liturgical churches, the four weeks preceding Christmas—called Advent—is a time to celebrate –and prepare for --the coming of Jesus. The following devotional was written last year and published in a booklet of Advent readings collected, compiled and printed by my friend Dorothy Hatfield of Beebe, who does this each year as her gift to the church and community.
           

                                     “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus.”

 Advent after Advent after Advent, we sing this 267-year-old hymn by Charles Wesley.

And Christmas after Christmas after Christmas, we sing “We Would See Jesus,” written in 1913. During the church year, we sing “Turn Your eyes Upon Jesus,” from a poem written in 1922.

                Well, folks, in 2011, I saw Jesus! Of all places, Jesus was sitting in a booth in Benton’s La Hacienda. He was alone and facing us as we were led to our booth behind him. He was young, with kind eyes, straight brown hair falling to his shoulders--he could have stepped out of the picture of Jesus found in nearly every church and in many homes.

 His laptop was open. He looked up and smiled as we passed. I glanced back and saw what appeared to be a screen of emails.

                The waiter took our order, and I goofed by asking for one thing when I meant another.

In a minute or two, Jesus turned in his booth and genially commented about my mistaken order. We laughed.

                Once during our meal, I looked up and Jesus was gone. Had he vaporized or “vibrated to another level,” as a friend described a disappearance? The word we use is “ascended.”

                No, Jesus was visiting with people at a nearby table. He might have been preaching, but I doubt it. He returned to his booth and laptop. As we left, I caught his eye and waved. He said, “Have a nice day.”

                J. Edgar Park, nearly a century ago, took the first line from another person’s hymn, “We Would See Jesus, for the shadows lengthen,” and wrote his hymn to express “youth, promise and sunshine and an inner glimpse of the Young Man of Nazareth living and moving among us.”

                What if? Some believe angels live among us, why not Jesus, whom this young man resembled?

Why not? Crowds weren’t flocking around. I wish I’d passed my napkin to him for an autograph. I wish I’d asked him if other folks had mentioned his resemblance to Our Savior. Sigh . . .

This experience led me from pray-singing “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus,” through “We Would [hope to] see Jesus,” to “I’ve Just Seen Jesus,”  to the mantra, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus, and... find that the things of earth” are mere trifles.

During this Advent season, this run-up to Christmas, will we see Jesus in others? Will others see Jesus in us?

 

c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press, Benton AR

Whether and whither the weather

by Pat Laster

                “Goodness, how we’d like to know/ Why the weather alters so.” –Ford Madox Ford (1873-1939) from “Children’s Song”

               How many years has December arrived in Arkansas with temps ranging from 54 to 72? On December 2 in 1982, it was 79 degrees, a record at that time. In 1918, in February, Little Rock’s high temp was 87 degrees.

                Why is it, I wonder, that I seem to equate December with winter, though winter doesn’t actually begin until near the end of the month. But, the climatological winter season, according to the National Weather Service, begins December 1 and lasts through February. Maybe that’s why.

                Last Saturday and Sunday were warm enough to work outside and neighbors on three sides blew or raked, then burned leaves.

On Sunday afternoon, I took all the cuttings that had rooted—begonia, epesia, a lantana sprig and three African violet leaves—to the porch and potted them.

                Then I snipped off all the frozen chrysanthemum blooms, leaving a second set of buds. Don’t oak leaves in flower beds make good winter mulch? I went online and found different opinions, but most recommend shredding oak leaves.

                It was still warm on Monday, so I texted local Daughter to see if she would come over and saddle the red Troy-built Pony and ride over the yard to shred the leaves, thus helping my grass—cur and mutt grass, not like the back neighbor’s fancy stuff.

                While she did that, I blew as many leaves as I could from the foundation/flower beds. By the time Annamarie finished the front yard, there were no leaf pieces to return as mulch to the beds. Heck, I never mulch anyway.

                Lately, weather has been in the news, especially weather extremes. Here are a few items I jotted down:

                * The 2012 Atlantic hurricane season tied as being the 3^rd most-active season since 1851.

                In 2012, extremes—weather-wise—were:

*Arctic ice melt—an area larger than the US (4.57 million square miles.)

*Droughts were “devastating” to nearly two-thirds of the US, as well as Russia and Southern Europe.

* Floods swamped West Africa.

* Heat waves affected much of the Northern Hemisphere.  

* In 1917, Little Rock received 26.8 inches of snow from December – February.

* In 1918, Calico Rock (Arkansas) received 48 inches of snow through February.

* In 1983-84, Arkansas temps were below freezing for 12 straight days, December `9 – January 1.

* In 1889-90, there was NO snowfall.

* The National Weather Service (where most of this information was found and shared by K. Heard, Arkansas Democrat-Gazette) records-keeping began in the early 1800s.

In the final page of “The Old Farmer’s Almanac Book of Weather Lore,” by Edward F. Dolan, is this British School Rhyme:

“Whether the weather be fine, / Whether the weather be not; / Whether the weather, / Whatever the weather, / Whether we like it or not.” #

 

c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press, Benton AR