That's Amore

The beginning of the week was quiet. It was gray. I didn't pay much attention to what was going on out in the wide world. That's easy to do while sitting in a winter house with all its comforts and routines in place. That might seem a bit boring, but it wasn't. To help quell the flames of spring fever rising in me, I went exploring. 

Monday's adventure came through a serendipitous encounter with a name. I was looking at posts online from the few people I follow, and I saw a post from Monty Don, my gardening guru from the BBC's Gardeners World, where he mentioned the poet Edward Thomas. I love poetry and I've read a lot of it, but I wasn't familiar with Edward Thomas. I was intrigued. And so a morning's adventure began. I was surprised to find that Thomas was a World War I poet. I went through a yearlong exploration of WWI back in the '80s including the poets that came out of that war, but I didn't remember encountering him. I pulled out my copy of The Penguin Book of First World War Poetry and scanned the contents. There he was. I must have read his poems back then, but time and age had erased the memory somehow. That allowed me the slightly unnerving pleasure of rediscovering him. And it was a pleasure.

I read a brief biography first. Philip Edward Thomas (1878-1917) was mostly known as a literary critic, nature writer, and biographer until 1914, when at the age of 36 and through the persuasions of his friend Robert Frost – yes The Robert Frost who became his friend while Frost was living in England – Thomas decided to write poetry. In fact, Robert Frost, after he returned to the United States, wrote a poem inspired by the walks he and Thomas used to take together and about Thomas's indecisiveness. That poem was The Road Not Taken. Thomas published his first book of poetry, Six Poems, in 1916. He feared his poems would be dismissed by critics if he used his real name, so he used a pseudonym, Edward Eastaway. They were the only poems he lived to see in print. Having enlisted in the war in 1915, two years later he was killed at the Battle of Arras in France while his second book of poems was being prepared for publication. He was just 39 years old and he left behind a wife and three children. 

My book had twelve of Thomas's poems in it. I sat in the living room with the pale morning sun shining weakly through the eastern windows and read them aloud to myself. I think poems should always be read aloud. The poems in my book, his war poems, were sad and profound. I went online and read his other poems. Many were pastoral and elegiac glimpses of the English countryside that he loved. I enjoyed reading them. Here is a short one that resonated with me.

Thaw

Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.

My book and Edward Thomas.

The title of that poem got me wondering about the word thaw and set me on my next mental adventure. The origins of  thaw go back a long way through the Middle English word thauen to the Old English þawian and all the way back to the Proto-Indo-European root *tā, which means to melt or dissolve. So many languages from Greek to Welsh to Sanskrit have words roughly recognizably related to it. One of the things I find funny is how often I hear people say "unthaw" when they mean "thaw" as in "Please unthaw the pot roast." That un prefix meaning "not" or "opposite of" means you want the pot roast frozen again. Silly people.

Tuesday's adventure was visual. Again it came about because of a post online. [The internet can be a blessing and a curse. It has taken me on some amazing mental adventures and also eaten up too many hours of my life.] This time it was a photograph of a painting by Andrew Wyeth that sent me off. I was already familiar with some of Andrew Wyeth's work, but that morning, that photo of that painting, Distant Thunder, struck a chord with me. I went online and spent the morning reading about him and looking at many of his paintings. He was the son of the famous illustrator, N. C. Wyeth (1882-1945). I knew and loved N. C. Wyeth's work from childhood encounters with his illustrations in Robin Hood and Treasure Island. In my mind, his paintings are how those stories should look.

Illustrations from Robin Hood and Treasure Island by N. C. Wyeth.

Andrew Wyeth (1917-2009) was homeschooled and taught how to draw and paint by his father. His art is not like his father's. He thought of himself as an abstractionist, but most consider him a realist. He uses a lot of muted colors and earth tones. One of his favorite mediums is egg tempera, which intrigues me. The Wyeths lived in the Chadds Ford area in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. The Brandywine Museum of Art in Chadds Ford has a large collection of his work. It's on my list of places to go.

Andrew Wyeth.

Distant Thunder by Andrew Wyeth.

Pennsylvania Landscape by Andrew Wyeth.

Frostbitten by Andrew Wyeth.

The weather warmed on Tuesday. By noon it was 49° and it smelled teasingly like spring. Things actually began to thaw a little. The ice sheet at the front of the house was as treacherous as ever, but out in the yard and garden, a few patches of bare ground began to appear.

The ice field at the front of the house.

At 2:00 the sun was shining brightly and we hit 55°. I couldn't stop myself. I went out to look for signs of spring. I first went out to the orchard, hoping to find the snow reduced enough to begin pruning. The snow was slushy, but still too deep to attempt it. Next, I wandered out to the big garden. Most of it was still covered with snow. I walked back to the house through the meadow. Under the big maples where some of the snow was gone, I found a little clump of snowdrops pushing up through the leaves. It made me so happy to see it. Skirting the edge of the woodland garden, I could see the forsythia bush laden with big buds. Then, as I approached the house, in the flowerbed that runs along its front, there were snowdrops blooming, just a little patch, but a joy to behold.

The orchard still covered in snow.

The first snowdrops!

When I went down to do the afternoon chores, the chickens were out in their yard. It was the first time they'd ventured out in weeks. Their yard was still covered in snow, but they didn't care. They were enjoying the sunshine. After doing the chores, I took down the Christmas lights on the outside of the house. That made things seem even more springy.

Chickens out for the first time in a long time.

The Shilligs arrived home last Sunday. They'd been gone since before Christmas, traveling out west to visit family, then to Georgia for the family gathering there, and then on to Florida. We are so glad they are home again. Life here on The Compound doesn't seem complete when they are gone. They came over for dinner on Tuesday. It was great to sit and talk over dinner and get caught up on what's happening in the family.

On Wednesday it was a little cooler and it rained all day. I didn't mind that. The rain did much to melt away snow and ice. Some of my seed orders arrived during the week. I spent most of the day on Wednesday setting up my seed planting schedule. I made a calendar and marked the days when different seeds need to be started. The start dates are at ten, eight, six, and four weeks from Planting Out Day, which is May 31st. That means the first seeds, the ones needing a ten week start, like snapdragons, daisies, parsley, and celery, will go into seed trays on the 22nd of March. To think we will soon be just ten weeks away from Planting Out Day makes me happy.

With spells of warmer days and cold nights, maple season has begun. The people Stacey works for have a maple syrup operation and this year they have her helping to collect sap. She drives a truck around to the sap collection points and pumps the sap into a holding tank and then drives to the sugar shack where they will boil it to syrup. She is truly a jack-of-all-trades at her work. She does just about everything.

At bedtime on Wednesday we had a thunderstorm, an uncommon occurrence in March. The rain came down harder, the wind howled, there was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. This was all because the warmer air that had blessed us for the last two days was being pushed away by cold air from the northwest. By Thursday morning, the temperature had dropped below freezing again and the world was dusted with snow. I saw our first robin that morning. It was plump and pretty, but it looked a little sad standing in the snow. That evening, the Thayns arrived. That kicked our liveliness level into high gear.

Friday was a busy day. With the grandchildren here, there's always something going on – meals being made, eaten, and cleaned up, games being played, toys being played with, talking, laughing, and constant activity. It makes the house hum with happiness. I had errands to run that day. Midmorning I went up to Wellsville to buy chicken feed and do some other things. Tabor, Hazel, and Russell went with me. While we were at Runnings we could see that they are getting pens ready for chicks. That's exciting.

Breakfast on Friday.

Friday's dinner was pizza at our house. The Fosters and the Shilligs joined us. Hannah made her famous Friday Homemade Pizza. Shilligs brought their amazing mosquito salad (romaine lettuce, Parmesan cheese, roasted pine nuts, and so much garlic, it keeps the mosquitos away). After dinner we sat and talked and ruminated on the problems in the world and how we would solve them. After the discussion ran dry, we resorted to games until bedtime.

This weekend was our annual Italy Weekend. Back in 2019 we went to Italy and every year since then, sometime in February or March, we commemorate our trip with a celebration – mostly centered on food, of course. All of our celebrations are about food it seems. Planning for this Italy Weekend began months ago. The date for it got shifted around because of conflicting schedules. The menu underwent a few revisions. But at last, the date and the menu were fixed. Miriam and Hannah began working on elements from the menu during the week, perfecting their skills at making homemade ricotta and cannoli. Serious preparations began on Friday when Miriam and Rachel went down to the Foster's house to spend the day making food with Sarah. 

Food prep on Friday at Foster's house.

Games on Friday afternoon.

Saturday was the big day. We gathered at the Foster's in the afternoon. Kurt and Julie joined us. Stacey and I made a slide show of our 2019 Italian adventure and we watched that. Six years later, it all seems like a magical adventure I once read about. The photos are proof that it was real and that I was actually there. This year Stacey also prepared a slide presentation of pictures from her mission. She served in the Rome Italy Mission in 1981-82. She lived in Rome, Naples, Livorno, and Florence.

Scenes from Italy, 2019.

We ate the big meal at 2:00 p.m. The menu was: 

Dinner
Pici Pasta with Pesto
Caprese Salad
Bruschetta 
Tortellini Salad
Pesto Flat Bread with Mozzarella
Grilled Sour Dough Margarita Pizza
Crackers and Cheese

Dessert
Peach Yogurt Gelato
Blueberry Lemon Buttermilk Gelato
Cannoli

Il banchetto Italiano.

The celebrants.

Our feast was delicious. All the preparation and skill made it a wondrous experience. And the company was first rate, of course.

In other family news, Geoffrey and his family have been on a Caribbean cruise all week. I've been very envious as they shared photos and videos of their adventure. I'm not a fan of deep water and have always said I would not enjoy going on a cruise, but I think I'm beginning to change my mind.

The Howes in Cozumel.

At the Mayan ruins at Xunantunich.

Wishing I was there.

Now we are home from church. Our meetings went well. It was nice having the Thayns there to add to our numbers. In a few minutes we are heading down to the Foster's house for lunch – leftovers from yesterday's feast. After lunch, the Thayns are leaving for home. Then our Italy Weekend will be over for another year. I'd like to go back to Italy again so we have even more memories to celebrate. We'd planned a trip for this year, but it hasn't worked out so far. I'm hoping maybe it will still happen later in the fall.

The week ahead looks good. The weather is supposed to be warmer. I will prune the orchard no matter what. I'm out of time. We'll keep working on the living room. The next job there is taking down the plaster from the walls. It's going to be a huge mess. I also plan to render lard one day during the week. The fat from our pigs has been taking up space in the freezer and I need to remedy that. And who knows what else might happen. If enough snow melts, we might even see a few crocuses. We'll see.