Thanksgiving is for dogs too

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

I dropped Zing off at Grateful Dog early and was amazed to see a Thanksgiving menu posted. Dog guests will eat turkey, green beans, cranberries — either as-is or mixed with dog food.

“That’s a joke, right?” I asked. 

“No,” was the answer. “We’re serious.” 

“But dogs don’t like green beans, do they?”

“Some do.”

It was all said with a smile, so I can’t be too hard on them. I mean, what do I know about dogs anyway? 

After that I went to the gym. I mean, my gym, the one in this building. Not Zing's gym. I am lucky to live in a place with a (small, but big enough for me) exercise room. Dogs aren’t allowed, so I haven’t been there lately.  I generally think of gyms as torture chambers, but lately I have to use a stationary bicycle since I can’t run anymore.

Back upstairs, I opened a box that was in yesterday’s mail. I couldn’t remember buying anything online. Did I actually click on that candle that I’d looked at? No! It was fat Christmas candle size, but so much better: a surprise jar of Tupelo honey from the family of Colin, who was a student of mine in Tallahassee. His mom told me that her father had pulled the honey himself. (I’m not sure what that means -- I think it's about pulling the honey from where the bees store it.) Tupelo honey depends on trees in a tiny part of swampy north Florida and South Georgia. It’s mild and never crystalizes. If you visit me very soon you might get a biscuit with a taste of my Tupelo. But hurry!

At noon I was able hear chamber music at that church down N Street across from the Capitol. Today’s program was organs — not my favorite. So triumphal. It reminds me of elephants. But I loved it anyway, just sitting there listening. 

I spent the rest of the day measuring drapes, preparing to shorten them a bit before the window professionals show up to hang the shades.

Love,

k

Tupelo Honey

Thanksgiving is for dogs too,
especially at Grateful Dog

Eyes wide open: Panacea & Phipps Park

If it looks like a beginner drew these, that's right. These are "assignments" from the great Susan Shie drawing class I took online last month. I'm going to keep on drawing! It suits my voyeuristic inclinations. 

Panacea, FL, is an unincorporated community that shows a rather tacky public face and keeps its sudden beauty quiet. Down a sandy road, past untended yards and simple houses needing paint, you can drive straight into a heavenly bay. Hoist a sail upon your car and you will soon be in the Gulf of Mexico.

 The story is that a Yankee bought some land here after the Civil War and named it Panacea, trading on the supposed healing powers of nearby springs. The name stuck, although they say a few old-timers refuse to use it, even today. 

Now some people want to make Panacea an incorporated city. But that is far from a sure thing. Florida House Bill 593 would allow the residents to vote on whether to be incorporated or not. The bill unanimously passed one House subcommittee in March, but it has two more committees to go. There are those who say it wouldn't be right, because some landowners live elsewhere, so they can't vote here. Others say the residents should control their destiny--especially their miles of coastline. 

 Panacea's population is about 800. The signs that are going up on lawns and in stores around town say: "Yes. Panacea Incorporation. Opportunity. Self-government. No New Regulations/Taxes" and also a great big NO sign over the words "Panacea Incorporation."

Zing! and I like to run in Phipps Park. We take the same trail every time, yet it's always new. We had not seen a butterfly all winter. This is the first of the season. Sometimes we go the whole way without seeing another dog or human. This day this man didn't see us. He was lost in a book. 

Green mornings

Twice a week my mornings are quiet and green -- Come see what I mean:

Starting

To the right and to the left

American water lilies

View from the wooden lookout
Late-morning shadows are of the gentle hillside to the east

Zing! waits for me to catch up

Near the end

Tupelo sweet stop

When you get to where State Route 267 meets US 98 in a lonesome part of Wakulla County, and feel maybe you're on the wrong road, Preston Bozeman  makes you glad you're there.  He sells tupelo honey off the hood of his white pickup not far from the entrance to St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. Yesterday I bought four two-pound jars of it at $14 and some cents (I forget!) each. I heard that tupelo is scarce this year, so I want to stock up. thinking maybe I'll even give some to Mary. Mr. Bozeman told me he expects the barrels to empty before mid-April, when the season will start again. The bees make this "Cadillac of all Honey" for just a month, until mid-May, he said. Last spring's freeze killed blossoms, so this year's batch is smaller than some. You can find Mr. Bozeman on your way to St. Marks every day but Sunday and the fourth Thursday of each month, when he's in Tallahassee, on Thomasville Road just north of I-10.

Still Fighting the Civil War

Still Fighting the Civil War: The American South and Southern History by David R. Goldfield
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The South is not all magnolias and sweet tea in this troubling explanation of how and why (white) Southerners are still trying to preserve the pre-Civil War South that lives in their psyche but never actually existed. White men had their pride demolished as their slavery-based economy abruptly crumbled. Blacks were/are stymied for exhibiting business savvy or any other power. Women, black and white, are shown to be the realists and the persistent change agents who are inching the South away from a dangerous illusion. It hurt to read this disheartening description of the place I love. (Tallahassee is 30 or so miles from South Georgia.)


View all my reviews

Stars in the neighborhood

One reason I love my neighborhood is the poetry of the Army Surplus Store around the corner.

Cedar Key weekend

View from Cedar Key's small beach

Storm approaching

Scallop season
Shells decorate a waterside sandwich shop
I heard a boater say scallops are abundant in the grassy flats offshore.

You've got to at least taste alligator, right?
I did. Once.
And that palm salad is the crunchy, tasteless heart of Florida's state tree, the Sabal palm.

Fish above door on vacant building

Fish can be ferocious.

Air boat on trailer on Cedar Key's main street

Market Square Farmers Market

It was busy last Saturday.

I bought red peppers, $1 ea. and roasted them.

 

I bought 2 eggplants, then roasted them with garlic and olive oil, which I blended with a tiny bit of anchovy paste and served last night with French bread.

I'm going to try her honey next time, but I'm happy with  Orchard Pond tupelo. 

You can't see the sign around her neck that says "Blind." She and her husband are real partners in this venture. A month ago they sold me two basil plants and then gave me a "lucky" mint plant when I said I can't grow mint. It's still alive.

Thornton Dial watercolors in Quincy

I got a chill when I encountered a red and yellow Thornton Dial assemblage about as big as a goat at the High Museum in Atlanta a few months ago. Then I learned a Tallahassee couple, Lou and Calynne Hill, collect his work. I visited a few in a hallway at the FSU School of Medicine; the Hills also donated some Dial works to the Gadsden Arts Center in Quincy. Several Dial watercolors will be exhibited there through April 27, and I went to see them. They are faint compared to the vibrant piece that first captivated me, but about as haunting as watercolorss can be. They're 23" x 30." You can read more about them on the Arts Center site.

Creative Tallahassee

Forever Spring
Connie Betterley
fiber

I counted four fiber pieces and more than 20 photographs among the 40+ works in the Creative Tallahassee 2013 exhibit at City Hall Gallery through April 29. Yes, there are lots of exciting digital photo techniques  -- but fiber and paint and sculpture and ceramic and wood also offer unending possibilities. OK, OK -- I'm being petulant. City Hall Gallery is bright and welcoming, and maybe there'd be more fiber art if more fiber artists (myself included) entered the competition. Here's a little of what I saw the other day. Some of the photos are tilted, but I decided to include them anyway. For a level look, go see for yourself!

Blooming Brown FieldAva Prebysfiber

River Triptych

Mary Jane Lord

fiber

Flagler Beach Pier

Roger Raepple

digital photography

Red, Black, and Gold #1

David Maki

Acrylic

Azaleas

Azaleas inspire. Who knew I loved bright pink? I was working on a green piece, and it turned pink, thanks to these blooms knocking at my studio window.

Fall flowers

Mexican Sunflowers
8" x 10"

Mexican sunflowers are tall, orange knockouts with graceful leaves. They're annuals and that's about all I know. Except that I love them. Through late fall, they flourished at Gate B of Phipps Park, where I run. Some wagged on stems above my head. They're saturated color for sure. Recently I've been inspired by Penelope Gottleib's bright -- even harsh -- acrylic and ink paintings of flowers in pure color. Never mind that she sometimes includes bomber planes and other surprises among her blooms.  Following Gottleib's lead, I sat before the flowers in our yard and out at Phipps and made three flower pieces, using saturated colors. They're 8" x 10", mounted on canvas-wrapped board. 

Mexican Sunflowers at Phipps Park

Cardinal Guard

Fall flowers

Meyer lemons

I barely knew about Meyer lemons until Ed left a bag of them on our porch soon after we moved to Tallahassee. Our neighbor was rich in lemons and bluebirds, and he loved to share both. Once when I was visiting him and his wife in their backyard, he placed a tiny worm in my hand, assuring me it wasn't squishy. When I opened my palm and held it out, a bluebird swooped down from the bushes to eat the worm. A tiny rose-breasted bluebird perched on my hand!

I felt much the same amazement when I learned about Ed's precious Meyer lemons. They are much desired by cooks. When Ed died last spring I planted a Meyer lemon tree out near our shed in his honor. This season it gave us two big yellow fruits. Thanks to Ed's family, we still enjoy his lemons too. This week I mailed some to family in Ohio. "Give us recipes!" they said. So:

In general, I use Meyers  as I would any other lemon. Here's a video from a grove in California with some useful storage ideas.

I also make Meyer Lemon Marmalade. Here's the recipe -- my adjustments to an Epicurious recipe.

A friend tried Smitten Kitchen's Lemon Cake. She liked it but didn't rave.

I'm sure Mom's sponge cake is better. Follow the suggestion midway down for dousing it with lemon syrup.

Here's an LA Times piece with 100 things to do with a Meyer lemon.

Quail Pot Pie

Sidewalk sign in front of Savannah Moon

 I should have brought one home: quail pot pie. I sometimes hear quail call when I run at Phipps Park, and I've talked to people who shoot quail. Some former cotton plantations here in North Florida and South Georgia turned into quail plantations after the Civil War. People pay money to hunt on the property. But I never tasted quail, and don't want to. (I've heard it's "better than chicken.") So I passed up the bird in the pie when I was shopping today in Thomasville, GA, a charming town 30 miles north of Tallahassee. I feel bad that I didn't think Clark might want to try it. Well, next time ...

Downtown Thomasville, GA

Jacksonville Quilt Show

Quilters Unlimited members chartered a bus and headed to the Jacksonville Quilt Fest last Saturday. I'm glad I went.

You can't see it here, but the colored fabrics are all dotted. Are the black pieces dotted too?

A small piece inspired by Picasso

Enjoying a Judges'  Mention quilt by Linda O'Sullivan of Tallahassee

Tallahassee Farmers' Market - LocalHarvest

Tallahassee Farmers' Market - LocalHarvest

Clark loves sunflowers, so I buy them every Saturday at the farmers' market.
Here they are in the back of the car:

And here in the beautiful blue vase Patrice gave us.

Cedar Key inspiration weekend

Municipal park

What we saw in the park (above).
What we heard: Friday night a song, kind of like shape-note singing, drew us down to see a group praying there.
Saturday afternoon we eavesdropped on an air-boat fishing competition awards ceremony in the park. I loathe loudness, so I was surprised to be touched by the cheers when a little boy and his dad won. The roar of those (airplane) engines (on boats) is a family and business thing here where clams and oysters are the crop. The tournament was for fish with fins, however.