Back on the Mission Trail

Joe and I are back in California this week, and enjoying ourselves in spite of the sad reason for our trip: my Aunt Vera's memorial, which was held on Saturday at the Pacific Club in Newport Beach, a truly lovely place in which to remember a truly lovely woman. She enjoyed this blog, and I'd often find myself choosing topics and pictures because I thought she would like them. I still find myself thinking, "Oh, I'll have to tell Vera about that."
     Now we're in Carlsbad, where Gregg and family have rented a place for a couple of weeks and where we now have a few days to reconnect with the grandkids (and their parents); their rental is just 2 blocks from the beach, where we enjoyed this gray sunset last night.

That blob of hot coral on the horizon looked rounder, more the sun that it is, in real life. Dante called it a ghost ship - I like that.
     But before that we stopped on our way to Carlsbad to visit the Mission San Luis Rey outside Oceanside, a place neither Joe nor I had ever been to before.

The mission is named for Saint Louis IX, the medieval French king who became a saint because of his piety and devotion, a devotion that included going on crusade twice (he didn't make it back the second time). I think he looks quite regal in this large figure above the entrance to the historic church (I specify "historic" because there's also a new church on the grounds, not shown in these pictures but just to the east, housing the current active parish, along with a nice social hall and a Montessori school).

When you enter the historic church, the original baptistry is on the left; this is the original stone baptismal font. This picture also offers a good first look at the remarkable restoration that's been done here.

This is the view from the front entrance down the nave to the main altar. I love the decorated timbers across the flat ceiling; the entire church has been beautifully restored and maintained, right down to the shine on the bricks of the floor and the wood of the pews.

Off the nave to the right is the Lady Chapel, with prie-dieux and racks for candles on both sides as well as in front of the altar. You must buy a specific type of candle sold at the gift shop there, not only to raise money for  church maintenance but because other kinds might cause a build-up of soot. It's the same back home in Tucson, where prior to restoration some of the walls at Mission San Xavier del Bac were virtually black from centuries of devotion.

Here's a closer view of the main altar, with good Saint Louis at the top and center, looking handsome and heroic in a golden breastplate.

As an earlier picture shows, the ceiling over the nave is flat, but there is a high dome over the crossing before the altar; this photograph does not do it justice. 

Outside and to the right of the historic mission church is the cemetery, which contains historic graves but is also in use today. This beautiful, life-sized bronze statue reaches out toward a fountain. I'm not sure who she's meant to represent since there was no identifying plate, but her welcoming gesture and her calm, peaceful face seem to invite the visitor to rest for a bit on the nearby bench, to enjoy the shade of the trees and the sound of falling water.

Here's Joe passing through the archway that separates the older part of the cemetery from what seems to be a more recent addition. In looking at one of the pamphlets from the visitor center we discovered that one of the former priests from Mission San Xavier outside Tucson is now head of the cemetery at Mission San Luis Rey. When we found out he'd left - this was probably 15 years ago - my mother, a retired nurse, observed that she didn't think he'd been looking well. She'll be happy to see that he looks quite well and happy in the photo in the pamphlet. Joe and I were delighted because we liked Father Michael and his sort of Zen-Catholic homilies, very much.

This is one of the most interesting places on the grounds, downhill from the rest of the buildings; the sign above explains it much better than I could. The steps leading up from the lavanderia to the arch are a reconstruction, but as with so much of the mission complex, the feeling of being in a place where real people lived their very real, not always easy, day-to-day lives remains. That's especially true here, where we were quite literally the only visitors!

The people who climbed those steps, tended those long-ago orchards, prayed in the mission church when it was new, were not really any different from us today. Especially in this area, away from the parking lot and gift shop and tourists, it was almost possible to feel them still there.

A Room of Her Own

Well, my own, actually, and a new study, to be precise. We've been in this house 13 years and my study was one of only two rooms that hadn't been repainted (the other is Joe's bathroom, and it's not next on his list).  It was a mint green that I didn't mind at first but had grown to dislike very much, and then I had an inspiration for an entirely different look.

My mother joined the U.S. Army near the end of World War II, straight out of nurses' training. She was sent first to the Philippines, where she was dancing at the officers' club on Leyte when they got the news about the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Soon after that she was posted to Yokohama, where she worked in what had been the Swedish consulate before being transformed into an army hospital.
    This lavender and gold (it looks more lavender in real life) kimono is a souvenir of her time in Japan - I grew up hearing stories of her time there, and her adventures with the handsome officers she dated, one of whom bought her this gorgeous lavender and gold kimono, which might be considered an antique now. At any rate, it's certainly vintage.
    When she got home, she gave it to my grandmother, who was disappointed that it didn't have an obi and folded it away into a cedar chest. Grandma died and Mom recovered the kimono but didn't quite know what to do with it, so she too put it away, until about a year ago she gave it to me. My study faces north and the wall the kimono hangs on doesn't get direct light; it seemed only right that it should finally come out of hiding and be appreciated.

I want to keep things very simple. There's just the one big window, and Joe found a roll-up rice paper shade for it. We already had the light wood table I'm using for a desk, a 2-drawer file cabinet, and this rather battered but serviceable coffee table. Since I've just given up my day job, I brought home my two small bookcases (there's a corner of one in the photo of the kimono) from the office, as well as these batik prayer flags that hung across the wall behind my desk there.

What I want to achieve is a feeling of simplicity, peace, and serenity, and not to clutter it up with too much stuff, as is so often my wont. So far so good.

Birds of Summer Part Deux

We're having a great time watching the birds this summer. The orange halves (see http://morning-glory-garden.blogspot.com/search/label/birds) have been a great success.

They can get very acrobatic, like this young goldfinch.

That's orange pulp on the window; they're also very messy eaters.

We have orioles again this summer and I've spotted at least one youngster a few times but haven't got any new pictures yet. Also a black-headed grosbeak and a bronzed cowbird. In the light that first day the cowbird looked completely glossy black, with bright red eyes, like some kind of avian demon. I hope I can get a picture soon; he was at the feeder again this morning.

        Our backyard habitat changed rather dramatically a couple of weeks ago during the first big monsoon of the season. The rain is often preceded by heavy winds, and this time it uprooted our smaller mesquite tree, a favorite spot for the birds as it's near the tube feeder and birdbaths and a favorite of ours as it was just off the patio and visible from the kitchen window (the one that's currently splattered with orange pulp).

It looks like it also took out that nice patch of rosemary by the roots, but I think we may be able to save it. We also thought, or at least hoped that we might be able to save the tree, that if we took off all the branches and left just the trunk, maybe 5 feet tall, that it might resprout. We've seen that happen with other mesquites, and since there were still some roots in the ground, and since for two weeks the leaves stayed as green and healthy as before, it didn't seem impossible. But once Joe got the limbs off and we tried propping it up we realized it wouldn't work, so now it's firewood. The same thing happened to the same tree about 10 years ago, when it was much smaller, and we were able to rescue it, but not this time.
     I was rather heartbroken about losing it, but I think it will be all right. It was a beautiful tree but the slope looks nice without it too, and some of the plants may like having more sun. There are tall oleanders all along the back fence and the neighbor's trees are right up against it on the other side, so the birds still have plenty of places to perch, including the fence itself. Meanwhile, other plants are doing very nicely, like this little cactus.

The non-cactus leaves at the bottom and in the top right corner are volunteer wild poinsettias. I bought one a few years ago at a plant sale and now they just pop up all over. We like them very much even though sometimes we have to pull them out.

Another Ottoman

That's sort of a pun, I guess, as I think this ottoman, with its rich colors and texture, would have been quite at home in a seraglio of the original Ottoman Empire. Angelo seems to think so too, and he's definitely a creature who likes his creature comforts.

I began at the top, following the granny circle pattern so well explained by Raymond's mum at http://crochethealingandraymond.wordpress.com/2010/11/11/revisiting-the-granny-mandala/. When the circle was big enough (and by big enough I mean about 1 round short of covering the top of the ottoman, since I wanted it to have to stretch just a bit for a snug, not baggy fit). I just changed colors as the mood took me, but when the top was big enough I then did 2 rounds of single crochet, 1 in gold, 1 in ivory. There's no increasing after the last shell round of the top.
     Your colors will vary, of course. The colors in the pictures look different because I took the one below in natural light at sundown and the one above with a flash to make sure Angelo didn't just look like a flat shadow. The true colors of the yarn are somewhere in between, but closer to those below.

My pattern for the sides was to do 3 rounds of double crochet in 1 color, then 1 round of single crochet in either gold or ivory, then 3 rounds of double crochet in another solid color, then 1 round of single crochet, etc., till it's long enough to reach the floor. I think I'll probably add 2 more rounds of gold single crochet, just for a nicer, firmer finished edge. But overall I'm quite happy with the way it turned out. The fabric cover on this ottoman wasn't nearly as disreputable as on the cube in my previous post, but once I'd made that one so much more elaborate, this one looked very sad, and now it doesn't.

Making something from something

My mom gave up crocheting a few years ago and let me have a biiiiiggg box of yarn, including several granny squares. I put some of those together into a baby afghan for a friend http://morning-glory-garden.blogspot.com/search/label/afghan, and then forgot about the others, while chipping away at the rest of the yarn for various projects. Then one day I laid out 9 of them on top of a pretty disreputable-looking corduroy-covered ottoman, and it was nearly a perfect fit.

I joined them with green and gold yarns left over from something else and then crocheted round and round, in various shells and double and treble crochets, till the sides were long enough to reach the floor. That was a little tricky as I had to keep checking and often decreasing in subsequent rounds to make sure the sides fit snugly enough.

Apparently Cosmo thinks it was made for him. He didn't care much for the faded rust-colored corduroy but he obviously recognizes how well the new cover goes with his coat!

Use it up, wear it out

Use it up,
wear it out,
make it do,
do without.

Words to live by, that I saw on a cross-stitch sampler a long time ago. Since I was raised to be frugal and tend to love old things, those lines really speak to me. And sometimes the things I grow to love aren't all that old, like this shower curtain that I found 5 or 6 or more years ago at Wal-Mart, of all places. I never expect to find anything this interesting at Wal-Mart, and of course when I went back, thinking to buy another one since I knew this one wouldn't last, there were none left.

The individual squares are reproductions of lotería cards; that's a bingo-like game from Mexico and as you can see in the detail below, the names of the objects are given in both English and Spanish. Kind of a cool way to encourage kids to become bilingual! And when I babysat our little friend Rory, it helped keep her entertained while going potty (she especially liked the ladder, since we'd been shopping at REI and while Joe checked out boots or canoes or something, she kept me busy going up and down the "steppies." She was at a stage of loving "steppies" of any kind).

If you look closely at the shower curtain ring above El Gallo you'll see that the curtain there has been reinforced numerous times with clear packing tape - cheap plastic shower curtains aren't really designed to last and the holes, with no grommets, rip out easily. I've been looking, unsuccessfully, for a couple of years for a replacement - I really loved this shower curtain!

     But I know I won't find another one like this, and I also love things Japanese; the little framed print below also hangs in my bathroom. So I've been trying to find some Japanese or Japanese-inspired fabric that would pick up the turquoise on the walls and in this print to make a more permanent, non-plastic shower curtain. I've been unsuccessful so far, because I want something I can love, not just something that will do.

However, I gave up last week and - having determined that even I can't think of any way to repurpose the old lotería curtain - I threw it away (I did say a few appreciative words over it before I closed the lid on the dumpster).  This is its replacement.

I don't love it but it will do for now. I like it well enough and it goes with the fish on the mirror (they were supposed to stick to the bottom of a bathtub to keep bathers from slipping, but since they didn't stick they might have made things worse).

I can certainly live with it while I continue searching for my perfect dream shower curtain or fabric. Wish me luck! (The framed poster/drawing in the background is the work of Eli, our second grandson, who went to a wonderful preschool that encouraged creativity and cooperative work. A few of the kids worked together on these big pieces, and he was able to tell me who did which part; the princess in the pointed hat in the middle is his.)

Privyet! Bonjour!

That's hello, in Russian and French. Yesterday's lunch reminded me of something I learned in a history class many years ago, that is, how Tsar Peter the Great became enamored of French culture, which led him to institute sweeping cultural changes that upset many Russians, like the traditionalists who refused to cut their beards when the Tsar ordered it and so had to pay large fines or taxes.
      Our lunch was both French and Russian, simple and delicious, and I doubt if it would have upset anyone. It was also my first try at borscht, something I've eaten and loved in restaurants but never quite got around to making myself. The recipe I used is from the Russian Cooking volume of the old Time-Life Foods of the World collection of books, with just a couple of adaptations. I served it in big cappuccino mugs with the traditional dollop of sour cream.

Making the borscht was actually easier than I expected, though I broke the process into two stages. On the first day I made the stock, which included cooking the meat, and then a couple of days later I put the soup together.

For the stock:
1 1/2 pounds brisket or other boneless beef (I used a chuck roast)
1 large onion, roughly chopped
1 large carrot, thickly sliced
the leafy top few inches of a head of celery, thickly sliced
a handful of parsley, maybe 6 sprigs
1 bay leaf
salt to taste (I used about 1 1/2 teaspoons)
soup bones if you have them (I didn't)

Put everything in a big pot with 4 quarts of water, bring to a boil, skim off any scum and foam that may rise to the top. Partially cover the pot, reduce the heat, and simmer 1 to 1 1/2 hours till the beef is tender but not falling apart. Remove the meat and when it's cool enough cut into 1-inch cubes. Continue to simmer the stock a couple more hours, then strain it into a large bowl and discard the veggies and bones. You'll use 2 quarts of the stock for the borscht, and if you're not making it right away, put the meat into a container and pour enough stock in to cover the meat and refrigerate, along with the rest of the stock. If you have extra stock, there are always uses for it: as the liquid in cooking rice or other grains, in another soup, etc.

For the actual borscht:
1 T. butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 1/2 pounds beets, peeled and julienned (I peeled them over the sink to avoid mess and stains)
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. sugar
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes
2 tsp. salt (or to taste)
Freshly ground black pepper
2 quarts beef stock
1/2 pound white cabbage, quartered, cored, and coarsely shredded
1 1/2 pounds boiled beef from stock, cut into 1" cubes
4 sprigs of parsley
1 bay leaf
Sour cream

In a 6- to 8-quart pot, melt the butter over moderate heat. Add the onions and, stirring frequently, cook 3 to 5 minutes, till they are soft but not brown. Stir in the beets, then add the wine vinegar, sugar, tomatoes, 1 tsp salt, a few grindings of black pepper, and a couple of cups of stock. Cover the pan and simmer 50 minutes.
    Pour in the remaining stock and the cabbage, bay leaf, and parsley. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for another 45 minutes to an hour. Remove the parsley and bay leaf and serve accompanied by sour cream to be added at the diner's discretion.

There are various kinds of borscht. This is Borshch Moskovskii, i.e., Moscow style, but the cookbook also includes Borshch Ukraïnski, Ukrainian style, which is more complicated in terms of ingredients, as it includes potatoes, celery root, parsley root, and a parsnip. (If you like parsnips, check out my recipe for parsnip soup; it's easy and delicious! http://morning-glory-garden.blogspot.com/search/label/parsnips) There's cold borscht as well, which I'm sure will be wonderful in summer; I'm looking forward to trying it too.  And be sure to use the beet greens for another meal! They're tasty and so good for us.

The French part of lunch was much, much simpler. I'd seen pictures of the French way of serving radishes, thinly sliced and arranged on slices of good bread and butter - that image is why I always plant the D'Avignon or French breakfast radishes in my garden, though again, I'd never gotten around to actually trying it. But I had these gorgeous, big, but not too spicy-hot radishes from the farmer's market, too pretty, really, to just get lost in a salad,

and a nice crusty baguette that I sliced on the diagonal to get wider slices, and this is what accompanied the soup:

What looks like pepper on a couple of the slices is actually Hawaiian black salt; it really does have a taste all its own.
        Even if you don't have the time or inclination to tackle the borscht (though it spends most of its time simmering unattended and isn't really all that labor-intensive), do consider this simple little radish-and-bread-and-butter accompaniment to a meal. It's a lovely, fresh-tasting, crunchy combination.