snow!

oranges

This time of year, we bring oranges to the table and the smell alone is enough to evoke Christmas memories and remind us of the traditions we once loved dear.

In our house growing up, oranges were a holiday treat. We'd shave the zest into Mummy's English shortbread. We'd flavor the brandy butter for the figgy pudding with orange liquor. Every year we'd receive a large box of fresh Florida oranges from Mama Sonia and Papa Roger—each fruit individually wrapped. When Santa came he'd always leave an orange in the toe of our stocking. (That's how we knew we were at the bottom!)

We'd make pomander balls by poking a plump orange with fragrant whole cloves and hanging it to dry. As a child this was one of my favorite Christmas activities—and it still is! Moreso than gift-giving, carol-singing, Christmas-shopping and cookie baking. Now, whenever I smell orange and clove, I think, "Christmas, special, family, shortbread, happy, cozy, pomander ball!"

I love the idea of relegating the orange—such a special fruit—to holiday enjoyment. These days, when we're able to get any kind of food or fruit any time of the year, I yearn for the simplicity of yesteryears' traditions. When having certain things at certain times made those things special (oranges in December, strawberries in June). We find nourishment in that simplicity and we pass it on so that others may also know that feeling and grow from it. So here, I pass on our beloved pomander balls to be enjoyed during the holidays:

How to Make Pomander Balls

You'll need: 1 orange, ribbon and whole cloves.

Wrap the ribbon around the orange once, then twist and wrap the other way like a present. Tie the ends into a bow. Insert the cloves into the skin of the orange until the surface is evenly covered. If the fruit is juicy, you can roll the pomander ball in ground cinnamon to absorb the liquid. Then hang the fruit to dry in an airy place. Retie the ribbon every couple of days as the fruit dries and shrinks. Eventually, after a few weeks the fruit will harden and become completely dry. At that point, you can tie off the ends of the ribbon into a knot and hang as an ornament on the tree!

hugs & love

By Emma H. W. Kouri


My sister Penelope and I have spent 4 days with our grandmother in Winter Park, Florida. This is the first time we've been to visit (together) since Papa Roger died last February. Everything is different now.

Mama Sonia is not the peppy, let's-go-shopping-and-out-to-lunch grandmother anymore. She doesn't want to go out, or even leave her apartment. She doesn't want to get dressed, and just wants to sit in her chair and think (and read, and watch T.V.).

When we were growing up, Mama Sonia was our sassy Puerto Rican grandmother who always spoiled us. She never forgot a birthday, she always took us to the latest Disney theme park, and she loved to go shopping. She was an amazing cook and loved to entertain. She has spent much of her life entertaining and socializing; nurturing others with her culinary skills and her knack for conversation.

Papa Roger always chose the route out of the building where he would run into the least amount of people. However, if he was with Mama Sonia, they had to go out the front so she could see/greet everybody who was out and about. Wish them happy birthday, tell them she is so sorry for their loss. Whatever people were experiencing, she knew it and she even knew the names of their loved ones. That Mama Sonia is not here now.

Mama Sonia does not remember birthdays or anniversaries, and most of the time she forgets what day it is. She has a new routine now, and it is one of solitude and peace. I have to say that I was extremely worried about her—she hasn't walked out of the door since we've been here! But, when I was having a glass (or two) of wine at Park Plaza Gardens today with Penelope, we talked and tried to understand. Here are some points that we came up with:

1. We could never, ever, understand the pain and loss that Mama Sonia is experiencing right now, since Papa Roger died
2. We cannot imagine what it's like to be (almost) 84
3. Mama Sonia's needs NEED to come first.

So, we came home today with a new attitude. Mama Sonia needs to be showered with love, and not judged for her actions. We bought her roses and the chocolate-covered popcorn that she loves. We made her (well, she asked actually) drink 2 glasses of wine with us. We made her laugh.

We had a talk with her and discovered her own take on things. First, she says, everybody is different in how they deal with things. She really doesn't want to go out and really doesn't feel sad when she's alone. She feels badly that people are worried about her. We told her that she needs to follow her heart; that she should not go out for anybody but herself. Only she knows what is best for her, after all she is 84 and full of wisdom. She still looks amazing, has great skin, and even smells wonderful! The old Mama Sonia may never come back to us. But the new one is real, honest, and just as nurturing as the old one. But she needs to be nurtured and accepted now. She needs to be nourished. By nourished, I mean (using her own words, after 2 glasses of wine):

To be hugged
To love others
To love yourself.

We love our grandmother and hope we have many more special times with her in the future.

hungry creatures

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one:

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

(Amen)

—All Things Bright and Beautiful, hymn by Ce­cil F. Al­ex­an­der

gratitude

By Penelope Wall


For Americans especially, this particular week leading up to Thanksgiving is one in which nourishment is inextricably linked to the idea of gratitude. We give thanks for our bountiful feast and the bounty in our lives.

We should always be grateful, not just on Thanksgiving. But it's human nature, I think, to want to compartmentalize our rituals--and to say, for example, "On this day I'm going to be especially grateful," and "on that day I'm going to be especially loving." And to put marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes for just that one meal during the year.

What if we had marshmallows on top of our sweet potatoes all the time? For one, the dish wouldn't be special anymore. We might lose sight of its importance (do we know what the importance of marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is?). And, we might all become overweight, because marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is certainly indulgent.

We reserve that wonderful treat for special occasions so that all of the other days may build up in anticipation. In other words, we give our symbolic moments strength by letting them shine just one day of the year.

And we like traditions to dictate how we spend our days and how we celebrate--with roast turkey, of course.

But in our family at Thanksgiving, turkey never really took center stage (my mother's English after all). Some years, we just couldn't afford it. Other years, one of us was vegetarian and it was tofurky or bust. Other years, we'd say, "let's just have fish!" And so, when I look back and take note of the common thread throughout the years, it wouldn't be the roast turkey or the marshmallows; it would have to be, well, the gratitude--ritualized by going around in a circle and saying out loud something we're thankful for.

If you really think about it though, what you're thankful for changes every day, every hour. What you're thankful for on Thanksgiving is really just a snap-shot in time. You might wake up thinking, "I'm grateful for the sunshine on my face." And you might go to bed that night thankful for the dark to woo you into slumber. Such is the fleeting nature of human emotion. Which is why, Thanksgiving is one holiday that doesn't really benefit from the build-up of anticipation. Rather, it should glow beneath the surface throughout our days.

And so in the spirit of gratitude every day, I want to say:

Right now, I'm thankful that I didn't hit the two deer that leaped right in front of my car on the drive home from work tonight. I'm thankful for the wild (alive) turkeys in my parents' yard (and they're thankful, I'm sure, for the tofurky). I'm thankful for Suki kneading my belly and Au Lait warming my feet. For the birds on the feeder and the entertaining squirrels. I'm thankful for all the creatures in this world that live beside us nourishing us quietly and perfectly in their own way.