Blog Index - October 2016

October 1, 2016	Fall is in the air – which makes me turn to Fall Cleaning
October 2, 2016	Hoot Owl Cookies
October 3, 2016	Remember the importance of “now” in the garden cycle.
October 4, 2016	Bulb Planting – session 2 – Going to Plan B.
October 5, 2016	All in the family – writers of one kind or another.
October 6, 2016	Another reprint from the original column – Thoughts from Quail Thicket
October 7, 2016	If you want the best seat in the house, you have to move the cat.
October 8, 2016	Please take my word for it; switching from summer clothes to winter clothes isn’t always easy.
October 9, 2016	Usefulness is not impaired by imperfection.  You can drink from a chipped cup.
October 10, 2016	This is a family heirloom story that is not yet complete.
October 11, 2016	Surprises in the Fall Garden
October 12, 2016	Birthday dinner in Paris, France, in 1987 –  Part I
October 13, 2016	Birthday dinner in Paris, France, in 1987 – Conclusion
October 14, 2016	PSSST . . . let me tell you about my secret gardening weapon
October 15, 2016	Dumpster Dive Lilies
October 16, 2016	“I Dare You” by author William H. Danforth
October 17, 2016	Tidbits, Teasers & Wanderings
October 18, 2016	White lace and Promises . . .
October 19, 2016	Have you ever watched leaves fall of trees in the Fall?
October 20, 2016	“Cat here is a no name slob.”
October 21, 2016	“I’m a cheapskate at heart . . . or am I frugal?”
October 22, 2016	Oops, is it my age or my education showing?
October 23, 2016	I opened the door to the aroma of home baked muffins . . .
October 24, 2016	SNEAKERS
October 25, 2016	Another treasurer from my archives while I am under the burden of a head-cold.  Vintage Potpourri – Column No. 1
October 26, 2016	Deer sightings in Three  Acts
October 27, 2016	A place for everything and everything in its place.  Benjamin Franklin
October 28, 2016	Box of Fruit from the Band Fund Raiser
October 29, 2016	The lost art of the heart felt Thank you note.
October 30, 2016	Occasionally I buy silly little things.
October 31, 2016	Hoot Owl Cookies [a technique update] and Golden Beef Stew [recipe]

October 31, 2016.  Hoot Owl Cookies [a technique update] and Golden Beef Stew [recipe]

          As promised, recipe for Golden Beef Stew. This relates back to the September 3, 2016, blog.

AND relating back to the October 2^nd blog I’ve a few techniques to share for making the Hoot Owl cookies if you plan on making them today or for next year.

          You will need wax paper.  The best buy on getting just enough cashews for the beaks – locate the “single packets of whole cashews” that you buy for snacks.  Some of the dollar stores carry those. They are much cheaper than a can or bag of whole cashews.

          As I thought, the recipe does not make 4 dozen – it really only makes 2 or 2 ½ dozen.  Reminder:  Use REAL butter.  The recipe is old so - it has the "old" block size for Baker's chocolate.  Read the back of the Baker's chocolate carefully to be certain you are counting the blocks correctly.

          I also use parchment paper to line the baking sheet, as it makes them come out perfectly.  Depending on your oven it is 8 to 12 minutes.  Better check them at 8 – then give them more time, if needed.  You only want them to ‘lightly’ brown.

          When you roll out the center [chocolate] portion, take a tape measure* and slip it around and see what the diameter is.  Very handy in knowing how wide to make the light colored dough.  Give the light colored dough about ¾  inch more so that the connection/overlap has enough light colored dough to do the job.  This is the “make it or break” part of this recipe – take your time and think it through.  You want the dark roll to be completely encompassed with an equal layer of light colored dough.

          I make a fat roll out of the light dough on a piece of wax paper. [Same length as dark roll.]  Then I put a second piece of wax paper on top of it and squash it flat to the width I want [matching the tape measurement* above plus ¾ inch]. Then I push in the ends to make it the same length as the dark dough.  I remove the wax paper I used to squash it.  Place the dark roll on top of the light dough and use the wax paper to assist me in getting the light roll around the dark roll.  I pat it together with my fingers.  Then when it has fused together, I roll it a couple of times to make the roll smooth.  I use the two pieces of wax paper to roll it up firmly and then put it in the refrigerator to chill.

          They really need the chilling or they don’t cut well.

          I did something unusual for me. [Baked the dessert while my guest was here – not before!]

 I had a dear friend for dinner and I had made an oven Golden Beef Stew . . . recipe attached.  It is baked at a 350 degree oven.  I left the oven on when I removed the Beef Stew to rest 15 minutes before serving.  I popped the cookies in the oven and they cooked just before we were eating dinner.

It is all about “artistic” expression.

          Once your cookie dough is chilled, bring the oven up to temperature.  Make the slices, and then allow them to warm up enough so that you can pinch two slices together and make the ears as below. [I actually slice them on the parchment paper that is laid on a cookie sheet, then I don’t have to move them around too much.]

Take two of the slices and lap them together a bit, press the cashew for the beak [which will join the two lapped slices].  Then pinch the upper outside edges for ears [about 1:00 o’clock location on the right side and 11:00 o’clock on the left side].  Add the chocolate chip bits for eyes.  

My guest got to see the artistic handy craft before baking and got to enjoy the soft, warm, just baked cookies as they came out of the oven after dinner.

Golden Beef Stew – four to six hearty servings

I use a le Creuset Dutch oven for this baked in the oven at 350 degrees oven

2 ½ pounds chuck roast – cut into bite sized pieces.

[A piece should fit on a tablespoon.]

2 tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil

1 butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1 inch cubes

5 fat carrots, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

3 small onions or 2 large onions, peeled and cut into chunks

2 large potatoes, peeled and cut into one inch chunks

4 fat cloves of garlic – squashed with a knife, skins removed

Salt and pepper

¾ cup golden sherry – or brandy

¾ cups good red wine – Cabernet Sauvignon is a good choice

On the top of the stove, melt the butter with the olive oil in the Dutch oven.  Be sure meat is dry – pat with paper towels to be certain.  Then dust liberally with salt and pepper.  Rub into the meat.  Braise the meat until some are slightly browned.

Turn off stove top.  Add the vegetables as you cut them.  Pour over the liquid.  Put cover on the Dutch oven and bake in a 350 degree oven for 2 to 3 hours.  At the 1 hour mark, check to see that there is enough liquid – depending on the weather – it could need more moisture, add 1 cup water if dry.  Every ½ hour do the same.  Don’t rush it; you want the meat to be tender.  Usually sometime between the 2 ½ to 3 hour mark the meat is tender and the liquid is pretty low.  Add 2 cups of water.  Turn off the oven or remove from the stove and let rest for 15 minutes to drop in temperature a bit.  Keep the cover on.

          Serve in low bowls with some nice red wine and crusty bread.  I allow my guests to season with sea salt and ground pepper to their taste.

          Enjoy!

October 30, 2016 - Occasionally I buy silly little things.

          I was feeling blue around Christmas a few years back.  It was one thing after another – tires for the car, water heater had to be replaced, and then I was down with the flu for weeks.  When I finally shook the flu I went poking around looking for some sort of inexpensive little “treat” for myself to cheer me up.   

          I happened upon The MIGHTY DOLLAR’s unusual back-door sale.  You went around the side of the building and in the back.   It was some sort of special-deal-that-day-only sale.

          I poked around, all very curious items.  I didn’t have anyone on my Christmas list that needed anything they were offering, but then I spotted some simply charming red Cardinal ceramic salt and pepper shakers.   What made them extra special was they had a tiny magnet at their breasts that drew them together.

          I pulled them apart, they came together softly.  They were charming and sort of silly and I swear I paid no more than $2 to $3 for them.

I bought them because they reminded me of the Hallmark “Kiss-Kiss” bears that were advertised about 15 years ago. [I know some of you must remember that commercial.] The advertisement was a real heart-string-tugger as Hallmark Cards ads usually are.   In the ad, several young fellas were bringing gifts to a gal and they were all sort of duds. But, then one fella came with two bears.  He held them apart and then let them get closer until their magnet mouths kissed.  The young woman was pleased and chose that fella.

When the advertisement came on TV I said, “Ahhh” when the stuffed bears kissed.  I looked at my husband and he admitted he had missed the commercial.   Trust me, it was shown often and when he finally saw the commercial he saw the charm in it.  I cooed, “I’d like those,” and probably even batted my big brown eyes for coquettish effect.

So, when I brought the cardinals home and put them on the shelf I made certain I showed him when he came in from golf.

“Look what I found,” I called him over.

I pulled them apart and let them click together.  I said,   “There is a magnet . . .”

He said, “Like the KISS-KISS bears I never found that year.  I drove everywhere and not a single Hallmark store within driving distance had them.” He gave the two red cardinals a tug apart and let them click.  The silly thing made him smile too.

When I take the cardinals down to dust them, I never get tired of the novelty of their secret magnet under the surface of their breasts where they pull and click softly together.

We may not have the KISS-KISS Bears, but we got the silly, snuggling cardinal salt & pepper shakers.

October 29, 2016 - The lost art of the heart felt thank you note.

          This is an update to my October 16^th Blog.  

          This refers back to the blog that had the church yard sale and they let the customer decide what price the items would be.  I made the comment, “How do you haggle with God? You simply can’t.”

          At the time I thought it was clever, but today I am even more impressed.  I received an old fashioned – snail mail – thank you note in my mailbox from the church that ran the yard sale.

A lovely card: “I thank my God every time I remember you.”  Philippians 1:3 is on the cover of the card with a picture of a path in a green forest.

Inside on the left fold is handwritten:  “A gift opens the way for the giver and ushers him into the presence of the great.”  Proverbs 18:16

          Inside on the right fold is an expression printed: “A heartfelt thank-you for your kind expression of” [white out of the word and] “support” hand written in.  AHH, here is a person after my own heart.  My Mom and I have been doing this for years; if the wording of a card is not “spot-on” we cross it out and revise it, or add to it. 

          My husband simply hates it when I do that to his cards.  He always says, “Can’t you just find a card with the right words?”

          “NO,” is always my answer. I even want to re-write other writers.

          WELL – they sure took the written thank you note to a totally NEW LEVEL.  I clutched it to my chest, smiled and said.  “WOW.”  I will tuck it into a book or a drawer and it will be noticed again, and I will read it again in the future and it will probably have the same impact.

          Impact is what is it all about from the “snail-mail” old fashioned, put-a-stamp-on-a-note and drop it in the United States Mail.  It is tangible.  You can savor it.  You can keep it.  It is powerful.  More powerful than a phone call that evaporates into the high or low drama of the day.

          And, that is why people like me enjoy them so much.

          Thank you notes are a lost art.  Somehow I would like to create a movement to make them an everyday thing again. It seems the last vestage is the bridal thank you note. In my mind I can mentally click off my list of those brides that did send me thank you notes for their lovely, well-chosen wedding gifts and those that never sent me thank you notes.  It is a terrible thing a memory like that. [I need to learn how to forgive; I will work on that when I retire.]

          At this point in my life . . . part of me still expects to see one, and then part of me knows that along with cursive, the art of the handwritten letter, the art of the thank you note has been lost to texting, emails, or a mere telephone call.

          But, just because everyone else is missing out on one of the simplest of things – the golden opportunities to send out little notes that make people smile and think and clutch them too their heart – doesn’t mean I can’t make a final stand and start a crusade to keep the old fashioned ‘snail mail’ thank you note alive.

          Will you join me?

Blog Index - October 2016

Thoughts from Quail Thicket –

Observations from a Country home.

 

October 1, 2016	Fall is in the air – which makes me turn to Fall Cleaning
October 2, 2016	Hoot Owl Cookies
October 3, 2016	Remember the importance of “now” in the garden cycle.
October 4, 2016	Bulb Planting – session 2 – Going to Plan B.
October 5, 2016	All in the family – writers of one kind or another.
October 6, 2016	Another reprint from the original column – Thoughts from Quail Thicket
October 7, 2016	If you want the best seat in the house, you have to move the cat.
October 8, 2016	Please take my word for it; switching from summer clothes to winter clothes isn’t always easy.
October 9, 2016	Usefulness is not impaired by imperfection.  You can drink from a chipped cup.
October 10, 2016	This is a family heirloom story that is not yet complete.
October 11, 2016	Surprises in the Fall Garden
October 12, 2016	Birthday dinner in Paris, France, in 1987 – Part I
October 13, 2016	Birthday dinner in Paris, Francie, in 1987 – Conclusion
October 14, 2016	PSSST . . . let me tell you about my secret gardening weapon
October 15, 2016	Dumpster Dive Lilies
October 16, 2016	“I Dare You” by author William H. Danforth
October 17, 2016	Tidbits, Teasers & Wanderings
October 18, 2016	White lace and Promises . . .
October 19, 2016	Have you ever watched leaves fall of trees in the Fall?
October 20, 2016	“Cat here is a no name slob.”
October 21, 2016	“I’m a cheapskate at heart . . . or am I frugal?”
October 22, 2016	Oops, is it my age or my education showing?
October 23, 2016	I opened the door to the aroma of home baked muffins . . .
October 24, 2016	SNEAKERS
October 25, 2016	Another treasurer from my archives while I am under the burden of a head-cold.  Vintage Potpourri – Column No. 1
October 26, 2016	Deer sightings in Three  Acts
October 27, 2016	A place for everything and everything in its place.  Benjamin Franklin
October 28, 2016	Box of Fruit from the Band Fund Raiser
October 29, 2016	The lost art of the heart felt Thank you note.
October 30, 2016	Occasionally I buy silly little things.
October 31, 2016	Hoot Owl Cookies [a technique update] and Golden Beef Stew [recipe]

          

October 28, 2016 - Box of fruit from the Band Fund Raiser

My current quest for Vitamin C to assist in getting over this cold prompted me to buy a couple of heavy pink grapefruit yesterday. 

When I was a kid, I remember my Mom used to cut the grapefruit in half and then use a serrated knife to cut around the membrane and then down the section centers so that we could spoon out pieces of membrane free grapefruit.  

Earlier this month I asked the rhetorical question – do they still have Home Economics class, and I still haven’t heard a comment of yes or no. [I was shocked, yes, shocked, when I found out a few years ago young students are no longer taught penmanship, long hand, cursive, whatever it is called.  They all print now!]  Ooops off topic . . .

But, when I was a freshman in high school we learned some useful things. In Home Economic Class I was thrilled to learn how to properly section a grapefruit without the membranes.  I thought that was wonderful thing and I do it often when I get really nice grapefruit.   The frugal in me is talking now . . . used to be you could inexpensively buy already sectioned red grapefruit in a jar . . . but those days are long gone.  I had sticker shock the other day and ended up with plump ruby red fruit that I will have to peel and section myself.  

I happen to mention this useful skill because . . . . .

. . . . .the other day my neighbor’s teenage son rang the doorbell.  I answered.  He knew I was one of his “auto-buy” neighbors for the Box of Fruit from the Band fund raiser.  He didn’t have to say much as we have done this a half-dozen years now.  He simply opened the slick glossy brochure with the order form on the left and he pointed to the deluxe box that I had purchased for the last few years.  “This is what you ordered last year, same thing?”  He knew the fruit was just for a household for two, but he was going for the confident “same-as-last-year deluxe box”. He oozed with salesmen confidence that I felt I had helped build in him over the years.  It struck me, gosh, he is a senior this year, now what am I going to do next year?  He will be off to college.

Last year I bought too big of a box that even included pears.  I had to actually give much of the fruit away to my single friends for fear it would rot before I could eat it all up.  This year I went straight to the ruby red grapefruit as they last well. I noticed I was his first sale as I wrote my name on line 1 on the order entry form.  He thanked me for the sale and then did the follow-up, need your $ on delivery.  Bounded down the steps with a big smile and off to the next neighbor.

In a month or so, he’ll come back with a big box of fruit and it will be wonderful, and fresh, and from Florida, and the Band will have made their goal.  It will be a nice WIN-WIN for everyone.

As he left I remembered the first time he came to my door to sell something.  He had a single digit age with his Mom standing inches behind him on the top step prompting him at every point in the sales presentation.  I looked down on this towheaded little boy and smiled and said “YES”.   I knew it was his first taste of salesmanship and possibly his first “yes.”

The next year, his Mom was on the lawn – 6 feet away stage whispering to him she said, “She was a good customer last year – just ask – you know what to say . . .”

When I said YES a wonderful ear-to-ear-smile of accomplishment lite up his little face; he had made a sale. He grew quick, the years have slipped by.   His Mom didn’t have to watch from the front porch anymore or even be around as he set out on his Band fruit sales as he grew up.

When he became a gangling teenager he really grew in his confidence with me.  He would chat a while to “warm me up” and then launch into his sales pitch with a confident smile. 

Some people don’t like their children having to sell things for school or organizations.  They have various reasons for not liking it.  But, I feel it is a necessary ‘hands-on’ education for young people, best handled with a caring parent close by to coach them.

In my opinion, everyone has to learn how to sell.  You sell your ideas to your friends, you sell what you have learned in class to your teacher, you sell yourself [your skills and qualities] to a potential employer, once you get that job you sell your product or services to clients and customers.  Every job, actually everything you do in life is a “sell” or what we call “customer service” skills.  It is more than that; I feel it is a life skill.

So, I have been the ‘nice neighbor’ across the street that helped him understand and learn the following in his salesmanship course over the years:

the ‘she always buys’

the ‘easiest sale ever’

the ‘sure sell’

the ‘easy target’

or simply this last encounter, the ‘SLAM DUNK’.

It makes me feel good that he has learned a life skill he will use for many decades just by coming across the street to sell a neighbor a box of Fruit from the Band fund raiser.

October 27, 2016 - A place for everything and everything in its place.  Benjamin Franklin

My husband announced he was making mashed potatoes.  That sounded comforting and I didn’t budge from my curled up state. He is a very good cook and very able.  He had peeled the potatoes, cut them in cubes and they were already boiling in water on the stove.  He opened the cabinet and pulled out the electric hand mixer which was exactly where it was supposed to be because I do have part of this household set up correctly with “a place for everything and everything in its place”.

          I still have this lingering cold and my husband is making ‘comfort food’, or what you might call ‘old fashioned home cooking’ to drive my cold away. Having a cold he knows I am not going to be very ambitious about making dinner as I am curled up on the couch in my pajamas with a cup of hot tea.

‘Comfort food’ you turn to when you are under the weather with a cold or sore throat as in home-made chicken soup or mashed potatoes.

For kicks I slip off the couch to the computer for a quick peak on the internet for a list of ‘comfort food’ and I noticed several items are on my list:

Apple pie,

Chicken soup,

Mashed potatoes,

Pasta,

Pot roast, and

Surprisingly, Clam chowder was listed.

          Clam chowder; How about that?  My Mom used to make me clam chowder when I was a kid and had a cold.  Mom often said, “Your grandmother says that the clams in the clam chowder chase the cold germs right out of you.” I remember always feeling better after the chowder when I was a kid.  I guess it worked through the process of “grandmother’s love” passed on to me in my cup of hot chowder.

         

          “This is the same one I had at the bachelor pad, isn’t it?”  He asked as he unwound the cord on the yellow Sunbeam – Burst of power – 5 speed hand mixer.  He retrieved the beaters from a small drawer, assembled it, and plugged it in.

          “Yes,” I answered thinking what a quaint term bachelor pad was.  But, he was housekeeping in his bachelor pad a couple of years before we married.  I return to my cozy seat to listen to him reminisce.

          He mentions the friend that had given him the mixer and then he mentions the blender he got from another friend, and then the ironing board, and the two white ginger jar lamps  . . . he is merrily into his memory lane as he works in the kitchen.

I thought, ‘we have all those items still – after 40 years – frugal, aren’t we?’  They have made it through all our cross-country corporate moves and the three moves to different houses in this county. 

          I am thinking of all the food he made for me when he was a bachelor, garlic mashed potatoes, Chantilly crème for desserts, home-made sauce with meatballs and sausage . . . frozen brandy alexanders . . . YES, he knows how to get to my heart – through my stomach.

          I smile thinking we are lucky or fortunate, especially with an electric mixer lasting 40+ years.  That prompted me to slip to the computer again and check on line for a Sun Beam mixer out of curiosity.   Up pops eBay with our exact vintage 1970s mixer for sale ranging from $35.99 plus shipping down to $14.99. 

          “What are you looking for?  This one still works; you’re not going to buy a new one, are you?” He asks.

          “No, I was just wondering what they cost now, but, we aren’t the only ones who have gotten 40 years plus out of the mixer,” I report showing him the screen where mixers just like ours are pictured.

My husband is surprised that people were selling their “vintage” mixers.

          I thought, ‘They don’t make appliances like that now-a-days,’ and returned to my cozy couch seat. We can now call it “vintage”.  There used to be a name for that I learned in economics 101 – built in obsolesces or something about the economy of hard goods versus soft goods.  The phrase escapes me now, but we had just purchased a vacuum cleaner because the last one hadn’t lasted but a few years.

          He states, “They don’t make appliances like this anymore.  They make them now with built in obsolescence . . . ,” his voice trailed away.

          I smile thinking, ‘Yes, we’ve been together a long time when he starts saying what I am thinking.’

Later, after dinner,

          I notice the mixer has its cord all wound up nice and neat and it has been left on the countertop and not put away.

          “I don’t know where it goes,” he claims.

          “Right where you got it . . .” I say opening the cabinet and putting it in its place.

          I wonder, he easily found it, but couldn’t figure out where it went back to?  Obviously there has got to be some sort of flaw in this theory:  a place for everything and everything in its place.  Do we need an ‘item marker’ to be left where something has been removed in order that it goes back?   NAH.

October 26, 2016 - Deer sightings in Three Acts. 

Act One:

          It simply is not the least bit unusual seeing deer when you live in the country.  But, they have suddenly returned to our property after an extended absence.  We used to see them daily, then weekly and then slowly fewer sightings and now a long spell with few sightings.

          When the house was built, we had a clear view of the hillside in front of the Cornerstone Baptist Church.  Often, in the afternoons we would see herds of deer come out of the forest and graze on the terraced hillside.  Then more houses were built in the neighborhood and the church started to mow that terraced property and the deer moved elsewhere.

          Many mornings in our first 10 years we would be walking the dog along the back property line and suddenly we would be aware of deer on the steep downward slope of kudzu covered property bordering our property to the west.  There was a trickle of a branch at the base of that slope and often numerous deer heads would rise in unison above the camouflage of the shoulder high green kudzu and stare intently at my dog and me.  The dog didn’t happen to be looking, but I lingered and stared back.  Those big eyes, dark noses and those huge ears tuned in to my every movement.

           It never ceases to give me a thrill to see deer as they are such beautiful creatures.  After a few moments something would startle them and they’d disappear with a bound or two into the kudzu their white tails flashing as they retreated to safety.  Even that was exciting, however disappointing as they were gone out of view.

          The other morning my husband went out the door in the early a.m. for his “health walk” and came back almost instantly.

           “Two deer,” he called from the door.

          “Where,” I asked getting up from the couch, my coffee, and the newspaper.

          “Up on the hill near the willows . . .” he said as he came into the living from.

          He continued, “You can probably see them from the kitchen,” as he walked into the kitchen falling in behind me as I moved to the kitchen sink window to catch a glimpse.

          I spotted them easily just over the crest of the hill.

          “Aren’t they lovely,”  I gushed.

          I could see the shoulders of the large female deer to the right with that alert stance staring with ears out to the side cupped forward looking at the kitchen window.  The smaller one, a yearling, I could see only its head that looked up nonchalantly, looking around, and seemingly not concerned dropped its head out of view to continue to graze.

          As usual, I was mesmerized.  My heart sang with delight.  Oh, deer, they are back!  We watched together for a few moments and then my husband left my side and went quietly out the front door to continue his walk.  The alert female deer flipped one ear listening intently as he went up the road, gave him a quick glance, basically ignored him, and turned back to gaze at me in the window.

          It is nice they are back even if they do like to eat some of my finer shrubs and hostas to the ground.

Act Two:

          At the end of the day of my Daddy’s funeral, my Mom asked that I take her back to the grave to check that it was done correctly.  I had already planned on doing so when I took back the folding chairs we had borrowed from our church for the overload crowd of friends and relatives.

          The friends and relatives lingered way into the evening and it was just about dusk when Mom and I finally got a chance to make our pilgrimage to the cemetery.  I helped Mom into Dad’s car and traveled up Randall Road to Highland Street and took the left to the Cemetery.  The Cemetery is the newer one, Dad and Mom’s headstone is in the first section on the right and is enclosed on two sides by tall pines.

          We got out silently to the soft whoosh of the winds in the pines as they rustle their needles.  All was as it should be; the grass clumps had been replaced and tamped down and the earlier-in-the-week quick pruning of the boxwoods flanking the Sacred Heart adorned headstone looked fine in the peaceful fading light of the evening.  We silently returned to the car and drove down Highland Street into the center of town.

          Just as we were getting into town, where the old railroad tracks used to be near Carter Street, we saw a trio of small deer.  They were sauntering, yes, sauntering in the middle of the road as if out for a stroll on a soft summer’s evening.

          I slowed down to stop and we admired them in the headlights.

          “Daddy sent them . . .” my Mom said brightly.

          I thought, ‘Dad does fast work up there [meaning Heaven].  He already knows what department to go to send a sign of affection to his Babs.’

          We delivered the chairs back to the church.  I carried them down to the cellar where they belonged and we went home.  Al, my oldest brother and his wife, Carol, were staying with us during the days of the funeral. We told them about the deer.

          The next morning I was up making coffee early and Mom, my brother and his wife were in the living room. Suddenly we noticed a large deer coming from the pasture side of the house to the front lawn in full view of the living room bay window.

          “Look, Deer!” said my Mom excited.  All of us jumped up and gazed out the bay window.  Not just one deer, but a whole herd of them. They circled the yard in a leisurely manner, then one jumped the stone wall and bound across the road into the neighbor’s woods and the rest followed suit, white flag tails flashing.  What a sight.

          “Dad sent them, didn’t want you and Carol to be left out,”  Mom said with a comforting soft smile.

          Now you can understand why I can’t help to be moved almost to tears when I see a deer.

          A few years later I attended the funeral of a good friend and the reading for the Mass was based on the following scripture:

As the deer longs for streams of water,

so my soul longs for you, O God. – Psalms 42.2

Act Three:

My good friend’s mother died.  I sat with my friend and as her mother lay dying in the hospital and then later at Hospice.  The day of her mother’s funeral as I was getting dressed to go to the church, my husband calls from the kitchen,

“Hey, a deer is almost on our patio . . .”

Half-dressed I rush out and there was a young deer, a yearling.  It was no more than 10 feet from our patio.  The closest I had ever seen a deer to our house.  The deer pawed the ground as if asking for attention, then rose up on her hind legs and pawed the ground again asking for more attention as if to say, “Listen to me!”  She stepped a few more steps closer and she definitely had my complete attention.  I had never seen hove pouncing before.

I surmised it was a message from Mrs. Lane.  I whispered to the deer,

“Yes, I’ll let your daughter know you arrived safely in heaven.”

I started to cry thinking, ‘I hope I can tell Judy without crying that her Mom, like my Dad, had quickly found the message department.