Welcome Fall!

Today is the first day of autumn. It is also a feast for the senses. Sights, sounds and smells unique to this time of year abound. The brilliant New Mexico sky, always a crisp, bright blue, seems bluer than ever. The nights and early mornings are wonderfully cool, although daytime temperatures still climb into the mid 80s. I can sleep with my bedroom window open, which is wonderful after months of having the house closed up against the searing heat of the desert. The air conditioner remains remarkably quiet much of the day.

I love autumn. Especially in the desert, it is such a refreshing change from the constant heat. If we're lucky, the annual 'monsoon' season will bring us some much-needed rain as well, although that hasn't happened yet. Fall in central New Mexico also heralds the roasting of green chiles, a wonderful smell (although I have yet to buy a 30-pound box of chiles, roasted or otherwise) and the annual Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, the world's largest. I love the sight of hundreds of hot air balloons gliding overhead, and there is something special about the sound of the propane burners when they light to heat the air and keep the balloons aloft.

Birds have started their migrations, following the Rio Grande on their journey south. On a morning walk along the bosque, I heard the honking of geese and the noises of what appeared to be hundreds of sand hill cranes flying over the river. The cottonwoods and other trees are starting to show yellow in some of their leaves. Sunrise is later, which I appreciate since my bedroom faces east. The down side is that the sun is setting earlier, too.

Fall in the desert brings out a profusion of yellow flowers -- sunflowers, black-eyed susans, chamisa and other plants with bright yellow blooms.

My thoughts also have turned to cool-weather comfort foods such as homemade soups and stews. It's still too hot for soup, of course, but I know it won't be long before the wonderful aroma of simmering soup fills the house.

And after months of wearing shorts and short-sleeve tops, it is a nice change to be able to wear 3/4 sleeves or a jacket early in the morning. It isn't long, however, before I have to change into short sleeves once again.

This is a wonderful, but often unappreciated, time of year. People tend to think of autumn in terms of the end of summer, or the return to school, or as the precursor to a long, cold winter. I think we should appreciate autumn for its own merits: cooler weather; crisp mornings; warm, wonderful comfort foods; perfect weather for sleeping with the windows open; and an opportunity to spend more time outside enjoying the beauty of nature.

Of Rhubarb Pie and Other Sweet Memories

A few weeks ago, my daughter and I stopped by Flying Star Cafe, a New Mexico restaurant chain, for dessert. I had a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie, something I hadn't tasted in many, many years.

I mentioned this to a friend who also volunteers at the food pantry every Wednesday (as I do), and we started talking about the seemingly lost art of home cooking. She makes her own granola, croutons and salad dressing, among other things. I mentioned that my mother and maternal grandmother used to make rhubarb pies.

Photo courtesy examiner.com

My grandparents grew their own rhubarb, along with corn, tomatoes, green beans and other vegetables. The pie crusts, of course, also were made from scratch, which made for some very tasty pies. My mother always said that her homemade pie crusts weren't very good, but no one in our family ever complained.

This discussion opened a floodgate of memories for me, as I recalled that both of my grandmothers, as well as my mother, were excellent cooks. Of course, they didn't have a lot of choice, as there were no frozen dinners, ready-to-eat meals, take-out or any of the other convenience foods we take for granted.

My mother's fried chicken was the best, bar none. A typical Sunday meal after church might include fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy (all made from scratch) and corn, followed by a homemade dessert. Her roast beef and homemade noodles was just as awesome. She made wonderful chicken and dumplings, too.

She canned fruits and vegetables during the summer, and made jams and preserves, so we ate a lot of natural foods, with no preservatives or artificial ingredients. There were some things I didn't care for, such as liver and onions, brussels sprouts and stewed tomatoes. But those are the only foods I recall not liking.

I remember the first time I had pizza. My mom had bought a package of Chef Boyardee pizza mix, and she made this strange but wonderful new food for us one Sunday evening. Another treat that heralded the coming change in the way Americans eat was an occasional trip on Sunday evening to McDonald's for burgers and fries. Burgers cost just 19 cents each. I think there was just one McDonald's in our city, and the other fast food places such as Burger King, Taco Bell, Sonic and others hadn't yet made their appearance.

I haven't yet tried to make my own rhubarb pie (I don't even know whether it is possible to buy fresh rhubarb in the stores here in New Mexico), although I have in the past tried my hand at pie-making. My yard in California had peach and apple trees (among others), and I made apple crisp and peach cobbler, which were delicious. But I cheated and used a store-bought pie crust. I have tried to find a frozen rhubarb pie, but both stores I searched had only a limited selection of pies, and neither carries rhubarb pies.

My daughter, who has grown up on prepared foods, has shown little interest in real cooking, although she likes my homemade soups. She wants us to attempt to make her all-time favorite Russian food, pelmeni, dumpling-like things filled with ground meat. They are, I'm told, not hard to make, but very time-consuming. She wants to have pelmeni and borshch for Christmas dinner, so we will need to do a trial run with the pelmeni before then.

I guess the occasional slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie from Flying Star will have to suffice for now. Maybe this little trip down memory lane will prompt me to do some real cooking, rather than relying on prepared foods. I know the food will taste better, and be better for me, without all the added chemicals, artificial colorings and flavors and the preservatives. And just maybe it will help keep those memories of days gone by alive a bit longer.

Nature's Healing Touch

May the sun bring you energy by day.
May be moon softly restore you by night.
May the rain wash away your worries.
May the breeze blow new strength into your being.
May you walk gently through the world and
Know its beauty all the days of your life.

Apache blessing

Isn't this a beautiful blessing? It speaks to me of the healing power of nature, and just reading it gives me a sense of peace as I contemplate the feelings of the sun, rain, moon and breeze.

My daughter and I recently took a trip to Russia, the country where she was born, with a 6-day stop in London on the way.  London, Moscow and St. Petersburg, where we visited, are major cities with millions of residents. People rush aout, pushing and shoving and in general behaving rudely. Streets everywhere are packed with people and traffic. Drivers show their impatience at the slightest delay by blasting their horns. Tourist spots are jam-packed with people. Although I enjoyed our visit, I was more than ready to get back to the peace and quiet of my home in New Mexico.

It's easy to forget how much strength and rejuvenation I get from spending time in nature. The quiet and peacefulness calm frayed nerves. The colors of the crystal blue sky, a gorgeous sunrise and flowers in bloom are a feast for the eyes. The smell -- of pine trees or the desert after a (too-rare) rain -- is delightful. And the sound -- or absence of noise from traffic, sirens and auto horns -- is a welcome relief. I love sitting in a secluded spot, listening to the birds sing, the wind in the trees, and the absence of noise.

My house is filled with images of nature -- wolves, sunrises, sunflowers -- soothing earth tones and lots of light from large windows and several skylights. I can see the Sandia Mountains from my bedroom, living room, dining room, office and back yard. While they lack the beauty of the red rocks of Sedona and southern Utah, it still is such a treat to see the Sandias in their magnificence and changing moods every day.

I also now understand how crucial it is that I be outdoors in the light, whether hiking, walking around, driving with the windows down and sunroof open, or dining on a restaurant patio. I just naturally gravitate toward the light and the outdoors. I have always needed lots of sunlight, but during a trip to New Mexico a few years ago, I realized just how much I need it and how I unconsciously sought the comfort of sunshine and open spaces. 

I am blessed to live in a state with so much natural beauty and so many open spaces. Just 2 miles from my house, I can walk along the Rio Grande on wooded trails. Or I can walk on a dirt path between acequias, part of a 200-year-old gravity-powered irrigation system still in use today. I did that this morning, and was treated to the sounds of chirping birds and buzzing cicadas, and the sight of scampering lizards and horses peacefully grazing in their pasture. This was a much-needed respite, and a good reminder that I need to get out and do this more often.

Food for Thought

I'm sure other parents can relate to what I am feeling. In addition to my titles of mom, daughter, sister, friend, volunteer and retiree, I have another one: human garbage disposal.

I came to this realization one morning after eating the remnants of my daughter's spaghetti (from several days earlier) for breakfast. I hate to waste food, so I often find myself cleaning out the refrigerator of food my daughter started but didn't finish, or wanted me to buy for her and then decided she didn't like.

I don't mind eating leftovers, but I do draw the line at some things. I will not, for example, eat the remaining garlic mushrooms she asked me to buy. I hate mushrooms, so these will not grace my plate, ever. The same goes for tomatoes, radishes and cucumbers. For a while, I was cleaning out a large assortment of bread products: wheat bread (mine), white bread (hers), bagels and English muffins. And since I don't eat pork, the leftover pepperoni pizza will have to be eaten by the one who wanted me to buy it. The same goes for her pepper jack cheese, which is hers and hers alone.

I don't mind tossing out the occasional slice of sourdough bread that is now as hard as a hockey puck. But I refuse to waste food just because she decided she no longer likes it, or "forgot" it was in the refrigerator.

Fortunately, food is not all that important to me. As long as my stomach is happy, it really doesn't matter what I eat. So leftover spaghetti for breakfast is OK, although I usually eat more traditional breakfast fare. As a volunteer for the past year with a local food pantry, I am well aware of the numbers of people unable to adequately feed themselves and their families. So the thought of letting good food go to waste just because somebody 'forgot' that it is in the refrigerator (despite numerous reminders from me) really rubs me the wrong way. I have bought new food items that sounded good but turned out to be something I didn't care for, but I still ate them. Very rarely is something so bad I throw it away. I will eat it, and make a mental note not to buy that item again. 

Maybe when my daughter starts buying her own food she will understand how expensive it is, and how important it is not to waste it. As someone who usually didn't have enough to eat as a child in Russia -- both with her birth family and while living in an orphanage -- she has personal knowledge of hunger. But it appears that she has forgotten what it is like not to have enough food. I hope she never knows hunger again, but I also hope that she never takes an abundance of food for granted.

Earth, Teach Me

The first time I read this Native American poem on Facebook, it brought tears to my eyes.

I am an environmentalist, and have been for many years. I recycle everything possible. I pick up trash when I'm out walking. I own two hybrid vehicles. I conserve water and energy. I donate unwanted clothing and household items to non-profits. I take my own reusable shopping bags to the grocery store.

I also am a firm believer in solitude and self-discovery. This short poem seems to hit all the bases and cover the things that are most important to me.

Earth, Teach Me..

"Earth teach me quiet ~ as the grasses are still with new light.
Earth teach me suffering ~ as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility ~ as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring ~ as mothers nurture their young.
Earth teach me courage ~ as the tree that stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation ~ as the ant that crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom ~ as the eagle that soars in the sky.
Earth teach me acceptance ~ as the leaves that die each fall.
Earth teach me renewal ~ as the seed that rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself ~ as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness ~ as dry fields weep with rain."

- A Ute Prayer

Life Lessons from a Dog Named Mercy

I love this item I found recently on the Facebook page of the Mission of Mercy Animal Photography Project, which works to improve the odds of shelter animals being adopted by providing high-quality photographs of them. Mercy was the founder's first rescued great Pyrenees dog.


The 14 Things I Learned from Mercy

1. Never be afraid to show your love, anytime or anyplace
2. Never give up, EVER.
3. Anger, jealousy, stress and hatred have no place in a happy life.
4. Accumulate experiences, not stuff. Experiences last longer and are always happy.
5. Never judge any creature or person by their appearance. You will miss finding a lot of great friends and friendships.
6. If you just do it, you will never regret it. Take a chance once in a while.
7. It is said that dogs live in the now. Zen teaches that we should also live in the now. Both are right.
8. Make time, not excuses.
9. Digital images are free, but they are also priceless.
10. An affliction is only one if you let it.
11. There is no downside to smiling or laughing. Don’t take yourself so seriously.
12. Speed is not all that it’s cut out to be.
13. Unconditional love is as easy to give as it is to receive.
14. Going potty outside is OK!!!!!

This dog must have been pretty smart to have realized these life lessons. I hope I am smart enough to put them into action (well, maybe not the last one). Thanks, Mercy!

Learning to Love

A couple of years ago, my daughter, who was adopted from Russia when she was 11 years old, made a comment about her "real mother." That comment hurt me a great deal, although I know that was not her intent.

In her mind, her "real" mother was the woman who gave birth to her. I am her adoptive mother. However, I consider myself to be her real mother, as it is I, not her alcoholic, abusive birth mother, who has raised and guided her. I am the mother who is always there for her, through good times and bad.

As with many mothers and teenage daughters, our relationship can be contentious at times. Because of her traumatic childhood and attachment issues, she doesn't always make the best decisions about friends or actions. I have been to hell and back more than once because of things she has done. But through it all, my love for her has remained strong. Her love for me, however, has been in question.

Because she has attachment issues resulting from her life of turmoil and trauma, including time in a couple of orphanages, she was unable to trust that I am her mother forever, that I will never abandon her and that she is worthy of a mother's love. In her mind, if she didn't let me (or anyone) get close to her, she could protect herself from being hurt.

After years of 'testing' me to see whether I would, as so many adults in her past had, abandon her, and after years of therapy and self-reflection, she finally seemed to be learning how to give, and receive, love. I was warned by more than one therapist, however, that she will probably never care about me as much as I care about her. I had to accept this reality; this is how she is. It isn't her fault. As a result of her trauma, her brain is wired differently than that of a non-traumatized person.

Over the past few years, she has seemed to show more concern for me, but I always questioned in my heart how sincere she was. She did, after all, have to learn to be a daughter, how to accept love and what it means to be part of a family. She also seemed to find it much easier to tell friends that she 'loves' them than to tell me.

One Mother's Day a few years ago, she said she would cook dinner for me. But when it was time to start cooking, she was "too tired," so I cooked the meal. There was barely any acknowledgment that it was Mother's Day. So on Mother's Day 2012, I was pleasantly surprised to see my daughter's post on my Facebook page (grammar errors notwithstanding):

Your a mom that doesn't care about cards, flowers, or any other stuff. Your the mom that deserves and needs to hear more often that you are the greatest mom I could ever have. And that I want to thank you for all of your support and help through these years. I am sorry that I don't thank you enough but I just want to let you know that I appreciate and love you more than anyone could through the good and the bad. I love you. 

It seems that she has at last learned about giving and
receiving love. Despite my request that she not buy me anything, she proudly presented me with a new turquoise wallet. Turquoise is my favorite color, and I needed a new wallet, so it was obvious that she put considerable thought into this gift. She also took me to lunch at my favorite barbeque place.

It is sad that she has had to learn about love and that it was a foreign concept to her. But I am so grateful that she has at last learned about love -- what it means to give love and to accept it. She certainly deserves a life full of love and happiness.