I remember our conversation, effort to calm emotions, phone glued to ear like a natural extension. Her voice, exhausted… “When will this be over?” She asked Dad days later, more like a plea. He could be gentle or travel the path of honesty. I don’t know the words he pulled from his language of a sixty-seven-year love…how he tiptoed through the reply,though tenderly,I imagine, since his heart was shattering into millions of minute fragments. Her time was close. Our awareness vigilant. Each day, another breath held until the hands of timewould pause. Then as quickly as the sun fades behind rolling hills, raindrops splash upon us. She had ascended. Moments of memories to follow. But not one day passes without celebratingher life. Not one day slips by without her knowing how much she is loved and missed.
Lauren Scott (c) Mom would be 101 today, and since she loved her roses, we dedicate this beauty for her. ❤️
It felt like walking back in time, strolling around the loop in the park flanked by redwoods, families laughing and holding dialogue over a barbecue burger lunch. The aroma tickling our noses. Opened bags of chips and containers of various salads on the table ready for serving. Grandma shuffles across the street, both hands gripping her walker. Grandpa right beside her, his hand resting on her lower back. Deep, long-lasting love in his eyes. Parents play badminton with their children – a portrait of entertainment at its finest. Our stroll takes us to the bridge where we pause for a few minutes. Leaning against the rail, we see young girls and boys splashing in the creek, laughter whirling around in the warm June air. The sound, musical and magical. Redwoods stand tall in their regal manner, providing shade from the scorching rays of the golden ball in the bright cerulean sky.
A week has passed since extreme high temperatures inundated our area – no air conditioning, felt like we were simply existing, wiping sweat from our faces, zapped of all energy, fans at arm’s reach. So, a day among the Redwoods sounded ideal for a cool breather. Our stroll continues past the inviting, glistening creek where we spot poison oak on the side of the road, but we don’t touch. No desire to itch. A Western tiger swallowtail with its black tiger stripes and pretty pale-yellow wings joins us, flying around my husband then me, as if wanting to listen in on our conversation.
Campgrounds on our right display tents in all sizes and colors of blue, red, orange, and lime green. Kids of varied ages play games at a picnic table, a far cry from fingers flying across a keyboard. The delightful scene transports me to my childhood at our cabin on the corner, playing Yahtzee, or the classic Go Fish and Crazy Eights with my parents and sisters. A breeze whirls around us – we want to capture it with our bare hands, bottle it for when the house is sauna hot. A few dogs trot beside their owners, our dog mirrors them, happy to be outside with an abundance of stimulation: smells, people, children, food! His nose in overdrive!
We wind down the road, then make a U-turn. Reaching our picnic table, our stomachs begin to rumble, so my husband pulls out the Reuben sandwich for us to split – haven’t indulged in a Reuben in a hundred years, with orzo and tabbouleh salads for sides. What a feast. What a beautiful day in the company of the majestic Redwoods. His Deschutes IPA and my sangria tap. Cheers to 34 years ago on this day when he asked me that timeless question and I said, “Yes.”
Mom loved her pink roses, so this beauty from our garden is for her.
A Mother’s Day Tribute
With her tender care, she creates perfection Like a mama bird, she provides protection Under her wing she carries warmth A frown in her view, she’ll easily transform Her beauty shines, flows like a river Ah, but her love will never wither She embodies splendor of many colors bold for confidence, pastel for aiding others With a butterfly’s elegance, she graces our presence Her million-dollar smile illuminates her essence A sister, daughter, friend, and lover A doting spirit like no other An angel on earth, A spirit divine A lovely blessing One of a kind
Happy Mother’s Day to all Moms out there, and to our Moms in Heaven, we miss you and love you! 💕
And a Big shout-out to my daughter and son who are absolutely the best and make me feel so blessed. ❤️
It’s been so long since rain touched down in our region that we’ve forgotten what it sounds like when it falls in droves or when those raindrops touch the roof. But yesterday, we were reminded once again, and the sound was lovely. No wind, no storm, no messiness. Raindrops fell lightly and consistently, all day long, just the soft pitter patter soothing the flora. The blades of grass and blooms with their friendly faces that wish to brighten our days sighed with relief. They were immersed in droplets of hope, and so were we. This precipitation was a welcomed surprise just before Easter.
Today is Good Friday in the Christian religion: a day of commemorating Jesus Christ’s crucifixion. Thus, a day of grief, penance, and for some, a day of fasting. Then Easter follows on Sunday, a holiday for celebrating Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. On this day, I wish you an abundance of peace and comfort.
For Easter, I decided to do some baking, so I pulled the recipe card out of my recipe box for my mom’s sugar cut out cookies. I have wonderful memories of baking with her when I was a young girl. I continued that tradition with my daughter and son, but now that they live on their own, I bake solo. In the past, I’ve used Cross cookie cutters for Easter, but this time I bought some that are fun for both spring and Easter.
My faithful red hand mixer has treated me well, so no need for a giant mixer in my kitchen. Butter, white sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, and baking powder waited for their cue. Once the cookies were baked, I mixed up creamy buttercream frosting: more butter, powdered sugar, a little milk, and vanilla, and voila! So good! When the cookies were cool, I frosted them then I added colored sprinkles for decoration. Some bakers paint their cookies, but I like to sprinkle. And here’s what my kitchen looked like:
Bunnies, flowers, butterflies, and chicks! What more do we need, except, Love, Love, Love?! Oh, and do you see those white carrots with the green tops or fronds, as they are called? Well, I forgot orange sprinkles, so they turned into white carrots. Yes, white carrots do exist and they’re called, Arracacha, an Andean root vegetable. My son said that the carrot cookies look like feet. I didn’t see that then, but I can see it now. 🙂
I wish you a wonderful weekend ahead. And if you celebrate Easter, I wish you warmth for a wonderful day, and joy and rejuvenation this new season of spring brings.
Thirty-three years to celebrate, we cruise up the coast passing lush green hills of January, gripping the wheel from wind’s thrust.
The plaza pulls us in with its charm, shops shimmer in their zeal for patrons, the sun blazes, temperature warm, windows entice with appealing apparel.
“You look like I need a drink of wine,” words on a hand towel with pizzazz. “With every glass of wine comes wisdom,” a neighboring towel claims to add.
Shelves stocked with crafts, so cheery, persuading to purchase without effort. This store carries us to Rose Apothecary. Where are David and Patrick?
Arches and patios show off twinkle lights for when the moon shines her splendor. We feast on pulled pork and slaw, Chardonnay and Pliny the Elder.
Laughter’s in the air, picnics on blankets, a man strums and sings like Paul Simon. A man with a backpack eyes the banquets, a dog licks his chops with a plan.
Great eats and drinks, and fun souvenirs, loose cash spent, plastic card dented, another toast for three more decades, moments to share, a life so splendid.
I stroll in the yard, dry as an arid desert. Drought drains most of life, but they persevere, soaking up occasional showers.
Follow their guidance, no surrendering, joy imparts effortlessly. Even through difficulties cause to celebrate sweeps in.
So much is happening in the world to feed anxiety. But there is also cause to feel the joy that nature offers and to learn from her messages. And the desire to celebrate always sweeps its way into our lives to help keep our minds balanced in order to move forward. For my husband and I, today we celebrate our beautiful daughter’s 30th birthday. 💞 Wishing you all a wonderful weekend, and one filled with joy and Cause to Celebrate!
I opened the oven door with my young children peeking around me and we all laughed! Instead of the meringue cascading in still perfection, cracks engulfed every inch as though an earthquake rumbled over the top. Through giggles, we yelled, “The Earthquake cake!” A Blitz Torte. It was my dad’s favorite, stemming from past generations of his German heritage.
The memories! There was Mom, standing in the kitchen of dark wood cabinets, hand mixer purring as she blended the magical ingredients for dad’s birthday each year. Mixing up this feather-light textured cake was no simple culinary experience; separating egg yolks from their counterparts, the egg whites, was a step mastered with practice over time. The meringue topping had to be whipped to precision like an image of still cascading waves in the ocean. Having only attempted this recipe once with the result resembling the earth riddled in quakes, Mom and Dad cracked up when they saw the cracked-up cake! Hilarious to the eyes, but the slight almond crunch of the meringue and creamy texture of the custard filling decadently pleased our palates.
And then one day I tasted carrot cake – the mixture of spicy cinnamon, tangy crushed pineapple, shredded carrots, and crunchy walnuts immediately deemed this cake my utmost favorite. Add the smooth, delectable cream cheese frosting (that I could eat by the spoonful) and you have life’s essentials on a plate! And it’s advantageous that carrot cake counts as a vegetable in my kitchen.
It was the day of my bridal shower. I walked into my maid of honor’s home, instantly inhaling the spicy scent. Carrot cake! She knew me too well, and her mother created the best recipe. Our moms and all the girls were in dessert heaven with each bite of that delicious piece of art. And so, the top of my 5-layer wedding cake was carrot – it had to be that way for my special day. Fortunately, my husband was a fan, too!
My two teenagers on a spring March day pulled on their carrot-shredding gloves and presented to me their creation while belting out, “Happy birthday to you...” With its two uneven layers, it wasn’t pretty, but it brought on the biggest smile. Their efforts earned them an A+, and when I treated myself to that first bite, I tasted spicy, creamy excellence. With their love and thoughtfulness stirred into the process, satisfaction was redefined!
I often delve into the carrot shredding and cream cheese whisking myself, watching my family revel in each forkful of the sinfully delicious dessert. This recipe has become a treasure in my collection evoking these precious memories. Whether it’s a Blitz Torte bringing to life images of my parents who have since left our physical world or a Carrot Cake from wedding and birthday celebrations, the stroll down memory lane becomes more poignant with each new bite.
Lauren Scott (c) 2021
Header: My birthday carrot cake this year that a wonderful friend made for me. 🧡🧡
Our furry family member turns 10 today! He’s a big baby and he still thinks he’s a lap dog even though he weighs about 78 lbs. If we sit on the floor, he’ll back his butt into the circle of our legs and park himself. “Oh, Copper. You filled a void when we adopted you eight years ago, welcoming you into our family. And in turn, you give us unconditional love and kisses, and let us rub your belly as often as we want. Look how generous you are! You continue to melt our hearts with your golden eyes and make us smile with your funny faces. We love you!!“
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 