December 1, 1988 - Warm Thoughts on a Frosty MorningDecember 1, 1988/The ,Suffplk Time$ /Page
Warm Thoughts on a Frosty Morning
By Paul Stoutenburah
Frost — what a magical touch to our
world. Today as I looked out, not quite
awake from my night's sleep, it was as
if we had had a covering of snow. But
no, the last thing I remember as I rolled
over to sleep was the wonder of the sil-
Focus on
Mature
very moon. Snow will come but not
this week.
I remember as a boy a snowy
Thanksgiving dinner out on my Dad's
big, glass - enclosed porch. It was the
largest place in the house to eat and
having all the relatives over we needed
the room. It was a usually chilly and
often drafty spot but it had to be pressed
into use on such occasions. How the
single -pane windows sweat with all
those hot foods and people warming up
the inside. Those were wonderful times.
A big turkey, all brown and steaming,
sat at the head of the table. Mom's best
dishes, silver and cut glass were nea ly
set at each place. The table usually had
additions of card tables to lengthen it for
the kids at one end and a picnic table, if
needed, at the other. Chairs were of ev- wonderful resource they have been, if
ery size and shape and often old, outside nothing more than to be there when our
picnic benches were even brought into grandchildren came to the garden to pick
use if there was an overflow crowd. and enjoy the berries' sweetness.
Cider was always served in those still -
used, tall, cut -glass goblets. Last Rose of Summer
Of course, Thanksgiving dinner One last rose has tried to hold its
wouldn't be a Thanksgiving dinner shape and color through the cold. A red
without mashed potatoes, Brussels rose. I'd pick the gallant bud in hopes
sprouts, turnips (which as a kid I hated a that on my wife's windowsill it will be
and today love), cauliflower with its able to revive itself and fulfill its mis-
cheese sauce and, of course, in our sion of beauty. Through the orchard,
home, creamed onions. They were my past the beehives and then on out into
Dad's delight. I think he could have the pasture that's been mowed by the
made a meal of creamed onions and been grazing cows.
satisfied. The stuffing always seemed to By now, my shoe tips have a coating
be bursting out of the turkey and that of ice crystals picked up along my walk.
was my specialty. To this day I am a The dog has to sniff and check every-
true lover of this tasty part of Thanks- thing. He stops, his front foot lifted as
giving dinner. if to protect it from the frosty ground. I
Gravy Days pick a blade of grass and look into a
One thing I know is that the gravy miniature world of glassy white. Along
seemed to make everything just right. I its stem are a thousand hairs of frost,
could even get a bit of the turnip down each with its own array of frills; a
if it had enough gravy on it. As I recall fairyland most of us pass by. We grum-
the smooth, thick gravy started out in ble about the cold and the weather and
the big, old roasting pan the turkey was yet there are wonders to be seen.
cooked in. The turkey was set aside on a Down by the pond I'm surprised to
huge platter where we kids could see it see no ice has formed. The birdbath had
and hardly contain ourselves 'til the its coating of ice, why not the pond? I
meal began. Then Mom would stir in come to the conclusion the ground has
some of her ingredients, never measur- not cooled off and is holding the heat of
ing, to make the gravy, until it was just days gone by, thereby keeping the water
right. When that was finished to her from freezing. Perhaps this is why the
satisfaction, ground -up giblets were put cows are down in the hollow near the
in part of it. We always had two kinds pond. It's probably warmer there.
of arnvv• nnP with oihlPtc and nn,-
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
FROST ON LEAF —The first frosts are the most dynamic. As winter approaches dryness sets in and frost is
unable to paint its magic as well.
without. Those were lean days but
looking back I can't think they could
have been better.
The frost that had whitened the back
pasture this morning and put a thin
covering of ice in the bird bath had to be
explored. After feeding the chickens, the
dog and I took a walk through the gar-
den that now looks quite winterized.
Except for the green grass walkway, the
still -green carrot tops and the robust
deep - maroon chard, most things have
browned with the cold winds. A few
raspberry canes still cling to some
withered berries and leaves. What a
No Bulls These Cows
Here they come from around the rose
bushes along the northeast edge of the
pond. They stop and stare at me, won-
dering what I'm doing out so early.
Huge bellows of steam pour from their
gaping nostrils. I could see how an
imaginative artist would paint bulls as a
matador skillfully enticed them into a
rage. These were no matador bulls. They
were just two gentle cows and a young
heifer born a few months ago, standing
there dolefully staring at me.
By now the sun was above the trees,
its warmth starting to steal the frost
away. A dozen or more mourning doves
sat high in a tree to catch the first rays
of the sun. They, too, were chilled by
the frost. Those who rose late had
missed the first frosty show but there
will be others.
To me the first frosts are the most
spectacular. They still have the moisture
of life all about them to cling to. There
is still time to get in on the second act.
It will be worth an early rise on the next
frosty morning.
V � -
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