Autumnal Inspiration

I love the brilliant colors displayed  this time of year like nature's last hurrah of brightness anticipating the  drab  browns  of winter that will soon be covered with a renewal coat of white.  I have borrowed both of these photos  from Old Moss Woman on Facebook.  Both show a brilliance of autumn and  reflections in the water.  All the brilliant leaves are gone now from the trees in town and on our property (yes  raking and leaf blowing is done at last.  

On my morning walks which sometimes become early afternoon depending on the temperature, I see barren brown branches  but here and there some pods of sorts add a glimmer of left over red or burnt umber.  The photos remind me of a poem I'd memorized in childhood by Robert Louis Stevenson, about burning leaves in fall.  That was  back when we did such things as memorize poems, considered inappropriate today the age of Cyber computers and supposedly  a different, some would say superior style of education.   I still believe we  gained mental skills by memorizing and the poetry has stayed with me my entire life.    

We sang or shouted this and other verses to jump rope and to count out time so others could hide when we played hide and seek.  We entertained ourselves and would never have imagined today's world where children exercise only their thumbs on electronics, not their imaginations....   Here's the poem although I do not recall its title I remember the words and the last line which was my favorite...yes we had bonfires....

                      In the other gardens and all up the vale,  
                      From the autumn bonfires see the smoke trail.

                      Pleasant summer over and all the summer flowers, 
                      The red fire blazes  the grey smoke towers.
                       Sing a song of seasons! 
                      Something bright in all!  
                      Flowers in the summer, fires in the fall!

 Someone unseen along that bank has tossed a pebble into the shimmery mirror of water or maybe there is a frog near or a bird has just dipped in.  What do you think.... 

Sepia Saturday 151 Phones and party lines

I have so many thoughts and memories about phones  that I had to stop pondering and post...such have been the changes over the past 50 years.   

I still recall 748R, our home telephone number back when we had party lines, a number I memorized at about age 4.  That was a time when the phone exchanges were growing.  Party lines were predominant in our town for some time.  Mom knew  the folks on our line and sometimes they would just talk, to each other,  if a conversation was in process whoever picked up felt free to chime in or to ask for the line to make a call.  This photo from 1975 is of the last party line telephone operator in  Minnesota.  Wow, I thought they were long gone by then but this was in Cotton, a rural northern part of MN,  beyond Duluth near the Iron Mountain Range.  

1975 January  Miss Gellerstedt  

"Hello Cotton"  answers Miss Sigrid Gellerstedt, chief operator of the Cotton telephone exchange, the last hand-crank system in the state.  The late evening sun poured in the windows of her cozy little white house in Cotton, about halfway between the Iron Range and Duluth on Highway 53 where the system was set up.  Miss Gellerstedt sat at the massive old oaken switchboard, a headset crowning her curly hair. On top of the board and the closet full of circuits behind it were a picture of her parents, a plaque with the opening lines of the 23rd Psalm on it and two small American flags. 

The old switchboard in her home, looked very much like an upright piano and she “played” it with the skill and artistry of a true virtuoso.   But it’s all part of history now. She was the Cotton operator for more than 30 years, starting her career in the communications industry on May 4, 1944. At first she had it all alone and worked about 15 hours a day, seven days a week, although her mother helped out.  After many years she had two assistants, local women to fill in and take over. 

When Cotton’s hand-cranked telephones were disconnected the 200 subscribers joined the outside world’s dial system in the form of Arrowhead Communications Corp.  The party lines with up to 17 households on them became historical lore, with installation of automatic dial phones.  Sig and her  assistants, were replaced by a small windowless building filled with automatic dial equipment on County Road 52 about three miles east of Cotton.”  “It’s the end of an era,” said the independent company relations supervisor for Northwestern Bell. He had mixed feelings about the progress that comes with the discontinuance of the crank telephone.  “These people don’t know what they’re going to miss,” he predicted.  The operators, particularly Miss Gellerstedt, recognized many callers by voice. That’s personalized service you probably won’t find in other places.  And if you were lonely or bored, they were glad to discuss local events, give evaluations of the weather or chat about anything you cared to mention and had the time to talk about.  They were a social service and a news medium all rolled into one."  

This is courtesy of a site, attic voices at this link  where you can look for more about the last party line story. http://attic.areavoices.com/2011/10/26/minnesotas-last-party-line-phone-system/

That reminds me me of a passage in Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon Days, ( a Minnesotta writer) in which he writes about a former switchboard operator for whom it seems Sigrid Gellerstedt could have been a model. Here are a few lines:  "The pantry off her kitchen holds the old switchboard, still in good condition, and also the steel cabinet with the switching equipment that took over from it when they went to dial telephones in 1960. … If someone doesn’t answer their phone by the fifth ring, she does, and usually she knows where they went and when they’re expected. … If you do reach her instead of your party – say, your mother – she may clue you in on things your mom would never tell you, about your mom’s bad back, a little fall on the steps the week before, or the approach of Mother’s Day, or the fact that when you were born you were shown off like you were the Prince of Wales"

This 2011 photo is of the vintage, old and  very heavy immobile dial phone that my late uncle Carl kept on his desk in his home; he had a special arrangement with the phone company to accept and translate  the dial sounds. I tried to convince him to convert to a new push button phone but he was not having it. I bought a new phone with big push buttons for him, he made me return it.  This black dinosaur  had worked well over the years and he saw no need to change.   We sold it in the estate sale when he passed.  It limited him all the times when one was asked to push a number for different choices, but he would patiently just sit tight until a live person  finally came on line. If no one came on the line, he would hang up and be done with whatever he had called about.  This frustrated me and I asked him once, "well how will you finish that...."  he grinned and replied, "not a problem, it's their turn to call me..."  I suspect this black behemoth dated back to about 1952 when they built the house, it was used until 2010 when he went into assisted living.

I close with "Party Line" written by Coleman Lee Williams,   late father of our friend, Tom who graciously shared many of Coleman's works. Can you see the women talking....

Hello! What are you doing today?
Well, I just called up to say ---
What's that? She DID? How'd you hear?
No! Wait, this line's not very clear.

Did you say she ---? That's what I thought.    
Well, that's the first she ever bought!
What time was that? I mustn't forget;
Hold it 'til I get a cigarette.

Why, they were here until after eight.
Well, gossip's one thing I simply hate,
But I told her more than a thing or two.
O - Oh! Someone on the line, or was it you?

Of course! I know just how you feel,
(Quit clickin' this phone, you lousy heel!)
No, not you, but the way some act,
It's a pity they don't use a little tact!

I'd like to see it. How's it made?
But where did you put the rick-rack braid?
Bet it's cute. I'd like to see her in it;
Oh! Before I forget, have you tried Pinit?

No, I didn't. Never said a word.
Well, that's not the first, so I've heard.
That's what I say --- like an open page,
It's a wonder she wouldn't act her age!

Well, just thought I'd give you a buzz;
Wish I knew who that guy was,
Didn't you hear him try the line?
Yeah, been doin' it since almost nine!

Where were we? Oh, now I remember,
Didn't you hear? Nine, next November!
I thought so last week on the street.
Yeah, everybody thought her so stinkin' sweet.

You don't mean -- ? That awful clown!
Well, I did hear he left town.
You know that other, -- yeah, skinny legs,
Looked like a dog caught suckin' eggs.

Did you see --- Oh! That makes me mad!
If that guy needs the phone so bad
Looks like he'd get another line,
I pay this bill so this one's mine!

I guess that'll hold HIM, -- now, where was I?
Oh, if you're gonna be home, I'll drop by;
If there's any one thing that'll make me balk
It's some guy cuttin' in when I wanta talk!

Bye, see you in a few minutes!                Written by: Coleman Lee Williams  4/28/1900 - 5/5/1988

Short on photos long on words, today.  Click here to  the Sepia host site where others
share responses to the prompt...

http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/11/sepia-saturday-151-10-november-2012.html

Sepia Saturday 150 Carl and the Art Institute

To match the Sepia prompt of hurling men, this week, I scanned the photo of artists in the graduating class of February 25, 1950 from the Art Institute of Pittsburgh where my late Uncle Carl attended using his World War II GI benefits. I have shared many previous photos and stories about Carl here and on my blog.   I found his diploma with the group photo below, none of the folks are identified but I spotted him, standing in the back row, which sort of weaves, he is the 5th man from the left, between the man in overcoat with hat and black man with overcoat.  This is quite a large class for this specialty type of study, a nice mixture of women and men, though fewer women for 1950.  The sidewalk in front of them is crackling and the building behind is the multi level facility of the institute. Click on the photo to enlarge it.


1950 February 25  Graduates of the Art Institute of Pittsburgh

AIP  July 2008

The Art Institute founded in 1921, still exists with modern state of the art curriculum. Known as AIP it is the oldest of all The Art Institutes in North America. It occupies nine floors and maintains academic oversight of The Art Institute of Pittsburgh Online. It has had a history of producing all types of art and artists (such as watercolorist Frank Webb and the late science fiction illustrator Frank Kelly Freas), but specializing primarily in design disciplines, including graphic design, industrial design, advertising and game art and design. The Art Institute of Pittsburgh is the flagship school of the Art Institute System, and was the original model upon which the others were based. The Art Institutes comprise the largest collegiate art and design education system in the world."  

Carl  would have relished the graphic design capabilities of today with all the  computers facilitating the process.  While he never achieved his dream of full time artistic or illustration work, up until his late 80's he continued to engage in commercial artwork producing precisely lettered signs for politicians or businesses in his area, he was particularly interested in advertising and illustration and drafting, having a very sharp hand and eye for extreme detail. Some of the signs he painted are still in use today in the area.


This is one of his early sketches, her
slippered feet did not scan in this
but I show it here as evidence of
 the precise  attention he paid to detail,

 AIP,  known as the College for Creative Minds, has as its symbol the T-Rex dinosaur, which seems odd to me but perhaps it links antiquity of the ages to art..  "The main campus of the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, located in downtown Pittsburgh has grown and relocated six times, expanding each time into larger facilities with a broader curriculum, resulting in one of the largest arts colleges in the United States. In 2000 the school's moved again from its previous facilities on Penn Avenue to the historic landmark building at 420 Boulevard of the Allies, the former Equitable Gas Company building. I find this interesting because Uncle Carl retired from Equitable Gas Company.  The school has some of the most extensive arts-oriented technology facilities of any school in the United States, including over one thousand computers equipping numerous general and specialized computer teaching laboratories. Among the specialized shops and laboratories are a 3D rapid prototyping laboratory, sound, video and digital film editing studios, theatrical makeup, wood, metal and ceramic shops, culinary kitchens, and television studios.  
 I kept many of his sketches, some are from his student days, some were too large to scan completely, most all are pen and ink or charcoal..They are so good that they look like photographs, but they are original works.  I am  still sorting to determine which to frame.  .

Chair by Carl

Dining in Style  by Carl
The man at the table has no face, so this was likely not complete



Lady in Plaid by Carl
Dated 1947 on  the back

This sketch of a family enjoying  the TV is iconic,  the miniature size of the old black and whites when TV's first became an important part of home entertainment.  Today we have massive flat screens. 

This is one of my favorites, a postcard size sketch
Everyone who sees it thinks it is a photograph

TV Watching by Carl

This is my contribution to this week's Sepia,  click on the link to the Sepia Saturday site and enjoy postings from others in the world wide community 
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/10/sepia-saturday-150-3-november-2012.html

Patriotic witch and spook and bulbs

Witch and spook at front

Besides the approach of Halloween, trick or treat, and decorating outside for the goblin greetings,  this is the time of year when I think about planting bulbs.  We are ready for the parade of kids tomorrow evening as are Witch and Spook who have been languishing in the closet for a few years while we traveled.  Jerry has so securely attached the patriotic stars to the front railing that he opted not to remove them but secure Witch and Spook alongside giving a patriotic theme to Halloween here.    If you look closely at that photo you can see a reflection in the front door of a pine tree from across the street.  I have my witch hat ready for tomorrow when I answer the door.

When we lived in CA, I started a tradition of planting bulbs daffodils, Dutch  iris, narcissus, muscari, anemones, hyacinths and more every year for my birthday.  Some years I might  plant 100 bulbs some years  less, but always enough so that I spent four  hours or more digging and burying.  I gave up planting  tulips because I  never  got the joy of tulips flowering in the spring, they provided excellent meals for the voles, moles and gophers rampant over our acreage in Newcastle.  They even chewed through  wire mesh which I had  planted in the ground to protect the  tulip bulbs.  Helen Kiker, our elderly friend from whom we bought the homestead warned me to not  plant tulips, that I would be feeding gophers, but I did try, without success. 

Whenever the bulb catalogues arrived, I would carefully browse and select the additions for the coming  fall;  I'd send off the order,  forget about it  and  always be surprised when it arrived in the fall for planting at just the right time.

Bulbs from Sam's

After we moved to MN I learned that I could not wait until November to plant bulbs on my birthday, the ground would either be too frozen, too wet or the weather just too darn wintry to be out digging around.  Some years we were traveling so planting bulbs did not work.  One year, I did bury a stash of daffodils, a fail safe bulb which has always rewarded me the following spring, except these did not.  Of the 30 or so that I buried there was not so much of a floral flicker that following spring, not even from those I'd  carefully laid into a dish, they  rotted over winter.  It must have been one very lousy bag of bulbs to not produce anything.    So over the last  few years, I had given up my tradition, but each  year I think about it.  Here we have landscaping set and I really don't have barren  areas to dig up, besides, the other half of this household protests and forbids my disturbing his master lawn sweep.  So each spring I merely enjoy what is already here and each spring I think, "ahhh wish I could have planted some bulbs last fall."   I could not resist picking up a sack of 50 mixed bulbs in Sam's Club Sunday, Princess Irene tulips, Professor Einstein daffodils and Jetfire narcissus, splashes of brilliant orange will be welcome in spring.  .  Then the challenge was, where to put them, hmm I pondered.   I could creep down the back hillside, but then I would not be able to enjoy their show from inside if the weather is snarly when they are blooming.  Aha,  there is room around the smaller Alberta Spruce in the front yard. That will be lovely from the street as well as our big front window.

So, yesterday, I planted the bulbs not as easy as it used to be,  taking me several hours to dig all out the grass and then dig down, scatter bone meal and lay the bulbs, recover with  dirt and then top off with fresh topsoil all around the dwarf Alberta Spruce, a circumference of only 8 feet or so.  This is when I realize things are not as easy as they used to be and although I am still mobile and agile, it is a sign of aging.  My arthritic knuckles protested on my right hand too.  But now we can wait and anticipate spring and the glorious glow of new  bulbs.  Mission accomplished a little ahead of schedule but as the weather permitted.

And another thing, remember those tight budded mums from earlier this month?  Well they have finally popped into a brilliant yellow display, just what I wanted.  Must have been the frosty nights that prompted the showy bloom.  Or maybe they just like the rest of things follow a natural course, all in good time.

Sepia Saturday 149: Sisters at the waters

Back after a long absence, yet this week's prompt perplexed me.  I could not locate the photo I intended to post of an unidentified  ancestress walking near the water gazing with great trepidation.  I like to share photos from our massive collections, which are still under organization and scanning for genealogy. Instead of the unknown ancestress,  I offer these of sisters at the river. 

Aunt Jinx  

The first one is my aunt Virginia (aka Jinx) and the second is my Mom, Helen.  I believe these were taken the same day in  about 1940 and somewhere near where the family lived on 2nd Avenue in New Kensington, PA along the Allegheny river.  This  might have been near to a boat dock or perhaps that thing out there,  is a dry wharf where swimmers congregated in better weather.  You will notice that it is nearly submerged in the photo of Mom following which could mean these were not taken on  the same day.  Maybe it was a time when they were watching the river rise and wondering what next?  The contour of the hill across the river is the same as is their "perch."  I wish I could ask them all sorts of questions about this now, but it is left to my imagination. 

Mom

Maybe their brother, Carl,  who loved taking photos had a new camera to test.  I found these photos separately, one at my aunt's home and one at Mom's after they passed.  I thought it curious when I was assembling some photos that  they would each have the same shot.  Neither sister ever learned to swim and they shared a fear of water all their lives.  Actually the entire family always had a healthy respect for the rivers and was happy to move farther uphill away from the threat of the river running over it's banks and washing devastation over all in its path.  Any risk of flooding was dreaded.  It was lower cost housing there along 2nd avenue back in the  late 1930's and early 40's and where many of the miners and factory workers like my ancestors lived. 

Mom 1940

I found this one of Mom, marked "1940, high school days" also near that river, windy.  I like the pose, very pre Bus Stop ala Marilyn Monroe, Check out her saddle oxford shoes.  This was obviously back in the day when they wore dresses with shoes and socks, come to think of it we did too as girls in school.

We have a funeral tomorrow and so it may take me a few days to get to see all the posts.  Meantime, if you want to see how others are taking the prompt to the waters, or men looking on, or?, click this link to the Sepia Host site http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/10/sepia-saturday-149-27-october-2012.html

Witch in a broom factory

Pumpkins on our front porch step

Have you seen the GEICO commercial with the giggling witch flying laps around the broom factory? To me,  GEICO has the coolest commercials on TV, the Gecko and Max, the pig, now the witch, proof  that creativity still thrives.  Today, direction dominates many people, adults who cannot grow up, adults who merely repeat what they have heard or read without any personal anylsis.  Facebook is prolific with those who merely copy and display something as theirs.  The Internet facilitates this merely download a photo or saying and share it,with a few finger clicks.  How creative is that?  How much or little thinking is involved?  It is different from noticing something, enjoying, and  sharing occasionally.   I enjoy my time at Facebook,  as a way to communicate with  friends and family all over the country and world.  While there I notice this odd behavioral display which proliferates the spread of the ever increasing and, to me, annoying Facebook applications.  Does any one think about what they are doing there?   Is thinking ability suspended or erased by the time in front of the computer screen?   

I know dependent  adults  who require excessive direction, prompting, coaching even codgering. It is one thing when they are elderly such as my MIL, but it is another for clingy adults who cannot function alone.   I wonder where they have set their brains amidst the straw in their minds, or did they ever have much to begin with?  I  know parents who cripple their children with dependency, I see it in our family.  Mature young adults who remain attached to mommy and daddy's shoe laces and do not or cannot  form their own friendships outside the home.  

It is said use it or lose it and that applies to thinking and reasoning ability.   Sometimes the control is by another in their household or sometimes it is by religions.   I know people who might as well have feathers and wings and be colorful parrots for their lack of ability to reason or think, all they do is mimic.  Perhaps the political season exaggerates this or perhaps that is the nature of Facebook junkies.  Whatever is happening it nourishes plenty of opportunity for those who would control others to gain an edge; sometimes I worry that we have become lemming people.  To me the witch giggling on her laps shows individuality, no one has to ride along with her.  She is enjoying herself absolutely and that is an ability everyone needs. What a blessing, to be comfortable in your own skin, to enjoy your own company such that you are not desperate for constant companionship.   I am not talking about becoming a hermit, or a recluse, a socially with drawn misfit, but about having inner esteem and balance.  What a gift, to be as happy as a witch in a broom factory!  Enjoy the flight, there is no other seat on the broom.

Red reverie and jelly filled donuts in history

I don't know the name of this cultivar shrub, it was here when we bought this place, but I love its red, brilliance that we have not seen in such abundance for several years.  Actually it has been about six years since it displayed such glorious color.  All over town these bushes are showing bright red providing refuge for cardinals.  We think it must have liked the hot summer which we did not or perhaps the dryness, also not so good, as we are below normal rainfall.  Not knowing what it  likes and doesn't like makes it an easy keeper, it gets only a delicate pruning which I do to keep it from overgrowing its space and towering above the back deck rail and hiding our view of bird feeders from our kitchen windows.  Several years ago Jerry pruned it too heavily I thought and it pouted that year with barren limbs and then cherishing its leaves through autumn with not a flicker of  red and then barren for winter.  I have made it my bottle bush for a few years and you can see some still reside there, awaiting removal for the winter. 

Some sunny mornings and especially  later afternoons, the glow from the shrub combines with the reflection from the sun light on the red deck red and the result is pure radiation of a warming scarlet glow that makes me smile from the window and feel that all is right with the world.  I have one photo here to show that red deck although I could not capture the glow, the warm fuzzy feeling it gives.  This deck was once a  dark stately brown, but when Jerry was repainting  he asked, "what color?" and I chose red, to go with the new back door.  I love a splash of red here and there, outside is not immune to my favorite accent color that I do not relegate to only Valentines or Christmas.  I don't know when my red choice started but as far as I can remember I have always liked a flash of red, a vibrant alive color, stimulating and tantalizing and busy maybe.   

This morning after church, on my way home, I stopped to pick up some bananas and there nearby were the Sunday morning donuts.  Well this was our anniversary weekend, 45 years yesterday, and Jerry likes donuts now and then, so I thought I should pick up some for him.  I am not  a donut person, preferring pastries or cinnamon rolls (no icing please) for my infrequent indulgence in too many calorie land.   But there  adjacent to the donuts this morning were one of what I consider life's little pleasures, that which must be denied lest no clothes fit, the smell of freshly baked and generously  iced red jelly filled donuts.  I could not resist.  while Jerry enjoys the old fashioned style donut, I can avoid those easily.  But how long has it been since I have  enjoyed a real jelly donut, at least a year, maybe two?  Not today, this would mark a celebration weekend,  and so these fresh, still warm creatures went home with me along with his donuts and oh yes, those bananas for my yogurt. 

This scrumptious ooey gooey treat which dripped jam down my hand would be my lunch along with a good cup of coffee; vowing to work off the calories outside, I savored each bite. Jerry does not like jelly donuts and thinks it is gross to have jam on hands, but he was not me as a kid and he did not have my polish grandmother.  It took me back to childhood, and my grandma, Rose,  who loved her pastries and who made those wonderful polish jelly filled donuts, paczki only on special holidays, Easter and  very special celebrations. I thought back to how happy I was when she was baking and would let me taste first, while teasing my granpap that I got the first bite.I thrived from such loving grandparents, doting really, but none the less adding to my security that life was good and the world was mine however I chose to meet it.  I felt that way today eating that jelly donut or at least that life is often how we meet whatever ringers come our way. 

I was curious about jelly filled donuts because I know several eastern Europeans claim them, so when I googled before staring this piece I was not surprised to see that indeed there is a rich history to this delicacy.   Although Germany is given credit for  their invention, we know that Germany encompassed many lands through history so it is understandable that poles, russias and others would have their versions.  In 1485, the cookbook Kuchenmeisterei (Mastery of the Kitchen) was published in Nuremberg, Germany. In 1532, it was translated into Polish as Kuchmistrzostwo. Besides serving as a resource for post medieval central European cooking and being one of the first cookbooks to be run off Johannes Gutenberg‘s revolutionary printing press, this tome contained what was then a revolutionary recipe: the first record of a jelly doughnut, “Gefüllte Krapfen.” This early version consisted of a bit of jam sandwiched between two rounds of yeast bread dough and deep-fried in lard. (My grandma friend hers in ht lard too!) Whether the anonymous author actually invented the idea or recounted a new practice, the concept of filling a doughnut with jam spread across the globe.  How about that, the jelly filled donut is ancient.  Something that has endured this long cannot be that bad regardless of a calorie count ranging  from 260 to 320!  That's a lot of steam to work off, but I did so today.

More  information about my treat led me to President John F Kennedy.  Even today's newspaper had a front page article about the Bay of Pigs, Kennedy's challenge and our brink of nuclear war with Russia.   I have just finished reading O'Reilly's "Killing Kennedy" which I will review in my other blog. (Loved that book by the way, loved that president too who was my first political hero.)   But read on to what else I learned today about jelly filled donuts and see if you remember JFK calling himself one.  

Today most versions of  jelly doughnuts have a sweet interior, but  the original filled doughnuts were  packed with meat, fish, mushrooms, cheese, or other mixtures. At that time, sugar was still very expensive and rare in Germany, so savory dishes were much more practical. In the sixteenth century, the price of sugar fell with the introduction of Caribbean sugar plantations. Soon sugar and, in turn, fruit preserves proliferated in Europe. Within a century of the jelly doughnut’s initial appearance in Germany, every northern European country from Denmark to Russia adopted the pastry, although it was still a rare treat generally associated with specific holidays. In my Polish family paczki were made for  Easter and  holidays, special times only...Much later, someone in Germany invented a metal pastry syringe with which to inject jelly into already fried doughnuts, making the treat much easier and neater, and in the twentieth century, machines were developed to inject doughnuts in mass production.

Since at least the early 1800s, Germans had called jelly doughnuts "Berliners". According to a German anecdote, in 1756 a patriotic baker from Berlin was turned down as unfit for Prussian military service, but allowed to remain as a field baker for the regiment. Because armies in the field had no access to ovens, he began frying doughnuts over an open fire, which the soldiers began calling after the baker’s home, Berliners. The term soon became narrowed to denote only filled krapfen. Thus technically John F. Kennedy’s famous declaration at the Berlin Wall, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” means “I am a jelly doughnut.”

By the end of the century, jelly doughnuts were also called Bismarcken, after Chancellor Otto von Bismarck Due to the large number of central European immigrants, jelly doughnuts are known as bismarcks in parts of the American Upper Midwest, in Alberta and Saskatchewan in Canada, and even in Boston, Massachusetts. In Manitoba, they are called jam busters. In Britain, they became jam doughnuts. And in general American parlance, they are jelly doughnuts. Poles named jelly doughnuts paczki (flower buds). Polish Jews fried these doughnuts in schmaltz or oil instead of lard and called them ponchiks. In certain areas of Poland, they became the favorite Hanukkah dessert. A doughnut without a filling in Yiddish is a donat. Some Australian Jews, many of whom emigrated from Poland, still refer to jelly doughnuts as ponchiks. Polish immigrants brought ponchiks to Israel, along with the custom of eating them on Hanukkah.

    So this very special treat today took me back to childhood  and then back through medieval times; now that is a scrumptious bit with a history as rich as its calorie count.   I wish you a special treat that brings as much pleasure as today's jelly filled gave me.   A special thanks to the website which provided The History of the Jelly Doughnut, Sufganiyah, Leite's Culinaria  

Unblooming mums

We are at home this fall, the first time in several years, so I wanted some of those gorgeous huge over the top mums for the front entry.  You know the kind, the gorgeous blooms that set alongside the pumpkins...So a week or so ago amidst my hacking I went to Bauer's, our local nursery and purchased  a magnificent specimen.  It was still balmy and the instructions were to water it daily.  I chose the right  tightest buds I could find so that the blooms would last longer once open.  And that seems to be where my planning went askew. 

I do not mess with potted plants generally, if it doesn't go into the ground I don"t want it.  That's a hangover from my CA days and belief that potted plants are for city dwellers and or old folks who can do no better.  Anyway, $20 for this dandy pot of multiple yellow mums.  Yes they would be cheaper at Home Depot or the like but that is across the river and I like to support the locals.  I envisioned this in full bloom alongside the electric pumpkins that I dug out of the closet for the front entry.  These mums would be golden in the glow.  And I am not putting them into ground anywhere, when they are done they will hit the debris pile., a disposable potted plant.

Well it is now over a week later, our weather turned to downright frosty some overnights, a cold nip in windy air, some badly needed rain and almost daily sunshine.  But my potted mum is either saving itself up for my birthday or is a stubborn pouty specimen.  Yesterday I thought maybe the back deck would be preferable for more sunshine through the day and to gain warmth being closer to the house.  I have not only watered when it does not rain, I have fed it with Miracle Grow each time to encourage the blooms. But as of this morning, here she sits, not much opened, the buds remain tight....Did I get a dud?  How can I get this potted mum to open into bloom, or is she holding off for a birthday surprise?

She likely senses my aversion to potted things, but I did make an allowance for her.  Now?  Wait, something else to wait for, like the closing date on the sale of the PA house.  Yesterday was an exercise in activity and phone calls.  There will be more as we move along.  Oh, for the final papers when we no longer have the responsibility of the house...maybe the mum will bloom at the same time?  A golden  celebration?