The Hunt for Green December

The Sun's rays creep through December's afternoon sky at low low angles as if to pry under the the few drifting clouds and lift them off the Earth and rightfully back into the heavens.  The day's given light is diffuse and brief. The season and tradition bids the Suneson family to heed these heavenly signs and plan an hour's journey to Kadee Tree Farm to select, cut and place an evergreen within the walls of our winter home in celebration of life and the

Ducks fly south.
Sunesons drive east to cut a tree.
All heeding the signs of the season

spirit of Christmas Joy.  We have made this trip most Decembers for the past 23 years.  It is a good and favored tradition.

The date for this year's trip to Kadee Farms was moved perilously close to Christmas due to Inga and Grant both arriving back home on the 15th from places half-a-continent away just a week before the 25th.  Of course Sue's job at church gets real busy this time of year with big program events falling on the 16th and 17th, while Mark had plans to fly to his cousin's wedding in Indiana on the 19th - leaving the 18th as the only possible day to 'hunt for green December' as a family unit before Kadee Farms closed its gate for the year.  The complications piled up when Sue and her car were involved in a collision an hour before our scheduled departure [see previous blog, No Good Deed...].

Putting the wreck in the garage (to be dealt with later) and the setting sun in our rearview mirror, we sped east to the verge of Texas' "Piney Woods" territory to find this year's Christmas Tree.

A severe drought two years back had killed a lot of Mr. Kadee's trees, and in addition the usual annual harvesting attrition left but some slim pickin's for our seasonal tradition.  We tromped across barren plots of pine stumps looking for an agreeable tree; one without a forked top, symmetrically filled out branches, needles that did not look too wan and it must have a straight trunk and reach a height of 6 to 8 feet.  By unanimous vote, we began cutting a tallish tree that had its lower bough already trimmed away, so as to show off its shapely conical form starting above the 5-foot trunk.  With a few stokes of the bow saw, she toppled to the ground just in time as the Kadee tractor and trailer came by to haul us and the 9-foot Virginia Pine back to the processing hut.

A Long, Tall Texan
(Virginia Pine)
Gets unanimous family vote for
Suneson Christmas Tree 2013

Everybody gets a turn  as a lumberjill or lumberjack.

Advice is freely given by Brother Grant
as Inga saws the trunk 5 feet off the ground

We imported this Lumberjill all the way  from Oregon
The Great Northwest Woods

Back at the processing hut, the specimen is measured as we sip hot spiced apple cider.  

This year's 9-footer will require the purchase of a new tree stand to set up our Christmas Tree next to the staircase - but I think 2013 is a year we had the best looking tree yet.  And after all, I think it is fitting considering the timing and "tragedy" that preceded its selection.

Merry Christmas.  

Now; lets go get some smoked brisket at Big Daddy's Barbecue Smokehouse to make the day complete!

No Good Deed...

The bustling Christmas Season has arrived.  
While columnist and pundits every year at this time choose to write and yammer about the "stress of Christmas" and the over-taxed mentality we "all" have fallen prey to; here abouts, we simple folks certainly have our obligations and deadlines, but there is also a comfortable routine to Advent and the celebration of Emmanuel, God with us and Peace on Earth.

I used some bonus airline miles to buy an eleventh hour ticket to fly Inga out of Oregon and back to Texas on Sunday (December 15) and after some surface travel delays due to frozen weather, Grant departed Missouri and walked in the front door about a half-hour after we had returned with Inga from DFW Airport.  After a long absence away from home, when the kids return, Strider the dog provides either a source of gratification or sour feelings upon their entry; depending upon whether Strider, one of the land's least demonstrative dogs, will provide a "squeak" of cheer along with a wag of the tail when recognizing the return of a lost pack member.  For the record: Inga is feeling sour, while Grant is gratified.  But the entire pack is gathered for the holidays and all rejoice!

Inga shows affection to Strider,
even though his welcoming her home
was less than enthusiatstic

In the spirit of the Season and out of innate kindness and good will, Sue volunteers to cook a dinner for a friend and her husband and two boys while she recovers from painful back surgery.  The transformed Ebeneezer Scrooge could do no better than this.  What day would Elizabeth like to have our pot roast dinner delivered to her family?  
Wednesday would be fine is the reply.

For a wrap on the Season of Advent, Sue has two large children and family events at church on Monday and Tuesday nights for which she is in charge.  Nothing extra is to be scheduled for those two days, Period. Early on Thursday Mark flies to Indianapolis for his cousin Craig's wedding, returning on the 22nd. That leaves Wednesday as the only day that will work for all of us to go out and cut our traditional Christmas tree in East Texas and eat barbecue.   So what about delivering a warm dinner all the way across town to the starving family of the invalid mother and church member during Christmas?  Modified Plan: Mark will get up early in the morning on Wednesday to cook a pot roast for three hours, Sue will prepare side dishes and then deliver them around noon.  Sue will return and the whole family will then drive 60 miles out to Kadee Tree Farm and select this year's live tree and then we'll drive back to Garland with a tree tied to the top of the car and stop at Big Daddy's Barbecue for the traditional Christmas Tree Cutting BBQ Dinner.

Sue departs with bubbling hot pot roast and other sides to deliver dinner around 12:45.  The hour passes and she is still out.  The tree farm opens at 1:00 and closes at sunset, so we have a window of about 4 hours to get our Christmas tree, including travel time out.  I figure Sue and Elizabeth are chatting about all sorts of things while we're burning daylight.  Finally I hear the garage door open and she busts into the house with the statement,  "Come look at the front of my car!!"  Not words I like to hear.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.  While making delivery of this hearty hot meal to an poor churchwoman laid up in bed after surgery to feed her hungry family at Christmas time [this is so sad], a man dashes out in front of her to make a left turn as she is passing through an intersection (with a green light).  His BMW scrapes across her grill as she brakes hard.  His rear tire is half folded under his chassis while her car is flooded with the rich juice and aroma of a fresh out-of-the-oven roast, veggies, bread, fruit and dessert.  Mr. Balkan-sir-name Beamer Driver jumps out to point his finger at Sue and tell her "you are a woman and besides you were going too fast through my intersection."   

No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded.  Sue's response is interrupted by the blaring sounds of a siren as a cop pulls up to mess.  The officer [now really - how often does this happen?] exits his car and says, "I was sitting right over there", as he motions with his thumb over his shoulder, "and I saw the whole thing.  I am writing you sir a citation for failure to yield the right of way."  

All parties were instructed to clear out of the intersection and pull into a nearby parking lot.  The officer took a lot of time to fill out the accident report, but made it abundantly clear who was at fault.  Sue inspected the damage to the exterior and interior of the car. It was driveable, but the passenger floor boards were soaked in gooey tomatoey goodness infused with herbs and onions.  The meat stayed in its container, so Elizabeth's family did not have to eat anything that tasted like it came from the floor of a bus.  The meal was finally delivered after the officer finished his report; it was less succulent than intended, but we think it was appreciated in its re-pieced together presentation.  Sue made no mention of the accident to Elizabeth, just dropped it off and excused herself.

Later that afternoon we cut a good looking tree in the fading daylight.  Followed that up with a righteous meal of barbecued brisket and ribs.  We counted our blessings this Christmas Season and found them to be numerous.

Suneson arrive at consensus
We select and cut a Christmas Tree
as daylight fades at
Kadee Christmas Tree Farm 

No Good Deed...
Were we punished?
Or were we Rewarded?

The restored Camry is back in the garage a week later, looking like a shiny and new gift from under the tree.  Insurance claim for $1,477.  Check cashed.

God bless us everyone!  And on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests.
Glory to God and Merry Christmas.

Pop, Crackle, Thump! The Ice Storm Cometh

Thanks to the marketing might of the Kellogg's breakfast cereal company of Battle Creek, Michigan; kids of my age could expect three busy little sprites by the name of Snap, Crackle and Pop to greet them at the morning breakfast table if they prevailed upon their mother to buy them Rice Krispies cereal.  
Well, this very morning I have been greeted by their evil triplets: Pop, Crackle and Thump.  

The day of December 6 dawned as a day that will live as a day of infamy. There were of course warnings about immanent hazards and destruction - but after a similar warning the weekend preceding Thanksgiving that amounted to nothing more than three-quarters of an inch of cold rain; so this warning of chaos and destruction for December 6 and 7 was taken lightly. 

I was awakened sharply at 4:28 AM with the report of a loud pop coming from overhead that made be flinch as I bolted upright from my warm bed covers.  Our dog, asleep at the foot of the bed sprang alarmingly to his feet as well.  We both listened to the subsequent creaking and crackling of falling timber, and then the reverberation of a solid thump.  We had just lost a large branch from the ash tree outside our bedroom window, the first of many casualties to fall in this early morning ice storm.  As I was first startled awake, I was bracing for it to hit the roof over our bed, but it fell across the front walk without striking a structure.  At 4:34 the second branch to fall was announced with the same series of pop! crackle and thump. It too fell upon the sleet and frozen rain covered lawn, missing the house.  Yet another series of ominous sounds rang out a few minutes later; it was then that I poked my sleeping wife to report to her that with all the falling timber outside our window, perhaps it was best if we removed ourselves from this exposed position and finish what was let of the night in the upstairs guest room.  She of courses said, "Huh? Dubber wolf aye kinda wiffle go to sleep -- what?" [she had been oblivious to the world falling apart and falling down all around her while she slept]

I calmly then whispered into her ear an additional explanation, "Let me put it this way; if we stay in this bed, you could die at any moment.  A cold and ragged piece of splintered wood might pierce your heart, crush your skull or maybe only snap your spine and paralyze you forever.  Do you understand?"  
Why yes, she replied, "That is the most engaging pillow talk I've had with you in a long time.  Let's get outa here my dear!"  We gathered up our respective pillows and encouraged the old dog to follow our retreat to higher ground.  For tornadoes, one is supposed to seek shelter in your basement (we do not have a basement), but for falling trees in an ice storm, seek shelter above the tree tops on the second floor (we do have a second floor).

Our first glimpse of downed branches
outside our front door window

At the crack of 11 AM, we rose safely from our bed of refuge and stepped out on to the crisp crust of ice and sleet covering the lawn to survey the damage. The tops of many trees, of many species have been broken off as the ice accumulated on the branches still flush with marvelous fall foliage.  The weight of that final ice crystal builds to the proverbial point of "the straw that broke the camel's back".  I saw this morning, our neighbor's with a 16-inch live oak branch snapped.  Sixteen inches of oak mind you! It takes a heck of a lot of force to snap such a mighty limb.

Top limbs of the ash tree outside our bedroom
have been broken off in the early morning

It is a day at home with a fire blazing, fueled by sawed up limbs and logs from the very trees that are once again fodder for my chain saw - once the weather warms above 28 degrees and when I feel no further danger to my head from additional falling icy limbs as I work beneath these devastated and denuded trees.

Oh my!  We could've been killed in our beds!
Sue surveys the icy mess in our front yard

The deep freeze from this arctic blast, may keep the roads frozen for the next few days, possibly into Sunday.  Sue is hoping for an "ice day" dispensation from the pastoral staff at Preston Hollow Presbyterian, which would entail the cancellation of Sunday School, for which she is responsible.  That fact is whether Sunday School is officially cancelled or not, no many in Dallas are going to get up Sunday morning to slide around on icy roads to get to church. And I bet her volunteer teachers will not be making the effort to skate out early Sunday either.

We're living in a Winter Wonderland.
Thought the weather outside is frightful...

Shattered Red Oak across the street

Ice entombed Crepe Mirtle

Ice Pear Branches in our backyard

Strider loves to go out in the snow and ice
with his thick black fur coat (and it's real fur)We let him go prowling without a leash
Since no cars are in the street and 
he shows up well against white background

Looks like a Merry
Red Berry
Christmas!

Sage Frost

I journeyed long beneath Texas' withering summer skies,
finding old Solomon in his shade - as he was quite wise.
With an out stretched hand to me he bade,
"Come" he said, "and share my good shade."
With this sagacious man, to each pilgrim only one answer will he give,
and with fevered brain I first asked, "Will Texas' heat not cease, as long as I live?" 

As soon as my one small question had tumbled from my lip,
I knew I had stumbled and let my chance to answer life's mystery now slip.
Old Solomon rolled his eyes and his one answer came with a smirk,
we both knew my casual weather greeting was an unfortunate quirk.

"To everything there is a season,
and to all mystery there is a reason.
God has given every time its due place,
and in all things their appointed space.
This orb of ours spins on a tilted axis -
that's just what the astronomical facts is!"

Now my son go in peace,
my one answer to you is, "Yes, this Texas heat will cease."

At pilgrim's end, my opportunity squandered
after I had journeyed long and wearily wandered.
Yet I held this simple reply from the old sage;
indeed, patience is rewarded in every age.

At first I feared all wisdom sought by me was lost.
But then I peered and understood; as I saw the sage dusted with frost!

Frosted Sage
from our herb garden
To everything there is a season
and a time for everything under heaven

A Festive Feast

We are thankful.
We give thanks for our abundant blessings, a fine family, a future imbued with hope and expectations.  This Thanksgiving we were pleased to share our table and our blessings at our home this year.  We could have seated more, but we enjoyed all of those that came to share with us this Thanksgiving.  Nephew Brian (son of Mark's California sister) joined our table, as he is now a resident of Dallas these past six months as he works on his post-graduate medical program in orthodics and prosthetics at UT Southwestern.  Also, this Thanksgiving we confirmed that the road not only goes from Dallas to Wichita Falls, but it also works pretty well going from Wichita Falls to Dallas.  A bit of a role-reversal from the usual order with Sue's brother Bill and his wife Susan coming this way this year.  Either way, we were delighted to see them.

Big shopping on Saturday ahead of Thanksgiving.  We initially found a bimodal  distribution of turkeys; 8 pounders or 22 pound birds - nothing in between.  It appeared Goldilocks had shopped ahead of us.  We were looking for something in the 12-14 lb range.  Our initial fretting at not finding the properly proportioned bird (since size does matter), was eased somewhat when I noticed that between the two freezer bins; one with small and the other with large turkeys, there was an empty bin.  Like a faith-fill pilgrim I stated, "That there bin is supposed to have our turkey - but it doesn't.  But it will soon. The Good Lord willing.  As I pull my Puritan Psalter and Walmart shopping list from beneath my big-buckle pilgrim hat, out came a clerk wheeling a cart filled 14 pound turkeys, just like the quail and manna provided to the children of Israel as they wandered in the Wilderness, lo those 40 years.  At the sight of the newly arriving turkeys, I fell prostrate in thanksgiving for our good providential fortune.  I dropped the shrink-wrapped carcass into the basket and made my way to the cranberry bog on aisle 2.

As the turkey slowly and gently thaws, other preparations were in process.  My speciality of baked butter yeast rolls was not needed this year, as the Cooks would bring the rolls this time and include a fine corn + jalapeno casserole.  One of my favorite philosophers dictates that "life is too short, eat dessert first."  Even if my puritan roots mostly prevent me from following such epicurean advice; at least it makes sense to make dessert first.  Alas, that task falls to my wife, exquisite baker of pies.  Her pumpkins are pleasing [I'm talking about pies here], but her pecans are the best there ever was. It was said on the Friday after T-Day, "Maybe I should've made more pies?"  It makes absolutely no sense for me to argue with a woman when she is thinking like that.

For a Thanksgiving feast scheduled for 2:00, things got cooking around 9:00.  There were potatoes to mash, fresh ginger to grate into the sweet potatoes.  A chunky citrus cranberry recipe was selected for the relish, sweet and dill pickles and black olives (suitable to place on one's fingertips before being consumed).  I did very little of the prep, other than open a bottle of muscato         and mix up the traditional "red stuff" (7-Up with cranberry juice).  The turkey was infused with fresh sage from our herb garden, which also contributed some seasoning to the stuffing.  While all of this was in the planning stage, Bill matter-of-factly decreed that the all-important Cook Family tomato aspic was the sole responsibility of the hostess. With the terms now clear, that too was made a day ahead.

Strider asks to be let
back into the Kitchen.
A most unthanful dog.

About the point in the process where the stuffing was being prepared, the question came to me; "Do you want the giblets in your stuffing?"  I thought it over, and decided no, that treat will go to into the dog's silver bowl outside.  Strider, who is keenly aware of all kitchen activity, was especially please to hear the phrase "silver bowl", as he recognizes it as an indication of a special helping meant just for him.  After placing said, giblets containing heart, liver and gizzard in said silver bowl.  He took a look and then a sniff.  And then a long stroll about the yard.  What kind of self-respecting, carnivorous dog is unthankful for giblets? I asked him.  Of all days to be unthankful!  Now turkey skin is another matter entirely for him.

I was sent on one final trip to the store Thursday morning; to picked up some cinnamon sticks as a secret ingredient for something, another bag of cranberries, some cut flowers, some whipped cream for the pie AND I was also supposed to get a turkey baster.  But I forgot.  I reeally want a turkey baster.  And now that I am thinking of it, if I were a habitually cussing sort of man (which I am not); I'd love to sling the usual barbs of dolts, dunderheads, dimwits and daylight drunks and haul off with a new cuss and call 'em all a scrofulous bunch o' damnable turkey basters!  Yeah.  Take that!  And that goes for your momma too!  Turkey basters all.  [just a thought :-)]

Our guests all arrived in fine spirits.  Bill went to work making gravy.  Sue and Susan bustled about finishing and dishing up a all the courses which were to be placed on the table.  It was of course my honor & privilege to carve the bird.  But as I looked around me, I had to wonder, were there too many cooks in the kitchen?  There was Bill Cook, Susan Cook, Sue Cook Suneson and Grant (in close proximity to the kitchen) who looks like a Cook. On second thought, it looked like about the right amount.

Too many Cooks in the Kitchen?
(L to R) Sue Cook Suneson, Bill Cook, Brian Arotca, Susan Cook.
I figure it it just about the right amount of Cooks.

Susan & Bill Cook
Brian (nephew), Grant (son) Sue (wife & cook)
Grant passes the Famous Tomato Aspic like he is playing "Hot Potato"

We gave thanks and tucked in something fierce.  Of the six gathered, I counted but three that tasted the aspic.  Come on man.  It's Thanksgiving, have you no fear of God and no respect for tradition.  Eat up my hearties!  And enjoy, giving robust thanks. [You know there are starving kids in Armenia that would love to have some tomato aspic] 

I count myself nearly impervious to the affects of caffeine and stronger medicinal toddies.  But this year, I confess I was unusually tripped up by tryptophan, the natural mellowing agent of turkey.  After the meal (I know not whether it is the older me or this particular turkey), but land of Nod was all that was on my mind.  I vowed to build a big house with plenty of rooms so that all of my guests could come eat a Thanksgiving meal and then retire to a nice November nap.  While I faded into such dreams, the industrious nephew Brian sprang into action and clean up all the dishes he could lay his bioengineering hands upon.  He was a marvel.  Another thing to be thankful for. 

After a bit more pie, Sue brought out some recently acquired archival family photos, in line with her in depth genealogy work and interest.  She and Brother Bill pored over the images and tried to connect faces, stories and times that these scraps of surviving  family history.

Archival Cook Family photo album
Connecting family ties following the feast

After our dear guest departed.  We were left to dream of turkey soup, turkey sandwiches  turkey casserole, turkey enchiladas, turkey waffles...

Again, we are thankful for all that we have and all that have us in there hearts.