I am someone who floats to her own tune. Wisping around wherever the wind takes me, depending on my current desire, is my norm. People who know me well understand, and appreciate this. Sometimes that means I can be found loving things current and new. Frequently, I am caught in the whim of enjoying vintage eras via music, or clothing items like my collection of 1920s-1950s silky slips. Sometimes I get wrapped up in artistic techniques from ancient times, like Chinese calligraphy and brush art. And, I have learned I can get caught up in enjoying foods made the old fashioned way.
I taught myself how to “can” (or preserve foods like the old grandmas used to) the first year we moved into our second house about 6 years ago. We had a lot more sun and land than in our first house, so we went a little crazy planting tomatoes and basil that summer. I love fresh tomatoes and can find ways to incorporate them into almost every meal, and being Italian I can make great homemade sauces, but we were still wildly overrun by the various tomatoes planted. That soil was rich and well watered. Romas, Big Boys, Early Girls, as well as several heirloom tomatoes like yellow pear tomatoes were rampantly growing. So I caught a whim and got the idea that I could learn to can things. I went out with the three little kids in tow (ages 5, 3, infant at the time) to the store and purchased the necessary supplies and taught myself this lost art. While I was at it, I made pesto with the excessive basil and canned that too. From there I quickly moved to jams and jellies, and that is where I found a lot more creativity. Plus, kids can get excited about things with 7 cups of sugar in them.
There are farms and orchards located minutes from our house (although less and less as subdivisions grow) so fresh fruits are plentiful. You can discover great stuff for low prices and if you, or your kids, smile and chat a bit with the farmers, they will be thrilled to show you the best picks and give you a deal. In these conditions it is hard to know when to stop creating tasty treats to enjoy all year long.
Today I spent most of the day making three batches of jams. The warm summer air was blowing through the windows, the kids were outside playing in a tent we set up last evening for their first no-grown-ups-allowed camp out, and I had the stereo cranked. I was chopping rhubarb, crushing strawberries, and dicing peaches to the beat of the music. I was having a great time mixing batches of Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam and Peach-Rhubarb Jam. All were delicious. I’ve never tried the rhubarb addition in jam and I don’t know what ever kept me from it before. I’ve always loved rhubarb, to nearly an addiction. And rhubarb in jams is amazing! As jams go, I’d go so far as to say it’s orgasmic. But then again, I introduced the two and performed the marriage rites, so I may be biased. All I know is that in January when I am still opening jars of that Peach-Rhubarb jam, I will taste the heart of summer in all its luscious stickiness.
Just a few days before this, Scott and the kids and I went to the local grocery store. Scott started smirking and referring to me as a “hippie”. I refused to buy non-biodegradable or phosphate filled laundry soap. He told me to go ahead and pick out my “hippie soap”. We live on a lake. Helping to not pollute it seems like a wise idea to me. Then we got to the freezer section and he asked if I needed anything in the “hippie section”….the Morningstar/Boca soy products that vegetarians and semi-vegetarians, like myself, enjoy. Dork. He was summarily tweaked on the buttocks as I viewed my choices.
Today making jam I noted my flowing silk wrap skirt, fitted camisole tank top, long hair up in a twist, barefooted Self. I started laughing. I was jamming, in food prep and in music, to the likes of The Doors, John Lennon and Carole King. With a peace filled smile, I was singing along and happily making jam that pretty much anyone else in my generation wouldn’t make on a dare, let alone voluntarily on a sunny summer Sunday.
So, perhaps I am a little bit of a hippie somehow. I am good with that. It was curious though. I was trying to figure where the influence came from. I knew it was certainly not from my parents. The closest to “hippie” they ever came was the Cat Stevens album they had, and mostly I listened to that one while sitting next to the speakers singing along to the words from the jacket. But I think my parents got that album from my Aunt Jacki.
Aunt Jacki was definitely a more likely influence, even though she wasn’t really a “hippie”. I remember when she only bought brown eggs from the food co-op and had no refined sugar in her house. Not even any chocolate! That fact freaked me out as a kid. Chocolate was important to me. She had a solution, she assured me. She had two actually: carob (gag) and something called, she said (with that exaggerated excitement reserved by adults to try to convince reluctant kids), “chocolate cheese”. I honestly can’t tell you today what that stuff was in reality. But it wasn’t cheese and it surely was not chocolate. It was almost the texture of rubbery fudge but made my throat burn. Ha! Still, Aunt Jacki was, and will remain all her life, a fun free-spirited influence. I have lots of that in my blood that I can thank her for and I’m happy about that.
Interestingly, it was my mom, however, who bought me my favorite toy of my entire childhood: The Sunshine Family complete with their A-Frame house. For anyone not familiar, the Sunshine Family was a happy little family living off the earth, fully sustainable, even with accessories to go set up their own stand at the local farmers market or food co-op. My favorite part was the pottery wheel. The spinning wheel was a close runner-up. I unsuccessfully tried spinning my cat’s hair from his brush into some sort of thread.
I hardly touched my stash of Barbie dolls who were all about fashion and humping GI Joe (well, my Barbies were, anyway). Reluctantly, I would sometimes do their hair. Mostly, my little brother like stripping them naked and breaking their legs to create a Boomerang Barbie that could make it clear over the house. It didn’t really come back to him, but it did catch great air.
In contrast, I could spend hours playing with parts and accessory packs to the Sunshine Family set. Partly, that is because they came with things to actually do. There were crafts and projects to do in “real life” with each accessory. Often they were about reusing other things you’d normally throw away in order to create things for the house and family so you didn’t have to buy them. Look at that--a major corporation was out there teaching kids how to Reduce, Reuse, Recycle back in 1978! I made a crib from popsicle sticks for the baby. I made most every piece of furniture in that little A-frame house from things from my own home. I thought it was the most beautiful furniture any doll could dream of desiring in the world. It was great to lose myself in a world that made sense to me, at a time when I watched in confusion at the dinner table the endless fighting in the world shown on the news each night.
Part of me finds myself daydreaming of having my own little real life Sunshine Family. The other part of me would be thrilled to be living in a big city. So for now, I am in the suburbs in the shadow of the second largest, and certainly one of the nicest, cities in Michigan. I’m wearing my hippie skirts, writing, painting, making my jam, finding my own way and singing out loud with John Lennon. I am happy and “living for today”.
Red Wines
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