I know what my one-Pepsi-a-day granny would do with those dandelions: cook ‘em on her wood-powered kitchen stove, the only kind of cooking device she owned.
After the dandelions were ready to serve, she always told us, “now you kids get in here and eat. I’m not going to be cooking again in five minutes just because you think you are hungry.”
I know what my one-Pepsi-a-day granny would do with those dandelions: cook ‘em on her wood-powered kitchen stove, the only kind of cooking device she owned.
After the dandelions were ready to serve, she always told us, “now you kids get in here and eat. I’m not going to be cooking again in five minutes just because you think you are hungry.”
Mine had a combination electric and wood stove. Those must have been sold for a very short time. The wood side provided heat, trash disposal (she bought very little disposable packaging), and a stovetop.
Every morning at 4 am, my granny fired up the stove to make breakfast for my granddad, who ran the logjammer stacking logs from the mill pond at PFI in Lewiston.
Sometimes, in awed whispers, we called her the old biscuit burner. You know how kids are.
Do you know the poem "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden? I love the phrase "blueblack cold" to describe that time of day when the family firestarters used to rise to their duty. It's here if you don't know the poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46461/those-winter-sundays
I wonder if his kids called him a biscuit burner? Nah! They wouldn't dare!
He had the power over haircuts, which he personally administered. One style fit all heads, but might include more nicks, depending on the shearee’s attitude.
I know what my one-Pepsi-a-day granny would do with those dandelions: cook ‘em on her wood-powered kitchen stove, the only kind of cooking device she owned.
After the dandelions were ready to serve, she always told us, “now you kids get in here and eat. I’m not going to be cooking again in five minutes just because you think you are hungry.”
Haha! I’m going to channel your grandmother.
Mine had a combination electric and wood stove. Those must have been sold for a very short time. The wood side provided heat, trash disposal (she bought very little disposable packaging), and a stovetop.
Every morning at 4 am, my granny fired up the stove to make breakfast for my granddad, who ran the logjammer stacking logs from the mill pond at PFI in Lewiston.
Sometimes, in awed whispers, we called her the old biscuit burner. You know how kids are.
Do you know the poem "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden? I love the phrase "blueblack cold" to describe that time of day when the family firestarters used to rise to their duty. It's here if you don't know the poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46461/those-winter-sundays
I wonder if his kids called him a biscuit burner? Nah! They wouldn't dare!
He had the power over haircuts, which he personally administered. One style fit all heads, but might include more nicks, depending on the shearee’s attitude.
“What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?”
Truth. Adulting. Wisdom. Pura vida.
I love the down to earth -"this grandma is no fool!