My grandma had a huge hydrangea bush on either side of the steps leading from her kitchen door. The one on the right had pink blooms and the one on the left had blue.
She talked about putting rusty nails in the soil to change the color. I don’t know if it worked so I googled it to see if it was an old wives’ tale. This is what I found. Hydrangeas change color (except for the white ones) based on the pH level of their soil. The more alkaline the soil, the pinker the flowers. Acidic soil (lower pH) will yield blue flowers and alkaline (higher pH) will give you pink flowers.
My sisters and I loved them. We didn’t care which color. One bloom was big enough to use as a bouquet and play “Here comes the bride” on a warm June afternoon. Fond memories.
My sister and I had a movie night recently. We couldn’t find anything new we wanted to watch, so we rewatched a favorite we discovered a year ago. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is a 2018 film based on the novel of the same name. Set in 1946, the plot follows a London-based writer who has the perfect life. She’s successful and has a rich and handsome American fiance. She begins exchanging letters with Dawsey Addams, a resident of Guernsey Island.
She finds herself fascinated by Dawsey’s stories about how the people on the island survived German occupation during the war and decides to travel there, where she falls in love with the island, its inhabitants, and its story.
I loved it. It’s an old-fashioned tearjerker, nostalgic and romantic. The scenery will take your breath away and the music is lovely. If that’s what you’re in the mood for, it should fit the bill.
PS – If anything, I enjoyed the movie even more than the first time we watched it almost a year ago. Michael Huisman plays Dawsey, and I loved his performance. His face is an open book. And those beautiful brown eyes! I loved watching his character fall in love with Juliette. He couldn’t hide his feelings for her.
ROAST PORK
ROAST PORK (This was a favorite with The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society)
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Mix together black pepper, garlic powder and salt. …
Put the roast on a rack in a roasting pan. …
Roast until internal temperature is between 145-160°F, 20-25 minutes per pound. …
Cover roasting pan with foil and let rest for 30 minutes.
The last week or so I’ve noticed a bird hanging out on my back porch. Didn’t think anything about it, since I try to put out birdseed on a regular basis. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a nest in my asparagus fern! Pretty sure they’re mockingbirds.
Erma Bombeck was an American humorist who achieved great popularity for her newspaper column depicting home life from the mid-1960s until the late 1990s. She published 15 books, most of which were bestsellers and wrote over 4,000 newspaper columns, using broad and sometimes eloquent humor, chronicling the ordinary life of a midwestern suburban housewife. By the 1970s, her columns were read twice-weekly by 30 million readers of the 900 newspapers in the U.S. and Canada.
I loved her. She could reduce me to tears with her humor and pull my heartstrings at the same time. She understood what it meant to be a parent.
“Tomorrow, you will
be given provisions. You and your brothers will leave at daybreak and travel to
the hills above Raintown. My sources have brought me word there is a dragon
sheltering in one of the caves there. She is guarding an egg that is about to
hatch. Slay the mother and bring the offspring to me. Unharmed.”
Ollie
blinked with confusion. “But–whatever for? Baby dragons are helpless. And it
won’t survive without its mother’s care.”
“And if by
some miracle it did, it would be useless,” Lleroy added.
Lleon nodded,
his jowls shaking. “What he said. It would end up being far more trouble than
it was worth.”
Morogon bellowed
at them so loud the force almost parted the brother’s hair. “Are you
questioning my orders, you insignificant creatures?”
They
huddled together, shaking so hard their swords rattled. Ollie cleared his
throat. “No, my lord. Of course not. We will leave on the morrow.”
Morogon
the mage had big plans for the fledging. He wasn’t about to share his plans
with these three nincompoops, but he’d recently discovered that if he could
take possession of a dragon young enough, it could be trained to do his bidding.
It would give him great power.
* * * *
Even though skeptical, Ollie, Lleroy, and Lleon left the
next day at first light, muttering all the way
“I still
don’t understand what Morogon wants with a helpless dragon.”
“Makes no
sense to me, either.”
“Doesn’t
matter what we think. We’ve got our orders.”
And so
they made the long trip over the mountains to Raintown, checking every nook and
cranny. With no luck. They were about to give up hope when they came upon a
small cave. Strange noises were coming from inside.
“What’s
that noise?” Lleroy asked.
Lleon
shrugged, but Ollie cocked his head to one side. “Sounds like snoring.”
They climbed
down off the goat they were riding, crept up to the entrance and peered inside.
Sure enough, the mama dragon was inside, her dark blue and green scales barely
visible in the dark cave. She slept with her wings curled around her egg, her
claws extended, protecting it.
They stood
staring, their eyes as big as saucers. Lleroy gulped and whispered. “Sure is a
big thing, ain’t she?”
Ollie eyed
him. “Well, what did you expect? She is
a dragon.”
Lleon
hissed. “What’s the plan?”
Ollie
pinched his chin between his fingers and thought for a long time. “Here’s what
we’re going to do. We’ll be real quiet and sneak inside without waking her up.
That way we can steal the egg and get away before she knows what happened.”
While the
brothers were busy discussing their plans, Owen, Misa, Floren, and Calebth came
up the trail. They’d been following the brothers’ tracks for miles. When Ollie,
Lleon, and Lleroy went back inside, they hid beside the entrance, waited and
watched.
The egg was
almost within reach. Things were going great until one of them stepped on the
dragon’s tail. She blinked opened eyes that burned with light against her
scales. The brothers froze in a pose.
She let out
an angry roar that started an avalanche. Scared out of their wits, the brothers
came at her screaming like maniacs. When the dust settled, they discovered the
rocks had fallen on her head, crushing her.
Ollie
elbowed Lleroy. “Go make sure she’s dead.”
“Why me?
What about you?”
“Cause I
said so.”
Leon
whined. “What makes you the boss?
“I’m the
oldest.”
“That
doesn’t mean you should be in charge.”
“Okay. Then
do it because I told you so.”
While they
were arguing, Owen, Misa, and Floren entered the cave with their weapons drawn
and stared at them.
“Do you
hear the three of them?” Misa laughed, and Floren rolled his eyes. “You guys
are morons.”
“Drop your swords,”
Owen demanded.
“Says who?”
demanded Ollie.
Floren
snorted and pointed to Owen. “Don’t you recognize him?”
“Wait a
minute. I know who you are.” Lleon turned to his older brother. “Morogon never
said anything about fighting a ranger, especially not the best in all the land.”
“But what
are we going to tell him when we come back without the dragon’s egg?”
“We’ll
cross that bridge when we come to it.” They backed out of the cave, turned and
ran.
“Is this what they were talking about?”
Caleb had followed them inside the cave. He held out a large egg shaped object with
a jagged crack across it. When it began to glow, he fumbled and dropped it. A
few minutes later, a baby dragon poked its head out of the shell, blinking up
at Owen who had squatted down for a closer look.
Misa shook
her head. “What are we going to do him?”
“Can’t we
eat it?” Floren asks.
“There you go again. Always thinking about
your stomach.”
The dwarf
threw his arms up in the air. “It was just a thought.”
“Honestly.” She turned to Owen. “Do
something with him before I do.”
“We’re not eating any baby dragon. That
would make us no better than better than a mage.”
“Poor thing.” Misa smiled down at the
little creature. “He doesn’t even have a name.”
“We can
call him Mowg.” Calebth reached out and stroked the hatchling’s bright red,
yellow, and blue head while he made a purring sound.
Floren snorted. “That’s a dumb name.”
“I think it’s cute,” she said. “And it
fits.”
Owen turned to them. “Cute names aside.
What are we going to do with a helpless, baby dragon?”
They looked like blackberries to me, but Grandma always called them dewberries. I googled to see and while similar, blackberries are slightly sweeter and dewberries are larger and usually ripen sooner. She used them to make cobblers. They grew on the fence that separated her house from the neighbor’s place. In the summertime when we went to visit, my sisters and I spent a lot of time sampling the fruit and dodging the little old lady who lived next door. We’d hear the squeak of the screen door and she’d holler out “You kids, get out of them berries!!” Grandma always told us to pay her no mind. “There are plenty enough berries to go around.” All I know is, we spent week with berry juice stains on our fingers.
After such a cool, wet spring in east Texas, it doesn’t feel like it should be summer already. And I never thought I’d say this but I’m ready for warmer weather, less humidity and sunshine! (Note to self: Remember that when I’m complaining about the heat in a month or two.)
Truth of it is I love the change. I’m always ready to move to the next season. So I’ll be packing away sweaters and jackets, getting out capris, summer shirts and sandals, digging out my quick easy recipes, and cleaning up the grill. I plan on making lots of sun tea and salads. Break out the tiki lamps and dust off the porch furniture.
It’s been a crazy spring. Not only is everything blooming late, but I almost missed getting a shot of the Spirea because of the hail storm we had. A few years ago when my daughter planted it, it was nothing but a twig!
Calebth was
beside himself with joy. At sunup tomorrow, he’d be leaving Raintown, the only
home he’d ever known, in the company of the greatest Ranger of all times. He
couldn’t believe his luck.
Never mind
that Owen had only consented to let him accompany them after he blurted out that
he knew a shortcut to the dragon’s lair that would let them get there before
any of the other bounty hunters arrived.
“You can go
with us that far and no farther.”
“But–”
“No buts.
Take it or leave it.” And that was the end of that.
But Calebth
had a plan. He’d make himself so useful that Owen would see he couldn’t get
along without him. And once that happened, he’d figure out a way to talk Owen into
training him to use the sword.
When he
went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep a wink. And no wonder! Every time he
thought about what tomorrow would bring, his heart began to pound, and his
stomach quivered with anticipation.
“No, Ma’am.”
“You’d
better not. They’ll be leaving first thing in the morning and good riddance.
Things can get back to normal.”
“Yes,
Grannie.” He didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Especially since
this would be their last evening together for who knows how long.
He jumped
out of bed and ran to the window. His heart sank when he saw Owen and his
companions leaving without him! How could he do such a thing? He’d promised
that Calebth could go with them as far as the cave. And rangers never lied.
When Calebth
didn’t put in an appearance, Owen must have thought he’d changed his mind. He
dressed in a hurry, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and pulling his grandfather’s sword from under the mattress. He crept
downstairs, grabbed a couple loaves of day-old bread, fruit, and sausage, and
left a note on the table to Grannie, telling her that he loved her and not to
worry about him before running out the door and down the road.
Never mind
that Owen had only consented to let him accompany them after he blurted out that
he knew a shortcut to the dragon’s lair that would let them get there before
any of the other bounty hunters arrived.
“You can go
with us that far and no farther.”
“But–”
“No buts.
Take it or leave it.” And that was the end of that.
But Calebth
had a plan. He’d make himself so useful that Owen would see he couldn’t get
along without him. And once that happened, he’d figure out a way to talk Owen into
training him to use the sword.
When he
went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep a wink. And no wonder! Every time he
thought about what tomorrow would bring, his heart began to pound, and his
stomach quivered with anticipation.
At supper,
his Grannie had noticed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re as jumpy as a hog
during butchering season. You haven’t let those rangers fill your head with
nonsense, have you?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“You’d
better not. They’ll be leaving first thing in the morning and good riddance.
Things can get back to normal.”
“Yes,
Grannie.” He didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Especially since
this would be their last evening together for who knows how long.
Calebth
finally fell into a deep sleep just before dawn, waking with a start at the
sound of a goat bleating.
He jumped
out of bed and ran to the window. His heart sank when he saw Owen and his
companions leaving without him! How could he do such a thing? He’d promised
that Calebth could go with them as far as the cave. And rangers never lied.
When Calebth
didn’t put in an appearance, Owen must have thought he’d changed his mind. He
dressed in a hurry, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and pulling his grandfather’s sword from under the mattress. He crept
downstairs, grabbed a couple loaves of day-old bread, fruit, and sausage, and
left a note on the table to Grannie, telling her that he loved her and not to
worry about him before running out the door and down the road.
Ollie
LLeon
Lleroy
Chapter 2 – Episode 1
Miles away in his lava castle on top of a volcano, the evil mage, Morogon, sat on his throne in his chamber brooding. He had sent for the goblin brothers and was waiting for them to appear.
After a
loud bang and the sound of something falling, the massive double doors opened,
and three goblins stumbled inside, shaking in their boots. They were sure they were
in some kind of trouble. They’d been arguing over which of them was to blame
all the way to the mage’s chambers.
Ollie, the
oldest of the three, puffed up his chest with false bravado. “Whatever it is, Lord
Morogon, we are innocent. We had nothing to do with it.”
Lleroy, the
goblin in the middle, pointed to his brother. “He spoke the truth, my lord.”
The youngest,
Lleon, nodded rapidly. “Aye that he did, that he did.”
The mage sighed
and pressed his fingers to his forehead, wondering if this was such a good idea
after all. “My sources tell me you’ve been spending a lot of time down at the
tavern, bragging to anyone who will listen that you are dragon trackers. Is
that true?”
“Umm—something
like that, Lord Morogon. Hard to recall my exact words.” Ollie swallowed and
hung his head. “We’ve been drinking a lot of ale since we lost our jobs at the quarry.”
“Did you or
did you not claim to be the best when it came to finding and killing the
beasts?”
“Oh. Well.
Umm—I may have said something like that.”
Lleroy jabbed
Lleon with his elbow and muttered out of the side of his mouth. “What he meant was we’re the only
dragon trackers around.”
“Aye that we
are. That we are.”
Lord
Morogon held up his hand, and the brothers fell silent. “Be that as it may, I
have a job for the three of you.”
Susan A. Royal 