I have grown the most gorgeous Poblano (Ancho) Chiles this year. I neeeeeded Chile Rellenos for dinner, but it was late and I hadn’t roasted the peppers and removed the blistered skin or prepared homemade green chile with which to smother them. I hadn’t found the perfect batter recipe, delicate and crispy, but strong enough to hold the gooey, hot, cheesy filling. Ill-prepared, yes. But more determined than ever, yes! yes! yes!
So here is what I did.
I cut the stems off and removed the seed head.
I threw them in the microwave to “blister” them, soften the peppers (5-6 minutes).
Then I stuffed them with Monterey Jack cheese and wrapped them in an egg roll wrapper (8 oz. will fill about 6 chiles).
Placed them in the skillet in hot oil just until they just golden-browned (less than 5 minutes total, turning once).
Had Dave pick up a quart of green chile at Santiago’s on his way home.
Zero to dinner in 15 minutes flat, and Oh, baby – yummmmmmmmm
It is a cheat, but egg roll wrappers are egg-based much like relleno batter and even Italian pasta. And it works. And it is good. And I have lots more Poblanos, thank-You, Jesus!
No picture: It was so good I ate them without remembering to take a picture. Too bad.
“But now in September the garden has cooled, and with it my possessiveness. The sun warms my back instead of beating on my head … The harvest has dwindled, and I have grown apart from the intense midsummer relationship that brought it on.”
– Robert Finch
Pearl has beautifully cleaned her garden and cleared it away. My cousins in the midwest, I have heard, have done the same. But I always struggle to let go, to actually let summer pass into fall.
Early last week I thought the zucchini looked weak and perhaps were nearly “over,” so I watered them once more, gathering an arm-load of fruit, planning to uproot and end their time over the weekend. The very next day, however, they were alive again with large yellow blooms, shouting their worth and prolonging their stay.
Some of the garden will make it through the cold.
But these cold days and cold, cold nights are going to do all the tender plants in. Ultimately many of the flowers, including the petunias and nicotiana and zinnias, will make it through this frigid spell and will shine like stars in the universe in October as Monarch butterflies dance around them, captivating my fancy while I should be doing something productive. And if I cover my tomatoes and peppers, which, of course, I will, they will suffer some, but keep producing – almost until Thanksgiving, the Lord willing and I remember to pay special attention.
Some of the garden won’t make it through the end of the week.
But the cucumbers, the zucchini and the spaghetti squash will likely not make it past this week. Their tender leaves are taking a hit that will be irrepairable. I have already pulled most of the green beans.
It’s so hard to say good-bye.
But it is hard to let them go. It is difficult to watch the yard begin to retreat into its winter-ready clothes where once it danced merrily in dazzling color and sizzling heat. It’s hard to hear the sound of dry, rustling leaves where children once splashed in water to the frog, toad and cricket’s song of the castinets.
The harvest is dwindling.
Today I brought in 2 armfuls of baby zucchini, lemon and English cukes and some other variety of cucumber. I ate a couple of small beans right there amidst the soil and fading green. I grabbed some huge, very happy-looking peppers (where a fridge full of their colorful cousins await being used), and I grabbed the reddish tomatoes, which are too soft inside to expose to such cold, but will continue their ripening on the counter and be delectable in the next 2-3 days.
I will miss the summer. I will miss the long days and short nights and profuse blooms and iced tea while I swing on the patio. I will miss swimsuits and beach towels all. over. the. yard! And the sound of kids playing with dirt and rocks and dangerous yard tools when there are plenty of good toys to be had.
But just in case I was going to hang on too tightly, just in case I was going to pretend that summer was not over in spite of the calendar saying it is so this 22nd day of September (the Autumnal Equinox), the weather has forced me to face reality and it is freaking cold! What on earth?!
So, that’s it. Summer is over. The fall has descended upon me like a heavy, wet, soaked 1960’s green canvas camping tent. So, I shall drink myself into beautiful oblivion with the beverage I once heard called “liquid pie.” Yes, that smooth, creamy, cinnamony Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks. This shall be my reward for a summer which has left me.
Hunter has been hanging out with me for 4 days while his parents have been in Cedar Rapids, Iowa (a place I lived and attended school for 8th and 9th grade and about 2 months of 10th grade, Hi Sherri and Lorri!). Dave and Tara were doing ministry there and having a great time, like they always do when they travel.
The Hunter conversation yesterday.
Me: Be careful on that ledge, Little Prince. I don’t want you to get hurt.
Hunter: If I’m the Little Prince, what’s your name, Nonna?
Me: Well, I guess that makes me the Queen Mother.
Hunter: You’re not my mother.
O, don’t I know it.
Me: I know, but I think I am the Queen Mother, nonetheless.
Later.
Me: Be careful, Little Prince, tumbling head first over the back of that chair. I don’t want you to crack your noggin.
Hunter (to Stormie): Nonna calls me the Little Prince.
Me: Tell Stormie what you call me.
Hunter: She’s The Queen Nonna!
I find this title quite fitting.
Today, Hunter had gone upstairs and I could hear him rooting around in my closet. I have yet to find out how he scaled the heights to make his find, but he came downstairs with these:
Then this conversation.
The Little Prince: Nonna, when did you have these?
Me (laughing and somewhat embarrassed): Oh, for about 10 years.
The Little Prince: Ten years??!
{A pause.}
The Little Prince: What are these?
Well, you know…Queen Nonna shoes.
That was supposed to be THE END of this blog post. Seriously. But then…
The little Kelley kids were on their way over and I just put the shoes on the stairs in case Guini wanted to klop about in them. Stormie was playing the piano when Guini spied the shoes, picked them up and asked, “What are these?” To which Stormie loudly and flippantly replied, “Those are Nonna’s naughty shoes.” Guini very carefully and quietly put them back down and backed away. Hahhhahahha!
What on earth? A woman cannot have slippers for her bedchamber anymore?
Ode to the Family of my Summer, for I shan’t and mustn’t acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the September (or Autumnal) Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month ~ yes, just a couple of days from now, but still. Despite the fact that my sweet daughters, Stephanie first and then Stormie, have brought me a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks each (how sweet are they??), I won’t purchase my first until it is truly autumn. I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly…
Ross and Norma with grandkids and great-grandkids
Dad and the brothers visit
Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic,
nourishing Night!
Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars!
Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
~Walt Whitman
Joe’s wife, Robin with my dad; hanging on “Moslander Mountain”
Ross the Boss, Mrs. Moss, and all the Little Landers (Jeanie, Joey, Timmy, Tami and Danny)…except Tim didn’t come this year, but the rest did – with their spouses and children.
It was a divine time, full of remembering and creating new memories. Cousins kidded and cajoled. Siblings sought to reconnect. Dad told us where we came from and gave us insight for our futures. Mom cheered us all on and hugged the stuffing out of us. Love was in the air and in our hearts.
Gerron, Jordan and Austin being dudes
Tredessa, Grandma Moslandr and Uncle Joe
Sister-in-Law, Dawn.
Dawn and Dan share family secrets
Just the other morning my sister-in-law, Dawn, whom I have known and loved since she was 14, emailed me these beautiful sentiments about The Moslander Family Reunion:
“I took you all in during our time spent together. Kinda like a wonderful meal! I feel full, but want to take in some more. Good memories, but missing everyone.”
Cousins Rocky and Corbin having fun at the Phipps farm
Riding horses at the farm.
Brothers telling fish stories, no doubt
So blessed.
Me with little sister Tami and her husband, Gerron; Jordan and Rocky-best cousins forever!
I love my family. I am so blessed by wonderful parents and amazing siblings who have married so well. They have gifted me with extraordinary nephews and nieces. And everytime we are together, all is right with the world.
Aunt Tami with her nieces; Aunt Tami pulling me into silliness.
“In every conceiveable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.” Alex Haley
Mom and Dad.
Whom I have also sometimes (with great affection) called “Mammogram” and “Pap Smear.” Not sure how they feel about that! This is the result of these two people.
All my love to family, both near and far, both born to us and joined by love.
Another Ode to Summer, for I am not yet ready to acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the September Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month (days away, yet). Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. And I have even enjoyed a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks or two. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly…
“Summer is the time when one sheds one’s tensions with one’s clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all’s right with the world.” ~Ada Louise Huxtable
A million shades of blue.
The ferry carried us from the beautifully-appointed resort to the sandy seashore.
Balmy. Breezy. The ocean. Huge pools of clear, barely-cool water.
Beautiful sunsets, lovely evenings. Suntans.
The flora and fauna drip fulsomely from nooks and crannies without a care in the world, and are the same plants WalMart sells us for our houses. Yet we must labor mindfully to keep them alive.
Luke is a bigger ham than Tredessa.
Why can’t I have a sandy beach 5 minutes from home? Why must I travel so far for this one much-desired amenity?
Another Ode to Summer, for I shan’t acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the September Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month. Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly…
“I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.” ~Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit
Black dirt. Green grass. Blue sky.
Baby pepper plants taking over where lettuces and radishes have been as spring turns into summer.
Sunshine in my heart.
Peppery, edible Nasturtiums.
July 15th was the first red tomato day. They have been steady ever since. Snapdragons grow in odd spaces among the rocks and borders.
Steady, brilliant potentilla blooms yellow all summer long. Hollyhocks rule the world.
As many unplanned flowers grow here as the ones I actually placed. Seeds from year’s past in re-used pots shout “surprise” throughout the long, summer days.
The self-seeded and stately sunflowers, heliotropers all, each have their own “face,” their own look and personality. This is the Crowned Prince, not the flashiest or most obvious, but the smartest among them all. He observes everything happening in the garden, including my bungling attempts at transcendence in soil, and wisely discerns how to bring healing and balance, extending grace where needed, though undeserved.
“Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its’ fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.” Song of Solomon 4.16
And now? I dine on fresh produce and cut little bundles of flowers and enjoy the reward of dirt under my nails, and pulling weeds and nurturing seedlings and digging holes and watering young plants and hauling manure and mixing plant food concoctions and enduring the heat of the day and being attacked by mosquitoes and cussed out by mama spiders and pricked by thorns and enthralled by the scent of five types of basil and beguiled by the perfume as I caress the thuriferous leaves of the rosemary in passing. I am compensated so far beyond any effort I have invested. In the garden is food for my soul.
Ode to Summer, for I simply will not acknowledge an autumn which does not truly begin until the Autumnal Equinox, on the 22nd day of this month sometime in the late afternoon. Yes, school is back in session. Yes, the nights are cooler, some mornings even crisp. But I must sing of my love for the summer until the last verse fades softly, for it is hard to bear the end…
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.” ~John Lubbock
Gavin.
Gavin toyed with an Edward-do, a la Twilight (the movie), before settling on a mop-top later in the summer. He is such a sweet, freckle-faced kid. He turned me into Nonna 6 years ago this summer. This summer we went to the nursery together and I helped him put together his very first, very own planters of flowers and tomatoes (a passion we share). He changed my life forever.
Hunter.
My little inquisitive, curious, talkative, adventurer, Hunter, will be 5 soon. He questions everything, knows something about all topics and is growing like a weed. This was the summer I had to make a lot of deals with him to get photographs. If I take one of him, he gets to take one of me. He is the perfect mix of both his mommy and his daddy and he always asks me, “Did you miss me while I was gone, Nonna? Are you so glad to see me again?” I so did and I so am.
Guinivere.
I call Guini my flower girl. She loves beautiful blooms and picks them every chance she gets. She likes to play “flower shop” when she comes to visit. She is quiet, but decided, mysterious and cuddly – but you have to be ready to drop everything for the magic moment, for it can be fleeting. We hang out, she’s my girl.
Gemma.
This was the summer of Gemma in the quinitessential yellow sundress. It matches her vibrancy and her spirit. I wanted one just like it! She is hilarious and she is two. She is very good at it. But she is also very helpful. She sunscreened herself before outings, or during “naptimes” or whenever she could – a lot! She’s my little “sweet petite,” who cannot keep her jeans up since she started wearing big-girl undies!
Averi.
Averi-baby is on the run. All. the. time. Except when it is time to eat. She and I share that hobby! From certain angles, I feel like it’s the early 80’s and I’m chasing Tredessa again. She loves to wear (and break) my reading glasses and when mommy and daddy go somewhere, she asks me, “Where’s mama? Where’s Rocky?” Every now and then while we are running around the backyard together, she will stop and tell me the most hilarious story and uproariously laugh at her own joke. It cracks me up.
These are the 5 smile-bringers of my summer. Of my life. I don’t deserve them, and yet they are here. And all they do is bring me joy.
It was crisp black lines and soft, silk blue and monograms and crystally-light drapes. It was bubbles and blue Mustangs and tuxedos and loveliness. Barefoot flowergirls, curled hair cascading down their backs and ring-bearers raced to the finish line. The black, menacing sky broke forth into a yellow blaze of western-sun glory just as the bride, on her father’s arm, entered to be seen by her groom. There was a 5-tier cake, each a unique and specially-chosen flavor with gourmet fillings, embellished with the palest blue and thousands of edible pearls. There was candlelight. Friends and family filled every space, the dancing was exhuberant and chocolate fountains flowed.
My favorite part of Rocky and Jovan’s wedding day? The vows they wrote to each other, so sweet and loving and true. A close second would be that Jovan and I tested at least 17 buttercream recipes and hit upon the perfect one. My favorite part since? Their commitment to passing on family traditions and their gift of time, the time they give us on holidays and holy days, the special events and times that make family and keep the legacy going.
Rocky and Jovan got married three years ago on September 15, 2006. Congratulations and Happy Anniversary you two beautiful people. Life has changed since then. Rocky + Jovan brought us Averi-baby and will bring me another grandbebe in the spring! This is a thrilling and good thing.
Love you so much, my son and his love…mom
pictured: Rocky and Jovan with Averi, taken by Ellie Pickett; The “Rock-vans” at Heaven Fest, taken by Kori Verspohl
