Coffee Chat: Homecoming

 

I stumbled upon a definition on Pinterst not too long ago. he majority of what I'd been scanning was all about being cozy at home, and I thought that was what this word pertained to, but reading the definition I found it was nothing to do with being cozy.  I immediately recognized something I have often experienced.

Hiraeth:  n. (Welsh) A spiritual longing for a home which maybe never was.  Nostalgia for ancient places to which we cannot return.  It is the echo of the lost places of our soul's past and our grief for them.  It is in the wind, and the rocks, and the waves.  It is nowhere and it is everywhere.

I've felt this feeling of nostalgia for places that I miss with a deep homesickness that panged my heart.  Some I have known and miss; some I have never known but read about in a book or experienced while watching a film. It's not just for places but now and then for people from the past that I somehow feel I would have experienced a real kinship with.  I think that's why I love playing with genealogy so much.  I get to know certain family members, become familiar with their neighborhoods and churches and activities and their families, but somehow, they are never strangers.  It is just so with characters in book and films, as well.  I mean, who doesn't know that Anne Shirley would be a friend to have for life?  

Speaking of spiritual longings, I used to feel it for this land I live upon.  I loved this place with a passion and longing that I've never experienced anywhere else.  Have I ceased to feel that passion?  Not really.  It's just that the longing part of the passion has been satisfied.  There is nothing to long for...It's mine, ours, and it is my hopes that one day it will be a part of some of my children and grandchildren's lives.  

John asked me the other day, "When we come home from vacation, will you be sad as we come down this stretch of road?  Will you think, 'How boring.  It's the same old thing?' " I laughed out loud.  "No!  This stretch of road has been like coming home my whole life long.  I never feel sad that I'm following this path.  I always feel my heart lighten and I look forward to what is ahead.  I love every bend and curve of this road because I've never associated it with anything but happy expectations."    

It's true.  I do feel my heart lighten when we are driving down the highway towards the entry roads to our property.  I feel the same when we are miles away and top the hill above the River Swamp.  I look out across that stretch of wetlands and woods and know that just over there is home.

As a small girl, riding towards this place with Granny and Grandaddy, we'd often come to that hilltop around sunset.  The views were breathtaking.  I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that heaven lay just past the view, somewhere on the horizon towards the glorious sunset.  I was convinced it was God's homeland, and I longed for that as I looked forward to arriving at Granny's.  I think of that often now, even during the earlier parts of the day as I gaze out at the horizon beyond.  "There," something whispers in my soul, "is my other homeland..."  

Again, that sense of Hiraeth comes.  I've never been to heaven.  I don't really know what it will look like when I arrive.  But I know it on a level beyond my mental ability to fathom it.  I know others have felt it. I feel it embodied by an old hymn, "Beulah Land" and a folk song that might also be called a hymn, "Wayfaring Stranger".

Another moment of Hiraeth occurs when I slip in memory back to my childhood.  I recall the places that I can visit no longer.  The houses that Big Mama and her sister, Mama Lee, lived in.  Big Mama's house was newer than Mama Lee's. The house where Mama Lee (Big Mama's sister) lived was a much older house.   I wonder now if it had been an old family homestead they took over.  The house where Aunt Myrtle lived was her great grandfather's (and my great-great-great grandfather's) home in the past.  I think of old family members long dead.  Of the church I attended as a child and the dear old souls that sat on the pews with us.  They are all gone.  The houses, the people, the church remodeled.  That place and time are all gone.  I long for it at times.

And then there are those times when the sun is setting and the sun slants just so over this property and the shadows fall a certain way.   I feel the ancients, the ghosts of people who inhabited this land ages ago, gather close by me and we stand together watching the sun sink down... I long to know them all, the very ones who have come and gone long ago, who seem somehow to be standing with their arms linked in mine, whispering things I can't quite hear of times I somehow feel I knew but can know no longer.

If one believed in quantum time, where all things exist at once on different levels, then perhaps they are standing just so, many years ago, and they feel me, almost hear my whispers of a life to come...And perhaps at some point in time, my great grandchildren feel my hand on their shoulder as they stand and watch the sun go down.  I find that thought comforting in a deep way.

I've surprised myself this year over how much I've anticipated this autumn...That's a homecoming time of year to me, a time of gathering in harvests of all sorts, memories of the year behind, of good fruits, and storing them away.  A time of gathering in the home as darkness comes earlier each day and lingers longer each morning.  A time of seeking warmth and comfort.  A time of snugging in and enjoying the beauty all about us.  I did not realize what a longing I had for this season until it was looming on the horizon and then my heart leapt within me.  

I've said and heard others say that this time of year feels more like "New Year" to them than the first day of January ever does.    It's always felt that way to me.  Even as a child, I remember this time of year feeling like my fresh start, a new beginning.  I wasn't born in the autumn months.  I was born in winter, but autumn feels like my season, just the same.  

In an attempt to savor the season, I'm making a Fall bucket list.  It's a short list for me for this time of year and is less comprised of the fruits of the season than it is to experience the aromas, sights and sounds of the season. I have included things like:

The smell of burning leaves on a cool evening.

The crisp sound of leaves crackling underfoot.

The gunshot sound of pecans hitting metal rooves.

Slow steady rain outside and light and warmth inside.

Grackles with their calls that sound like rusty swing chains on a playground.

The aroma of peanuts boiling.

Driving through small towns on the first chilly evening when bubbling pots of chili scent the breezes.

The drift of leaves on a breeze.

October lilies and golden rod, golden grasses and a hundred butterflies fluttering over them all. 

The chittering scold of squirrels when they are gathering nuts, and one pauses under their tree.

The warmth of a cozy sweater on a cold morning.

Piles of lovely apples in the grocery stores, all smelling apple-y and fresh.

Create that Fall playlist I promised myself I'd start this month.  Really it just means I go to Jake Westbrooks old playlists and listen to all the pretty autumn songs.  They all make me nostalgic for a time I have never known...there's that sense of Hiraeth again.

Those are a few of the things I'm looking forward to.  I'm also looking forward to when the nights are cool enough to forgo the fan that has run for months in our room, so I can finally experience the lovely quiet of the country night about us.   And the constant humming of crickets when the air begins to cool.

And snuggling into John's warmth and he is snuggling into mine on the first crisp mornings.  And the aroma of spice cakes baking.  Oh, there's so much to enjoy!

Last weekend, I took time to order myself a new Fall coffee mug.  I had one that I've used for several seasons, in autumn and out, that I've just loved but I chipped it last spring in a spot that makes it impossible to drink safely from.  I bought a new mug for summer, one that I picked up while out with Lily, and I've been using it and loving it because that was a sweet memory to associate with that mug.  But this morning, I looked at it and thought, "I want an autumn mug," so I went online at Amazon and looked and looked until I found one that I think is pretty and autumnal and big enough to suit me.  I don't know why the size matters any more, though.  I seldom drink half a cup even first thing in the morning.  I just like a sizeable mug.  

Such a disappointment...The mug arrived but it arrived broken.  The company quickly refunded my money but I confess I was disappointed.  I went to the dollar store later last week to find another but nothing caught my eye.  I wanted something a little special, something that bespoke a new season.  I'll keep looking.  

I finally broke down and bought the book Nourishing Traditions last week.  I've been reading and hearing about this book for ages.  It's become almost as iconic as Tamar Adler's Everlasting Meal or any of MFK Fisher's cookbooks.  John and I were on the way to church when we stopped at the mailbox, and I discovered it had arrived.  I read him snippets from the pages all the way to Warner Robins and read him more on the way home.

We had a long discussion about the use of butter and lard.  I was telling him that as far as I remember Big Mama used lard or butter in all of her cooking.  She was never overweight, and she had no issues with her heart.  She died at the good old age of 95.   Granny and Aunt Myrtle and Grandmother did use vegetable shortening which was a different creature than what we'd buy now.  They all lived to ripe old ages, as well.  

In recent years, as I've watched vlogs like Ruth Ann Zimmerman, Lisa at Farmhouse on Boone, and Three Rivers Homestead, I've changed how I look at things in my kitchen.  I grew up in the decades where fat became a bad thing.  By fat, I mean animal fats most especially.  And as I grew older, even those 'good fats' like olive oil were highly restricted.  Fat is a necessary thing to the body.  In the early part of the 2000's I recall the brouhaha that resulted when it was discovered that Movie theatre popcorn was popped in coconut oil!  Oh, the outcry!  Of course, now those same ones tout the benefits of using coconut oil.   

Anyway, when I began focusing hard on NOT wasting food in the kitchen, I watched as these women cut the fatty portions away from their roasts or chops then rendered down that fat in a pan to cook other foods.  I watched as they saved bacon grease to fry eggs or potatoes.

I watched and recalled the horror people had of using lard to fry chicken or make biscuits.... Yet I recognized that these practices were the same that my great grandmothers had employed.  I recalled Grandmother and Daddy raising hogs and the 5-gallon cans of rendered lard that was picked up along with the processed meat...and that lard got used!  

While Granny and Grandmother and Aunt Myrtle all purchased a few processed foods, I told John I do not recall ever seeing Big Mama eat a potato chip or candy bar.  She ate foods she made at home and while she'd enjoy a hamburger if she was out shopping, for the most part all my older relatives relied heavily on the meat and vegetables they raised.  Or as close as they could purchase at the grocery stores when they stopped raising beef and pork and chickens and vegetables.  

John and I talked about how we've changed our own diets over the years.  I use far less processed foods than Mama did.  I use some here and there but for the most part, I could make better tasting foods from scratch for less money than processed items cost.  In my early homemaking days I bought ingredients, not convenience. If I wanted chips, I'd thin slice potatoes and fry my own!  If I wanted a cake, I mixed some form of fat (usually butter or shortening), flour and sugar and made a cake.  Or cookies or pies.  The ingredients list never included a load of chemicals or preservatives.  It was straight up food.

I do recognize that for Mama, using her boxed mixes and such, was the modern way to cook.  Why take time to toss flour and sugar into a bowl when you could dump in a box of mix?   Why buy expensive butter when margarine was so much cheaper?  And touted as being better for you? When take-out wasn't available locally, she took advantage of frozen TV dinners as a convenience food source.  Why make a sauce to go over your vegetable when you could buy it in powdered form, or already frozen with the vegetable?   Mama liked to bake but she kept lots of sugary treats in the house as well as highly processed snack foods.  And it was a daily food for her, not an occasional snack.  Though she's 87, she still eats those things daily.  

I have chips and soda and candy bars in the house, but we eat them on occasion, not daily or even weekly.  I last bought candy for the house in June, and we didn't eat the last of the half dozen candy bars until the first week of September!  More and more lately I've been thinking of making my own candy.  Not because I want a constant supply of it but because I'm sure I can make good candy for less than I can buy it and without all that long list of weird chemical ingredients.  

John and I are mindful that portions can be smaller than the suggested serving size...It makes a huge difference when you can recall that sodas used to be 6 ounces...not 12-, 16- of 20-ounces as a single serving.  That's a triple sized serving compared to the amount served when they first manufactured it!  John and I think nothing of splitting a 12-ounce can.  Or sharing a small candy bar (shrinking retail products in that area do not upset us, lol) or even cutting a single bite each and saving the rest of a candy bar for another day.

Going back to soda, I always think each time I order a small drink, and it comes out in a 12-ounce cup of those little paper cups I used to get as a child.  I think a small cup back then was something like 8 ounces.  I never felt I wasn't getting enough soda!  It always seemed just right to me.  But somewhere in the years between then and say ten years ago, I was convinced by the industry that it was better to drink a super large drink (likely about 1 liter) to quench my thirst.  One thing I learned looking at old magazines was that 1 liter was considered enough to share with the whole family. And that juices should be a 6-ounce serving not a 12-ounce one.

Recently I indulged in one of my favorite coffee drinks.  It has a simpler list of ingredients but imagine my shock to discover that while a bottle was considered one serving, the whole bottle was 300 calories!  I told John, "Seriously...this just go a lot less appealing.  Why don't I just buy a regular coffee and a cup of ice and make my own iced coffee?"

So yes, I am seriously considering making changes here at home. I want to grow vegetables, at least enough to eat something fresh all year round.  And I want to make more of our snacks and buy none at all...And use real fat and not manufactured fat...

I do things by increments.  You know that.  My small bites method applies to every single thing I lay my hand to these days.  Implementing changes such as these is best done in increments. 

Can I make further changes?  I want to.  I do.  How far do we want to go?  I want to go as far as my budget, age, strength. ability to learn, and time will allow.  I can't shake the budget needs much as I'd like to do so.  Will I get to the point where I am on my own homestead?  Or grinding wheat for our own use?  I don't know.    Equipment would be needed.  And then experience. And then physical ability.  Those are truly considerations.

I just know that over the years I have changed much, and I continue to focus on change as I go on. And perhaps this book will lead me to return to things that my great grandmothers did in their homemaking day to feed us.  I'll wager I end straddling that century and this, taking the good things from both.   That seems the right way to me.

Now I'm inspired to get busy reading both this book and the Tamar Adler book all over again...and my favorite old cookbook, too.    I feel sure that all of them can teach me much.

I've been thinking too of how I might support my community more.  It's a given of course, that I can save far more money out of county than I can spending my money in county.  And some things are just not available at all here.  But I do want to support my community.  

Several studies were done about 15 years ago that said if we spent just $50 a month inside the county, we'd help all the merchants.  Well naturally we pay taxes here and that's some help.  We buy gas for the Honda and mowers here.  We visit the hardware store/auto parts store here.  We bank within the county.  I'm thinking that if I can buy fresh eggs and honey from one store and visit the truck farmer when he's in town that's support.  If we buy one take away meal at one of the local places that would be support.  True they cost more but if done in increments, it wouldn't be such a hard thing to do.  Same with visiting the local grocery (they do have a decent meat department) and the dollar store and thrift store.  I could even stretch hard and go into the local pharmacy, if not for my tri-monthly prescriptions but for the occasional over the counter need...Well, I could do this if I was careful.  

I already go into the library (patrons bring in funding from the town budgets even if we aren't paying to use the facility).  I go into the local post office. I pay my electric bill locally.  

The truth is I really want to support my community.  I really want to stick to my budget.  I've got to find and hold that line between doing both and doing it well.  That's where the work really comes in.  Maybe it means I have to rotate where I shop in each given month.  I can't singlehandedly support every business, but I can do something.

And maybe by supporting my community, I'll gain that sense of homecoming I've longed for within it as well.  Who knows?

Well dears, I've run on long enough, I'm sure.  I do hope you've enjoyed this chat!  

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