21st Century: Whassup?!? 17th Century: Wassail?!?

It's Wassail Season!

Every year, I mark the beginning of wassail season on Halloween with the first hot cup at my Aunt Hazel's house in Woodruff. We take our bags of candy and decorated children to Aunt Hazel and Uncle Sam's house, dump off the candy to be handed out to trick-or-treaters, take a big group picture of the 25+ costumed family kids, grab a cup of steaming wassail from the pot on the stove and begin the walk around the tiny town, filling pillow cases with treats.

Even when we lived in the Valley, we would pack up the kids to go to Woodruff for Halloween if it fell on a weekend. It's an unofficial Potts family reunion. My Uncle Cliff brings his grand kids from Payson, my Cousin John brings his kids from Thatcher. And the first and last stop is always Aunt Hazel's, or, "The House of Woodruff" as Tanner called it when he was a tot.

There are certain things you can count on with Halloween in Woodruff: GiGi Gardner's soft, homemade gingerbread cookies are a favorite; the popcorn balls you always get at the house across the river; the truly scary haunted house that Peggy and Benny Goodman (who are in their 60s) rig every year, that had my fearless husband giggling in embarrassed fear last year (sorry, honey, everyone's fair game) alongside the usually fearless husband of one of my friends. I'm fairly certain they grabbed hands for a moment to pull each other past the masked, chainsaw wielding girl, but I won't swear to it. And, of course, we count on the wassail at Aunt Hazel's.

I called Aunt Hazel to get her recipe this week, and like all of us Potts women who cook but don't really use recipes, she gave me ingredients and rough ratios, then told me to just taste it and adjust till it was right. With Mom as my tester yesterday, I made my own first pot of the season for the 30 Primary children we hosted an activity for at the church.

Here's what we ended up throwing in the pot, to make enough for a crowd:

1 gallon of apple juice
1/2 gallon apple cider (you can do all cider or all juice, if you prefer)
1 gallon orange juice
5 large cinnamon sticks
10-15 allspice berries
15 whole cloves
2 c brown sugar*
2 T ground cinnamon**

Heat on high until steaming, stirring occasionally. Reduce to medium and simmer for at least 2 hours. Taste after the 1st hour to see if you need to adjust anything. Then, leave it on low for as long as you're serving it.

*I could have done without the sugar, but I like it tart. Do what feels right for you and yours. Yesterday we were serving this alongside popcorn, so it felt right to make it sweet for the youngsters.

*I only added ground cinnamon because my whole cinnamon sticks didn't have much scent; if yours are really aromatic, don't add the ground cinnamon. I added this after it had simmered for an hour and still didn't have the right amount of body. Freshness/strength of spices is a big deal for this - I bought my cinnamon sticks the day before I used them, but I'd wager they sat around in a warehouse for awhile before they hit our Safeway shelves. If your spices have a burst of aroma when you open the lids, you should be just fine. If not, you might want to toss the whole spices into a non-oiled frying pan and toss them around a little over high heat to begin to release some of their potency before putting them in the pot of juice. I've never tried it, but it seems like it would be a good idea. Or you could bump them around a little bit in a mortar and pestle if you have one.

This morning, I warmed up the leftover wassail for the girls and me, then went off to take a bath. After getting out of the bath I realized I'd left the wassail on high and rescued it just before it evaporated. Which led me to think of my next favorite winter holidays tradition: Homemade Potpourri or as we call it around here "The Stuff That Makes Your House Smell Like Christmas."

Whenever guests are coming over during the holidays, or I feel festive, or there's an odor in the kitchen that needs masking, I just throw the following together in a small pot:

Cinnamon stick or two
Whole cloves
Whole all spice
One orange, quartered
One apple, quartered
Water

Bring it to a boil, then turn to low. I just keep adding water throughout the day. If you accidentally boil away the water, no biggie - just add a few fresh spices, more water and keep it going. Get up the next morning, add more water, and carry on. Refresh the spices after a day or two. If you have a wood stove, you could probably keep this simmering on top of it.

If you don't have whole spices, the powdered stuff works just fine. You can leave out the fruits altogether, if you want to. No allspice? No big deal. You get the picture.

Ok, now just go stand over the steaming pots on your stove, close your eyes and smile insipidly. Until you feel someone staring at you, then give the pots a good stir and look busy.

Love from the sweet-smelling farmhouse,
Teri

(P.S. Please don't stop by to smell; the house is a wreck. Go make your own.)

So Thankful

Tonight I'm thankful for...

• small town celebrations that include my kiddos singing Thanksgiving and Christmas carols for the gathered crowds and handing out hot chocolate and candy canes
• running into aunts and cousins and grandmas, childhood friends and new ones
• the Capitol Christmas Tree coming from Arizona for the 1st time, and my children having the sense they took an active part in something historic as they joined in the festivities
• the all too infrequent joy of running into someone you simply didn't expect to see - in this case, an old colleague from the Forest Service traveling with the traveling tree
• the chance to rattle off the highlights of the last 11 years since we'd seen each other, and realizing anew that so many good and important things have happened in our lives
• the crisp fall air requiring us to bundle up, stand a little closer to one another for warmth, and hug each other and briskly rub each other's arms a little more often
• the cacophony of elementary school choirs, passing trains, honking motorists and chattering townsfolk, all forcing us to lean in a little closer to hear what each other is saying
• teachers who give so much of themselves, and in so doing, bring music to life in the hearts of our children
• an 11-yr-old daughter who insists on side pig tails, bopping around unselfconsciously and joyously in the top row of the choir, not caring one whit that no one around her is dancing
• a 9-yr-old daughter who braves her fears about being clumsy on her crutches, and gets up in front of the crowd anyway
• the realization that even if the 12-yr-old son hasn't been at school for two days, he still deserves to be part of this festive night, and being rewarded by seeing color in his cheeks as he finds his way to friends and falls right back in step with them
• an 18-yr-old son who commits to the commitments he makes, and enjoys responsibility and accountability in all his endeavors
• a husband who forgoes sleep and rest after long hours of work so he can be at as many kid events as possible, and who genuinely laments missing any of their activities; there's nowhere he'd rather be than with us
• a mother who delights in her grandchildren and their accomplishments, just as she did with her own children
• a dad who lights up every time his grand kids come bounding into the house
• an aunt who treats her great nephews and nieces with as much love as she would her own grandchildren - and who showers them with movie nights, handmade gifts they cherish, and love
• a sister who knows
• a drafty old house, where our little girls are bundled in the living room for warmth, until their windows can be replaced in their bedroom
• the 4 or 5 months of piano lessons when I was 10, which allows me to lull those snuggling girls off to dreamland in the dimly lit room quietly playing just the melodies of precious hymns like this and this
• feeling a calm spirit envelop the night and sensing the activities of the day draining from my daughters' little bodies as their breathing deepens and I somehow feel them sinking into sleep.

For these things, and so many more, I am thankful.

Is Your Light Hiding Under a Bushel?

Sitting in a room full of adults one day, I heard something like this, "How many of you in here are great artists?" Everyone looked around awkwardly. No hands were raised. "How many of you are singers?" A tentative hand or two. Again, sheepish looks.

"Look what happens to us as adults," the teacher said. "We forget our gifts; we become embarrassed."

He continued, "If I were in a class of 25 1st graders and I asked if any of them were artists, I guarantee you, most of the hands would have shot up at once; then the remaining kids would have looked around, and bolstered by their classmates' confidence, sent their hands up, as well. If I asked if they were singers, the same thing. Those 6-yr-olds would be bouncing in their seats, hands waving, starting to yell out their favorite tunes and breaking into song.

Somewhere along the line, as we get older, we become afraid and stop believing in our gifts."

I thought of that last night when I read a note from a woman fighting, and appearing to overcome, a cancer that many people don't overcome. She is feeling survivor guilt, wondering why she "deserves" to be healed when so many people "better" than her, who have lived more virtuous lives or made fewer mistakes, don't recover. When precious children afflicted with the same disease aren't making it, but somehow, she is. She said it kind of feels like we all felt after 9/11, wondering why our fellow Americans back East bore the brunt of the horrors, while we suffered and ached, but far removed from the grit and the smoke.

On a lesser scale, how many of us sometimes wonder how we can possibly deserve the blessings we've received or the gifts we've been given, when there are so many "more deserving" who seem to have so little? How many of us think we have a gift, even once used that gift with joy and confidence, but have become afraid or disbelieve we really do have a talent? And who would care anyway if we just set it aside?

This cancer survivor referenced the following quote by Robert Louis Stevenson, and I just wonder if there are a few among us who might find something in it that rings true.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Shine away, friends. You're beautiful.

Love from the farm,
Teri