Pickleball

It was my fifth time on the pickleball court.  

A game, somewhat like tennis, a little like racketball, and a bit similar to pingpong, I was lured to the game by friend Janet.  She tried all summer to get me to play but the lawn needed mowed, the dogs needed a walk, the garden need tilled or harvested, and there certainly was a giant bowl of bread proofing that had to be divided and put in the refrigerator for its overnight proofing.  

Finally fall came with its killing frost and the market closed for three weeks.  I took the plunge on a sunny November afternoon, walking out onto the green and blue courts amongst mostly strangers (Janet was there, thank goodness), keen at serving a thousand mile per hour serve complete with top spin in my direction. 

That first time was rough, but I was good enough to come back.  And I did come back. 

The weather turned from late fall to winter, a snow storm decked the south court with slushy white snow, the gate was locked, and the green screening taken down.  The outside courts were closed for the season. 

Inside we all went.  Inside the Thayne Civic center gymnasium where children scream at the top of their voices, creshendoing into crazy bird-like screeches resonating back and forth off the white concrete blocked walls.  The children leave, the pickleball games begin.

It was just my fifth time on the pickleball court. 

I got scooped into a game by a bunch of strangers.  A man, no taller than me, decked out in court safety glasses, wearing some kind of black strap on his right arm, a muted red tee shirt with the number 16 and a pair of shorts, stood on the sideline tracking our score.  This was rather unusual. Of course, everything is new and unusal at this stage of learning!  Scoring in pickleball is one of the more difficult things to learn so it was a bit of a treat that this man was tracking our game.  He stood in the narrow space between the edge of the net and the wall and barked out the score.  "One, zero, two".  "Two, zero, two".  And then some players showed up for the other court and he abandoned us to our own score keeping.  Off to track his own score. 

Games on both courts finished about the same time.  I moved courts and as our group of four was getting set to play, the Scoring Man is suddenly standing at my left.  He glares me down and orders me - and I mean orders me - to serve the ball.  "SERVE THE BALL!" he barks.  I look at my team mates, they are not ready for me to serve the ball.  I look at him and he glares back.  "SERVE THE BALL!"  So, I serve the ball. 

"Your serve is very close to being an illegal serve," he enlightens me.  "It's very close, watch that you don't go above your waist!" he barks defiantly.  Then he turns and walks to his court to play. 

Today was my sixth time on the courts.  Scoring/Barking Man, whose name I have learned in Mike, was absent today.  I exhaled a sigh of relief.  The women to men ratio is 5 women to 3 men.  We play, we laugh, we curse, we all put everything we can muster into this effort of moving our not-so-young bodies to hit a plastic ball with holes from one side of a net to the other and staying within the gray lines.  It is challenging, frustrating, exhilerating, and fun.  I like this game! 

At a break during my fifth time on the court, Scoring/Barking Man graces me with his wise pickleball wisdom and I learn a few things.  He grabs his bag, reaches in, and pulls out a gallon ziplock bag filled with a lot of somethings.  "Here," he says, somewhat kindly, "would you like a zipper pull?"  I am astonished and giggly with delight as I pull out a blue and purple zipper pull.  Thank you, Scoring/Barking Man!  I knew there was a marshmellow heart in there somewhere!!  

Next time I see him, I will be a better player and he will get a tube of my Lip Stuff for his bag.  We are destined to be pickleball friends, I just know it! 

 

Thanksgiving

 If fall is the best season of all, Thanksgiving is the best holiday of all!

I hope this Thanksgiving finds you merrily cooking up delicious food to offer family and friends who gather around your (or their) table to celebrate all the amazing things life brings.  Food connects us.  It brings us together and unites us in flavors, smells, and sensations.  The crunch of celery, the smell of garlic simmering in hot oil, the taste of a perfect vinagrette, the laughter of joy.  

Early darkness and few days to work outside have provided ample time for dreaming.  I want to make a story/cook book.  Each recipe will have a story of its own, building the recipe into a living thing.  I will start here, on this blog site, to "practise", however, some of the best of the best will be held back for the actual cookbook.  

A title.  A title. I'm working on a title.    

So here is the first recipe. 

Inspired by Dr. Annie Fenn's Brain Health Kitchen - a cookbook filled with food that can actually improve one's brain health - I played around with a muffin recipe and made it brain-health-worthy.  

The Story of Brain Health Muffins  

Dr. Annie Fenn was my OB/GYN when I first moved to Jackson.  Coached by my mother who knew cancer well from her work in hospice, I found Dr. Fenn and she did her annual exams, sending me off with the required doctor's order for a mammogram to be scheduled at my convience. I have had an annual visit with my doctor and a mammogram every year since the age of 30.  

Dr. Fenn is a small and petite woman.  She has delivered countless babbies.  Pictures collaged on walls, notes from grateful parents.  Her examination room was like many others.  She sat in her doctor chair, below her patient, and listened and looked, proded and sampled, and offered words of wisdom.  "You will walk through menapause," she once told me.  I took her for her word and did just that! Is there any doubt that a doctor can guide you down just the road you should be going?

When I heard of her retirement, of course, I was happy for Annie and sad for me.  Luck would have it that I would find a marvelous replacement named Theresa Lerch, a certified nurse midwife.  Funny to be connected to so many women skilled in babies having chosen to not have any babies early in my life.   

In the last couple of years, Annie has watched her mother decline into early stages of Alzheimer's.  As a  physician and a passionate cook, Annie realized she was just the right person to take her education and her cooking skills to develop a cook book focused on foods that help "fend off Alzheimer's while still eating delicious food."

Many of you received her cookbook (see link above) last year from me as a holiday gift.  I hope you have found some recipes you enjoy.  Mostly, I  hope you have thought about the food you eat and how it can shape and change you as you walk through time. 

Annie's book has inspired this recipe and another;  the sourdough bread I proudly named "Annie's Bread".  Mike and my diet has had some subtle changes thanks to Annie's book and facts.  This Thanksgiving I say, thank you, Dr. Fenn!  

Brain Health Muffins

2 mashed ripe bananas (or 1 cup of pumpkin puree)

1/4 c olive oil

1/3 c maple syrup

1 egg (mixed up well)

1 t. vanilla

1 c. flour (whole wheat, gluten free - whatever you like!)

1/2 t. baking soda

1/4 t. salt

1/2 c. ground flax meal

1/4 c. pumpkin seeds

1 c. coarsely chopped walnuts

6 pitted dates chopped coarsley

Preheat oven to 350F.

The very best part of this recipe is that it is a one-bowl recipe!  Take one medium size bowl and mash two bananas (or use 1 cup pumpkin puree).  Add the oil, egg, maple syrup, vanilla.  Then in the same bowl, add the following dry ingredients; flour, baking soda, salt, ground flax meal, flax seed, pumpkin seed, walnuts.  And anything else your heart (or brain) desires.  I chopped persimmon up in this batch.  Try to mix the dry ingredients first then incorporate the wet below.   

Mix until all ingredients are blended and scoop into muffin tins sprayed with oil.  Top with a sprinkle of demerara sugar. 

Bake 18 minutes until knife comes out clean.  Enjoy for breakfast or dessert! 

Thanksgiving is a very special holiday and need not be reserved for just one day.  Gratitude is the secret to happiness.  End every day voicing some special good thing that occurred that day.  Soon, you will realize how lucky you are to be alive, to breath in the cold, crisp air as autumn excuses itself to winter.  Get out for a walk, eat good food, celebrate Life! 

Falling Forward

Most people, I have noticed, hate Daylight Savings time. 

I, on the other hand, LOVE IT!  Especially the first day, the longest day of the year!!  "What do you mean, the longest day of the year?" Mike askes with furrowed brow.  "June 21 is the longest day of the year," he proclaims, like he is certain I have lost my mind. 

Not true!  There are actually 25 hours on that first day in the fall!  Can't you feel how the day lingers on and on?  True, it gets dark much quicker but the sting of that early evening is dampened by the very long day you still have to enjoy.  Don't find me in the spring when we spring-back!  I am surley and grumpy and put-out that my hour is taken back away! 

Sunday and I sit on the deck swing and gaze across the field.  Because I have an extra hour!  Those rows covered in straw are next year's garlic crop. 

It doesn't take long and we all fall into the new day.  Arise to start the day and there is light.  Eat dinner in the dark.  Back to 24 hours and a readjustment for outside activities.  Add in rain, some snow, and copious amounts of sticky mud - taking the dogs for a walk becomes a bit more complicated.  

These days, there is grooming and bath time to figure in after a walk as well.  Here Rooster drinks and cools off in a mud puddle.  

The face only a mother could love.  

The seasons come and go here in this country.  People load up their RVs and flock south, knowing what comes next.  They fly from the cold, from the snow, from the long, dark, cold, damp days.  I know the country where they go and it is filled with people, homelessness, crowded highways, and campgrounds.  There is crime and noise and plastic bags stuck to and hanging off cholla cacti, saguaro, and ocotillo.  I've been there.  Fly people, fly on south! 

These three flew back home north!!  Where the days are even shorter in the winter!  Evan, Dani, and Opal all came for a very nice visit here at K Lazy M Ranch.  Opal, just 18 months old has now flown, travelled in a car, and met and played with lots and lots of furry friends!  She is a very good dog!  Our table was complete with a visit from friend Janet.  How lucky are we, how lucky are we?  Good food, good wine, good friends and family.  What a grand evening for all!  

Rabbit raised by some friends and enjoyed by all! 

Mike leveled up some hardy board and painted it green just before the weather rolled into the valley.  The greenhouse is closed for the season.  It was a good year and now, it is time for a break.