Fall

Fall decor I don’t want to sound all grumpy and old — I mean, I know who Monsters of Folk are, after all — but aren’t we rushing the holidays just a little bit? Look, it’s only early November, but I’ve already seen enough Christmas-shopping commercials and front-door Christmas wreaths to last me through December. And the thing is that I love the holidays. I am definitely a Christmas kind of girl. I believe you can never have enough wassail and frankincense and festive good cheer, not to mention yummy food, fun parties and presents for all. It’s just that I also am a fall kind of person. I love autumn leaves and pumpkins and brown and orange sweaters. I adore warm days and cool nights and those lovely 5 p.m. sunsets. And I know, I know — stores started  selling Halloween merchandise in August so technically we’ve had enough time to celebrate fall. But, still, it’s the first week of November. I’m just not ready to flip the switch to Christmas yet — particularly since that means Thanksgiving gets sort of lost. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays — you get all the fun without any of the pressure. What’s not to like about that? This arrangement I saw in a Tupelo, Mississippi, hotel lobby this past week would make the perfect Thanksgiving decoration — although it’s probably gone by now and replaced by a Christmas tree. Sigh. And, really, why fight it? I have been thinking about going ahead and unearthing the holiday CDs that every year I put away so carefully so I can find them easily the next year, which never works, of course. It usually takes me a couple weeks to track them down, so that should be about right. Feliz Navidad!

Food

Cooking class I love going to cooking classes, mainly because that sort of gives Potatoes Annathe illusion that I actually cook — you know, much like driving past a gym while you’re wearing tennis shoes makes you think that maybe possibly you might work out sometime eventually. But I do truly learn things in cooking classes, such as the one I took recently at the Shoals Culinary Complex in Florence, PotatoesAlabama. Justin Letson, chef de cuisine (I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m impressed anyway) at the nearby Robert Trent Jones Golf Course, demonstrated a fall menu featuring apples, pork and one of his favorite dishes — Pommes Anna. This potato dish is known for its beautiful spiral design of thin and delicious potato slices, and Justin shared his secrets for making it perfect: Patience, a steady hand and patience. And a mandolin you can use — several class members admitted to buying one, taking it home, getting frustrated at not being able to operate it and taking it back. I haven’t even taken mine out of the box … since I bought it a couple years ago. And, granted, while patience is not my strong point. But this dish is so stunning and lovely, I may finally face my mandolin fear and summon up some patience and give it a try. And you should, too. Justin’s recipe for Pommes Anna is below, and if you want to find out more about his apple recipes — which really were the stars of the class — read the TimesDaily story  at http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20091104/ARTICLES/911045000

Pommes Anna

Potatoes AnnaPrepare 1 cup brown butter (melt butter over medium heat until nutty brown), 6 tablespoons minced garlic and 6 tablespoons of a fresh herb blend (suggestions include thyme, rosemary, oregano and sage). With a mandolin, slice 4 potatoes 1/8-inch thick and arrange slices in a spiral pattern in a buttered non-stick oven-proof saute pan. Drizzle potatoes with butter and sprinkle lightly with salt, pepper and herb mix. Repeat layers as often as desired. Place pan on stove top for a minute until sides start to lightly sizzle and bubble. Place pan in 350-degree oven for 20 to 30 minutes until cooked through. Test with knife — if insertion and removal are easy, it’s done. Invert onto plate, slice and serve.

Shopping

Scruggs in Tupelo, MississippiAny store with a sign on its front door requesting customers to “check Saddlestheir firearms at the customer-service desk for safety purposes” goes straight to the top of my favorites list. This is Scruggs, in Tupelo, Mississippi — a sort of combined feed store, general store and John Deere dealership. Think Home Depot, farmer-style. My husband swears it’s the best place to buy mouse traps and other mysterious manly things he uses around Scruggs the house and I’m happy to let him be in charge of those chores. And even though we don’t have a horse or cows or cornfields, I still like to wander around Scruggs’ aisles and browse. I think I like this store because it reminds me of one of my all-time favorite retailers — Rural King. And my all-time favorite Rural King store is in my mother’s hometown of Effingham, Illinois. When we’d go visit my grandparents, we’d usually stop at the Rural King, which anchored the local mall. (Who needs a JC Penney’s or a Sears when you can buy everything from jeans to seed at the Rural King?) For the longest time, that Rural King was the only place my dad could find Carhartts, and I’d usually find a comfy and cozy sweater while my brothers would head for the toys and my mom to the flower-gardening aisle. Maybe I’m just a country girl at heart. Check out Scruggs at http://www.scruggsfarm.com and Rural King at http://www.ruralking.com/

Journalism — and Jewelry

Antique mallsYounger Daughter and I recently were browsing through an antiques mall in Florence, Alabama, when she called me over to where she was standing. “Isn’t this your story?” she asked, pointing to a framed story from the local newspaper — the TimesDaily — about pins that was next to a display of wonderful vintage pins. And YD was right — there was my byline from my former days as a staff writer for the TimesDaily life section, before I retired almost two years ago to become a financially challenged but incredibly happy columnist and freelance writer. I have to say that it was sort of a strange feeling to see such care taken with a story I didn’t even remember doing — one of several hundred, probably, I don’t remember doing throughout the 10 years I worked in the TimesDaily newsroom. Yet there was my story, years later still stuck in black and white (well, sort of faded beige) and still influencing folks to think about buying a vintage pin because “brooches update fall wardrobes.” I have to admit it was a strange sensation to see this — a kind of out-of-body, did-I-really-write-that experience. Sort of makes you think. Sort of makes you hope you did a good job. Sort of makes you wonder how many other things you wrote are floating around influencing people to do things. Sort of makes you promise yourself to Write Only Good Things From Now On … beginning, maybe … tomorrow.

Halloween

Pumpkin art

Have a safe and happy Halloween weekend! My artist and teacher son-in-law came up with this poison bottle and its victims for his annual pumpkin-art designs this year. Creepy!!! And wonderful.

Family

Ponderosa Tree Farm AntiquesHappy 75th birthday to my mom, Susan Wood, of Antiques Manchester, Tennessee, today! She is practically the most awesome person I know, and my goal is to grow up to be just like her. And since she hates having her picture taken, I’ve done the next best thing and put pictures here of just one of her claims to fame: her antique shop, Ponderosa Tree Farm Antiques. She is known far and wide as an antiques and auction expert and she’s gathered some of the results Tennessee antiquesof her sharp eyes and buying skills here in her antiques shop. She also has three booths at an antiques mall, but my favorite is her shop. I love wandering through and discovering new finds she’s rescued from folks Manchester, Tennesseewho don’t appreciate the value of a vintage flour-sack apron or a chunky retro beaded bracelet. She’s got dishes, books, kitchen ware, dolls, toys, clothes, linens and almost any other thing you might want to collect. And, listen, she does all this herself — and with help from my dad. She loads and totes and prices and organizes and cleans and presses — it’s exhausting just to think about, but she loves it. I cannot keep up with her. In fact, I can’t keep up with either of my parents — they pretty much put me to shame. Read more in my weekly newspaper column, http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20091030/ARTICLES/910305000, and have a happy birthday, Mom! Love you!!!

Shoes

Shoe Tree on U.S. 72 WestYou have to look carefully, but when you do, you’ll see that Shoe Treethis tree on U.S. Hwy. 72 west, just west of Cherokee, Alabama, is full of shoes. It’s been this way for at least a couple years, and nobody is sure how it got started — or why. Or at least, nobody’s telling. You’re just driving along and then you look up and there are dozens of pairs of shoes nestled in and dangling from this tree. It’s a true mystery. I drive past it at least twice a week and I’ve never seen anybody adding their contributions — yet the Shoe Tree grows and thrives. Some say the Shoe Tree has its origins in the infamous wave of Shoes Thrown Over the Power Line in downtown Florence, Alabama, several years ago. This was a power line across from a local coffee house that was a hangout for the youngsters (actually, the sidewalk in front of the coffee house was the preferred spot) and every once in a while the within-tossing-distance power line would sprout a decoration of tied pairs of shoes. Did those Shoe Throwers grow up and now commute on U.S. 72 every day? My investigative-reporting skills have failed to find the answers. But that’s OK — I’ve got my eye on a pair of black stiletto pumps if I can just figure out how to get to the top branch.

Books

The HelpYou have got to put The Help, a debut novel by Kathryn Stockett, on your must-read list. Set in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1962, this book is about the black women who work as maids, housekeepers and nannies for the town’s well-off white families. It’s narrated by two of those women, Aibileen and Minny, as well as a Skeeter, an Ole Miss graduate who comes home to her family’s cotton farm and begins to see the injustices in the white-woman-boss and black-woman-employee system she’d previously accepted unquestioningly. As the book unfolds and we learn more about how the white female bosses treated their black employees, you’ll be surprised, shocked and stunned — and never look at a Junior-League bake sale the same way again. But this isn’t a grim or humorless book. Stockett respects her characters and allows them to gently tell their stories in their own voices as we discover and examine along with (most of) them our own feelings about race and skin color. In fact, this book led to one of the most spirited discussions my four-woman book club has ever had as we each talked about our experiences growing up Southern during the Civil Rights ’60s and how those experiences affect our relationships with those who look different from ourselves. We talked about what exactly it means to be “racist” and were so grateful we’d read a book that made us examine prejudices we maybe didn’t even realize we had. But The Help is more than a chronicle of the burgeoning Civil Rights movement. It’s a delightful and uplifting story of the power of friendship, the strength of maternal love and the power of women’s determination to make a difference. Go to a bookstore, buy this book and then pass it on. You cannot miss out on one of the best books I’ve read this year.

Restaurants

Sweet Magnolia Cafe Sweet Magnolia Cafe, a new restaurant in Seven Points in Florence, AlabamaFlorence, Alabama, has quickly become the place everybody’s going to. Owners Doug Johnson and Ken Shepski have created a stylish eatery that offers fresh and creative food (I could just dive into that salmon salad right now) combined with friendly and attentive service — always a winning approach no matter how scary the economic scene. The small inside space is somehow both cozy and chic Dessertsand nobody seems to mind the literal lack of elbow room — this is not the place to gossip unless you want all of Florence to hear about your cousin’s neighbor’s sister-in-law’s affair. You can also dine outside, on one of Seven BathroomsPoints’ actual seven points — one of the best sidewalk-cafe spots around, especially when you’re sipping an espresso and nibbling on Italian Creme Cake and thinking that next time you’re really going to have to try the Red Velvet Cake, too. And of course you know I can’t go into a restaurant without checking the bathroom — and Sweet Magnolia gets extra credit for extending its theme of efficient yet upscale design even into this all-important room. In fact, I would recreate the whole bathroom in our own house, although my husband, for some reason I still don’t understand, detests the sink-bowl trend and prefers the good ol’-fashioned white enamel sink with three-fixture chrome faucets. Oh, well. I think Sweet Magnolia’s stylish version might change even his mind. Seven Points in Florence  — a formerly bustling retail center with tons of history and ambiance — is one of those areas that people shake their heads about and say, “It’s such an interesting spot with so much potential. Somebody should go in and open up someplace really cool.” Well, now somebody has. Let’s hope for the best. Visit the Sweet Magnolia Cafe’s Web site at http://www.thesweetmagnoliacafe.com/.

Family

Ponderosa Tree FarmI know  y’all think I’m a chic and urban big-John Deere tractorscity sophisticate — isn’t that right???!!! — but the truth is that I’m just a country girl at heart. Okay, that’s a lie, too. I did not grow up anywhere near a farm, except when I went to visit my friend Debbie out in Beechgrove, Tennessee. But my dad has a nursery and tree farm and I love going out there, so I figure that’s close.  The Ponderosa Tree Farm is just a Burning bushPine treescouple miles or so from my parents’ house in Manchester, Tennessee. My dad grows and sells pines, hollies and burning bush — and has loads of fun. Well, again, that may not always be true — in the right-hand photo above, he’s trying to pull a mower out of the mud. I did not take photos of the resultant tractor pull, when the back wheel of the tractor reared up what looked to be several feet in the air and I was running through the calculations in my mind of how soon after the tractor flipped over could I call 911 and somebody would be out here or would I have to rescue my dad myself which I would, of course, although it would mean ruining my shoes in the ankle-deep mud but he’s my dad, for gosh’s sake. Luckily, everything turned out OK, although he did admit that perhaps he shouldn’t have been mowing in ankle-deep mud to start with. Farmers!