sweet!

at work, i have deemed myself the designated recycler and, two saturdays a month, i'll take the excess paper - the old magazines, the outdated newspapers, the packaging materials - to the transfer station. after i'd done this for several years, i found out from area children that the nice elderly man at the recycle house passes out tootsie pops to kids when they recycle. hey - i recycle! i like tootsie pops! so i mentioned it to him and last fall, he began to include me! he knows i only like the chocolate tootsie pops, so he always saves one for me. but today, a windfall - one that made me smile all the way home.

origami delight

one saturday this fall, i chanced to meet and be part of a conversation with a lovely and quiet man, probably a little older than me. what we talked about must have been pretty general and of little significance, because i can't remember the topics. what i do remember is the fact that he was actively interested in whatever it was we had to say. he asked questions, and was a very good listener.

before he left, he presented us each with an intricate origami dollar, crisply folded into a beautiful symmetrical object. mine was a heart, backed on a felt square and carefully packaged into a tiny sleeve. at the back of the package, a card with a greek proverb, a shiny sticker, and a tiny jeweled bauble. clearly, this man was intentional in his presentation.

we were so taken aback to receive such a lovely gift from a stranger. we tried to pay him, but he declined. we offered dollar bills so he could make more, and he told us it wasn't necessary. he wouldn't give us his name, only asked that we enjoy his small gift.

i stood the dollar heart on my desk here, and thought about the chance encounter for days. months later, i am still in awe of all that transpired. why would a stranger do such a thing? not only is he spending a great deal of time making these for people he doesn't know and likely will never see again, he's giving away his money a dollar at a time. obviously, his simple reward is in the delight and enjoyment of his recipients.

a few weeks ago, as i inserted my card into a gas pump a few towns away, i found something blocking the slot. i removed it, and was elated to find another origami dollar, packaged in the same manner, this one folded into a tiny shirt. my glee was apparent as i pocketed the treasure and pumped the gas, grinning like a fool. how lucky was i to encounter this man, not once, but twice? by the time i was finished, i knew how to repay this man. i returned the shirt dollar back to the gas pump slot in hopes that the next person would find in it as much delight and enjoyment as i had.

easter 2015

happy easter!

the tradition continues. i am amazed. two friends i have long suspected are in different states this easter morning. 

valentine memory

today was valentines day in schools, and i had the unexpected surprise of participating in a kindergarten party, highlighted with valentine delivery by beaming five year olds. later in the day, the little girl shared with me her valentine box from school, reading each card and the name of the giver, commenting on the styles of cards and the candy and lollipops that accompanied most. it's a tradition. we have done this every year since before she could even read them.

from nowhere today, came pieces of the ancient memory of a nine year old arriving new to a school on the fourteenth of february. the classroom was all decorated with pinks and reds and the room was abuzz with talk of the upcoming party after lunch. the teacher had a kind face and a pleasant manner, but i remember being apprehensive - we had moved around a lot and it was always hard for me to make new friends in a new place.

those were the days when there were neighborhood schools, stay-at-home mothers, and no need for lunch programs. when i came back to school after lunch, a beautifully decorated box was sitting on my desk, and inside were valentine cards from all my new classmates. i don't remember learning the details of how all that came to be, but i do remember the welcoming feeling of acceptance from a room full of strangers. years later, i suspect that it all had to do with my new teacher, mrs. stanton. and i silently thanked her again today for her kindness to an anxious child so many, many years ago.

message in a bottle

yesterday, i bought this tiny-but-tall bottle for a dollar at a goodwill store. a matching one in my kitchen is filled with dried orange peel. even if there hadn't been a mysterious folded paper inside, i still would have bought it - for lemon peel, and a matching set!

this morning, i fished the paper out and read it. and i've been thinking about the message ever since...  well done, perfect stranger.

(and you, reader, will need to click on the picture to see it for yourself.)

appreciation

so lovely to be officially appreciated during the week set aside for teachers. flowers and goodies, lunches and cards. but the most meaningful instance was the mother who came to school to seek me out, to let me know the wonderful things her son had said about me, and how much he thought of me as a teacher. her kind word made my heart sing, particularly since i've been questioning my worth for many months now. such a small gesture, with so grand an impact.

little things

a lovely fragrant end of year bouquet from a student's family, beribboned and presented in a canning jar along with a note of thanks. such a sweet gesture, so very much appreciated.

the end of gingerbreadmania

each december, for a few weeks, i go into a bit of a frenzy trying to replicate the recipe for the best gingerbread i have ever tasted. the gingerbread i have every first saturday in december when i go to the same ladies' aid christmas luncheon. the secret recipe gingerbread, made by sweet but closed-mouthed little church ladies in a remote village town.

i have blogged about it in decembers past - the backstory, if you want it, is here and here. today my quest came to an end thanks to elizabeth (whose name, of course, has been changed), a genial and warm member of the ladies' aid, who mailed me the recipe in her own hand after i gave her my name and address at this year's christmas luncheon. i made it today - spicy, warm, delicious. surprisingly simple - and, after all that, there isn't even a secret ingredient.

made my day

a quick stop at the market this evening to stock up on milk and tea in anticipation of the new year's first snowstorm. when i inadvertently left my keys on the counter and turned to leave, a kindly old gentleman in line behind me touched my shoulder, nodded towards the keys and said you'll be needing these...  and then he called me miss.

i guess it's all relative. thank you, sir.

a blessing and a curse

at first i drove right past this scene. it was quite lovely and i did slow down for it. but really, you can't photograph everything! however, this beauty is the price you pay for having a snowless december. you don't often see the lake this frozen and this glossy. so i turn the car around and go back, inch it along by the side of the road until i can see it all again - the ice on the lake, the snow on the mountain, the blue of the sky. i set my camera and start to shoot.

in the distance, i see a jogger headed my way, frosty breath forming a cloud around his head. as he approaches, i say good morning. he returns the greeting as he passes by. then he turns, jogs backward a few paces and, looking at the camera, says, what do you see? everything comes my response. i see everything.

the elusive gingerbread

with apologies to friends who were reading serendipitous last year at this time, i am once again bringing up the perennial holiday subject of gingerbread. never a fan of it as a child, in december i become obsessed with duplicating a particular gingerbread served as a simple dessert at a local ladies auxiliary christmas luncheon. but this stuff is anything but simple. it's dark. it's moist. it's flavorful without being overly spicy. and it's amazingly delicious. i tasted it again on saturday and now the old gingerbread fervor has returned for yet another season.

it's made with an old secret recipe, the ladies tell me with twinkles in their eyes. every town baker uses the same recipe so the gingerbread will be consistent for each seating. one woman slipped and told me the secret was in the molasses. of course, i have experimented with amount and types of molasses. sulphured. unsulphured. blackstrap. this year, i have some locally made, in the cupboard, waiting for baking time. 

last winter i think i made five attempts, trying duplicate this elusive gingerbread, but to no avail. so i ask you, dear readers...what do you know about gingerbread? is it all created equal? are there tricks to the making or baking of it? what makes a dark, moist, not too dense or spicy gingerbread? your thoughts and recipes shamelessly accepted.

c is for comfort

for lots of reasons that seem much less important tonight, today was not my best day. and here is the homemade cookie (minus the bite) with which my friend nancy surprised me this afternoon. it was a small offering but it made me smile and feel better and was one of the nicest things that happened to me all day. it was the kind of simple gesture that makes me want to pay it forward.

famous last words

over the weekend, i saw this in a cemetery. when my time finally comes, i'd love to leave behind words like this. words that make even a stranger laugh out loud and smile days later, thinking that the deceased must have really been quite a gal.

the unusual request

so a few months ago, out of the blue, i get this email from a guy named colin at the unusual suspects asking me for an interview. i hem and i haw and i outright stall because, quite frankly, i've never had a request like this before. eventually tho, ego gets the better of me and i acquiesce and answer his questions. and here's the result.

by the way, his is an unusual blog - little snippets of pop culture with links to the bigger story. movie reviews and commentary. an entertaining style of writing - and he posts not once but twice a day. i check it daily and have become a follower. go look around and maybe you will, too.

and why the photo of the pansy? no reason. i just like it, that's all.

mothers' day magic

i've looked forward to today with some trepidation, since this is my first motherless mothers' day. so, in an effort to be positive about the day, i decided to search until i found some small sign that my mother was with me still, if only in spirit. and find it i did - or so i thought.

early in the day, i walked into church behind this elderly woman who was wearing a replica of my mother's fisherman knit sweater, the one that she always wore and that i now possess. i held the woman's arm as we climbed the stairs, i commented on her lovely sweater, and wished her a happy mothers' day. smiling, i found my place in a pew. it was mothers' day - and my mother was with me.

as sometimes happens, my eyes misted over a few times at the church music, thinking that i had so badly wanted a sign from my mother and i had been blessed with one. then, as the mass was ending, i listened in disbelief as the choir began to sing this, a piece i love, which means so much to me, which i had posted on serendipitous the night my mother died.

which i swear i had never heard sung in our church before. ever.

wonderstruck

the subtitle of this blog reminds that i post about "things that make an impression on me...for whatever reason". what's impressed me today is the number of people who have visited this blog through blog of note and the distances from which they have viewed it. in the last 43 minutes alone, five hundred viewers have dropped in to serendipitous. visitors come from above and below the equator, from lands i'd need a map to locate, and from places where it's already tomorrow. all these stops into my little corner of the blogosphere serve to demonstrate just how big the world really is - and how very small it has become.

thank you for your visits and your comments. i'm glad you like this place.

the laughing pen

when you push down on this little guy's flame colored head, he emits this belly laugh sound that resonates to the far corners of your desk and is guaranteed to make you at least smile. i wrangled this away from a salesman who was pitching his wares to kids - laughing pen included. when i asked him how i could get one because i really needed a good laugh, he handed it to me and told me to keep it - saying everyone needs a good laugh now and again. but i don't think he really understands how wonderful it is to laugh right now - even if it is over a silly little pen with hair.

joker

as much as i enjoy word games and puzzles, i am not a fan of board games and cards. but this afternoon for hours i played this new game with two old friends and a new acquaintance - a lovely but rugged 88 year old woman who maintains her own home and property, makes great cookies, and was a patient and understanding teacher to this student who, in spite of the many moments of admitted fun, was quite distracted and very far away.

beach plum jelly

last night at a party, i met a friend of a friend, an interesting woman who nurses sick infants, weaves on an antique loom, and grows beach plums in the middle of the state. beach plums a hundred miles from the ocean. i told her about my ongoing quest to replicate the beach plum jelly i had on the cape in the early 80s. about the jars and jars of disappointing jelly i had purchased over the years. the more she and i talked about beach plum jelly, the more my eyes glazed at the thought of its unattainable ruby-jeweled goodness. when our conversation ended, she excused herself, only to return to my side soon after bearing a squat jar of beach plum jelly, homemade, from a recipe that wins awards on nantucket. how it materialized so quickly i do not know. how much i plan to savor it - that i know. many thanks to my friend's friend lorraine, who, in addition to all her other talents, must be a bit of a beach plum fairy.