Come in from the Cold, Josiette, Josiette!

Today and quite suddenly, our wee early morning, earmarked as a the start of a Satchel Packing Day, took a turn! Presently, Josiette and I would be at the close of her and her shiny new, black kitty Clarinet’s makereadies for

(A "something" about Josiette that you might otherwise would not have known, unless this little birdie told you: Upon her return to her charges, she will be celebrating her happiest year yet (number six) as their loving nanny! A well-deserved congratulations be yours, dear “Miss Poppins”!)
their road trip home,

as they shall point themselves in that direction, come bright and dawny Friday. (O the funs and frolics we have pulled from each others pockets during her memory~album~pages~filling, several~weeks stay with me, here, while I am caretaking at Gemmama’s!) Instead, and as if mysteriously triggered by the unlatch of the first suitcase we intended to make thick with freshly foldeds, Josiette did ACHOO! And, then, again...and again...and AGAIN! “Oh, no!” to the very thought of such an untimely, respiratory echo!

All matters regarding the making fluffy of

Josiette’s luggage

were put on ice, as I chop~chop gave answer to her “What ever shall I do?!” “The Brick,” I assured her, “The Brick!” And with scurry in both feet I did trot off to my grandmother's kitchen.

After red~hotting by oven Gemmama’s medicinal ashlar, I placed the block in a pan beneath Josiette’s chair with a flannel covering the seat. Whilst a back~into~her~pajamas sneezer claimed sips from a large cup of ginger and yarrow tea, the minder nurse (<~~~ That would be me!) poured hard humming water over the brick, until the tin it be in was full to the half~way. Swaddle~wrapped in a blanket fat and heavy was my dear Josiette, who I had sit down upon this healing throne.

Spoons of orange Royal
I did nourish her with,
until dew of her own body’s making
began on her face.

Afterwhichbe, a hasty but careful ---so as not to egg on chills, not even those of the slightest rank-–- cleansing rinse of warmed vinegar and water was next called for, followed by a blot~off completely. Then, straight to bed Josiette did go.

At her side and on Gemmama’s famous hilled~ottoman puffy~fabricated from a rich red upholstery with dotting white velveteen tuffs <~~all to mirror a toadstool’s look, ~~~> I perched. As my grandmother’s

phonograph played,

I listened with Josiette to special spots of Truman’s The Thanksgiving Visitor, till Dreamland kindly took her over. Despite delay, her sniffles~in~sleep became purrs of a kitten, and

the hovering Florence Nightingale
that I be
at last breathed a sigh of sweet relief!

In minutes short I will return to Josiette in the cozy Pink Room where she rests, to re~tuck and make coverlets to her chin. As her Nose Nasties continue to shift and lift, at her bedside I shall attentively sit. There and by then, since the knowings can now be counted on as All Is Wells, I will

cast on thirty stitches,

those of which I next shall knit one, purl one, knit six, purl two, (purl one, knit one) five times to make a first row. Row two will behave likewise, only a tadly reversed. So forth and so on but only a little bittle more my needles shall play clicky. Then begin again and finish again two times mair this mesh I’ll make from toty amounts of worsted~weight wool gray.

Once

catnip~stuffed and sewn into closed, I’ll have Mousies enough to treat Gemmama’s Spot, Josiette’s Clarinette, and my very own pointy-eared, fur bundle Puddle! I love when meowing faces smile! And I love happily ever afters, don't you?

Dearest Josiette:

Be well soon.
Love, E.

Postscript: Meant not only as remedy for that which calls for many consecutive geshudteits, vapor baths work their wonder on days when you think the water’s going to carry you away, as well!

Picture Book Illustrations: Mary Poppins by Mary Shepard for P.L. Travers' classic series, Harry Whittier Frees/Kitties!

I Dub Thee...

At midnight twice ago, beneath the passing clouds that hid from us the night sky’s sparkles (whose twinklings we so largely hard~hoped would accent our evening’s planned and merry pandemonium, but, alas, could not ~~ yet make do, we did: several strands of blinking yuletide incandescents extention-corded from out the house’s jib door-window, snaked its way to the grapevine arbor where it draped quite nicely and began its stint as a magical, stellary garnish!), my dear friend and house guest, Josiette; her new catta kitty, Clarinet; my from~the~same~kindle tom,

(Look who is sprouting by bounces and pounces!)

Puddle;

Gemma’s gib and my charge while she is Across the Pond, Spot (who, in point of fact, had better things to do, so he was more “there” than “here”); my other dear chum, Soose, and I curled round Soose’s preferred lantern,

a family "heirloom,"
or so he claims (ahem),

middled on one of Gemmama’s plenty big, black sateen bedtop veils in the backgarden. Soose was about to draw the curtain on our ceremony with a reading. As it goes, during the afternoon’s early, whilst Josiette prepared our pre-ceremony supp: her variation of Shepherd’s Pie (Culinary genius that she be, Miss Josiette spins the original receipt by merely substituting the word “Shepherdess” for the word “Shepherd” in its title. VOILA! A more favorful dish indeed!), and

I stoved

a Streuselkin
(Pumpkin Streusel Pie)

for the desserting, Soose searched out Gemmama's library (in which the book is housed) for Mother’s from~when~she~was~a~little~girl edition of Margaret Embrey’s tender and charming and oh so sentimental Halloween story,

The Blue-Nosed Witch.

But first, if you asked our Moments Before, which found us on the coverlet under the outside night, this tale they would tell:

Howbeit I had chosen the name “Puddle” for Puddle upon my first looks at him, his formal Dubbing Ritual had not transpired until minutes ago, because it had to make waits until I settled on a Call Name before the rites could be made true. A Call Name is the name used by a cat’s keeper to literally call his or her pet. Typically, a one-syllable, peaky moniker works best. If it be more than one vocable, it most definitely must shrill the air upon meeting it to be effective.

We cast a magick circle in a clockwise manner and summoned the elemental spirits of Air, Fire, Water, and Earth. On that occasion, in the circle’s center was lighted the lantern’s candle that had been anointed with a few driblets of Catnip essential oil. With arms like a loving cradle, I held my kitten; Josiette, likewise hers. We put gentle strokes to our animal’s fur, and when each began to purr, we visualized the feline surrounded by a protective aura of the whitest light and then nine times we did impart the following prayer (once for each of the cats' nine lives):

Puddle Pie
(Josiette spoke “Clarinet Teasweet”)
is the name I give thee.
Puddle Pie (Josiette again spoke "Clarinette Teasweet")
is the one who ye shall be.
And may the sound
of thy new name
Magick and power ninefold claim.
May ye live free and blessed be
By goddess Bastet. So mote it be!

After the recitations, a consecrated wand traced the scared symbol of the pentacle in the air over each kitten. Along with Soose, we did give thanks, sealing a name to each cat with a forehead kiss. Before uncasting our circle, we bade farewell to the elemental spirits and stilled the candle’s glow. Including sleepyheaded kittens, Josiette and I did then gave listens while Soose read to us from

my favorite childhood novel:

[INTRODUCTION] "Not more than four of five Halloweens ago there was a very young witch named Blanche who owned a broom, a back cat named Brockett, and a bright blue nose. She belonged to a very special scurry of witched, Scurry No. 13, known in the best witch circles all over the country for its beautiful flight formation.

The Grand Madame, who had been leader of the club for as long as any of them could remember, flew center front. She used a vacuum cleaner instead of a broom, and when she gunned her motor it sounded as exciting as a fire engine.

On the far right was Minnie Max waving her blood-red finger nails in the dark; they really did shine like rubies. And on the far left was Blanche’s best friend, Josephine, who had long yellow fluorescent teeth that gleamed like stars.

In between and a little behind flew the nine rather ordinary witches who were only expected to follow the Grand Madame’s lead, and cackle with horrid glee at appropriate times.

And last came Blanche, usually far, far behind. If it hadn’t been for her marvelous blue nose that she could turn on and off at will, she wouldn’t have been allowed in Scurry No. 13 at all...”

POSTSCRIPT: If a cat number two be in my stars, I shall name it

Streusel!

Gemmama Called! Gemmama Called!

Although this wasn’t THE actual postcard from Gemmama, given her message~intentions, it truly would have been the purrrfect “pick of the litter” to send!

One week ago this day, my grandmother, who remains Across the Pond where she pays visits to her dear friend Luella, jingled me! And, indeed, it was a wee wee early last Monday morning (It would be 6pm, their clock.), when Gemmama and her forever-let-the-good-times-roll partner put down their esscential doings to place a counted on call to me.

(The Esscential Doings: Neither my grandmother nor Luella have ever dealt gently with human deodorizers or Central Air, but that doesn’t mean they surrender their toilette. Instead they trust Lavender-Scented Full Moon Water Spritz before pressing their frocks and linens. (Yes and can you imagine?! These two hens still keep lively their ironing boards!) And nearly at the start, when her receipt called for witch hazel,

Gemmama deemed it necessary to substitute with vodka. Methinks it's much ado about the 100~proof, that of which these two concocters merrily sip before the readying, during the readying, after the makehay, and even while they same~day spritz! More about Lavender~Scented Full Moon Water in a while.)

After an overthewire, quick exchange of “Hellos” and “Oh, How I’ve Missed Yous," Gemmama joyously (and with happy tears in her eyes, I could just tell!) exclaimed, “A card large with importance from we to you has been full chisel sent!” Then she boldly underlined it with, “Be wide-awake of Thomas.” (Thomas being Gemmama’s mail carrier.)

The delivery arrived promptly the following day: a lovely postcard whose illustration expressed a picturesque Welsh countryside and whose backside, penned in Luella’s beautifancy (I'd know it anywhere!), read:

To Our Cherished Pet,

Inked to paper, then torn in half
And bubbled in a caldron bath,
By coalish cats with eyes: marine,
By all the Magick ever seen,
Your wish is granted and anointed–
Now make haste the time appointed!
Love, G. & L.

Beneath the charmed directive and written
in her signature nervous~pigeon~walking scrawl,
Gemmama added:

Off with you, then, in well-timed fashion to 1333, where your dream awaits you. NOW SCAT!
P.S. Bring with you a paper sack into which your hastened breaths in and out shall go, for surely the excitement will take you miles!

Ever since I can remember, my heart~want has been to call a Magickal cat my very own. But it just hadn’t happened yet. That is, not until Josiette and I, with small brown bags in hand, bee~lined to Miss Monica’s, two houses over.

Trumpet fanfare, please!
(But not too full~volume, as he is still a morsel-bit mousy.)

INTRODUCING:

Puddle!

Monica’s cat Boo mixed up a small batch of three kittens about seven weeks ago. Puddle is mine (all mine!) and his lookalike brother is now the latest family member of another neighbor, Ina, two houses the other way from Gemmama’s. And Josiette~~ahhh, my ever~patient Josiette! She has been promised the black cat sister (whom she’s already christened Clarinet), just as soon as the little scamp is finished hiding!

Hmm. Thinking backward in my head, I recall a weeks ago, stifling night at the top part of August, when a sleepy me flipped over my pillow in hopes of finding cool. Suddenly, the entire feathered pudding went sweetly warm and cozy! And I inexplicably smiled, as I am at this point, only this go ‘round, my inside~knowing tells me the exact answer (and so, too, did Miss Monica, verifying with her Kitty Birth Records): That mysterious calefacient had ocurred at the bull’s-eye moment that Puddle met the world!

Come this week’s Thursday, my very own pussycat and I (and positively Josiette and Clarinet) will celebrate our first full Moon together! I am so excited that I’d best be putting little paper bags at the top of the market list!

POSTSCRIPT:

Lavender-Scented
Full Moon Water Spritz
(low yield)

1 couple of small, sealable Masons (jars)
2 teaspoons lavender essential oil
5 tablespoons 100~proof vodka (or witch hazel, if that would be your preference)
1 cup Full Moon water
spritz bottle

Let oil an vodka cooperate by shaking vigorously together. Add Full Moon water and store in previously cleansed~of~negative~energies vessels. Keep in a dark place for fourteen days. When ready to use, shake jar ever so gently, so as not to bruise or bend the luna charge. TO USE: Lavender~Scented Full Moon water~fill a cleansed atomizer. Fine mist on clothing (including dailies, work clothes, romantics and other fine washables, or spray on bed dressings, curtains ~~any fabric items calling for fresh and crisp) before putting an iron to it.

lavender forest, lavender atomizer

The Grape Escape

Anna Pavlova, the incomparable Prima Ballerina Assoluta
~ Photo by Herman Mishkin, 1923

Still unwinding from weekend fussies, yesterday’s lunchtime found Josiette and I turning to a most reliable and dear, old friend to tame ourselves. Yes, the most agreeable grape, forever known throughout the land for its calming and curative purposes and its "makecertain" to alleviate the brought-on-by-the-world (and then some) wearies. Indeed, and by the bunchful, these fruity do~gooders are a natural diuretic (flusher of all that be body and soul toxic) ~~not to mention, their soothing qualities help smooth out tired nerves.

Call on the grape, we did. And some of his closest tags along, too. Then, WE ATE THEM!

What be you? Are you a nigglebit frayed about the edges? All at once extending your bowls would be for the best:

An Enchanting Grape Salad

INTEGRALS:
1 cup of fresh baby spinach leaves (but nibble-sized butter leaf lettuce will do in a pinch)
1 ½ cups green grapes
1 cup diced green apples
½ cup crumbled Feta cheese
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

SIMPLE PREPARATION:
Gently commingle (so as not to boo~boo any parts) spinach, grapes and apples in a salad dish. Add Feta cheese and mix the ingredients together~~ again with the gently. Add the balsamic vinegar and mindful~jumble once more. Serve immediately.

All~Important Postscript:

Dog with Grapes (1836) by Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller
(Or, as I perceive it: Shoo, Fido, Shoo!)

Remember this PleaseHeed: When treating poochies, make the "fun eats" NOT be grapes. Grapes (and raisins, alike) contain a "something" that negatively affects dogs’ kidneys. (The danger comes when the grapes and raisins begin to work their way through a Rover’s system, causing renal failure.)
　
Truly, being thoughtful of his favorite family member, a Newfoundland, it was dog~loving Ben who was heard to say:

"An ounce of prevention
is worth an ounce of cure."

A Blessing In Disguises

My pal of pals Josiette, who is still inclining backward on the fainting chaise in Gemmama’s Upper Pink Room, where she be wink~catching from our last night’s

Midnight Margaritas
~~Shall we call it a practice run in the direction
of La Boheme Magique and Frosted Petunias’

Practical Magic Blog Party?

Let’s shall! Tee~hee! And forgetnot to trace a star around where it’s situated on the calendar. (“Click on the up~top button for the whole of it then, because the more, the merry meet!)...

I re~gather my thoughts: My dear Josiette, who is a little peaked today, and I are trick~or~treaters in an ENORMOUS way. We were wee~witches in late October, traveling door~to~door in our mumsies’ arms, brimming our Halloween candy sacks to bounteous, when we made our pact to always honor the Trick~or~Treat, and nothing less than TOGETHER.

Yes, I spill: at first, it was all about the chocolate bars and wax lips and all things ju ju be~ish. But soon, the “all about” became the fun and frolic of the disguise! Our delight belongs to the annual dress~up (and our homemade pumpkin tart~filled hands extended to offer sweet appreciation to the kindheart answering the ring of the doorbell or the knock of the knocker, who generously treats the little ghoulies and goblins shouting out their wonderful “Tricks~or~Treats!”).

Ten plus one days ago, we panicked! It was already August 24 and our this year’s Halloween "charades" were yet to be constructed (Our unwritten deadline has perpetually been that month’s first day.), because our ideas of what they would have us be, hadn’t even been realized by us!

That night, we turned to

a wise old friend,

who just happened to be hanging over us and full, for meaningful awakening and great reception to its opportunities. We called on the Moon for abundant inspiration.

Under Lunar luminance and beneath Gemmama’s rogue grapevine, we were granted a potent enchantment: after making ourselves the middle of two mirrors placed opposite of each other so that one reflected a moonbeam back into the other, and three orange candles, Josiette and I scratched our initials into the up~top side of the warm wax of one of them. After lighting their wicks and still seeing the letters of our names, I linked to Josiette by attaching my left hand to the orange cord she held in her right. And with my other hand, I grasped the wand of

Honesty Plant

she held in her left, forming us into a circle. As we absorbed the energy of the moonlight, the candles ~~in particular, the "inscribed~by~us"~~ burned, freeing the letters of our names. Just as they were no more, Josiette and I together clockwised seven times. The trailing cord wrapping round us, gathered the moonbeams about our bodies. We felt rawly and happily opened to receive all that was to come our way!

Retiring for the night in Gemmama’s BIG bed, we slept with freshly~plucked~from~the~moon~drenched~stem honesty seeds tucked under our peather fillows. (Cuckoo birds that we be, Josiette and I often speak Oddly Reversed ~~such fun!)

At the snap of a quick dawn, we both sat bolt~up, just as quick and not unlike two reposed vampires caught in a sun chink, but without the smoke and burning. (EWE! Tee~hee!) Josiette looked my way and I, hers. Joyfully we cried out in near harmony (Actually, I think it be all Miss Josiette’s idea.):

Me: Chinese Lantern (Physalis)

Josiette: Deadly Nightshade (Atropine)
“We will show ourselves
as poison plants!”

Following the gardenyard burial of the Honesty coins, and a honey bun breakfast, Josiette and I pleasant tripped to Britex (four floors of store right off Union Station, packed to the rafters with consummate cloths, notions, etc. We would indeed again squidge our wallets, for only the finest fabrics will due for our Halloween costumes, forever treasures that they are.) A good explore later, I had bought miles-long of

bloody orange
to share!

And Josiette had climbed the library ladder
to find luscious remnants of

Yellow Like Fireflies
and Evening Purple
for her delicate accents.

Tonight, we sew!

Evening Nightshade: K.Chayka

Heard It Through the Grapevine, Ratherish

Days back and a blog ago, I mentioned that supper found my dear friend Josiette, who, much to my delight, is presently my house guest, and I savoring large slices of her grandmama’s

Dishpan

Butter Cluck Pie. As freehearted as she is kind, Josiette offered the receipt to me, that you might receive it, just as soon as I could post it. So, without further bustle, merrily do I share:

"Do You Like Butter?" by Charles Burton Barber (1845-1894)

Geemaw Sudie’s
Dishpan Butter Cluck Pie

Mixing Pieces:

1 xiii~week~old chicken (2 1/2 to 3 pounds broiler-fryer chicken)

salt

5 cups self~rising flour

1 cup shortening (Yes, that is correct: ONE CUP of shortening. No doubt, eaters of Geemaw Sudie’s Dishpan Butter Cluck Pie wouldn’t want to make this receipt a weekly habit.)

2 cups yellowmilk (Yes, that is correct: TWO CUPS of buttermilk. No doubt, eaters of Geemaw Sudie’s Dishpan Butter Cluck Pie wouldn’t want to make this receipt a weekly habit.)

8 ounces butter (Yes, that is correct: ONE CUP of butter. No doubt, eaters of Geemaw Sudie’s Dishpan Butter Cluck Pie wouldn’t want to make this receipt a weekly habit. Hmm. Is there an echo in here???)

pepper

pretty near 2 quarts hot water

Readying:

Salt-sprinkle chicken that’s already been cut into serving-size pieces; set to the side. After large-bowling the flour, cut in the shortening and add enough yellowmilk to make a dough. Knead for several overs and again on a floured board. Divide the dough. After rolling one part of it very thin, cut it into regular-width ribbons. Line the bottom and sides of a buttered "‘namel that‘s been soap cleaned and staretilized. I won’t be having no ‘Sam and Ellie’ in my chicken," says Geemaw Sudie. (NOTE: If you don’t have an enamel dishpan, you can make nicely do with a 6-quart roasting pan or a large casserole.) Place about half of the uncooked chicken detail over the dough strips in the pan; add lumps of butter between the bird parts and sprinkle with pepper to suit your tongue buds. Place the thick threads of dough on the chicken until you can’t see it anymore, then place what’s left of the poultry chunks on the biscuit dough you just laid down. Repeat with the pepper and butter. Be sure to save back enough butter to laquer two crusts. (Heaven forbid you run out of butter! lol!)

Fetch the set aside dough and roll half of the remaining bulge into "large enough" to make a blanket to cover the pan. Seal it to the side crusts by putting your fingertips to good use. Dampen the pie’s dough mantle plenty well with water, then make a small hole in its middle and pour in enough boiling water to barely float the crust. Cook in a 450* hot oven for nearly a half hour. That’d be just until the crust is browned. Remove from the oven and butter~brush the crust all generouslike. Roll out another top crust to

"king"

the other cooked crust with. Back in the oven the pie goes ten minutes more, then brush with butter yet again.

Slow the oven down to a heat that’s lowly, and continue cooking until the chicken is fork~tender. Add more water if the concoction gets too dry. Cook time for dishpan pie is about 1 hour and 45 minutes, and she serves six. Unless Cousin Ludie Earl comes to town.

A Room with a View, Please

Who is to say that ruts do not befall grapevines? Mayhaps a weariness blamed on the inclemency of their regular climb, catches them up, leaving them to long for a sweet, new direction? Or, merely in need of a switch of scenery?

How very curious! Although time spent in Gemmama’s backgarden is always a gift, I sensed something about it was oddly amiss this year. A secret-so-far change had taken place, not quite catawampus, yet this maybe-happenstance left me with the same feeling that a certain off-centeredness would leave anyone with... Perhaps and peculiarly, then, a mirror-difference? It mattered little that my How-Does-Her-Garden- Grow gazing (ongoing ever since coming to take care of my grandmother’s house, while she is away visiting a friend Across the Pond) soon gave way to strict study, and daily. I couldn’t for the breath of me put finger on what had gone twisted ~~UNTIL YESTERDAY.

My Dear Josiette has come to visit! (She hasn’t said for how long, but her suitcases are hardly on the lighter side of heavy. lol!) She is the Outside Mouse and I am the Inside Mouse. My country friend joke-pokingly calls me "Sitty Slicker," because, unlike her, I am "inclined to recline." Yet, oh, how we mesh!

Last night, as we supped on the porch facing the garden (Did you see the moon? It’s nearly full!), Josiette and I took turns between bites to ponder over its mysterious metamorphosis ~~if indeed one had actually occurred! We would still be slow to figure out what had changed, if just then, Josiette hadn’t suddenly stubbed her toe!

Toe-stubbing has always been the phenomenal prelude to Josiette magically coming up with the right answer, no matter who’s question is being asked! After blowing gentle comfort kisses to her tell-all toe, we followed Josiette’s suggestion and located Gemmama’s house journal. As garnish to some of my grandmother’s decades of weekly entries, snapshots had been generously Scotched along side of them, depicting the featured written highlights. (Gemmama fancies cellophane tape. It’s always a Santa Claus stocking stuffer for her, come Christmas. Actually, anytime!) We ran out the back door with our "answer."

Using a collection of photographs taken of Gemmama’s lush garden growings from years past, we compared. Someone or something had convinced --or yetbetters: had given "permission"-- to the fence grapevine, which has forever followed a "left" path, to travel "right"!

The next time the phone jingles and it’s Gemmama, I will have to ask her if she had words with the tangle in the backyard, before heading off in a different direction herself! It’s likely safe to say, Spell-magick is truly in the backyard air!

Purple: a most perfect onomatopoeia!

Postscript: Yesterday’s supper found Josiette and I savoring large slices of her grandmama’s Dishpan Butter Cluck Pie. Sweetest heart that she is, Josiette has kindly offert the receipt to me, that I might share it with you! Soon, you will be nibbling the same delicious, BIG nibbles that made our beneath-the-moon meal so delicious, as I plan on posting the ingredients and baking whattodos within the next couple of days!

Post Postscript: Thank You, Miss Josiette and Miss Josiette’s grandmother!