Usually I’m the first one up at Merry Mount but Pat had beaten me to the punch, with his two Jack Russell terriers snuggling on his navy-blue robe-covered lap and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Rio and the Jacks – Jackpot and Sweetie – quickly headed outside, snuffling in the snow, while I grabbed a cup of java and settled onto the wicker sofa.
Brown Penny
I
WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.
William Butler Yeats
‘Twasn’t long before the rest of the pre-Thanksgiving,
slumber-party-at-the-farm guests ambled in one at a time, aching for caffeine
or a little ice water to combat the cobwebs that had formed since the previous
eve. Surprisingly “Julie’s Baby” was Dave, not JR. Don’t ask me where that term
came from -- but the last person to get up and at’em is always christened Julie’s
Baby.
Soon, the scent of Rett’s southern specialties filled the air – light-as-air
biscuits made with White Lilly flour and loads of butter, thick sliced bacon
and scrambled eggs. More coffee.
Why any of us wanted to eat after a late evening feast the
night before is a good question. But it’s the holidays. It's Rett's fabulous cooking. And, as Rett and Pat like to say, “When you’re at Merry Mount, you can do whatever you want.”
Guess that includes eating!
Pat also likes to say, “There’s to be much Merriment at
Merry Mount!”
And there was, especially last night. 9 of us converged on
the wintry farm for a pre-holiday get-together of close friends, before heading out to roast
turkeys, juggle side-dishes, and host nearly-grown children, parents and
assorted relatives for the big event. No, this snowy night was full of laughter
and love, easy (but fabulous) food, and just a little good wine (like JR and
Dave’s favorite, Frank Family Vineyards).
Rett’s new gas stovetop and her red pots were standing at
the ready for smoked salmon pasta with capers and parmesan.
The table glowed with candles – and the sweet, sweet warmth
of dear old friends.
There was much laughter…
Even more… oh Lord, it hurts to laugh this much
Good girlfriends
And perhaps a tiny mixed drink like a Manhatten.
Rett’s
specialty, though she and Robert debated whose recipe was better. Here is Rett’s
version, using her recommended Woodford Reserve for the bourbon
Rett's Manhatten: 2 jiggers bourbon, one scant jigger sweet vermouth, three drops of bitters, one teaspoon cherry juice and a couple of maraschino cherries. Pour over ice, or shake with ice and serve up in a martini glass. Enjoy!
Rett's Manhatten: 2 jiggers bourbon, one scant jigger sweet vermouth, three drops of bitters, one teaspoon cherry juice and a couple of maraschino cherries. Pour over ice, or shake with ice and serve up in a martini glass. Enjoy!
Before we all headed to our various Thanksgiving
celebrations with our families, we tried to get the doggies to pose for a
picture. Not so much. So we enlisted some helpers for posing. Then off we went til our next warm
gathering at Merry Mount!
Once we got home, my Rio feigned a headache and took to her
bed. All those little dogs were exhausting, she said!
