RAG PUDDING
1 c sugar
1 cup milk
1 cup currants or raisins (for modern days, dried fruit of any type can be substituted)
Shaking of cinnamon
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
1 TBL grease (they used leftover bacon grease, or grease from any meat they had cooked)
Flour to thicken
Wet sack (Flour came in a cloth sack. Nothing was wasted. The fabric was either used to make items of clothing, mostly underwear, or for cooking) in cold water put in pudding and place in kettle of boiling water to cook for
two hours. Serve with sauce. Dip
DIP
1 1/2 c water
1 c sugar
Shaking of nutmeg
Cream and Brandy
1 TBL cornstarch to thicken
(you can also add a shaking of cinnamon to taste)
I have done some research on my Great Grandma, Elizabeth Jane Hatch and one of her grandchildren sang the praises of this dish. They also concluded that no matter how hard they tried they could simply not replicate an exact version as delicious as hers. I imagine that there IS a missing ingredient in this recipe. I believe that the ingredient is love.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Ardis Journal
It feels cozy tonight lying in bed in my warm flannel nightgown. I have a beautiful quilt over me that Blake bought somewhere in his travels. Rain is drumming, drumming, on the roof overhead, and tapping lightly on my small window. Rain is singing a lullaby, but I don't want to sleep yet.
This is the first night since the crossing that I don't feel impelled to cry. I feel as though God is giving me courage and strength beyond my own. I don't want to feel ragging anger at Him anymore. I'm soul weary.
Last night I dreamed that Papa Aidan visited. He twirled me and then hugged me closely. "Ardie Kay, we WILL be together again. In life you were a rich blessing to us. It is our turn to minister to you. You won't see us, because faith is an important thing to gain. Please, Ardie Kay don't be sad. You keep telling us that you want us to be happy. How can we be happy when you're so sad? We fulfilled our work on this earth, but you are not done. There is great joy and family ahead for you".
Ardis became aware that Aidan was fading from view and his voice was growing softer. "We love you forever. We'll stay close."
Ardis rolled to her other side, and Billy was there. "Ardie Kay," he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I love you forever and always! Don't be sad. We're happy. This is a wonderful place." Then Billy began to fade out, "I love you forever and always Ardie Kay!"
Fiona was there. Radiant with health and happiness Fiona held a baby. "Don't mourn for us dear. We're fine, and look, we have our baby, a precious girl. You will always be her older sister."
The next thing that Ardis knew birds were singing her awake. Sunlight filled the room with light.
Now, a night later, Ardis remembered her dream and pledged to herself, "I am going to do my best to be happy for my family. They are together, happy, yet still connected to me and concerned about me."
They didn't mention Tom, so I guess he's still alive? Sigh, I wish that he would write to me. On the other hand, I will find ways to be happy, even with his uncertainty hanging over me. Then she was asleep.
This is the first night since the crossing that I don't feel impelled to cry. I feel as though God is giving me courage and strength beyond my own. I don't want to feel ragging anger at Him anymore. I'm soul weary.
Last night I dreamed that Papa Aidan visited. He twirled me and then hugged me closely. "Ardie Kay, we WILL be together again. In life you were a rich blessing to us. It is our turn to minister to you. You won't see us, because faith is an important thing to gain. Please, Ardie Kay don't be sad. You keep telling us that you want us to be happy. How can we be happy when you're so sad? We fulfilled our work on this earth, but you are not done. There is great joy and family ahead for you".
Ardis became aware that Aidan was fading from view and his voice was growing softer. "We love you forever. We'll stay close."
Ardis rolled to her other side, and Billy was there. "Ardie Kay," he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I love you forever and always! Don't be sad. We're happy. This is a wonderful place." Then Billy began to fade out, "I love you forever and always Ardie Kay!"
Fiona was there. Radiant with health and happiness Fiona held a baby. "Don't mourn for us dear. We're fine, and look, we have our baby, a precious girl. You will always be her older sister."
The next thing that Ardis knew birds were singing her awake. Sunlight filled the room with light.
Now, a night later, Ardis remembered her dream and pledged to herself, "I am going to do my best to be happy for my family. They are together, happy, yet still connected to me and concerned about me."
They didn't mention Tom, so I guess he's still alive? Sigh, I wish that he would write to me. On the other hand, I will find ways to be happy, even with his uncertainty hanging over me. Then she was asleep.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Ardis - Journal
My hands are shaking as I sit at Blake's table, holding a small journal that I brought with me from Tuckaleechee Cove. Mama made it for me. She tried to show me how to make one for myself but I fear that effort on her part was wasted. My hands are shaking from the excess of emotion that faces me daily right now. I try to fill my time with productive activities, but sometimes the loss of all that I love makes it impossible to do anything but cry!
The journey from Tuckaleechee Cove to Astoria, Oregon has not turned out at all as I thought that it should. In my imaginings I expected to now be living in a small acreage in Astoria. My husband would be with me. His family would live close in a home of their own. I would have parents in-law, a husband, and a beautiful younger brother-in law, who was truly my brother.
Instead, my entire family is dead, I lost the new life that Tom and I had begun in love, and I have no idea where Tom is? He could be dead in some Eastern state, fighting for his conviction that the Union army has a just cause and are fighting for family, faith, and friends.
The acreage that we sold our lovely farm in Tuckaleechee Cove to purchase is non-existent. We were defrauded. J.P. Fowler is a terrible person, benefiting from the sorrows of others. I have to pray hard to keep from wanting to find him and simply shoot him. I am a crack shot. My beloved Papa insisted that it was necessary for women to be able to defend themselves. My Mama joined us many times as we shot at targets, or hunted for game. She was also a perfect marksman...I mean...markswoman. She always had a holster on her thigh. She carried her pistol with her everywhere. Now I carry it with ME everywhere.
At the same time I gain comfort in the knowledge that Mama and Papa still live on, just in a spiritual sense, not a physical sense. They are eternal now, and we will be together again, and I will also be with my beloved in-laws, our baby, and perhaps Tom as well. (Maybe he is still alive...oh how I pray that is true).
I need to think about something a little more shallow. I believe that it's very helpful to write in a personal journal. It helps me to process the experiences I face in life. Papa and Mama taught me to think as though everything in life depends on the me, and then pray as though everything depends on the good Lord. They helped me to learn how to be a good team with my beloved God. They also faced the hard things in life as adventure helping them to achieve growth.
Let's see, a shallow topic. Blake has not shaved in about a week. I'm not certain that I like the way he looks with a beard. Some men look better with a beard. For example, our dear President, Abraham Lincoln. The beard covers some of the ruggedness of his face. It seems to make him look more dignified and intelligent. He looks like a President should look.
Blake has been marvelous. He helped save my life in the crossing. Since I had no place to go, and no money to go there, he took me in to his two bedroom cabin. He has been nothing but a gentleman. If I weren't a married woman, I would find him attractive in form and face, and faith. Oh goodness, I must not let my thoughts stray in that direction. Until I know otherwise, I AM A MARRIED WOMAN!
Since I have lived here, I have met many of the people in this tiny town called Calkington. There is not another white woman in town that I could live with. There is nothing in Tuckaleechee Cove for me to return to, and I don't have any money to return. Oh goodness, my thoughts do seem to run in a circle today.
Ooops, I just noticed Blake's large clock on the wall that says that it's past time for me to start dinner. More later dear diary.
The journey from Tuckaleechee Cove to Astoria, Oregon has not turned out at all as I thought that it should. In my imaginings I expected to now be living in a small acreage in Astoria. My husband would be with me. His family would live close in a home of their own. I would have parents in-law, a husband, and a beautiful younger brother-in law, who was truly my brother.
Instead, my entire family is dead, I lost the new life that Tom and I had begun in love, and I have no idea where Tom is? He could be dead in some Eastern state, fighting for his conviction that the Union army has a just cause and are fighting for family, faith, and friends.
The acreage that we sold our lovely farm in Tuckaleechee Cove to purchase is non-existent. We were defrauded. J.P. Fowler is a terrible person, benefiting from the sorrows of others. I have to pray hard to keep from wanting to find him and simply shoot him. I am a crack shot. My beloved Papa insisted that it was necessary for women to be able to defend themselves. My Mama joined us many times as we shot at targets, or hunted for game. She was also a perfect marksman...I mean...markswoman. She always had a holster on her thigh. She carried her pistol with her everywhere. Now I carry it with ME everywhere.
At the same time I gain comfort in the knowledge that Mama and Papa still live on, just in a spiritual sense, not a physical sense. They are eternal now, and we will be together again, and I will also be with my beloved in-laws, our baby, and perhaps Tom as well. (Maybe he is still alive...oh how I pray that is true).
I need to think about something a little more shallow. I believe that it's very helpful to write in a personal journal. It helps me to process the experiences I face in life. Papa and Mama taught me to think as though everything in life depends on the me, and then pray as though everything depends on the good Lord. They helped me to learn how to be a good team with my beloved God. They also faced the hard things in life as adventure helping them to achieve growth.
Let's see, a shallow topic. Blake has not shaved in about a week. I'm not certain that I like the way he looks with a beard. Some men look better with a beard. For example, our dear President, Abraham Lincoln. The beard covers some of the ruggedness of his face. It seems to make him look more dignified and intelligent. He looks like a President should look.
Blake has been marvelous. He helped save my life in the crossing. Since I had no place to go, and no money to go there, he took me in to his two bedroom cabin. He has been nothing but a gentleman. If I weren't a married woman, I would find him attractive in form and face, and faith. Oh goodness, I must not let my thoughts stray in that direction. Until I know otherwise, I AM A MARRIED WOMAN!
Since I have lived here, I have met many of the people in this tiny town called Calkington. There is not another white woman in town that I could live with. There is nothing in Tuckaleechee Cove for me to return to, and I don't have any money to return. Oh goodness, my thoughts do seem to run in a circle today.
Ooops, I just noticed Blake's large clock on the wall that says that it's past time for me to start dinner. More later dear diary.
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