Author: Thomas Walters

Since the beginning of time, or as far back as we can surmise, humans have felt a need to eat.  Some sparingly, others like King Henry VIII in glutenous binges until you’re so stuffed you can barely walk.  Unlike lesser animal forms, that would eat pretty much whatever was at paw or claw until it ran out, and then they moved on, we human beings, an imaginative sort, learned fairly early on to either grow or hunt our own.  

Continue reading “The Evolution of Food Prep”

The changing of seasons usually prompts me to write.  Well, truthfully, looking out the window prompts me to write.  But Fall seems to signal the closing of another year.  Not quite closing – we’ll save that until November, when the area really looks bleak – dark and damp, trees standing naked with the leaves gone.  I’ve often thought that trees in November look particularly forlorn, almost embarrassed to be seen until the snows come and dresses them up a bit. 

Continue reading “Ode to Fall – 2023”

I should point out that I try not to go grocery shopping on a Monday morning, unless there is something essential, we need.  Like dinner for tonight, or cleaning supplies of which we’re out.  There are three, yes, three supermarkets near us.  One has better prices and weekly sales that the other two don’t.  Technically, the sales go into effect on Sunday, but the store is clogged with younger shoppers and families whisking about the aisles, and there are a multitude of small children.  So, the senior population, at least everyone not hitting the dollar store, waits until Monday morning. 

Continue reading “Monday Morning Shopping”

That the weather seems to thwart my gardening?  Last summer, we were under drought alert with water restrictions, so only the hardiest, most drought-resistant survived.  This year, the opposite.  We’ve had regular, almost daily rainfall. Here it is late August and I haven’t had to turn on the hose once.  Instead of watering the containers, I’m having to empty them out regularly.  It’s nice that much of the vegetation is lush and green, but it’s also been slug-heaven, with mildew and mushrooms popping up everywhere.  So, Mother Nature, dear, I really need to know where you’re going with this.  Is this going to be a cycle, for which I can plan, or are you striking out whimsically to keep me off guard?  The wild bunnies that regularly snack in my gardens seem to have an “oh, you’ve changed the menu” look in their eyes as they stare at me while feasting. Even Monty Don, the Lord of Gardener’s World, is stating on a regular basis, “Because it’s been such a  . . . . year (and you can fill in the blanks:  cold, warm, wet, dry, unseasonably) I’m taking out water lilies in the wet garden and putting in cactus.”  Yes, it’s confounding all of us.  The growing seasons are shifting and confusing – much like the age-old question, “When will pumpkin spice appear in the coffee shops?”  (Answer: it already has.)

Continue reading “Why Is It . . . . . Again?”

It’s been several years since I gave my faithful readers an update on House Hunters, that intriguing series with folks looking to relocate and purchase a home.  For the uninformed, these people are shown three options, one of which they’ll buy because, well, in full disclosure, they’d already bought it before the show was filmed.  Here are several more quirks to the House Hunters update, in the interests once again of keeping our readers up-to-date.  Some of these are just getting more and more, shall we say, eccentric? 

Continue reading “More House Hunters – An Update”

I was pulling into the grocery store parking lot yesterday, and I happened to notice this dear soul unloading her groceries a few spots away.  It was an interesting process, because her cart was full of things in multiple store plastic bags.  It looked like several dozen bags.  She pulled out her own supply of reusable bags from the back seat, and proceeded to repack the groceries into her reusable ones, presumably to make them easier to carry? Who knows.  As those that know me best are aware, shy reticence really isn’t one of my skills.  It took every ounce of strength for me not to go over to her and say, “No, no . . . .  ” It seemed like a teachable moment, but in this case, I showed uncharacteristic restraint. 

Continue reading “More “Unclear On the Concept””

It’s a time to remember all fathers, be they biological, father figures, favorite uncles, surrogates, and others that have played or continue to play a role.  I often think of my father, a man left without his own at age three and left him nothing but a name, and who survived two stepfathers, one of whom he connected with for a short time, and one with whom he didn’t, and of consequence didn’t really have a model.  He was an only child, and thus didn’t have any siblings with whom to share the experience.  Considering that, he did remarkably well in the parent department, raising three of us with generosity.  He wasn’t a demonstrably doting parent, but we knew that he loved and cared deeply about all of us.  I had a personality closest to my mother’s, so he and I were perhaps closer than my brother or sister, because I understood him. Oh, yes.  He loved them both, but my brother was a bit of a challenge, and my sister, the youngest, was the princess.  When it came to managing his affairs later on, that became my role.

Continue reading “As Father’s Day Looms Once Again”

Her Ladyship and I have, in recent years – well really since the Princess went off to college, taken to having dinner in front of the television each evening.  We keep a regular schedule, as do many households. I know, it’s not what we should be doing, but it’s a comfortable routine.  And because we are the ultimate creatures of habit, this happens right at about 6 PM, when the local news comes on, followed by the national news.  As I’ve always had, shall we say, delicate sensibilities, I’d like to propose that the news stations use a degree of discretion, understanding what’s going on in our house while we’re viewing.

Continue reading “On the Evening News”

As the saying goes.  Spring hasn’t completely sprung – we’re still really mid-bounce.  Several warm days last week, followed by cooler and windy this week.  The trees have commenced budding, and though they haven’t quite unfurled their leaves here yet, it’s on its way. The flowers are sprouting – a couple of bunches of daffodils blossomed until the winds decapitated them.  But more are coming along.  The crocuses are up, and the first few tentative buds are opening on the forsythia. The squirrels and chipmunks are digging up my spring bulbs with joyful exuberance, so all is well with the world. 

Continue reading “Spring Has Sprung, Sort of . . .”

There.  I’ve said it.  As the sassy t-shirt says, “I can’t believe how old people my age are.”  Or worse, “I see these old people, and realize I went to high school with them.”  Yes, age is a stark reality, and as my late aunt used to say, “It isn’t for sissies.”  I can’t even say that I’m “middle aged”, because that would mean that I’m planning to live to 140.

Continue reading “On Getting Older”