Buttermilk Almond Chess Pie
I just made buttermilk almond chess pie, and life is good. Have you ever had chess pie? Have you ever had warm buttermilk almond chess pie? It tastes like Christmas feels. Life is good.
On a Saturday morning of a long weekend (Monday is a holiday), it doesn't matter where I look; I come to the same conclusion, that "life is good." Sometimes this experience comes out as the thought that, "I am the luckiest woman in the world." I had that thought a couple days ago when I was walking with Mary down our country road and I was just so grateful to: have a road, and one that is beautiful, solid, maintained, and that I can walk without fear; have my legs, and my lungs and the desire and the energy to walk; live in a place that is not at war, not under siege, not suffering an outbreak of disease; and of course the mind wanders to those times we do experience ailments, and I feel lucky because I have a job and insurance. I am aware that only a small portion of the human population lives with these luxuries, and that's how I end up feeling like, "the luckiest woman in the world."
Here is this morning's illustrated chain of "life is good / I am the luckiest woman in the world."
This is the mix I used to make the buttermilk chess pie. Looking at this reminds me of last month's family road trip to Georgia, the happiness we had being together and exploring old mills and rivers and how it felt like stepping back in time to the 1890's.
And this picture holds a wealth of thanks - first, the "summer growth." Holy cow. These planters were created in April, with modest little plants that perched cheerfully in their lovely pots - green
and red sweet potato vine, orange dahlias, geraniums, some pretty blue thing, and some tight clumps of tiny white flowers. Now, they are completely overflowing their pots in abundance and fullness. It is the best of early September, when everything is lush and grown. It makes me think of my own summer, now coming to an end, and of all the lush growth we have experienced in our lives. Our jobs, our children, our family ties - they've all been through both the gentleness and the ravages of the elements, and, through attention, care, pruning, dead-heading and feeding, there they are, overflowing, very much alive, and beautiful. I applaud them. I applaud my children. I honor every lush, living person and thing in my life and feel just plain lucky to be a part of it, of them.I said it was a "chain" and it is - there is more in this photo than flowers. There's a basket of kindling. That gives me a whole list of things for which I'm thankful: Gilbert, who bought that basket for me; the fabulous birthday celebration my kids put together, which is where he gave me that basket; the firepit, which is what the kindling is for, but more than that, looking forward to the marvelous contrasts of hot and cold, light and dark we experience huddled around the fire on a crisp autumn night; the hammock which spells pure relaxation, in the green, under a remarkable blue sky, and the fact that I have the privilege of lounging suspended and rocked, above green grass, surrounded by color and security, instead of say, having to go work inside a gray factory where I'm paid time and a half because I'm giving up my weekend - this makes me feel like the luckiest woman again. There's more. There's a playhouse in this photo. That's the place my grandchildren play. That means I have grandchildren - how lucky am I?? and the chain continues... it means I have children who are grown, of whom I am proud as they form their own lives and families... how lucky am I?
There's more. Here is the place I sit as I type this now. And everything here whispers, Life is Good: the
bouquet of flowers Gil gave me for our anniversary this week, the remnants (wine bottle, napkins, candles, coasters) of the gourmet dinner our daughter made for us last night, just because it was her night to cook; the memory of the meal, holding hands to touch each other in thanks before we ate and before we launched into conversation to tell each other about our week; the laptop my company bought for me so I can work and can write; the light streaming in the window that speaks of the amazingly wonderful weather we have this holiday weekend - without flood or fire or any of the other calamaties that we watch on the news.Does all this sound overly effusive? Oh well, it is a peak into how I think most days. I have a thankful heart, and everywhere I look, the things I see pour in more and more gratefulness. Does that mean that nothing unfortunate ever happens to me? No, but the crap never seems to be enough to overpower the weight, the height, the depth, the richness of the good I have every day. And crap, after all, makes great fertilizer.
I think when you know you come from a place of abundance and richness, when you know how much you have, it helps make you more compassionate for those who don't have as much, and it helps you avoid complaining about things that are "rich people's problems" - the kind most of the world only wished they had!
Copyright (c) 2007
Carrie so fitting for this weekend. Larry is preaching tomorrow at St. Ignatius and the abundant love of God was the theme he was working with all week. Thanks so much!
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How cool. Thanks for telling me!
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