MY LATEST BACKYARD MIRACLE

HELLO WORLD!...THE BREAKTHROUGH MOMENT

HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW!?

Miracles never cease in my back yard it seems.

Last summer it was a stray, determined sunflower seed that grew and grew against all odds, once stripped of all its leaves by a hungry Cotton Tail Rabbit and three times beaten to the ground by high winds and heavy rain storms.

This summer it is a fern pushing its way through five inches of driveway asphalt.  Several weeks ago I noticed a baseball-sized mound heaving up and breaking through the asphalt just inches from a garden walkway.  Within a 48-hour period the tips of several baby Fiddle heads were distinguishable as I pushed aside several clumps of asphalt (see photo above).  It was then that I realized that I had another amazing summer story in the making and weeks of fern-watching entertainment ahead of me, courtesy of Mother Nature.

Today I photographed the mighty little fern again -- all 18 inches of it, crispy green, healthy and justifiably proud of its accomplishment, in a horticultural sort of way.

If only we mere mortals could harness the sheer force and power of that little fern pushing its way through a driveway surface, surely we could move mountains.

Awe, the wonder of it all!

SETTING THE RECORD STRAIGHT ON BAGELS

Old friend Ray Gilbert was so intrigued by our silly little "New York bagel" story (previous post, below) that he could not resist doing a little research on the subject, just for his own edification.  He kindly passed his findings along to me.

"The two most prominent styles of traditional bagel in North America are the Montreal-style bagel and the New York-style bagel. The Montreal bagel contains malt and sugar with no salt; it is boiled in honey sweetened water before baking in a wood-fired oven; and it is predominantly either of the poppy "black" or sesame "white" seeds variety. The New York bagel contains salt and malt and is boiled in water prior to baking in a standard oven. The resulting New York bagel is puffy with a moist crust, while the Montreal bagel is smaller (though with a larger hole), crunchier, and sweeter.  Poppy seeds are sometimes called by their Yiddish name, spelled either mun or mon (written מאָן) which is very similar to the German word for poppy, Mohn, as used in Mohnbrötchen. The traditional London bagel (or beigel as it is spelled) is harder and has a coarser texture with air bubbles."

In thanking Ray for the interesting information I suggested that I hesitate to inform Rosanne that it is not "where" bagels are made that gives them their name, but "how" they are made.  Perhaps I will wait for an opportunity to tactfully work it into conversation.  God help me, she doesn't even know that I wrote about it.  For now, the rest of us will know the real story however.

WHAT MAKES NEW YORK BAGELS DIFFERENT FROM OTHER BAGELS?... I JUST HAD TO ASK

Rosanne reading aloud from the latest super market flyer:  "Dempsters has New York cinnamon-raisin bagels."

"What makes a New York bagel different from any other bagel?" I ask.

"They're made in New York," was her matter-of-fact reply.

Ask a stupid question and you get a perfectly obvious answer!

WHEN DOES IT HURT TO "SEE" NOISE?

Rosanne was explaining this morning why she wore sunglasses in the car when the sky was quite overcast with no sign of sun overhead.  "More than just bright light bothers my eyes," she said..."Sometimes loud noises hurt too!"

"But Rosanne, how can loud noise affect your eyes?" I questioned.

"It can when you have a migraine," came the answer.

Funny thing was, I almost knew what she meant.  I suppressed the impulse to ask what affect loud noises had on her ears...It was better that I not go there!

"COLON": NO MATTER HOW YOU LOOK AT IT, OR PRONOUNCE IT, IT'S STILL A FUNNY NAME

Rosanne commenting on Bartolo Colon, the starting pitcher for the New York Yankees in a game against her beloved Toronto Blue Jays:

"Roberto Colon (as in intestine)?"...What a funny name!"

Me: "His name is Colon (pronounced cologne), Rosanne."

Her: "Oh, that's better."

LIKE A BAD JOKE, IT'S NOT GOOD WHEN YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHAT SHE JUST ATE

Because of Rosanne's delicate state of health I have the responsibility of all things domestic around the house and as a result of hard-earned experience I have all the respect in the world for my chief-cook and bottle-washing sisters and brothers.  Putting it bluntly: "T'aint easy McGee!"

Not that I look for pats on the back or compliments with every plate of food that I place in front of Rosanne.  The best I hope for, however, is that what I do place in front of her is recognizable --  either in appearance or taste and, sadly, such is not always the case.  Take this past Sunday for instance.

It is traditional for us to have bacon and eggs brunches on the Good Day but on this occasion I decided to change things up a bit, just as a surprise.  We enjoy toasted western sandwiches and I thought that wifey dear would appreciate something just a little different.  Only trouble was, I quickly remembered that I had used up our last onion the day before and that we did not have the green pepper that is so essential for Rosanne in all her Western/Denver sandwiches.

Time not necessarily being a factor, I took a quick trip to our local Foodland store to pick up the two required items along with a carton of Rosanne's favourite tangerine orange juice and some nice thick-sliced smoked bacon that I thought would be a good substitute for the cooked ham that is customary in all proper Westerns.

With a degree of satisfaction and pride I watched Rosanne out of the corner of my eye some 30 minutes later as she devoured her sandwich-and-a-half with what I thought was her usual gusto, but without saying a word.  "She's too busy enjoying it to comment," I reasoned.

The anticipation of a reaction was starting to get the best of me and in an effort to elicit something, I prompted:  "Did you enjoy your tangerine juice?"

"Yes, it was good!" she replied.  "But what was it that we just ate?"

I was immediately reminded of a few instances in the past where I had to explain a joke that I had just told her and realized that it is not good when you have to explain the punch line.  Certainly, it was not good that I had to explain that what she just ate was a Western sandwich, the only difference being that it had bacon on it instead of ham.

Sometimes a fella just can't win.

Next Sunday it's back to good old bacon and eggs, for sure.

MOTHERS EVERYWHERE, WHEREVER THEY ARE

With all our love.  We owe our lives to you!  If only we knew then what we know now...

"Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee calls back the lovely April of her prime."  --William Shakespeare.