Thursday, May 17, 2012

When the wind gets taken out of one's sails, they must lie at rest for a bit.  On the evening of May 11th, my sails were resting, thank goodness, at the close of my school's graduation.  It wasn't that there were not still plenty of things rushing around my boat, mind you.  But I had just watched several students walk that stage who had been hard-pressed to get there, and it was a huge sigh and great gladness that whooshed that wind out to parts yon way.  Teaching at a community college (fair warning for anyone thinking on that possibility) challenges much more than just content agility and prowess.  Some of my students are the traditional 18 year olds--and a mixed bag in themselves as they come with good intentions, no intentions, or mixed intentions on what they should be doing as a college student.  The first few weeks of the semester with these young ones involves helping them to adjust to life away from high school.  Those who are ready, soar.  Those who are not wander around looking for sails.  Those inbetween ponder whether they want to hoist those sails or just look at how sturdy they are for awhile yet undetermined.

The non-traditional students come with myraid elements.  Some are married and working with children and extended family in tow.  Some are single parents balancing that plank of unsteadiness as they try to make ends meet and either work a full-time job at minimum wage or look for one as they manage college demands.  Some are folks who have lost their jobs as a result of plant closings or downsizing, and they enter that realm of "retraining" that most likely will involve much more than the job counselor let on as they signed up for a particular program.  They, too, balance families and responsibilities and choices as they navigate classes and a 15-week semester of them.

Some of those students are just coming for a good education.  They have a plan, and they follow it.

No matter which of those "types" they are, they move toward graduation, and it is indeed a marvelous day when they make it.  Our entire campus celebrates for them and with them as they reach that moment and we watch success stride the platform.  Sometimes the sigh is audible even through the shouts and claps.

On May 11th, I was ready for that sigh and the wind to die down and let my sails rest.  Those graduates were, thankfully and wonderfully, ready to catch the wind and roll.  It was a blessed exchange.

Now.....well, now I get to juggle summer courses, only at a much less stressed pace and fewer students, as I dig in (literally) to my garden and home.  The only word to describe this immensely neglected residence and yard is MESS.  My first day to actually pay attention to it was today, what with all the aftermath clean-up in my office.  I can tell you that my front yard garden looks much better--not done but better.  My stove looks amazingly shiny after I bowed to its need after breakfast.  I look in need of much water and soap.

But, there is a delightful part of the day, as my sails flutter just a bit in this switch of pace.  We had a delicious, albeit simple, supper tonight, and I made some bodacious cornbread with no recipe--just out of my head.  For the first time in some long time, that beautiful golden round flipped out perfectly from the skillet, ready and waiting for some equally delicious brown beans (pintos and kidney) I had cooked in the crock pot yesterday.  Take a look:


I'm telling you, it was delicious....just a bit of warm spices in the beans, and freshly chopped chives and onions......mercy.  I really don't know how that cornbread turned out so well.  Usually there are crumbling problems or it's too heavy or it sticks in the pan or it just doesn't have a good flavor, but not tonight.  It was golden and moist, with lots of nooks and crannies for bean juice.  Tomorrow morning, I'm sure some applebutter or butter and jelly will work just fine to go with breakfast.  I do love cornbread, and I'm especially proud of this one! 

Now just to be honest, I was in no hurry, having taken my time all day to "putz" around and do first one thing and then the other.  Isn't that, though, what a break is supposed to be?  Maybe it's the memory of just this kind of simple supper I had with my mom and sister as a child that makes it such a delight.  Mama never cut up chives for the beans, and she didn't add kidney beans to the mix, but the pintos and cornbread were absolutely the best.  She still makes the best beans, at a spry 85 years old!

It's that cornbread that gets me.  I pulled measures out of my head, hoping I was getting it right.  I fear I'll never make it this perfect again!  But the simplicity was real.  Here's the "recipe" if I dare call it that--I mixed 1 and 1/3 c. of stone ground cornmeal with 1 c. unbleached flour in a large metal mixing bowl, adding in 3 tsp. of baking powder, about a 1/2 tsp. of salt, maybe a 1/4 c. sugar, and after stirring that all together, I added 2 large eggs, beating them just a bit.  I didn't have buttermilk, so I used 1 and 1/2 c. whole milk that I had added 1 tbl. spoon of cider vinegar to make it clabber.  After adding the milk mixture to the bowl, I used a whisk to blend it all and then added 1/4 cup of melted butter.  The other half of the stick of butter was melting in the cast iron skillet that was in the oven that I had set at 400 degrees.  Once that butter was fully melted in the skillet, I removed it, sat it on the stove top, poured in the cornbread batter and returned it to the oven.  About 20 minutes later, my perfect cornbread was golden and sizzling, begging to be cut.  And it was delicious....and will be tomorrow!

Here's a little close-up--and it was as good as it looks!

Now the day is on to twilight, and there are dogs whining to be walked and a pair of socks I've been trying to finish since March.  They're the same ones pictured in the last post, and I'm working the toe portion now.....whew!  Projects aplenty lie all over my house, as does a whole armada of dust bunnies and unorganized stacks of.....stuff!  I'm catching up on some sleep, letting those sails come slowly from stillness to flutter to full swing and reveling in things both simple and complex that work out.

No comments:

Post a Comment