Pie

It hit me as hard as though I had been punched in the stomach. The old boarding house had burned down and the rubble had been cleared.
The place where the calla lilies and roses grew — where my uncle’s vegetable garden and chicken coop had been — now covered by wild blackberry bushes. That house in Aberdeen, Washington no longer existed, except in my memory.
My breath left me as I stood on the road staring at that empty lot. That was the house I had felt so safe in, where everyone gathered when grandparents and other family members ‘passed on,’ each comforting the other; the house that I refer to as home to this day.
Today there is no longer an address, “burned to the ground” the newspaper reported, “property absorbed by adjacent mill.”
I made my way across what once had been our lawn and sat down on a decaying tree stump. Sitting there, I looked around at what once had been.
A blue heron flew low overhead and landed in the mud along the bank of the slough, which ran behind the lot. I picked my way through the weeds and skirted my way around the blackberry bushes to catch a better look at the heron.
He had made his way to the middle of the slough, eyes fixed on the minnows darting through its murky waters, when a patch of white caught my eye. Moving forward for a better look, I discovered a mound of white calla lilies still growing where they had once framed our front porch.
Sitting down in the damp weeds next to the lilies, I pictured my aunt cutting those white flowers and taking them to the graves of my family each Decoration Day.
By then, the heron had eaten its fill of minnows, and without a sound, lifted his body out of the slough. It headed to the river a short distance away, leaving a trail of ripples as water dripped from its body.
A soft spring rain began to fall, signaling it was time for me to leave. With the help of a tree branch I was able to dig up several of the lily rhizomes for my garden here in Ben Lomond. I cut an armful of them and made my way back to the car. By then my head was filled with memories of the Aberdeen I had left so long ago.
I pointed my car in the direction of the family cemetery. Carrying those lilies, I walked between rows of graves of people buried long before. Their head stones were sunken into the earth, signaling there were no longer relatives left to tend to their graves.
A small child’s grave caught my eye. I paused and placed a lily on the ground next to the little headstone and moved on.
Upon locating my family, I distributed the flowers between each of them. Standing where they stood so many years ago, I thought of them travelling to this cemetery every year on what was then referred to as Decoration Day.
After decorating each grave, my family would fill a picnic table nearby with potato salad, fried chicken, and my aunt’s Strawberry Rhubarb Slab Pie, each one recalling stories about those lying nearby.
In 1967, Decoration Day was renamed Memorial Day, continuing to honor those men and women who have given their lives in the service of our country by placing an American Flag on each gravesite.
This Memorial Day, I urge you to take part in the National Moment of Remembrance — at 3 p.m. on May 25 — by taking a moment of your time to remember those who have died in the service of our country. You will be proud you did.
Recipe: Strawberry Rhubarb Slab Pie
Crust:
 5 cups flour
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tsp. salt
4 sticks cold butter cut into 1/2″ inch pieces
In food processor, pulse until mixture is pea sized. Add 1 cup ice water and pulse until dough just holds together.
Divide dough, wrap in Saran wrap, and refrigerate 1 hour.
Filling:
Mix together:
6 cups (2 lbs.) halved strawberries
2 lbs. rhubarb cut into ¾” pieces
¾ cup packed light-brown sugar
1/3 cup quick-cooking tapioca
2 tsp. grated orange zest
2 Tbsp. orange juice
Roll out one disk of dough into a 12 x 16 inch rectangle.
Fit dough onto a jellyroll pan sprayed with Pam and then spread out filling.
Cover with remaining rolled out dough. Crimp edges.
Brush crust with 2 egg yolks beaten with 2 tsp. water, and sprinkle with 2 Tbsp. sugar.
Bake in a 375-degree oven for 55 to 60 minutes.
Colly Gruczelak, a Ben Lomond resident, loves people and loves to cook. Contact her at cz****@co*****.net.

Previous articleThe Mountain Gardener: Planting and Watering for Birds and Butterflies
Next articleLetters & Shout-outs (May 22, 2015)
Colly Gruczelak, a Ben Lomond resident, loves people and loves to cook. Contact her at [email protected].

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here