Where did August go (and more, where is September going--speeding by already and I am only now tardily catching up in Stillmeadow). August faded quietly into almost fall, though it feels not a bit like fall yet. So much so that I had to be reminded of a little seasonal reading that I am usually contemplating well before the end of summer.
Do the dog days of summer happen in August? Maybe that is why the month passed by so silently. Much like the ladies in Stillmeadow I have been enjoying some early harvest veggies, and corn is a favorite (what else . . . living in Nebraska at Iowa just across the river). That is where the chapter starts, "corn stands silken in the field, chicory stars the roadside, and goldenrod mints her coin." (Goldenrod is the Nebraska state flower by the way). I like to roast my corn in the oven (grilling is nice but not so easy for me), but lately I have been giving it a gentle boil and then shaving the kernels of the cob and giving a nice shake of pepper and parmesan cheese. Yum. Here is what Gladys suggests:
" . . . when Jill experimented with hybrid corn, she would come in with a bushel of perfect ears while I kept the kettle boiling and our children stood around with open mouths. Don once ate twelve ears, but the girls settled for six apiece. In those days, we felt corn was inedible unless it took only five minutes from garden to kettle. Since Jill's death, I have had to use store-bought corn. If you add a little milk, a little sugar and seasoned salt to the boiling water, even store corn is good. And I cut the kernels from the cob afterward ad brown them in butter for the next meal. It helps."
I have heard of adding sugar to the pot, but never milk. I wonder if it works. So many variations on cooking corn. Do you have a favorite way of preparing it?
She also ruminates on letter writing in this chapter, which I am always happy to read about. In her case she received letters from many of her fans and readers. (Imagine if she was writing today--do you think she would have an Instagram account and we could see Stillmeadow?).
"The spirit of friendship contained in the many letters I receive has filled many hours over the years. Now, in August, I wait until evening to answer my mail, for the house has cooled off and I can write without mopping my face every other minute. I try and answer all the letters, except those that do not have the sender's addresses. (My own family puts their house, or apartment, and street numbers on every letter!) Sometimes the name of the city or town on the postmark is clear, and I take a chance on it and always get the letter right back."
***
"Occasionally I receive letters addressed to Gladys Taber, Writer, Connecticut, and am always amazed at the postal department, One Sunday the postmaster from the nearest big city came with his wife to call because, he said, he wanted to meet the woman who got all the poorly addressed mail!"
***
"If postal rates keep jumping, the time will come when it is cheaper to send day telegrams! I found some dear old one-cent postcards when I was cleaning out my desk not long ago and eyed them wistfully. There were also some two-cent stamped envelopes. Oh, the lovely bygone days!"
Indeed. Lovely very Bygone days. Imagine a one- or even two-cent stamp!