After many dark and gloomy days, our Father has sent a day of bright sunshine that cheers the heart and blesses the soul. The songbirds are basking in the added warmth, flipping their wings as they fly from rose of Sharon bush to the bird feeder. They occasionally burst into a joyous song as if thanking the Creator for the gift of this beautiful day.
We will have more cold weather, possibly a big snowfall, and icy days. We have the memory of this day to buoy our hopes and help us to look forward to spring. Even if the groundhog predicted six more weeks of winter weather, spring is not too far away. Each little sign of spring is greeted with joy.
I have always thought that when the groundhog emerged on a sunny day, he took one look at his fat shadow and yelled, “Yikes! How on earth did I get in that kind of shape?” That is why he dives back into his burrow to forget his woes in six more weeks of blissful slumber. I know exactly how he feels. After a winter of shut-in days and comfort food, I don’t like to see my shadow either.
The groundhog is plump when he first comes out of his burrow in the spring, but becomes skinny with his diet of fresh greens and newly emerged buds and twigs. There is a lesson for us here someplace. But on second thought, have you ever had someone tell you, “Wow! You’re as skinny as a ground hog!”
Groundhogs are not the only animals that crave a sprig of fresh greenery when wintertime passes. I have been reading of how the early pioneers, after a season of eating cured meat and root vegetables, were starved for the wild greens that appeared early in the year. At the first sign of a dandelion green popping through the ground, they would cover it with a box, where it would grow twice as fast and would emerge, pale and tender. They called these wild green “salat” greens and watched eagerly for them to appear.
In our day of modern supermarkets, and the variety of greens available all year around, we don’t have to wait for spring for our “salat” greens. However, bought greens are not the same. How I long for a dish of Mom’s “creasy” greens that she picked each spring in her garden before the ground was plowed. She always saved me a bowl full. Spring, with its many pleasures, is on her way. Someone reminded me of one of Mom’s old sayings, “Spring will come–it always has!”
February is usually the month that we dig sassafras for tea, although it can be dug any time that the ground has thawed, and before the sap goes up in the tree. There is nothing that spells spring like a good hot cup of rich sassafras tea. It is a good spring tonic, but I love it for its robust flavor.
There is some difference of opinion as to white sassafras versus red sassafras, but Criss contends that it is all the same. The bigger roots do make the reddest and strongest flavored tea. Making the tea is a simple procedure. The roots need to be cut up to fit in the pot, and scrubbed well to remove the mud and dirt. Place the desired pieces in a large pot, cover with cold water and simmer until it reaches the desired strength. I used to pour off the first boilings of water, but found that this is not necessary.
Some sources will tell you that sassafras is carcinogenic, but I have drunk it all my life with no ill effects. As kids, we used to eat the tender young leaves as they began to form, and chew the young, mucilaginous sprouts. In fact, we sampled plenty of things in the woods–spicewood twigs, birch bark and wild carrots, among other things. We thrived.
I have discovered that many folks of my generation knew all about selling Grit newspaper, rosebud salve, picking berries and selling garden seeds. Fred Casteel, who was raised on a hillside farm in Preston County remembers these things. He had it a lot harder than I did, He only got ten cents a gallon for his blackberries, and the houses were so far apart that he had to walk from one to three miles to deliver his berries. Of course by then, the berries had settled and he had to add another bucket. The women would pour them out into a pan and examine them before they paid him.
He recently moved back from Tennessee to the St. Albans area, and I’m sure that he’s glad he no longer has to pick berries. My sister Mary Ellen said she only got 35 cents a gallon for the ones she picked. I hadn’t realized how fortunate I was!
Chris Vaught of Charleston sent another recipe the “Brown Cake” that was requested. Although it may not be the one that was wanted, it sounds good.
AUNT MILLIE’S BROWN STONE CAKE
¾ cup ground chocolate
2/3 cup brown sugar
½ cup milk
Yolk of one egg
Beat all together and soft boil like custard. Let cool. This is the cream.
Then take :
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
½ cup butter
2 cups sifted flour
After the cake is mixed, stir in the above cream mixture. Then add 1 teaspoon soda dissolved in a little warm water. Mix together and bake in two 9” pans. The old wood stove didn’t have a temperature control, but bake it at 350 degrees for 30 to 35 minutes.
Aunt Millie always used whipped cream with two or three tablespoons of chocolate sugar to taste, and ½ teaspoon vanilla for the frosting. This is from a very old cookbook.
Ms. Vaught is also searching for an apple pie recipe which is very thin, and made with applesauce–it was her grandmother’s recipe. Hope someone can help.
Many thanks to Carl and Laura Wellstead who sent me a surprise gift of a tin of Rosebud Salve. The sweet fragrance brings back memories of sleigh rides in the snow, chapped hands and faces and a mother who applied the soothing ointment.
“When God thought of mother, He must have laughed with satisfaction, and framed it quickly–so rich, so deep, so divine, so full of soul, power, and beauty, was the conception.”–Beecher
