from shirley's cottage

I’ll See You In My Dreams

I really like to write. However, I do not believe I am an inspired writer. I am more of a perspired writer. Sometimes it is just plain hard work. The hardest for me (ask my editor) what can I write this week
I got half an idea last week. I asked several people to give me a word, any word, and I would try and write my column around it. I got three words: Easter Bunny, (counted as one ), dream, and quirky. The bunny will have to wait. I think I can tie up the other two in one column. Here goes:
Last Wednesday, March 21, the first day of Spring. It was not sunny, nor rainy. Not hot or cold. The weather was really quirky.
If you had occasion to ride or walk on the lake road that day, you know what I mean. The road was clear for a moment. Then all of a sudden the wind blew fog in from the lake so thick you could not see the road or the water.
Then, for several seconds, everything was clear, and almost sunny. It continued that way to the end of the road. By the time I got to town, it was all clear.
Coming home, as I turned onto the lake road, it was as if I had entered another time or place.
As I entered one of the foggies, I looked at the lake. I swear I saw the ice separate, and a big head popped up. Sure looked like the Lake Ripley Monster. But–she wasn’t a monster at all. Head tilted, she was smiling, as if to say, "It’s me, but I’m not a monster. Why, I wouldn’t bite a toe or nip a fish." Before I could question myself, she and the fog were gone. It was clear again.
It didn’t take a second, and the fog blew across the road again. Visibility-zero. Except on the lake. I looked, and looked again. Coming through the ice and the fog, I saw my husband, on the old pontoon. He tipped his captain’s hat, brew in hand, thoroughly enjoying his ride. I didn’t even question myself. I just enjoyed the dream.
Then I was almost home. As I drove into the clear, I saw my dad, standing under the old oak tree, arms across his ample girth, just like the day he and my mom bought the cottage.
The tree is not even there anymore, losing the war with the utility lines. But the tree and he are there to me. So is Ted, Sr., on his old pontoon. Even the Lake Ripley Lady. I’ll see them in my dreams.
A quirky dream? I guess so. But, I put the two words together, and drove through some great memories. You can’t ask for more than that on the first day of Spring
As we go into spring, the recipes change. The soups and stews go on the back-burner. The finger foods and no-bake desserts take center stage.
I looked at a few of my cookbooks to see how I could go from dreams to a recipe. What popped up was Are You Hungry Tonight?, Elvis’ Favorite Recipes. Elvis was of my era. This cookbook is full of pictures of him at his best. That is how I wish to remember him.
Each recipe was one of his favorites. With no regard to calorie, or content. My favorite breakfast is biscuits and gravy. What if I could have had breakfast with Elvis--biscuits and gravy from his favorite recipe? Only in my youthful dreams.

Smoky Mountain Gravy (serve with mashed potatoes or biscuits0
you will need:
½ pound mild sausage
3 T flour
2 cups whole milk
In a large skillet, crumble and brown sausage over high heat
Sprinkle flour over sausage, stirring constantly
Gradually add the milk
Continue stirring until gravy comes to a full boil, about three minutes
Salt and pepper to taste
( a simple recipe, but is so good. The key is to keeps stirring until gravy is creamy.)
Enjoy your breakfast, enjoy your dreams.