11.17.24
What a day it was yesterday! Our first bazaar of the upcoming holiday season and my goodness was it a busy one! For almost 10 years now we have made the 83 mile trek to this neighbouring town of Condon in order to attend the Fall Festival. Yes, our first trip there was back in 2015. Over the years the festival has grown considerably with more vendors coming from near and far to sell their wares. The doors open promptly at 10 o’clock in the morning for shoppers, anxiously looking for that special gift for folks on their Christmas list. Nowadays the festival has grown so much that more than one building holds tables filled to the brim with all manner of handcrafted items. We are still in the Condon Memorial Hall as we have always been, and our loyal customers know just where to find us!
Each year we see familiar faces, some whose names we know well and others that are nameless but known, nonetheless. Folks who eagerly make a pile of our soap bars, stating the recipients they are destined for eagerly look forward to some of “Rose’s soap” in amongst their Christmas packages. Yet each year that passes will find some familiar faces no longer showing up to shop. Some of my loyal customers that came by each year to buy their special bar of soap or savour a taste of our Christmas cake before buying a small chunk, are no longer present. They are missed yet will always remain in my thoughts as part of this warm and welcoming community.
This time of year is an awfully busy one for us. Regular life more or less gets put on hold over the next few weeks as the hectic holiday season approaches. When morning chores are done, often solely taken on by Darrell if I have a project on the go, the house is usually filled either with the mouthwatering smell of Christmas cakes baking in the oven or the perfumy odour of a miscellany of soap bars drying on the soap table. If the weather and temperature are just right, peanut brittle making may start as early as four o’clock in the morning.
I love making peanut brittle. Darrell and I anxiously check the weather forecast as November begins, looking to see when the conditions will be just right for making this much anticipated seasonal treat! What started as a Christmas tradition of me making peanut brittle for Darrell – who loves it dearly – just after we were married 37 years ago, has now become an integral part of our little home business. Darrell’s seemingly innocuous suggestion of “Why don’t you take a few bags of brittle to the bazaar?” has turned into an annual tradition of making mounds of brittle for our loyal customers. In fact, as soon as the weather starts to change with cooler days and nights, the queries for when we will start making our peanut brittle begin flooding in. Well before the weather accommodates the commencement of brittling season, the list of folks awaiting their bags of this sweet treat swell in the holiday order book!
We only make this seasonal treat when the skies are clear as a bell and the temperature outside dips to freezing or below. This usually means an early morning start at the cooker or an after dark session in the evening. I am a fussy brittle maker and never deviate from our set routine. Only the finest ingredients go into our brittle, a full pound of peanuts per small batch along with fresh butter and pure vanilla. Once the bubbling pot of goodness reaches the perfect temperature, the mixture is poured quickly onto two warmed and buttered tins used just for brittling. A quick shake of the tins spreads the mixture nice and thin and as I pick them up, Darrell is there to open the front door so I can dash outside to place the hot tins on the top of our old, enameled cooker which I am convinced gives our brittle such brittleness! The brittling season has begun!
Yesterday a very dear friend who I have not seen for many, many a long year came to the bazaar with her daughter and granddaughter. As we hugged and cried at the joy of seeing each other after such a very long time, I thought back over all the years we have known each other. Donna and I worked together at what was then The Bon Marché in Bend back when I first came to America. After Darrell and I were married, and farming became my whole life, it was Donna, along with her wee daughter Heather, who would come and tend the animals on weekends when Darrell and I took off to come fishing over here in eastern Oregon, where we now live. Our lives took us in different directions, yet we have stayed in touch. It was so wonderful to see her yesterday!
This morning as I sit here writing in the quietude before even the roosters begin heralding the dawning of a new day, I take a moment to sip at my cup of tea. The fire is crackling away in the woodstove and the living room is toasty warm. By the front door a pile of tubs is still sitting where we put them last night after unloading them from the truck after arriving home from the bazaar. They are much lighter than what they were when they sat there yesterday morning waiting to be loaded in the truck and for that I feel such great gratitude.
As I stood chatting with my friend in front of the tables filled with all the wares we brought to the bazaar yesterday, I realized yet again how very blessed I am to live the life I do. Yes, at times life is hard and challenging and sometimes it is awfully frustrating when things go awry, but it is a wonderful life that I would not change for anything.
Later on after the animals are fed, I will make a good breakfast for us, hashbrowns topped with sausage gravy sounds rather good. The jumble of tubs now sitting by the front door will be carried back to the soap room and unloaded then the remainder of the day will be one of rest. Tomorrow will be time enough to work on setting aside soaps and lotions, peanut brittle and Christmas cake for customers whose orders are awaiting shipping. Today will be a slow day, a good day, just Darrell and I sitting in our easy chairs by the fire while the dogs lie in their respective spots beside us, peacefully dozing.