Posts tagged 20 Lines a Day

Memories from Log Cabin Kitchens



I could smell the fragrance of the thick molasses all the way in the upstairs room my brother and I shared. My grandpa’s molasses making trays and tools were still tucked under the shed, waiting to be washed today before the bugs went crazy.

The lightning storm that had crept up suddenly the night before had almost ruined this years molasses run, be together, our neighbors, my father and brother finished the load.

I don’t think any one who has never gone through the grinding of cane stalks, the shuttling of the sugary fluid through the zig-zag trays, or stood sweating in the August heat should be allowed to savor the incomparable taste of warm biscuits slathered in molasses!

When we were young, our family had a joke. If you asked for ‘lasses, that meant that you were asking for your first serving. If you anted a second service you asked for “molasses!”.

Not many people get to see the metal trays set up for molasses making these days They didn’t see horses turning the machine that grinds the stalks of sugar cane, they don’t watch the paddle moving the molasses along the divided trays above the flames. Indeed the love of molasses has nearly disappeared in some areas.

Oh, go on to thee store, buy a bottle and try to imagine the making of molasses I have described, use the little honey stirring devise to drizzle the molasses on your canned biscuits. I guarantee, you will get a glimpse of the way grandpa make then as you close your eyes and savor the first bite!







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The Desire to Live


The warmth of the sun propelled me towards my garden.

All winter, I had agonized over whether to even have one.


But the sun got to me, the 60 degree weather and out I went.

The grapevine needed to be moved-NOW. I didn’t know,


The roots were 6 feet long on three sides-what had I done?

I dug a hole for what I thought would hold the vine.


I dug up half my flower garden trying to save roots.

I replanted daffodils, some with buds, and stomped other plants.


They were trying desperately to peek above ground,

after a cold winter with a big snow only a week ago.


Spring does crazy things to me, It makes me think I am young.

I am strong-the girl in blue jeans and peasant shirts.


Then, a few hours later, I am struggling to make it to the house.

By July, all hope is gone, it seems. September brings a valiant cleanup.


Spring and gardens do something to me that I desperately need.

Somehow, we both have an unquenchable desire to live.

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Your Obituary

The dark, cold, loneliness of rejection still fills my soul. A part of me will always be dead. Over thirty years later, reading your obituary still brought tears of rejection to my eyes.

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Stranger in the Night

DSCN2196She sat shivering under the thin cape beneath the glow of the gas light, tears trailing down her cheeks. She felt no one cared whether she lived or died, or for that matter, even existed. As she looked around the corner, she saw a well dressed man approaching her. A chill of fear went through her as he approached. He reached down and placed a handful of currency in her tattered glove. “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.” he quietly spoke. “What does that mean?” she spoke to herself. She stood up, wiped her tears and realized someone did care. She just wondered who it was.

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The Winds of Time

photo by dawn Q. Landau

He stood silently offshore, staring at the remnants of an ancient lighthouse. After hours upon hours of research, he had traced his great-times-3 grandfather to this place. He had been the last lighthouse keeper. That had been in the early 1800’s-during the war of 1812, in fact. He spent weeks here, alone as his family waited on the mainland. During fierce battles and raging storms, they were terrified that he would never come home. But he did, and though the lighthouse did not survive to love he passed on to his family was alive and well.

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Papa’s Barn

It was Papa’s way to put everything to use. He built our house from the boards of an old barn. He gathered stones from the hillside to make level ground on the mountainside to plant and work.



One day he found himself in need of a storage building. When he went to the village to pick up supplies, he saw a man tearing down a metal building. With his mind racing, he asked the gentleman what he planed to do with the sides, pained with advertizements.




“Wish I knew” huffed the man.


A few days later, Papa was building his storage shed.


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A Trip to the Past


“Serena,” Raven sputtered excitedly as they walked to the cafeteria beneath the beautiful autumn maples.

Raven turned around and giggled. “Serena, what’s wrong with you?

“There’s this new cafe off campus.”

“So?”smiled Raven, walking as they talked.

“Well, they serve tea ,coffee, hot chocolate or pastries, but that’s not the exciting part.”

“Then what is?” Raven asked, stopping in her tracks.

“When you walk in the door, you go back in time.” Serena whispered. “I swear. I thought I’d been drugged. Even my clothes were from the middle ages. Everything was, the food….”

“Raven grabbed Serena’s hand. “What are you waiting for, let’s go!”

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