Jan Stubelt – Joy Winkie Viola

“Two Roads Diverged in the Wood…”

I tugged and pulled and the vine’s roots tore across the path. That one done, I went on to the next. This after I had marked a trail through the woods with a can of orange spray paint and my neighbor had kindly come with his leaf blower and cleared the pathway. But now there were lots of stump and tree root “tripper-uppers” as well as those pesky spreading vine roots. So I got the paint can again and marked all the places where I might trip over something to give me a “heads up!” Then I sprayed the path with weed killer, so I wouldn’t have to keep repeating this back breaking effort.

Next another neighbor came with his chain saw and cut through two trees that had come down in my pathway and voila – I could now make it across the stream bed crossing over the boards I had placed there years ago and on up to the top of the little glacial esker. From there I could look down on the skunk cabbage and in May I’ll see the Marsh Marigolds blooming in the stream bed.

The other half of the trail leads to the wooden bridge I had put in a decade ago, but I have to scramble down a small bank and then scramble up the other side. I figured I could tie a rope onto two trees to hold onto while I did my scrambling, but I think I really need to cut some steps into the bank. This has my neighbors worried that I’ll fall, so for the moment, I’m taking the first path to reach the esker “summit.”

Next I traveled to our local Roche Bros. grocery store as I’d seen plastic, lightweight Adirondack chairs in multiple colors including khaki – perfect to blend into the surroundings.

I took both dogs with me to “initiate” our woodland trail and with my binoculars around my neck, we sat and quietly observed. Titmice and Cardinals called and Chickadees darted in and out. I spooked up a Barred Owl at rest, but no migrating warblers as yet.

The esker summit is a mess – two giant trees went down some time ago and the trunks and crowns are lying everywhere. Well I have a tree service coming by next week to give me a price for cutting the tree trunks into logs and making log piles and then cutting the crowns into neat brush piles. It would be much to expensive to have it hauled away and the animal kingdom will probably like the wood piles and brush piles.

I’m paying taxes on this acre of land so I might as well do something with it. Most of it is classified as wetlands even though there’s not a great deal of water flowing through the stream right now. We’re already in something of a drought. And I did have a pathway made years ago, but then my husband got ill, I didn’t have time to maintain it and nature reclaimed everything. So now I have my little hide-a-way birding spot. Here are a few pictures as it stands today. I’ll add more as the trees leaf out and the marsh marigolds bloom.

A simple post-vaccination joy

Lunch with friends – a simple act, normally, but today’s lunch was a joyous occasion. I drove south, they drove north from Cape Cod and we met for lunch! We sat inside a restaurant, all vaccinated, and all so happy to see one another after months of separation that the conversation never stopped. It was the first time any of the four of us had gone into a restaurant and sat down to eat with friends. And it was marvelous.

We tended to take so much for granted prior to the pandemic, Now, we cherish simple things. It’s not just having lunch with friends, but so many “normal” activities, that circumstances have denied us this past year,. which become extraordinary when new circumstances permit us to enjoy them once again.

This pandemic has given us all new perspectives, new appreciations which hopefully will carry over into the days ahead.

And greeting friends with a hug! That was the best of all!

Something New has been added!

Something new on the She Shed! Too cold to plant any flowers in the window box yet, however.

A Beautiful Easter Day!

The sun is shinning and although it’s a bit cool, it’s a beautiful Easter Day. This morning I drove to Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, MA to put a lovely big pot of “citrus” pansies (yellow, orange and white) on Alfred’s grave. I added about a dozen pussy willow stalks to it so it really looked spiffy! I then drove through the cemetery (Mount Auburn is the country’s oldest garden cemetery) looking at the plantings as I’m going to have small bushes planted on either side of the stone marker. Have decided on dwarf red twig dogwoods as the red twigs will provide color against the snow in the winter.. The Director of Horticulture told me they would be extending the shrub hedge behind the grave and I get to pick out which shrubs! I pay for the shrubs and they do the planting and maintenance. Sounds like a good deal to me!

I then splurged and went out for a late br4eakfast – poached eggs over crab cakes and English muffins topped with Hollandaise sauce! VERY calorific, but as I’ve lost 20 pounds I decided I could treat myself today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Stopped by the local nursery and bought a second baffle for one of my pole bird feeders as the squirrels and raccoons are going right over the existing baffle! Also bought a very cute ground-level bird bath with two cement birds attached. I think some of the ground-feeding birds will like that. I thought about planting pansies around it but frankly so many plants are popping out of the garden now I don’t know what is going to come up where! Read the paper while watching the Blue Birds coming to the meal worm feeder. Will put out grape jelly once the Orioles and Catbirds return.

Talked to two members of my family in Minnesota and had an email exchange with another, so all in all, a lovely day.

Looking forward to puttering in the garden this week as no rain is forecasted, In fact, my two new yews are saying “We need a drink” as we’ve had very little rain this year so far and we didn’t get a lot of snow. Now if I’d just start to see some migrating birds return, it would really feel like spring was here!

Oh, and tomorrow, an update on my “she shed!”

“Come, sit, stay, pleease”

Twenty five years ago on March 31, I wrote this column about the first dog we adopted from Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue.

It has been a year now since ‘Captain” came into our lives and he has made it a year unlike any other. On March 31, 1995, my husband and I adopted our first Golden from Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue. We had been members of the organization for years and had actively participated in many of its endeavors, but it was only after the death of our beloved Golden “Toby” that we decided it was time to adopt.

Captain had spent the first 2 1/2 years of his life running around the town of Munson, near Springfield, . He had been picked up by the local dog officer frequently and his owners had been admonished to keep him under control. Finally, when rather than pay a small fine, they preferred to have him put down, the dog officer turned him over to Rescue. And that’s where we entered his life story.

When we brought him home, he took a flying leap over the top of the sofa and subsequently was found standing on the coffee table. And to think we wanted an “older dogs.” because a puppy would be too much to handle…. now we had 70 pounds of undisciplined, unbridled energy to harness.

Captain proved to be a handful. Other than being housebroken, he had been taught nothing by his previous owners. Within 24 hours he was enrolled in an obedience class which he proceeded to totally disrupt. The first night he was a holy terror, running around and barking incessantly ignoring all of my commands .”Sit ? Oh no, this place is much to exciting. Down? Hey, no man, I gotta check things out! Stay? You’ve got to be kidding. Come? Forget it.”

At the end of the first class I was exhausted, Captain had vomited his dinner, having gotten so excited and we had taxed the tolerance of all the other owners and their we-behaved graduates of the puppy kindergarten class. But as Captain’s story made its way around the room, everyone became supportive and repeatedly commented, “How could anyone want to put down a beautiful young dog like that?”

Six weeks later, on “graduation day.” I held my breath. Would he watch me, listen to my commands and obey? He did and my wild boy was the star of the class.

Rescue Dog Walk

In October, we took him to the Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue Dog Walk kicking off YGRR’s capital campaign to raise money to establish a shelter. Captain was a good boy, and although I still had to maintain a firm hand, he behaved in the presence of 400 other Golden Retrievers.

Soon there after, Rescue began selling its 1996 calendars and there was our Captain – Cover Dog – in a beautiful running pose my husband captured at Heard Farm. We were “proud parents” when his picture appeared in Dog Fancy magazine, in newspaper advertisements and in other media outlets.

Through it all, did I happen to mention that this golden-copper toned, massive-headed, brown=eyed bundle of love is the most affectionate, sweet klutz on earth? When I had knee surgery, Captain lay quietly at my side oozing love and devotion.

Is he now a perfectly-mannered, obedient, docile adult? Heavens no!” Come” is still viewed as a request rather than a command and he still barks noisily at every new dog he meets, But he has learned to play with other dogs less aggressively and he has learned that he no longer needs to run round the neighborhood in search of love. Captain’s boisterous insecurity is waning., we have been enlivened by his exuberance and our female Golden, “Electra,” thinks he’s “Mr. Wonderful ,”

Of course our home is no longer as neat as it once was – on snowy days – when Captain gets bored, he empties his toy box and our living room looks like a toddlers’ day care center. His long-feathered tail is still likely to sweep magazines off the coffee table and he has perfected the “coffee cup nudge” demanding pats while spilling my coffee.

There will never be another Toby. I still miss my gentle giant. But all “children” are unique and Captain is one of a kind. He brought us laughter when there were tears and filled a far-to-quiet and far-to-clean house with his comical antics and long Golden hairs. How grateful we are for his “recycled” life and the opportunity we have been given to share it.

Note: We had Captain for nine wonderful years before he went to Rainbow Bridge

Every Woman Should Have a “She Shed!”

A few years ago I had a significant birthday coming up and my husband asked what I would like to mark the occasion. I knew immediately what I wanted, but it was a bit pricey.. Still I thought I’d ask! He thought it amusing, but agreed it would be appropriate.

I wanted a tool shed only I planned to make it my garden shed. Nowadays, according to the television commercials, it would be called a “She Shed.” I went on line to Reeds Ferry Sheds and picked out the design I liked informing the company that I would also like to add a work bench for potting plants and other such garden endeavors. I picked out a design with a pretty little window and screen and a window box. When the truck arrived, they took away the tired old critter that had been there when we bought the house and installed my pretty little shed. I quickly set about putting up nails and peg board to hang my tools, and began “playing house” in my little She Shed. I brought out a radio, plugged it in, sat down on a garden chair and had a cup of coffee while I made plans for my spring plantings.

That little shed has become my little home away from home where I putter and plan, pot and repot. Last week we had a beautiful spring day and I took advantage of it to go to my shed and survey what needed to be done. It was obvious I needed to give it a good sweeping and clean some pots I’d neglected to clean last fall. But wanting to walk the dogs, survey the garden and add pussy willows to my winter planter, I decided I’d wait until the weekend. Well, the weekend came and with it high winds and snow squalls! This morning the wind chill was below zero. My She Shed still beckons, but it will have to wait as the Ides of March are upon us and apparently will stay with us all week. Still, like the daffodils starting to poke their leaves up through the ground, I know the day will come sooner rather than later when I can venture out, open the window, turn on the radio to our classical music station, enjoy a thermos of coffee and design and dream to my heart’s content. Men have “Man Caves,” but I firmly believe every woman should have a She Shed for whatever purpose she intends to use it Mine is like a friends waiting for me to come sit and visit. Now all I need is for Mother Nature to provide the opportunity.

Love is a Workbench

Reprinted courtesy of the Weston/Wayland Town Crier May 13, 1993

When my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary many years ago, he mentioned our planned celebration to some of his students. “How do you stay happily married to someone that long?” they asked. We thought their question a sad commentary on modern society. Alfred’s response was a discourse on the meaning of commitment in marriage and, while my husband’s remarks were absolutely on target, I recently discovered a new definition of marital bliss, Love is a workbench..

My discovery began when my husband announced that he was going out of town for a few days to attend a business conference,. Such news always sends me into orbit planning a host of household improvements I can make while I have long, uninterrupted hours at my disposal.

Since retirement, my “when the cat is away” adventures have usually involved painting, wallpapering or super human efforts at landscaping or gardening – all of which are designed to enhance the appearance of our home. This time, I planned a project for the sole benefit and pleasure of my husband. I would hire our neighborhood contractor to build my husband a work bench in our garage.

For years, you see, my husband had complained that he has no place to do house and yard repair work and no place to keep his tools in order. I decided that the end of the garage offered 12 feet of promise – once I had cleaned out the garage, made several trips to the town dump and swept away years of dirt and dust.

It took the contractor less than a day to build the work bench and me three days to clean the garage and neatly hang tools on the new peg board, organize all the nails and screws, clean up paint and various cans and put the new bench in working order. When all was done, the garage was so clean I could have served dinner out there. A bouquet of tulips and a homemade welcome home card were the finishing touches.

When my husband returned home, he received his new workbench and tool area with the delight of a little boy given his first bicycle – now he had new worlds to conquer – and new tools to buy!

To some young people all this might seem like “much ado about nothing.” It wasn’t a big gift. I didn’t buy him an expensive new camera or a new computer. But those are not gifts of the heart purchased with a “broken back”, a slivered hand and a torn fingernail. To those young students who wondered how one stays married to someone so long, my response is simple. The answer lies in discovering the romance of a workbench.

Going to Extremes to Beat the Blahs

By Joy Winkie Viola, Town Crier columnist

Reprinted courtesy of the Weston/Wayland Town Crier

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’ve been on a roll since I retired nearly a year and a half ago. I’ve tackled one project after another and often had several going at one time. Even now I have a new piece of unfinished furniture to stain, and once again I’m chairing the Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue spring auction and I have various household tasks I could and should do.

But I’ve got the midwinter blahs. In short, I’m bored. Just when all the snow melted and I had some enthusiasm for going out and tackling some yard work, another storm dumped a fresh load of the white stuff on our yard and dampened my enthusiasm for landscaping. Besides, it’s cold outside..

As I sit here at my desk writing, the afternoon sun warms my face and I begin to feel drowsy. The dog and cat are one step ahead of me. They are already napping in pools of sunlight on the carpet. I fight the urge to nap with them and pull out the folder labeled “When I retire..” In it is an assortment of clippings suggesting worthy endeavors for bored minds. One is a list of New Year’s health resolutions which appeared in Modern Maturity magazine two years ago. I scan the “50 healthy habits” and find myself attracted to #46 -“Never kill the urge to be silly.” I like that one and begin to think of ways to implement it.

Before long, my golden retriever, Electra, and I are in the car and headed off for an adventure. “We’ll drive to Natick,” I tell her (doesn’t everyone talk to their dog?) and check out that golden retriever wallpaper I heard about. I visit th4e wallpaper store and then head for Dover to investigate an antique/craft store complex I read about in the Boston Globe.

Somewhere on the other side of the Charles River, I make a wrong turn. I am now lost among Dover’s farms, horse barns and new developments. I stop at a gas station to get new directions, retrace my steps and now find Dover Center.. By now I am hungry, having forgotten to eat lunch. The Dover Market looks inviting, so I dash inside, buy a muffin and a cup of coffee, and return to the car.

While Electra and I are enjoying our “picnic,” I suddenly see a good friend from Millis getting into the car next to me. “What are you doing in Dover?” we exclaim simultaneously. I jump out of the car to greet her, the car door slams shut, and there I stand – my coffee, my muffin, my dog, my handbag and my car keys – all are locked inside the car.

“Name?” the Dover policeman inquires. “Address? License number?” Great, I’m going to make the Dover police log .””Date of Birth?” Old enough to know better, I reply. My friend is giggling. The policeman is smiling. My dog is giving me strange looks. And I am feeling very stupid.

“What did you do today,” my husband asks at dinner that night. “I was bored,” I replied,” so I went for a drive, got lost and locked myself out of the car. “”That’s nice,” he replied,” “What are you planning for tomorrow?”

Chicken Paprika with Nockerln

A word about and a recipe for… Nockerln

Since the launching of my website and the announcement about my book, several people have asked me about Nockerln, given the fact that the word is part of the title of my book. “What is it,” I’ve been asked. Well, it’s an Austrian dish bigger than a German spaetzle and smaller than an American dumpling and usually served with a chicken or meat dish. It’s easy to make and leftovers are great with scrambled eggs the next morning! (a favorite of my husband.) I serve mine with Chicken Paprika, an Austro-Hungarian dish I was taught to make by my Mother-in-law. She also taught me how to make Nockerln. Of course, she taught me in the old-fashion way of “a handful of this and a bit of that” but I’ve “translated” it so you can make it too. Of course, my own recipe still says a “green scoop” of flour, but only I know how much flour my green scoop holds, so I’ve translated that as well.

In the last few days of his life, Alfred wasn’t eating much and I asked him what I could cook for him. When I suggested Nockerln and scrambled eggs he lit up, “THAT would be great,” he said, so I assured him I’d go right home and make nockerln. “You’re wonderful!” said he – and those ended up being the last words he spoke to me before his death five days later. I told the nursing home staff to hold lunch, drove home, made the Nockerln, drove back, met the cook at the kitchen door (observing COVID-19 protocols) and told her to heat them up with two scrambled eggs. Hence the book title, From Schnitzel to Nockerln And Everything That Happened In Between.

And now, here’s how you too can make Nockerln:

Mutti’s Nockerln:

Dump 1C flour into a bowl and add two eggs, add about ½ tsp salt mix together and enough milk to make the dough thick, but capable of being stirred.

Bring a pan of salted water to a boil. Place a bit of dough on a smooth surface and with a sharp knife, scrape about 2T at a time into the boiling water. Dip the knife into the water each time so the dough doesn’t stick. Work quickly so the Nockerln cook at about the same rate. Cook each batch about 5 minutes and set aside in a dish with ¼ pd. melted butter. If you think your Nockerln are coming up too big, push off less dough each time.

Since they go together so well, I’ll also share the recipe for Chicken Paprika.

Mutti’s Chicken Paprika

Chop up and brown two large onions

Saute 1 pd. chicken tenders with Spry and when brown

Add 2C water

Add 1 tsp marjoram, bay leaf , 2T tomato paste, 2T sweet paprika(use more or less to taste) and one chicken bouillon cube

Simmer until chicken is tender and add 1/4C sour cream just before serving. Serve with Nockerln.