Piecrust promise

Double Leo Sister and Jolly Not-So-Green Giant Brother-in-Law had descended into Victoria from their up-Island home to have an early Thanksgiving dinner with us the Friday before the long weekend, using up the last of the piecrusts I'd stashed in the freezer.  

On the Sunday, I had a lovely block of "alone time" while the Resident Fan Boy and younger daughter went out for lunch.  It was then that I discovered that I was out of shortening, so resigned myself to making all preparations on Monday.  I was in bed when the RFB approached me to quietly ask if I were making pies at all.  Apparently, younger daughter had observed my lack of preparation, and had made an equally quiet and anxious inquiry.

Younger daughter lives somewhere on the autism spectrum, which despite the rainbow-like terminology, is a very concrete and literal place.  Holidays must be made manifest and occur on the appropriate day, which, in our case is the holiday Monday.  (Many Canadian families have the meal on the Sunday, to allow for travel time.)

I, of all people, know the importance of making holidays tangible in our house, so rose early to make the dough and chill it, before heading out to set out Demeter's breakfast.  Home to roll out seven piecrusts: two for the counter, five for the freezer.

After another trip across the street and down the block to pull together Demeter's lunch, I returned to make the filling from pumpkins from last year's Hallowe'en, mashed and waiting in the freezer.

To further realize and cement Thanksgiving, I'd assembled a playlist for daughter's Spotify account, and put it on while I worked, knowing she'd hear it from her bedroom.

A Disney version of "Turkey in the Straw" drew her out, and I explained what I'd done.  She seemed chuffed. (Other tracks included:  "Thank You Girl" (Beatles), "What a Wonderful World" (Louis Armstrong),  "Eat It" (Weird Al), "All Good Gifts" (London cast of Godspell), "Get Happy" (Judy Garland), "Happy" (Pharrell Williams), "Food, Glorious Food" (original cast of Oliver!), etc.

We eventually sat down to a simple supper (attended by Demeter, of course) with our traditional sides of Caesar Salad and garlic bread, followed by pie, glorious pie.  And younger daughter was relaxed and happy - even chatty, by her standards.

It's important to keep piecrust promises -- perhaps because they're so easy to break.

Fingernail shadows

A tsunami of sickles on a street near us

The first partial solar eclipse that I remember occurred on a warm summer afternoon years ago.  Our neighbours in our Edmonton neighbourhood had a small rectangle of smoked glass, and about half a dozen children took turns peering at the strange image of a black circle biting into a bright orange one.  (Not a recommended medium today!)

It was the only indication that anything was different about the afternoon.  The sun continued to shine brightly -- except that I noticed the shadows made the sidewalk appear to be paved with cloudy cobblestones.

It wasn't until I was a parent myself, on a bitterly cold and cloudless Christmas Day, my first in Hades, that I realized what I had been seeing hadn't been a childish fancy.  The midday light reflected through the latticework of our porch on to the pitiless smooth snow, a strange cluster of half-discs. 

Not long before we finally escaped from Hades, another partial eclipse swung by us on a summer's afternoon.  I tried a colander, to no avail,  but wandered to the front of our house, where tiny crescents were scattered amid the shadows of the leaves on our front walk.

So, on Saturday,  I set the timer on my phone, and wandered home from the coffee shop, scanning the ground for sickles. About two minutes before the eclipse was scheduled, I spotted what I was seeking in the centre of a quiet street, and frantically gestured to an older lady strolling up the sidewalk.  She told me, in an accent faintly tinged with Eastern Europe, that a neighbour from her building had already shown her the view through a "screen" - I didn't dare ask - and that it was "once in a lifetime" for her; she'd never seen an eclipse.

Next, a family with two young boys meandered by, but the kids were too young to be impressed, and their parents, though polite, were reserved, when I pointed out the odd shadows on the grass. 

Undaunted, I headed back home, following a trail of sun-bows, and, ahead of me, a young woman was holding up her camera to the sun.  A friend had just alerted her to the event via text.  I pointed to the shadows behind her, and she exclaimed in astonishment, and starting snapping pictures.

Stopping at the path leading to the entrance of our building, I used my phone as well - to phone the Resident Fan Boy, telling him only to "come out --- now".

By this time, a matter of less than ten minutes, the fingernails were rapidly thickening into something less delicate, more ordinary.