A Paternal Epistle

Dear Dad,

Hi! Happy Father's Day! It's been awhile since I've had a chance to talk to you (tell Mom to stop hogging the phone when I call), so I thought I'd bring you up to date on the exciting happenings at Blackrock. Because you know there are ALWAYS exciting happenings at my house.

Like strawberries! Yes! Of which the MiL and I picked 20 pounds on Friday at a local farm. Cubby came too, but he wasn't much help. Except that he didn't scream his head off the whole time in the fields and instead sat in his chariot and watched us labor. I guess that's a help.

We don't have 20 pounds left anymore. We have maybe ten pounds. We've been eating a lot of strawberries in the past few days. The MiL froze 6 quarts and made a very interesting dessert of strawberries in champagne jelly. I made a batch of strawberry-rhubarb jam with some of mine. You might find a jar of that under your Christmas tree this year if you're a very good boy.

The other berry to be dealt with this time of year is, of course, the mulberry. Though that should be mulberries, plural, because there is nothing singular about the multitudes of berries raining down out there on that slope. I have three quarts of juice so far, and some really disgusting-looking black cuticles. Three more quarts (and yet more disgusting cuticles) and I'll can it. You probably will not be seeing any of this under your Christmas tree this year, however, as jars of mulberry juice are precarious travelers and you really do NOT want that stuff to blow up everywhere. So you'll just have to come visit to get your mulberry juice fix.

The garden is coming right along, producing many, many peas at the moment, along with vast quantities of lettuce. I'm sure your garden has been drowning you in tomatoes for some time now, but since I don't live in the desert, I'm just now seeing the first wee tomatoes on the Stupice plants.

But it's not all food, all the time here (although it's mostly food, most of the time . . .). I must inform you that your grandson is putting his new standing skills to good use. A couple of weeks ago, we discovered that he can hold onto the coffee table and stand by himself for a minute or so. It's kind of ridiculous to see a two-foot-tall, four-month-old infant standing there like that. It also frightens me a bit, because walking can't be too far behind, along with the inevitable falling and screaming. Good times are ahead.

But anyway! We won't dwell on the scary future of a careening eight-month-old boy right now! No, we'll just live in the present. For you, that means enjoying the family reunion in Wisconsin today. For me, that means hiding out in my house with the fan on full blast in an attempt to avoid melting in the heat. So, have fun today, give my love to the family, and a very happy Father's Day to you.

Lots of love from
Your favorite daughter in New York