Last week, my son was awakened in the early hours of the morning by the call of an owl. I am convinced that it was a Great Horned Owl, which is the most common owl in Ohio (where I live). We double-checked the call that this particular owl makes, and the call matched the owl that he heard.

A few years ago, I found an owl pellet in my yard. It was a small pellet of fur and tiny bones and was very interesting to dissect. Great Horned Owls eat mice, birds, chipmunks, and squirrels.

I have mixed feelings about the owl that was heard. Apparently I have attracted it, due to the birds and squirrels that I feed.

I have been looking forward to tasting my black walnuts, as we noticed it was a bearing year (some black walnut trees bear irregularly).  I have spent a lot of time harvesting and drying these treasures with the hope of obtaining enough nut meats to make cookies and cakes this winter.

As hard as the work that I put into the walnuts so far, I was not quite prepared for the work of cracking and picking about two dozen of these ebony globes.   I enlisted my family members to help with this task- one wielding the hammer, one manning the nutpick, and myself clucking and pecking the whole time, not willing to waste even a tiny morsel of black walnut meat.

The dining table became a surgeon’s workbench as newspaper was spread over the surface and a large cutting board arranged.  Special protective garments- non slip work gloves and eye protection donned.  The call was made for the “patient” to be delivered into the surgeon’s hands- and then pandemonium reigned.  The noise of banging and metal striking metal was dinning, pieces of walnut shells flying like shrapnel- bouncing off of the team, walls, and furniture.

When the last nut was cracked, our ears were still ringing.  We sifted and sorted and pried the tiny nut bits (that was all that was left after all the banging), and proudly gazed at our tiny harvest- about one cup of chopped black walnut meat.  We cleaned up soberly, gathering the tools, cleaning the table, vacuuming the carpeting.  A feeling akin to “shell” shock (pun intended) reigned.  Incredulously, we examine the tiny pile that was to be the reward for all of this time, mess, and pain (hubby’s arm was sore).

Before the last bit of shell was tossed into the compost, a specialty black walnut cracker had been ordered and shipping assured in two day’s time!

Currently, I am reading Nemesis, a story in which Miss Marple starts her day reading  her two morning papers with her breakfast.  She pays special attention to the marriages, births, and deaths that are announced. My husband reminds me of Miss Marple, as he always reads aloud the obituaries to check if we knew so and so.

We subscribe only to the Sunday paper and check the daily news online in our home.  Even the local “fish wrapper”- as my husband calls the weekly market paper is online- but of course one cannot wrap fish in a digital newspaper.

One must admit the experience of reading a real newspaper is different than reading the digital version.  No crackling and rustling sounds as pages are turned and paper folded and refolded,  no crossword to be filled in with a pencil, no sales papers spilling out on the floor, no hands blackened with the ink, no handy papers to crumple when starting a fire or packing a box,  no grabbing of a newspaper for a makeshift umbrella in a pinch…  I sound as old and nostalgic as Miss Marple herself.

Today I wondered what kind of Christmas cards Miss Marple would have chosen to send to her friends and family.

Perhaps she would have liked this vintage card- steeped in English Christmastime tradition and a charming portrayal of the stirring of the Christmas Pudding on the last Saturday before Advent.

In England, a pudding is not like the American custard dessert.  Christmas Pudding is closely related to a fruitcake. It is famously described in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

In this Miss Marple experience, I have noticed a few times when my life and Miss Marple’s fictional life have shared experiences.  In The Mirror Cracked, which I finished re-reading just days ago, Miss Marple has a fall.  I had a fall also – on a frosty step at my door.  Thank Heavens no serious injuries were sustained (in both cases).

One must consider carefully the steps (pun intended) to be taken to keep oneself upright during this holiday season.  Now is the time for inspecting, cleaning, and waterproofing  outdoor footwear.  Make a habit of wearing warm indoor house slippers with rubber tread to prevent indoor falls.

Whenever I see in my garden something which needs attention, I find myself wishing  that I had a gardener in my employ.   At times, it is just a strong nimble person that I need for a bit of tree trimming, or for lifting bags of lawn dressing.  Sometimes I need someone with knowledge- to ask if I need to move my hydrangea, or which rose spray is the best.

When I read Miss Marple stories that have gardeners in them, I feel a thrill- what I would do if I had a gardener of my own!!  I would set them to tasks such as water fountains, roses and other flowers, herb gardens, specimen trees, watering and fertilizing, mowing and trimming, vegetable plots and blueberries, oh my, I feel quite giddy….  perhaps a cup of tea and a lie down is in order….

Every time I attempt a little gardening without wearing  proper gardening clothes, I regret it.  Gardening in casual shoes sounds easy enough, until you step in mud!  The clean up is quite labour intensive.  A pair of easy-on wellies that can be easily hosed down or  cleaned in a utility sink would be a better choice.

Gardening without gloves is another time waster- thorns, dirt under nails, broken nails, skin injuries, etc.  Obtain plenty of gardening gloves and a nice pair of rose gloves (gauntlet style) and you will be able to tend your garden in comfort and without dirtying your hands.  I wash my garden gloves after each use and have a nice basket of them, as well as a pair of secateurs inside the front door.  It encourages me to get out and trim a little each day.

Agatha Christie’s character Miss Marple existed in the time before plastic was widely used in everyday life.  No plastic cups and plates, no plastic wrap or bin bags, and certainly no plastic shopping sacks!

I have been attempting to use less plastic and single use items in my home over the past few years.   Paper towels and napkins were the first to be replaced by cloth toweling and napkins.  Individual cleaning towelettes have been replaced by a small lidded bucket filled with cleaning solution and rolled up microfiber cloths- which can be washed and reused.

No plastic found in this amazing pantry-crockery, wood, and copper!

This morning, I tried a popular English breakfast of sardines and curry eggs.  Sardines are small Pilchards, and are commonly tinned as are tuna and anchovies.

This morning I drained the sardine fillets, dredged them in seasoned flour and tenderly fried them in olive oil.  My husband scrambled the eggs with curry powder, and made the toast.

It was a delicious meal, with our hot tea (with milk and sweetening) and lemon curd for topping the toast.  We agreed that our sardines tasted much like salmon, which we both enjoy.   I will try broiled sardines  the next time I wish to have a cooked breakfast.

For years, I found myself under the  misapprehension that I was feeding my finches and chickadees “real” thistle seed.  I remember frequently wondering why thistle did not grow under the bird feeders where feed frequently spilled.

The commonly called “thistle” used by  birders is actually nyger seed (related to sunflowers). The small black oil seeds are the favorite food of many songbirds, and as I recently noticed finches and chickadees visiting my garden’s many bird feeding stations, I added a finch feeder.

I have a connection to Scotland through my husband and the Scottish national flower is the thistle.  Although my birds are not feasting on this national treasure, I still in my own mind will call it thistle.

Here is a lovely thistle charm even Miss Marple would adore.