Linda and I received an invite for pie and homemade ice cream last night. Apple, Cherry, and Raisin Cream. If the latter sounds old fashioned it is. The guest of honor was Myrtle Cook. She is 92 and has lived in the same house, just down the road, for the last 70 years.
I’d never had raisin cream pie, doesn’t really sound like a pair to match. It was quite tasty, in an old fashioned kind of way. Myrtle’s son Jerry lives with and takes care of her. Never married, the apple of his mother’s eye. House and acreage neat as a pin.
So much history about our little slice. Fascinating details from when the main house was a hunting lodge adjacent to our own property. The owners, the characters, the difficult times, the good times.
Her describing a “stretch of hardscrabble” running from the Bar None out to Pacific Street (~1K). Hardscrabble being exactly what I’d been dealing with for the last couple days as I dug twenty two 4′ holes for our new front fence. Two feet below the surface and anywhere from 6″ to a foot deep. Has every muscle in my body aching exquisitely.
I feel fortunate. Myrtle at 92 and Carl at 88. 180 years of life experience between the two. There’s a lot to learn. First up, Raisin Cream Pie.
Twin Rivers Homestead when Myrtle moved in.
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