A little childlike wonder here in Lewes

Dear Reader -  One of my favorite family traditions growing up in small-town Kansas was hitting the road in our gianormous Pontiac station wagon to "go see the lights." We'd toodle around our little town of Augusta a bit and then head over to the "big city" of Wichita, lingering the longest in Eastborough, where Mom loved the neighbors' tasteful takes on holiday hoopla.

To this day, I'm a sucker for a simple, pretty holiday display, and I'm charmed by so many of my neighbors' homes here in Lewes.

But what I'm in love with this December is the new creation that our town blacksmith (you may remember how I met him a couple years back and what an interesting and astonishing character he is - here's the story) has assembled over at Preservation Forge.

By day it's delightful and engaging:

By night it's stunning and enchanting:

Now I don't have to tell you, dear Reader, that my silly iPhone photos are sad, not coming close to doing John's art justice. So, if you happen to be driving through Lewes over the next few weeks, make a turn onto Third Street and stop by at the corner of Chestnut. John's creation is sure to kindle that sense of childlike wonder in your heart, too!

Blessings to you, dear Reader, as you settle in to celebrate with those you love.  - Jenny

P.S. I've been wearing out my Doris Day CD here at the shop this season - love this little ditty (cheesy graphics notwithstanding):

P.S.S. In my eyes, the best thing that those of us who care about the tragedy in Connecticut but who are distant from it can do in response is to love the children who're closest to our lives. Whether it's sharing a smile with a child in the checkout line at the grocery store or dashing down the stairs with our own children to find what's waiting under the tree, every act of kindness that we share with a child sows a seed of hope and peace. Let's love every child in our lives with utter abandon.

Caroline

Dear Reader -  I apologize. I've been a bad blogger - or non-blogger, as the case may be.

I confess that I have been in a bit of a funk. It's not that things haven't been fabulous - they have. Little biblion is happy as a clam. We had our grand-ish opening on April Fool's Day, when Miss C and I didn't cut the ribbon (the Lewes CofC are very good stewards of their resources!):

(Though our Beneficent Landlord, Mr. Ted [just left of me], who also serves on Lewes' City Council, let Miss C cut a sliver off the end with the gianormous scissors.)

The after-party turned out lovely, thanks to the amazing talents of my friends Lorraine and Gary Papp, former pastry and executive chefs of the Buttery, who chose to simplify their lives and start a catering firm called the Essential Chef and Lorraine's delectable cake-baking enterprise, Beach Baker Cakes. Here's a video of Gary from his other life, teaching kids (dig the groovy tunage):

I dunno what Miss C and I would have done without their help. Lorraine was a wonder, making our tiny shop into a gorgeous feast for all of the kind-hearted friends who showed up, despite my funk-driven (I'll get back to that, I promise!) belated invitations! Our dear friend Preston (who's standing right behind us in the Chamber photo) was a blessing as our tireless bartender, and our friends Tim and Ingrid helped us wrap it all up at the end.

There were some amazing treats from our neighbors, Cafe Azafran (who provided some to-die-for tapas), R&L Liquor (who provided the yummy Cava and a tasty Malbec), and Lewes Bake Shop (who provided Miss C's favorite lemon bars). Amy of the latter is featured in this fun video promoing the town's upcoming celebration of the Royal Wedding (I'm sorry, dear Reader, but those who know these folks will find this beyond funny - Go Karen! Our new Queen Mother!):

The crowning jewel still shines today, in Mayumi's lovely floral arrangement:

 

The shop is now open seven days a week, thanks to the help of our friend Ingrid, who used to manage a bookstore and has very generously agreed to help us out on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The only shot of Ingrid that I have is in profile, as she and her husband, Tim, check our friend Dean in at Taste the Fruit of the Vine last September (Ingrid's an amazing person and a perfect fit with biblion's vibe - we're so happy that she's able to hang with us a bit!):

As I said, happy as a clam.

So back to that funk.

I knew this was coming, but I've kept trying to turn to the side in the hopes of deflecting its impact a bit. But then my friends Britt and Cliff walked into the shop, and the full force came rushing back as I knew there were others in the world for whom this date would have a certain, heavy impossibility to it.

You see, dear Reader, our dear Caroline died just a year ago on this day (she was Britt's mother and Cliff's wife). Caroline had beaten the crap outta cancer two times in a row and had thrown in an impressive fight with heart disease in the midst, but the cancer caught up with her a couple of years ago, coming back with a vengeance just before her 70th birthday:

It was one of those it-kinda-feels-like-it-might-be-the-last-one moments, and in the spirit of keeping it as fun as we darn-well could, our friend Lynda threw a tea party for her (I, of course, brought the hats):

Then Miss C and I hit the streets in Reho, getting birthday wishes from the masses. Here's a sampling:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was awesomely fun, but, looking back on it, I feel so sad: while I'd hoped against hope that it wasn't true, Caroline never made it to 71.

Caroline and I fell in love in choir at St. Peter's. We found each other in the alto section and found kindred spirits with equally twisted senses of humor. We then found ourselves giggling in the corners of the ECW (Episcopal Church Women) meetings, and then in our EfM (Education for Ministry) seminar.

I didn't have to grow to love Caroline, I loved her instantly, and I treasured her friendship among the favorites of my life. What made it special was the stunning openness and honesty that we shared - something about the way we resonated together made it okay to share some of the deepest aspects of our selves (particularly our failures and shortcomings) with ease. We were able to be share the fullness of our humanity. And having lost my mom when I was in my 20s, my friendship with Caroline was a true gift. I always felt deeply loved, understood, and appreciated.

Which, I suppose, is why I felt so grateful and honored when she asked for my help last winter/spring as she moved toward death. I'm not sure if I was able to do much, ultimately, but I know that I was able to be there with her - and I know that that was good - for her and for her husband and family. Remembering those days tonight - the rawness of it, the stunning beauty, the tenderness of so many relationships drawing to a close - I am overcome. I miss her terribly, dear Reader.

So here's to Caroline. I went and bought a bottle of the last glass of wine we shared, a nice Italian Prosecco, and I poured myself a glass and raised it as I sat down to write to you. I'm certain that she's raising one with us:

Rest in peace, my beautiful friend.  - (a now de-funkified) Jenny

P.S. Appropriately, from In My Tribe:

Cafe Azafran, featuring Miss C's steak and The Wiggles . . .

Hey! It’s Miss C. For this blog entry I’ve decided that I will talk about the meal I had at Café Azafran the other day. Café Azafran is a restaurant in Lewes that is very close to our own shop:

I go there pretty often on Sundays when I’m at the shop, and I need lunch (I love them – they are my favorite restaurant in Lewes). The other day my mom and I went there after closing our shop, and I got: 1. the calamari 2. the bistro steak and 3. a couple of scallops from a tapas that this lady (that my mom knows [her name is Grace, per Mom]) gave to me because she couldn’t finish them.

The scallops were good but the cream base made them a little heavy for how nice and warm the day was. The sear on them was good and the texture was not as disgusting as it is possible for scallops to be. Note that if you do get a chance to try the scallops it will be only on a Friday, because I am fairly sure that they are only on the ‘Seafood Friday Special’ menu for the Tapas.

I have loved calamari for as long as I remember, and I am pretty sure that I have tried calamari at every single restaurant that I have ever been to and that has had it on their menu. I must admit that I was fairly disappointed when it came out of the kitchen with a big glob of some kind of sauce. I’ve never liked a single sauce that has ever been served with my calamari and this sauce was sitting on a lot of the pieces, but I gave those to my mom. It was topped with chunks of pepper, which I pushed to the side. I am sure that some people might like to have that on it, but I do not. The squid had a very good texture, because very often calamari is chewy, or stringy, but this one was very good. The breading on the meat was perfect, if I do say so myself. It wasn’t greasy, which you have to watch out for with the breading, and it had just enough salt that I every bight you had a wonderful little kick. The calamari is in the Tapas section of the menu.

I love steak even more than calamari. It is the best thing on the face of the planet. The steak was a bit too thick in taste for an early Spring meal, it seemed like it would fit much better in January. They had a nice sear on the outside, but it was still nice and juicy on the inside, just how I like it. It was served with two brocolinnis which I though were a bit over seasoned. They also had mashed potatoes laced with herbs. Personally I like the sharp taste of plain potatoes, but it was good, though you might not think so when you first saw the visual texture. It had small chunks of potato and seemed crusty, yet not crusty. But once it’s in your mouth it’s creamier than most restaurant-made mashed potatoes.

After all that I was way too full to have anything else, and so I was unable to enjoy a desert. Overall the meal was delicious, but it did seem a little heavy for what a nice day it was outside – but they didn’t have much warning because of all the cold days that had come before it. As for atmosphere, Café Azafran like a café in Venice (at least what I imagine a café in Venice would be like), and the servers are casual, which makes for a friendly ambiance.

I suggest going to Café Azafran if you’re ever in downtown Lewes and looking for a great dining experience.

And now, for your listening pleasure, The Wiggles sing about digestion:

ce.

[P.S. from Mom, who wants to chime in here just a tad, at the risk of diminishing your Wiggles experience: While Miss C and I really like many of the restaurants in Lewes, we love Azafran. The food, as she mentions, is terrific (creative, fresh, well-executed, and accessibly priced); but what makes me truly-ruly love them is their community-mindedness. Azafran's the place that everyone seems to go to connect (can't tell you how many mini-committee meetings I've had there), and you're always bound to run into folks that you love when you open their door (we sat next to three St. Peter's grande dames on Friday night, saw a retired friend from the bishop's office that I hadn't seen in a couple years, and made new friends with a visiting couple from NJ who was at the table next to ours). What a blessing to have a hometown joint like this in our midst! Look for them on the block of Market between Second and Front Streets.  - J]

Kismet's a beautiful thing (or how I met the town blacksmith and his apprentice)

Dear Reader -  Three weekends back, we'd tidied up enough to take the paper off the door:

And brave folks started making their way in, having fun poking around the books and cards, picking up a few favorites in the process.

The coolest thing that happened, though, was what became of my broken, Chinese-made (I'm pretty sure, since virtually everything's Chinese-made) bookmark display:

See how it has two tiers? Well, the bottom tier spins right around like a dream, but the top one couldn't spin for it's life - we tried WD-40, various positions and angles, and good ol' spit, but nothin' seemed to work. So when I walked by it on Saturday morning, I was thinking, "Man, I need to figure out something to do to fix this poor thing, 'cause I don't think it makes any sense to send it back to China."

And then, later in the day, who does one of our brave visitors turn out to be? William, the blacksmith's apprentice. Kismet:

Of course, it's cool as heck that William just happened to stop in when we needed him most, but it's even cooler that we even live in a town that has it's very own blacksmith (his name is John) with his very own apprentice.

A day later, William brought back the the spinner, with both levels working in that dream-like fashion. And while I still need to stop by R&L next door to see what the beverage of choice is for the local blacksmiths, so that I can thank them properly, I did get a chance to stop by their shop at Third and Chestnut to say hello and snap a few pictures.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, dear Reader, but it wasn't this. The blacksmith's shop was a veritable candy store, with beauty and wonder in every corner, and I couldn't stop snapping pictures (while William knew well enough to chuckle at me, I think John thought I was a mite touched):

John's been at this since 1983, starting the construction of his Preservation Forge building in 1984, moving in in 1990:

He keeps these pictures of the construction process on the wall to remind the older folks who swear they knew the building and played on the stone bench as children that it didn't exist back then:

 

John's an artist. He'd originally envisioned the upper level of his building as a gallery, filled with his sculpture, but after he sold the one piece he had up for his grand opening, he's stayed steadily busy, selling every other piece before it's complete. John's never had to promote himself or his work, folks from all over just seem to come to him.

But just because there isn't a gallery doesn't mean that there's not art to see. Dear reader, every wall, every nook and crannie of his shop is art. Just look at this wall:

Or these pitch forks arranged above our heads (John's got a mighty big bellows there behind them, too, huh?):

Or these nozzles (who'da ever thought of nozzles being so lovely?):

 

Absolutely everywhere I turned, there was a delight for the eyes. He's also collected some cool larger pieces over time, like this giant pulley and this bell and this supremely awesome square thingamabob, whatever the heck it is:

But the best was yet to come, dear Reader, for if I wasn't in love with John and William for their artistic prowess already, I soon found that they were both lovers of books. John ambled back into another room and emerged with this rare piece - a seldom-seen early book on early engines:

 

And William loves him some rare WWII volumes:

It was the end of a long day of hard work for them, so I thought I'd best skedaddle. John and William are currently working on Fish #15 (John said that since he started making fish he doesn't think he's ever gonna be able to make anything else - he just keeps getting order after order for fishes):

If you're interested in Fish #16, stop by when the sign's out, John and William will welcome you in:

 

Enamored  - Jenny

P.S. I'm a fan of the polka band, Brave Combo - an awesome group of guys from Denton, Texas, who play a mean polka, as well as an eclectic blend of Latin and rock tunage. Here's a rougher, live version of one of my faves for William and John: