A thistle for my grandma

This weekend I have seen thistles everywhere, like a sign from my grandmother.  


My Grandma (McIlroy) Keedy was a tiny woman with strong emotions, good and bad.  She was a beautiful lady, headstrong, small, sometimes prickly, most of the time loving.  I have great memories of my grandmother, from family gatherings spent at her house, most of which she spent in the small kitchen that I now use, her face red from the hot baked food on the counters and from the heat of the oven.  Her shortbread and Yorkshire pudding come to mind immediately.  I picture the way she walked, with her pinky finger out, jiggling her Leo key ring. Drinking tea with her, at her dining room table with the lace tablecloth, and creating toys out of nothing, like empty spice bottles we would wash out and fill with food coloring.  I remember when I had the chicken pox at the advanced age of 16 years old, I spent these long itchy days in my grandmother's sitting room, watching game shows and reading her giant astrology book.  I always thought it was weird she had that, just like I thought it was weird she had a framed photo of the Pope hanging in there, since my grandma was Scottish Presbyterian.  


The thistle to me symbolizes my grandmother - last year I had one tattooed on the back of my neck, in honor of my grandmother.  Not sure how she would feel about tattoos, but I do know that she would approve of doing what you think is right, no matter what.  The thistle is a symbol of Scotland too - and there is even a  "Most Ancient and Noble Order of the Thistle", whose motto is "'no-one provokes me with impunity".  I am pretty sure this was my grandma's motto too.  And I have to admit, I take a page from my grandma occasionally as well.

We have thistle growing as a weed in our backyard, thanks to my bird feeders.  It is pretty rampant, and we have to keep on it.  I do leave some standing though, I can't help but think it is pretty.  And this weekend, we went to the Celtic Festival in Saline, where I obviously saw thistle everything, even this Bagpipe group with a thistle as its logo.  


I couldn't help but think, at this time so close to my grandmother's birthday, that she was whispering to me to remember her.  And I do.   

A Little Luck

New Years in our household is a holiday filled with traditions based in superstition. I grew up a hybrid American blend of English, Irish, Scottish ancestry, and learned early on the "necessary" customs to perform every year, according to the old beliefs. We must have a first foot (the first person in your home after midnight) with dark hair, and it is better if it is a man- it is ok if the first foot is your own self, as long as you were not in the home at midnight. We must have a substantial amount of cash in our pockets at midnight, to ensure money in our pockets all year round; we should sweep the bad luck out of our house, by sweeping out the back door.

Billy's family is a mixed bag of genealogical beginnings as well, and his mother is southern by way of Hawaii. His family on New Years Day would always eat the standard southern good luck dinner of cornbread, collard greens, and black eyed-peas. According to the superstition, the yellow cornbread symbolizes gold, the collard greens dollar bills, and the black eyed peas represent coins. From what I have read, this modest meal is in remembrance of the Civil War, and how it affected so many people. Or, another explanation I have read is that by eating a humble meal at the beginning of the year, you will be eating richly at the end of the year.

This was a tradition we had previously never followed after we were married- mainly because the greens and the black eyed peas are generally made with ham hocks, and I am a vegetarian. This year, feeling like we needed all the luck we can get right now, we decided to make our own version of this Munyer family tradition.

Billy made collard greens, but instead of flavoring it with ham, he sauteed onions, garlic, butter, and olive oil together, then added a little vegetable broth. He let this simmer for about 30 minutes before adding the greens, brown sugar, and vinegar. He cooked this all together for another 20 minutes, then added a dash of liquid smoke as a finisher. This was honestly the first time I ever enjoyed greens, even counting the times I had eaten them as a non-vegetarian. The black eyed peas and cornbread we made as normal, and we slathered on the Cinnamon Honey Butter I had made the week before, which made the cornbread super delicious. Probably not the healthiest dinner we have ever eaten, but it definitely tasted fantastic. Marty joined us for dinner, so hopefully the good luck extends to him too.

It must be something in my blood that compels me to follow my own family mythologies; with the addition of the good luck dinner, we are adding another component. The way I see it, how can you go wrong starting the year off with a home cooked meal eaten with loved ones?

Here is a to a year filled with health, wealth and happiness to all. Slainte!