Plum Pudding

This was the day that we sliced into the plum pudding that my husband baked a couple of weeks ago. We invited J&J and J&G over for tea and the pudding.... complete with Victorian "Crackers" and vintage postcards made into place cards. Last year's pudding was made with plums from the trees growing in the yard next to our barn..... but because of this year's drought, not one plum grew on those trees, and one tree looks like the very life is gone from it.

Every year we say the same thing.... that this year's plum pudding is better than last year's. And even without the fresh plums from our property, this year's pudding was indeed better than last year's just because it was shared with good friends on a perfectly warm afternoon eleven days before Christmas. A new Christmas tradition for the six of us.... plum pudding and tea and "Crackers." We will have more of that same pudding when friends H&K can join us, and then again on Christmas Day when J&L and G come for dinner.

I thought of our friend Frankie when I was cutting into that plum pudding today...... she loved that part of Christmas at our old house-- the plum pudding. She would take that first bite and roll her eyes up towards the ceiling and say something like "This is what heaven must be like..." or "How can anyone not love plum pudding?" Frankie was born in England, and grew up in London during The Blitz (as she always called it). She had years when there wasn't enough money for plum pudding, and other years when they had the money but couldn't find the ingredients. She truly appreciated the effort and the 'history' of that pudding. I don't think a Christmas has gone by since Frankie passed away that we haven't spoken about her during the holidays.

And Fran. Always Fran.... in my mind so much since she passed away this past summer. There are days when I will say out loud "Oh, Fran...."-- the words will come out when I'm doing something in the kitchen or thinking of something totally different. I was setting the dining room table this morning, getting everything ready for tea this afternoon, and Fran just popped into my mind as if she were standing right there with me. And who knows.... maybe she was... watching me setting out cups and glasses, spoons and place cards. Fran loved to fuss over her table also..... and her collection of "glassware treasures" was outstanding.... mostly all of her beautiful glassware came from yard sales and estate sales, and little thrift shops. She loved Carnival Glass most of all..... and I can still picture her face years ago when she would tell me to stop by her house to see the latest piece that she had found. In my mind's eye, I can see her standing in front of that little china closet in her house, taking out pieces of Carnival Glass and holding them up to the light. Oh, Fran...

But today...... it was Plum Pudding Day.... and the day itself was warm and Spring-like...... the weather wizards say we'll have a cold Christmas Day-- 54 degrees, to be exact....... and that's 'cold' for Texas, but not cold for up north..... so I'm perfectly content with the temperatures for the coming week.

We're still talking about the Christmas party...... how nice it was to see 'old' friends from Clear Lake meeting our new friends from here..... one of our neighbors told us that after meeting our friends from our old neighborhood, she could understand why only the threat of hurricanes would make us move away from them.

The holidays, particularly Christmas, make you remember little things that may seem insignificant at the time but grow into major elements in your mind..... like V's collection of Santas parading all over every room of her home, and J's table-top tree filled with angels and icicles and blue ornaments, and all of the tiny white lights that were strung up and down our old street, with the one strand of multi-colored lights tossed out on the lawn by the neighbor at the corner--- we always thought she was such a Scrooge, but we started to invite her to our parties and she turned out to be one of the nicest neighbors on the block.... her multi-colored lights were just her own little tradition from Christmases past.

So you never know....... everyone has a story..... everyone has memories..... and at Christmas-time, all of those memories come out to play. And right this minute, all I have to do is walk downstairs to our living room and stand in front of the Nativity set that my parents set up every year when I was a kid..... I can stand there in front of that manger and see a four-year-old girl in pajamas, playing with the little celluloid sheep underneath our Christmas tree. And I can still hear my dad asking my mother "Which light bulb do you want in the manger... a blue one or a white one? Or maybe a yellow one?" My mother's answer was always the same..... Blue. A blue one.

Memories. They come out to play at Christmas-time.