Hickory Nuts, Etc.

Because I mentioned hickory nuts in yesterday’s post, here’s more info about them. Most of you probably know what a hickory nut looks like, but in case you don’t, here is one. Its the whitish thing in the middle of the picture. The shell is very hard, of course and must be cracked with a hammer or nutcracker, and the nutmeats must be removed with a nut pick…..a tedious task.

As far as flavor is concerned, I like hickory nuts better than walnuts. Walnuts can be bitter-tasting, in my opinion. Hickory nuts are sweeter, perhap, but the taste is difficult to describe. They aren’t quite like pecans, either. Hickory nuts are delicious in cakes, brownies, sugar cookies, and probably other dishes beyond the ken of a nonadventurous cook like me.

A thick green rind encases the hickory nut shell as it grows on the tree. After dropping to the ground in early autumn, the rind turns brown and falls away, revealing the whitish shells, which are easy to spot for gathering into a pail, basket, or sack. There are a few rind sections in this photo:

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Yesterday I spent the afternoon with my college daughter who happens to turn 20 years old this week. The next photo shows her at age four or five, cuddling kitties and being a Little-Miss-Muffet-wannabe, on a tuffet of straw in the upper level of our old hoghouse. Of course, she CLIMBED up there……she’s always been a climber, and still is. Many a time, I glanced out the kitchen window to see her clambering up the branches of a pine tree. Dashing outside, I would holler for her to “STOP climbing right now and come back down……carefully, please.” Now, in college, she has taken a liking to rock-climbing, of all things. She absolutely loves it……the crazy girl!

She seems well-adjusted to college life. Last year, as a freshman, she struggled with meeting new people, but by now she has an ever-widening circle of friends whom she chatters about freely. Its funny……she has several friends named Megan; and when our older daughter was in college she had several good friends named Kristen!

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So, tell me……did you feel young at twenty? I don’t think I did. It may have had something to do with being an eldest child, and spending lots of time watching out for much younger siblings. I felt like a mother when I was a teenager. And, then I got married a month after turning 20. Then, I put my nose to the grindstone of LPN school, worked one year, and then had my first baby. This will sound awful, but I was a bit dismayed when I became pregnant…….I thought, “Oh, great…..now I’ll have to take care of kids again all the time.” The past several years, I’ve been starting to feel young in ways I never did before simply because I’m not tied down to watching out for little kids all the time.

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The other day, I did something I haven’t done for ages……I rented a movie. I was picking out bananas at the Kwik Star convenience store (Readlyn’s only option for groceries) and then walked over to grab a 12-pack of Coca-Cola. I made the mistake of glancing at the DVD cases displayed nearby……and, oh goodness…..Richard Gere’s face on the cover of Nights in Rodanthe forced me to take rental action.

The movie is set on an island in the outer banks of North Carolina……I looked it up on a map……there actually is a “Rodanthe” on Pea Island. The movie’s locale was gorgeous, of course……the story was……well, you know……contrived, as most stories are. Like, would it ever really happen that two such attractive people would just happen to meet and be thrown together alone for several days in that amazingly romantic old house on that incredibly beautiful beach. Give me a break. Or, maybe things like that happen all the time and I am simply out of touch with the real world.

Should I tell you how the movie ended? No, I won’t do that. Perhaps you already know. My favorite line was when Diane Lane’s character is telling her daughter to hold out for the love that gives her courage to be more than she can be. There is such a thing.

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Coincidentally……considering that my daughter is turning 20……here is photo of me at age 20, and just happens to be showing one of the two times in my life when I played the role of beachcomber. Hey……I loved the ocean! Loved that deep, rhythmic, rumbling roar. It made me feel tiny and insignificant……and strangely comforted.

This photo was taken on the Oregon coast, but exactly where, I do not recall. There appears to be a lighthouse in the background. If anyone recognizes this spot and can tell me where it is……you will totally make my day!! (By the way, that is my hair blowing toward the shore; its not a grotesque facial profile, as it may appear.)