It is that time of year. The weather in central Arizona is not quite as hot and we are lifted with hopefulness that one morning we’ll wake to the crispness of a fall morning….Ah, but I remember those mornings as a child, growing up in the great northeast.

Is there anything better than waking on a cool fall morning to the smell of coffee wafting up from the kitchen? This was often the case in our farmhouse on the mountain. My mother was a nurse and the mornings she was able to be home with her little coffee pot tipped off to one side of the burner as it perked, were not as often as I would have wished. It was a glorious thing to wake to the knowledge that my mother would be home and things would be right with the world. For who can question life when coffee is brewing and a mother is present?

My mother was adept at creating beauty in the simple things. And now, as I look back on my childhood, I wonder if she thought this through or if the traditions of her parents, Norwegian immigrants bringing with them their view of life and home, were simply poured out in her life. I have few pictures but my memories are clear. We had no need to show others via social media; there was none and life was so much fuller and authentic – so much for the grasp for authenticity in this make believe world we live in today!

She gifted me with an appreciation for a beautifully set table, china figurines on a shelf, music beautifully sung. My dear mother did not live in the lap of luxury, but she created her own bits of luxury. From her place on the mountain she directed our family and influenced our love of all that is true and good and beautiful.

Holiday dinners are special to me because of her. How well I remember Thanksgiving mornings with the perfume of the ever present coffee filling our house as we prepared for the sumptuous dinner. Nuts must be placed in dishes with the accompanying nutcrackers. Mint dishes must be placed in various places. At Christmas, we might have dates rolled in sugar and sliced with marshmallow pieces. There was no carb or calorie count here. We were immersed in the joy of preparing every bit of every good thing.

The table would boast Currier & Ives china with its winter sleigh scenes – each plate nicely placed and surrounded with the special silver. My childish self admired the beautiful A for Armao on each piece. The holiday tablecloth presented a beautiful canvas. Carefully, we placed each part of our creation on the table and prepared the dishes as the turkey roasted and bubbled in the oven, stuffing tucked safely inside.

There must always be a relish plate with small sweet pickles and black olives arranged just so. New York cider, mashed potatoes whipped by some masculine presence in the house, stuffing made from scratch, and the meal finished with krumkaker, sandkaker, the dreaded (to me) mince pies, spicy pumpkin pies, apple pies, our mother’s own lemon meringue….. And all of this presented on the fine china plates which always makes food so much more delectable.

And we sat down – whole large nuclear families. We sat down and looked at one another and engaged in conversation. This was no buffet meal but one of joy and laughter and appreciation for anything and everything. We were not simply eating; we were feasting with all that that entails for a feast must have beauty and wonderfully tasty food and people, lots of people. The children sat at the ‘little’ table waited on by caring mothers, plates filled as needed.

It was all so very lovely and I am overflowing with gratefulness for the good things she placed in our lives. Was it intentional or generational? Maybe a bit of both. And, I suppose, that is what we all pour into our families as we journey through this life. It is important to carry on with our traditions for they form a structure that is firm in a world that is shaken. It is also important to intentionally share all the good things that will leave a lasting impression of what we feel is important in this world.

The old Shaker tune reminds us of the importance of simple things and when I think of a mother on a mountain sharing small pieces of beauty with those she loved, the little things become so much more important. We live in a world where people are addicted to being the biggest, the richest, the most famous; everyone wants to go viral and it is very easy to fall into the trap of focusing only on one’s self. How much better to focus on what we can give others and to remember all they have given to us.