JOY ALONG THE WAY: TIME OUT FOR SENTIMENT

There are two things that happen in February that always give me a thrill. They aren't big things, they're free, and they always come as a surprise. First are the stubby green shoots of the daffodils showing above ground along the flower border. Everything appears so shabby with twigs, broken limbs, little puddles and sweet gum balls all over, but there are those thick little green shoots to remind one that it won't always be thus. In fact, maybe, in 60 days these green shoots will be alight with yellow trumpets silently shouting, "It's spring! Wake up! The breeze is from the south!"

The other thing is the changed call of the cardinals. I can't cite any authority that says this happens, but for me it does. Most bird books describe the cardinal's call as a whistle, like a boy whistling for his dog. However, one book says, "The cardinal is sometimes called Virginia Nightingale because of its sweet song." It must be this song I hear in February.

February, too, is the sentimental month when you're supposed to let someone know you like them. This used to be an old-fashioned, blushing, secret kind of thing whereby you picked out the prettiest valentine with the most meaningful message to send to the one you wanted to let know you liked him or her a lot.

It was a tentative gesture. If no acknowledgment was made of the overture, no one was embarrassed. Nowadays, one walks right up to another and says, "I like you. I'd like to go out with you. Whadaya say? Tomorrow night?"

So much for beating around the bush and wasting time. But have we lost something? A certain amount of what I call gracious frillery? Just try to find a lacy-filigreed, tissue-papered honeycomb-trimmed valentine.

America has been moving in the fast lane so long she takes no time to take the off ramp to see if trees still grow and wildflowers bloom.

There was a saying in our family pertaining to the characteristics of a person, particularly a housewife, "She's a straight-hemmed woman." At first I thought it to be a compliment, someone whose dress hem was straight and the same distance from the floor all the way around. But I learned that a straight hemmed person was one who could abide no frivolities such as lace or ruffles. Aunt Grace's aprons, made of bleached muslin, always had a ruffle or lace across the bottom and two pockets. Aunt Ange's aprons were of unbleached muslin, severe straight hems, one pocket.

I said there two things that always happened in February. Actually there are three. For sentimental, frillery's sake I always make some kind of red and white cake, Last year it was a red and white polka-dotted one, before that, a watermelon cake, complete with raisin seeds. Here's my plan for this year: I've been saving cans of various sized diameters. The 2-pound coffee can is the biggest, then the 1-pound coffee can. Next, the green bean can and last the Clabber Girl baking powder can. With both ends cut out of such cans, I'm going to nest them inside my cake pan, being sure the space is equal distance between the pans, then quickly pour in alternate red and white cake batter to the top of the cake pan! There'll be a little bit of mixing of colors when I pull the cans out but I'm looking forward to having a sort of lollipop cake.

Don't I have anything better than that to do? I suppose so but I'm not a straight-hemmed person.

Next year I'm going to make a red and white cake house for the birds. I'll bake a red sheet cake, slice it in suitable squares and stick the slices to a empty Puffs box with icing and . . . .

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and lontime columnist with the Southeast Missourian.