Now that the first snow has fallen, I’m finally getting around to celebrating the beauty of fall leaves. Yes, I know that there are masses of fall colors in other parts of the country, but, this is what’s here at high altitude.
Because there aren’t great masses of deciduous trees here I appreciate each individual tree as the play of light on the leaves changes the appearance. It’s brief and beautiful, just like life.
Well, I am generally healthy, but this week I caught a bug (and I hope that I never cross paths with said bug again). With some illnesses there is an obvious cure, one gets the Rx and starts to feel better right away. But that’s not what I have. ;-( But there is folk wisdom, so that’s what I’m going with. At the present time, chicken soup is considered to be beneficial (though not for the chicken of course) and the standard is the red can.
Soft, slightly soggy noodles with tiny cubes of chicken in a golden broth, this is probably familiar to everyone who was ever a kid. I don’t think I have eaten this in a number of years, but I put some faith in it (and it was on sale).
This is my white grandmother’s solution for illness, a spoonful of whiskey with sugar in it. Although as I think about it, it might be the cure for hiccups (oops).
This panacea is from my great grandmother who was born in the 1860’s, a time of alcohol and opioid based remedies. It is just apples fried in butter, with a sprinkle of sugar if needed. I think it’s the tastiest remedy and it’s most effective when your mom makes it for you.
A major pharmacy chain just pulled a bunch of cold remedies from the shelf because there is no evidence that they work. There is also not much evidence that any of these work, but, it’s tradition and far less expensive than OTC cold remedies. Mom based medicine still has a place in the world.