Through tears and sadness I see this house in it's splendor.
The rich mahogany doors, large blooming hydrangea bushes that surrounded the brick.
An English rock garden that smelled like lillies of the valley and the bushel baskets resting near the back porch that were filled with rotting black walnuts ready to peel open.
I remember a time when I played match box cars on the green painted basement floor
and I can smell the sand and the stain from when my father was repairing the moldings back to their original wood.
I can feel myself rock in the old green medal rocking chairs that overlooked the whole neighborhood as I dreamed of a time when my feet would finally touch the ground.
This house in its splendor was the king of the hill.
A home among many that was in my fathers family for generations.
This particular house belonged to my fathers grandparents,
then to my father's Uncle,
and then my father.
I heard stories about how they held family funerals in the parlor room back in the early 1900's.
All of the clocks would be stopped at the time of death and a wreath would be placed on all of the doors signifying a death.
I glance upward and I can see my father's bedroom,
I can see the window to the room where he took his last breath at the young age of 45
and it makes me feel sad.
Although I haven't stepped through the doors of that house in over 20 years,
Nor have I been back to Foerster Hill in a very long time..
It holds a part of my history that slowly piece by piece is disappearing
only to be left to dwell in my memories.
I guess that it is a sign of the times ..
a sign of growing older, accepting change, and letting go.
Quite frankly, I don't like change!
My father's parents lived in the house next door.
Like this one, it was once warm and beautiful.
Grandmom Foerster passed away in 1980
and to this very day,
although I can not remember what her voice sounded like,
I do remember her rum cake.
Warm and buttery, with fresh walnuts and just the right amount of rum...
It still remains my favorite cake ever!
Years ago I found a very easy rum cake recipe that tastes much like the one that grandmom used to make.
One bite, and I am taken back to a place called Foerster Hill.
A time before my parents separated and I was forced to grow up long before I was ready.
A place that was beautiful and full of life.
and I am back, sitting at grandma's Formica table, wiping my milk mustache off with the back of my hand as i gobble up yummy rum cake.. when my only worry in the world is if I could fit that last walnut on the fork.
I can bet.. that although my girls have heard the stories of grandmom Foerster's rum cake,
that the taste of a delicious rum cake will always remind them of our kitchen.
It will remind them of their mother, happily humming, mixing and baking.
The circle of life.
... that makes me smile.
1 box of yellow cake mix
1 package of instant vanilla pudding mix
1 cup of chopped walnuts
1/2 cup of dark rum
1/4 cup of water
1 cup of sugar
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup of dark rum
Preheat oven to 325.
grease and flour a bundt pan.
Sprinkle walnuts on bottom of the pan.
Combine all cake ingredients, blend well.
Pour into pan over walnuts.
Bake @ 325 for about an hour.
Let cool, remove from pan and puncture with a fork.
Combine glaze ingredients in a saucepan and cook for about 5 minutes
(until sugar and butter have completely melted)
Pour over cake.
( on this cake I traded the walnuts for pecans and added a cup of chopped apples)
I hope that you all had a great weekend.
I am feeling somewhat better.. I am still waiting for some test results and have a few more to do.
The good news is that much of the really bad stuff has been ruled out.
Have a great new week!!!!