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16. Sunsets
- TCU Press
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>16. Sunsets April 8, 1912 Dear Tess, Another daughter! How delightful! Now you have a trio of angels.It was so good of you to remember me with an announcement, and it leaves me feeling somewhat foolish, for I had a son last October and never thought to mail cards.Andrew is seven months old and looks like a miniature Brooks. He’s strong and stubborn and crawls around the house at a speed that keeps me dizzy in pursuit. I would have gone mad by now had Brooks not hired a maid for me. She comes in every morning and tends to the housework while I play with Andrew and work in my gardens. Easter was lovely.The bunny hid colored eggs among the honeysuckle and wisteria sweeps, and a basket for Andrew in the star jasmine . Brooks recently bought me a new electric sewing machine, so I had whipped up a lavender linen suit for myself and a navy blue outfit for Andrew.We attended Mass at St.Mary’s Cathedral downtown and had our neighbors come for dinner. I served a clove-studded ham with cherry port glaze and scalloped sage potatoes. (I still have everyone guessing my secret ingredient,which gave the glaze such an exotic aroma and flavor and lent the whole meal a wonderful mysterious quality. I’ll share it with you alone—a teaspoon and a half of finely ground cardamom seed.) I baked a rosemary lemon pound cake for dessert with a sprinkling of crushed lavender blossoms. It was a lot of work, but the weather was clear and not terribly hot, and we all had a splendid time. 126 I love entertaining. I’ve also been busy planning a dinner party for the professors’ wives. I’m trying to decide between scallops and shrimp St. Jacques style or a roasted chicken with a blend of herbes de provence. I’ve planned a variegated rose centerpiece for the table and garlands for the hallways.This week I’m hemming lace for a tablecloth with a shell stitch and brewing fresh tarragon vinegar for deviled eggs. Next week I’ll start baking. I shook some fresh caraway from the garden, so I’ll start with a light rye bread and serve a lemon tart or raspberry soufflé for dessert—maybe both. Brooks and I have developed a penchant for the opera. This month we saw Gilbert and Sullivan’s H.M.S. Pinafore, which had a certain mundane level of classical charm.We always dine afterwards at the Driskill Hotel Grand Dining Saloon, where we meet with other professors, authors, actors, and a few politicians to discuss the aesthetic merits of the performance and intricacies of the plot until the early morning hours. It’s so thoughtful of Brooks. He’s always looking for new ways to balance the rigors of my domestic life with these social and cultural outings. Marriage is such a blessing.As hard as Brooks works,he goes out of his way to spend as much time as possible with Andrew and me. Over dinner every evening we share a laugh about the antics of one or another of his students and discuss theories for his book chapters. We play withAndrew until he gets fussy,and after Brooks reads Jack and the Beanstalk or Rumpelstiltskin to him, I tuck him into his crib, and Brooks and I steal an hour or two on the back porch sipping French wine and watching the sun melt itself into the far hills. In the spring it lays itself across the horizon in pearly pink-gold tones that sink into a violet so deep—it makes you ache from the inside out. Fondest Regards to you, Carl, and all three of your beautiful girls, Camille Abernathy 127 Sunsets ...