MuggleNet Interactive

[Roxie Ravenclaw]

MNI Username: Amster

MNI House (either the one given to you if you were Sorted through MNI or just pick the House of your choice): Gryffindor

Age: 13
Location: A lovely town in Oregon, USA.
Theme of your blog: Humans and plants
Title of your blog (make it interesting!): Nostalgic Herbs
Favorite plants: I love most any plant, whether it's a type of grass or a blossom. My favorite plants, however, are probably sage brush and lilies.
Not-so-favorite plants: Definitely poison ivy.
Non-HP interests: I love Lord of the Rings, Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, Rent, Chicago, Sound of Music, musicals in general, Inheritance (that's Eragon & Eldest), Twilight, the Sims, and graphics. Smile There are tons others, believe me, but I just can't list them all.
Other stuff you'd like to tell us about? I love to act on stage. It's my passion and talent. I would like to become a Broadway star, except for the minor fact that I cannot sing for the life of me. Guess that won't happen. Wink Reading and writing are hobbies I can always make time for. I also love enjoying the outdoors and camping.

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[Amster]

ChristmasTime.VolumeI
Christmas Trees

Just a couple of notes I'd like to point out before I truly start my first blog entry. Number one: I tend to ramble. A lot. Number two: I tend to ask rhetorical questions. With that said, I can start my rambles. Yay!

You might have noticed from the title that this blog will have a lot to do with nostalgia. It's amazing what are memories can do. When I hear jazz standards, I remember roadtrips with my dad since he always played jazz music. Of course, the nostalgia I'll be discussing will have more to do with scent and taste, since it's about plants.

On Saturday, we got our Christmas tree. I don't remember what type of tree, though. I'll go figure that one out momentairly, but that's aside the point. Before we got the tree, I wasn't that excited about Chrsitmas. I mean, I was excited, but I wasn't counting the days or anything. My brother recently came home from training for the military, so I was thrilled to have him back. Christmas seemed so far away since he was home. But then once we got the tree, I felt excited. The Christmas spirit began to fill my soul once more. But why was it? We hadn't decorated the tree yet and the tree isn't all that impressive looking. So obviously the appearance isn't what filled my heart with the thrill of Christmas. Then what was it?

The smell.

Human memories are very powerful. While some of us may not remember specific events well, our minds have an astounding ability to connect certain flavors and sounds with memories. The smell of Christmas trees reminds me greatly of when I was a toddler, quivering with excitiment with blankets pulled closely around me, counting down the minutes until I could run into Mom and Dad's room and shout "Time to open presents! Time to open presents!" The smell of Christmas trees reminds me of sitting on the couch with my stocking dumped in my lap, while scouting out the largest present under the tree to me.

Of course, the scent of Christmas trees isn't the only reminder of Christmas that has to do with scent. That will be for a later entry, though.
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Razzle dazzle them. || eight days until I turn 14

[Roxie Ravenclaw]

2 Galleons--nice job.

It's interesting how powerful smells are related to memories. Just one whiff of something can sometimes bring you back to the most obscure memories in your life, can't they? Like...the other day, as I went up the stairs to the second floor of the bank I work at, I noticed it smelled a little odd. Not bad, just different. One whiff of the staircase brought me back to when I was little and went to the pediatrician's office for allergy shots, of all things--just sitting in the waiting room with the other kids and watching them play while I sat there because I didn't like the toys they had. Odd memory to remember, no?

As you can see, you're not the only one who rambles. Blogs are sorta meant for that, though. They're a place to ramble and talk on your own terms. So feel free to ramble all you want, as long as you go back to Herbology and your topic.

--Roxie
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[Amster]

SpringIsHere!VolumeI
Strawberries

It's been quite a while since my last update. My apologies; hopefully I can keep up with the spring blog entries better than the Christmas entries.

Most people are fortunate enough to have experienced the sweet taste of the strawberry. It's a flavor most everyone adores. About this time, some of our favorite berries are being shipped up here to Oregon from California. I must say although the California strawberries satisfy winter's craving, they are nothing compared to the Oregon berries.

Although the focus of my blog is on nostalgia, I think I'll give a bit of history on strawberries. I'll start with a myth I read. For my literature class once, I had to read a story. It was during the myth unit. I adore myths. I think they're fun, but this unit was rather mundane. Then I came across a glorious myth about the creation of strawberries. I can safely say the title of the folktale escapes my memory, but it was amusing.

The myth took place at the beginning of Earth and there is a husband and a wife. They get in a fight and finally the wife is fed up, and leaves the household, and walks to the horizon. The husband despairs, then tries to catch up with his wife, but fails. Then the Creator comes and promises that he will bring the wife back. So the Creator catches up with the woman who is walking rather fast. He creates a certain type of berry along the side of her path, in hopes that it would distract her. He creates another type of berry. Doesn't work. Finally, the Creator decides to invent a new type of berry, and places it directly in front of her path. The woman marches through the new berry, and steps on a berry. The aroma is released, and the woman stops her march. She helps herself to a berry. And another. And another. By this time, the husband has caught up to the wife and the wife is cheered up by the berries and they live happily ever after with the creation of strawberries.

I decided to a bit of research. That was simple, of course, since my mom used to were in the QA department of a major fruit company here in Oregon, so she learned a ton about strawberries and me being the lucky one got to hear all about them.

Before you proceed, I would like you to realize that Google has failed me. I cannot find the official names of the variety of the strawberries I constantly refer to. I apologize. Therefore, I will refer to them in general as the California strawberries and Oregon strawberries. I know that isn't an accurate statement, but it's a generalization.

California's strawberries are shipped fresh to all sorts of places in the world. These berries are generally consumed plain and fresh, or dipped in chocolate. That calls for a need to have attractive and large berries. The strawberries from California tend to be larger, more attractive in shape and size, and more "durable" for travel. Oregon strawberries are measly things. They don't travel very well, and get mushed quite easily. Their color and flavor, however, is outstanding. That leads to different uses for these varying types of berries.

California berries are the strawberries you'll typically see on the shelves at your local grocery store (unless you live in Oregon, then they'll have local fresh berries available). So what happens to the Oregon berries? Oregon's berries are used for their flavor, not appearance. A huge percentage of Oregon's strawberries are used in strawberry shortcake or processing and manufacturing of other foods.

No, I don't have any links to prove this, but anyone can figure this out on their own. If you have access to an Oregon berry and a California berry, try it. You'll see that Oregon's berry's are much more tender and "mushifiable," but have a much more powerful and intense flavor then the firm berries of California.

Now that I have discussed the history of the berries quite a bit, I'll discuss some personal experiences and such.

I am so lucky. Since my mom worked at the fruit company, we got a reduced price on a thirty gallon bucket of Oregon strawberries. What did we do with them? We froze them. Every now and then, I'll pull out some strawberries, let them defrost, then eat them with ice cream and some whipped cream. Delicious? Yes, but I don't have the most fond memories of this flavor combination.

I remember I would eat this delightful dessert daily. This was during the worst weeks of my life. I had never experienced life without my brother Larry. So imagine him being gone for six weeks going through extensive training knowing he's in the heat of the Texas sun and not being able to talk to him hardly ever during that time? It wasn't fun. As you might have gathered, he was at basic training for the US Air Force. I was happy for him; he had started a career he now loves, but what a harsh transition: from seeing him everyday to him being in a different timezone in horrible conditions and not being able to talk to him. It wasn't fun. Although I know I was experiencing the better end of the troubles, it still wasn't fun. Whenever I eat a dish of vanilla ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream, I always think of me sitting on a hammock underneath the shade of a pear tree, eating the treat while trying to brainstorm a letter I could send to Larry that the drill sergeant wouldn't tease him about.

Ah yes. Strawberry shortcake. Whenever I think of strawberry shortcake, my mind jumps automatically to Fourth of July festivities, with my glow stick necklace hanging around my neck, sitting on the itchy lawn in the chilly weather while waiting anxiously for the fireworks show to begin. Strawberry shortcake is a classic snack while watching the fireworks. You can't watch the Independence Day celebrations without strawberry shortcake; it doesn't work. I don't know if that's a tradition in other states, but it definitely is here in my little farming community. I love it.

My dad's work always has a company picnic, where they serve strawberry shortcake. I also have a memory of eating strawberry shortcake in the summer heat with flies buzzing around while waiting for the traditional game of bingo to start. Fun times, fun times.

There is also a strawberry festival in my town, where they serve free strawberry shortcake. Oh my goodness. It's so delicious. I'll sit at a picnic table at the park, waiting for my tiny mouth to swallow all of the strawberry delightfulness to be able to scramble to the curly slide and slide on down.

As for plain strawberries, oh my. Where to start with my memories. There are so many, it's hard to remember all of them. I remember once I was eating strawberries while in the car, and I looked at Mom and said. "I've noticed something. All the funny looking strawberries taste the best." It's true. Every strangely deformed strawberry always has the best flavor. I always save the weird ones for last so I can end my strawberry-devouring feast on a high note.

I also have a not-so-pleasant memory. Whenever I smell a slight aroma of mold, I instantly grimace and remember me staring at a carton of strawberries, and eating a strawberry that had the nasty mold flavor. I don't remember what happened afterwards, if I muscled past the gag reflex or spit it out, but mold reminds me of that memory.

I think I've bored you with enough memories and theories, so now I've decided to post some fun links.

Wikipedia:: Strawberry {a more scientific/genetic look at the delicious fruit}
University of Illinois:: Fun Strawberry Facts {random facts that could be amusing}
Oregon Strawberries:: Oregon Strawberry Recipes {for the cook in you}
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Razzle dazzle them. || eight days until I turn 14

[Amster]

SpringIsHere!VolumeII
Sagebrush

That time of year is coming 'round--the end of the school year. I always enjoy the end of the school year because when it's over I always go on a trip to the Oregon desert with my dad, brother, and then a couple family friends. This trip I have gone on since I was four years old, but the past two years I haven't been able to go. Alas, I am going this year, so I am thrilled.

Oregon is renowned for its green forests, Crater Lake, and the famous attraction The Oregon Gardens, but the majority of that is nestled in the Willamette Valley. Hardly anyone stops to consider the gorgeous land cradling the Willamette Valley.

Here is a somewhat geographical map of Oregon. The tiny area from Portland to Eugene is the Willamette Valley. Surrounding the valley is a nice coastal mountain range and the Cascade mountains. You have the Wallawalla Mountains in the upper right hand corner of the state below that mountain range is pretty much flat. Although I don't know the specific location, we camp near somewhere near the lakes in the deserty land.

Most people who think of Oregon only consider the valley and what's West of it. Many people don't realize the stunning beauty of what exists in the Oregon Desert. So much history can be seen from our campsite. We can see a stone wall running along for ages built by the Native American Indians. We see an extinct volcano that has all been eroded away by the elements of Earth except for the throat, which still stands in its abstract shape. Obsidian scatters the trails we hike through the hills. A towering pine tree is caked with ancient sap, slowly fossilizing into the gemstone we know as amber. The Oregon Desert is untouched beauty. People who have camped there for years can see the same cotton wood trees watching over the coyotes resting there. At night, the night hawks swoop almost dangerously close to one's head, but pulls up from the dive in the nick of time. The orchestra of coyote howls is the soundtrack to a good night sleep. Antelope gallop through the fields of shrubbery during the day. The Oregon Desert always has a close place in my heart.

There are many plants in the desert that I could talk endlessly about, but the first one that comes to mind is sagebrush. I don't have any of my personal photographs of sagebrush uploaded, but this image will suffice.

Sagebrush has a distinct scent that sends millions of memories prancing through my mind. I have been camping in the desert for over a week for seven years. The scent has associated itself with many memories. Every time I get a whiff of sagebrush, a different memory comes to mind.

Surprisingly my first trip out to the desert remains the strongest in my mind. It was my first trip without my mother, so you could imagine how I felt. I was sobbing almost the entirety of the first day. If I stand at a certain spot on the cliff's side, I can remember exactly how I felt that day. It was hot, I was tired, I wanted my mommy, and I had no clue where I was. Not fun. Then there was the Oreo incident...folks, a lesson to you: eating an entire package of double-stuffed Oreo cookies when you're four years old is never wise. I'll explain myself. All my life previously, if I had eaten too much of something I'd be told to stop. I had grown accustomed to that. So I started eating the package of Oreo cookies, assuming Dad would tell me when I had enough. But no... Let's just say he had fun cleaning up a big mess the next day. The drama doesn't stop there! I think it was the third day of the trip. I took a nap under a pine tree, and apparently a snake decided to join me under the tarp. My dad and brother had to chase it out. I was so exhausted I didn't even notice. >.> Then when we were hiking back to camp later that day, I hopped on a rock (I was re-energized from that nap) there happened to have been a rattlesnake chillin' underneath the rock. He didn't exactly like the whole concept of me stepping on him. So in a matter of seconds, the rattler crawled out from under the rock, coiled up tightly, hissed at me with his tail rattling away. I don't remember how I reacted. I do remember being intrigued by the snake; the whole concept of a snake fascinated me. Thankfully my dad was there; on instinct, he swiftly picked me up off the walk and backed away from the rock.

The fun doesn't stop there. I started target shooting on that very trip. For being a four year old who could barely hold the gun, I was fairly decent. We shot at our empty pop cans. What fun! But yeah, whenever I shot either my dad or our family friend Bob would help me aim and fire. Of course, we exercise great precaution; it kills me to see hunters near my house because none of them practice such gun safety as we do while camping.

These trips were the best summer camps I've ever been to. I've learned probably several units of biology out there at camp. A lot of our friends that come with us are scientists, one of them being a fish biologist. It's funny; he was kicked out of University of Oregon for being such a bad student, but he is the most brilliant person I know. Ask him a question that seems like a simple answer, he'll start to give you a thirty or fourty minute analysis of everything about it. The Oregon Desert has a great view of the stars; you can see many planets from our campsite and get a great view of constellations. Sometimes you can even see an aurora out there. It's quite gorgeous. The amazing thing is there isn't a question he can't answer. Whether it's about a fossil, the bird roosting in the juniper tree over yonder, or that red-like phenomenon in the sky, he can explain it. And his explanations make everything seem interesting.

Looking back on my post, everything seems to be way off topic, but it's not. All of the lessons learned, fun memories (and disasters relating to the delightful cookie >.>), and sights seen always rush into my mind at the scent of sagebrush. It's odd how an astronomical lesson from a fish biologist comes to mind at the whiff of sagebrush, but it's true. Sagebrush is definitely one of the most nostalgic plants for me.
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Razzle dazzle them. || eight days until I turn 14

[Roxie Ravenclaw]

Excellent posts! I especially like your strawberry post and the story you told to go along with it.

For each post, I'm giving you 7 points because I think they're worthy of "O"-grade homeworks, so you have earned a total of 14 Galleons for these posts.

--Roxie
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