Dec. 3, Monday — Conjunction of Jupiter and the moon. Illinois became 21st state, 1818. Flour magnate Charles Pillsbury born, 1842.
Dec. 4, Tuesday — Last American hostage released, Lebanon, 1991. Rain today brings rain for a week.
Dec. 5, Wednesday — Animator Walt Disney born, 1901. "The Nutcracker" premiered, 1892. Cut hair to discourage growth.
Dec. 6, Thursday — St. Nicholas, patron saint of children. Explosion destroyed Halifax, Nova Scotia, 1917.
Dec. 7, Friday — St. Ambrose. National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. By wisdom, peace. By peace, plenty.
Dec. 8, Saturday — New Yorker cartoonist and author James Thurber born, 1894. Have dental care now.
Dec. 9, Sunday — Second Sunday in Advent. Moon on the equator. Propitious day to begin dieting.
Ask The Old Farmer's Almanac: Why do people say "For Pete's sake" and "For the love of Mike"? Where do these sayings come from? — M.B., Watsin, Ill.
Answer: Both sayings are euphemisms. They may be used in times of impatience or anger, and meant to replace God's name with that of Pete or Mike. "For Pete's sake" is much like "for pity's sake," "for goodness sake" or "for heaven's sake." All three are ways to refrain from taking the Lord's name in vain. "For the love of Mike" is another expression of surprise or exasperation that is meant to replace "for the love of God." One example of the expression shows up in James Joyce's "Ulysses" (1922), when the author writes, "For the love of Mike, listen to him."
In another vein entirely is "robbing Peter to pay Paul," an expression of futility that many assume comes from the Bible but actually has uncertain origins. Some translations suggest that clothes are taken from Peter to clothe Paul, but the meaning is the same.
Interestingly, the name Peter is Greek for rock, which helps to explain the origins of the phrase "to peter out": Peter is the name used to refer to a vein of ore, in mining, and if the ore runs out, it peters out. Desperate miners might resort to the use of saltpeter to blast it out, the explosive used in gunpowder that was also used to extract and break up gold-bearing rocks.
Ask The Old Farmer's Almanac: I have an old recipe that asks for "crumbs, some sweet." What gives? —K.D., Winchester, Mass.
Answer: Today's cooks are often looking to save time, but in earlier times, frugality was key. That meant the cook was always looking for ways to recycle food items that may have gone untouched from the week before.
Since both breads and doughnuts might be made for the week ahead, it was not uncommon to have some of both left over when the new batches were being assembled. Many steamed brown bread recipes call for 2 or 3 cups of crumbs, in addition to the cornmeal and oatmeal or other grains, and it was not uncommon to add both bread crumbs and doughnut crumbs (sweet), since the final recipe was sweetened by the addition of molasses anyway.
Some cookie and cake recipes might do the same, as would any number of dessert grunts, crumbles, Brown Betty crisps or buckles made with berries or other fruit.
Similarly, hermits were a cookie made from the leftovers of the baker's table, the last-minute scrapings of cinnamon and sugar and sweet dough from other recipes. "Waste not, want not" was the rule, but if you've tasted any of these old-time recipes, you'll know that the palate was not sacrificed in the recycling.
Ask The Old Farmer's Almanac: When landscapers talk about the "bones" of a garden, what does that include, exactly? — L.M., Littleton, Colo.
Answer: Like a human skeleton that gives form to the flesh, a garden's bones are the underlying structures that remain, even after the blooms have all gone by, the foliage has died back and the winter snows have fallen. Bones can be anything from box hedges or other shrubs to topiary, garden knots, stone walls or pathways, or even the dried fruits and berries still hanging on a tree or vine.
After the late fall color of chrysanthemums, kale, sedum or autumn flowers have faded, after the maples and beeches have lost their riotous color, then the great gardeners are separated from the merely good. When the first frosts coat the foliage with white, the bones begin to emerge. Just the shapes and mounds, the vistas and pathways are apparent, and the garden either holds its attraction or gives in to winter. Color may be muted, but it has not disappeared. The perennial sages hold their grayish green, the yellows and reds of willow bark seem to stand out and rose hips almost shout their orange-red.
Drive out into the countryside this time of year and you'll notice that the fields and meadows have their own natural bones that look right to the discerning eye. The plowed rows in a freshly turned field can still be picked out under the lightest snow. At the edges, the seed heads of brittle, dried weeds may remain standing, or the intricate lacework of Queen Anne's lace can still be traced.
The stonewalls that form the boundaries between one farm and another take on their own stark beauty in the late afternoon light. A snowy mound that soothes the eye marks a beaver's lodge at the edge of a pond. Cedars, yews, junipers and various other evergreens hold the snow, each with their own pattern.
All of these elements, and more, form the bones of a garden. The imaginative gardener, with a long winter to weather before the spring daffodils bloom, will find ways to shape and improve upon these underlying structures so that the winter landscape also draws attention and offers a pleasing appearance.
Send your questions to: Ask the Almanac, The Old Farmer's Almanac, Main St., Dublin, NH 03444; Web site: www.almanac.com