Berries and Cream

 As a little girl, I would sit on the counter and watch my dad when he made pies.

I remember the swishing of the knives (back in the day before the pastry cutter), blending the shortening into the flour 'til it was just right.

I remember stealing the scraps and tasting the just-barely-salty lardy flavor in my mouth.

And man...that crust is to die for.

I had friends over for dinner recently and knew, a couple weeks before, that I was going to make berry pie.

And it was one of those things that I thought about
for all those two weeks leading up to it.

Mmmm.

They came on a Saturday evening, and the night before, in the quiet, I mixed sugar and tapioca and berries.

I made pie crust, all the while listening to an interview that my father did in 2010.

I heard him laughing, talking, telling stories.

The kitchen was quiet, just me and him and this familiar thing since childhood.

It was perfect.

And really, all I have to say today is that there are few things as delish or as comforting to body and soul as a slice of berry pie with cream.

Amen.

And amen.

This is Truth

Sometimes those close to you can really just say it how it is.

A few weeks back, this lady and I were on our way to Costco.

I don't even remember what we were discussing (must have been something regarding yummy calories), but she turned to me at one point and said, 

"Mom...you reeeeeeeeaaaaalllly like food."

Which totally cracked me up.

And, you know what?  It's true.

When I look back through my pics on my iPhone, there are a lot of pictures of food.

These are just in the last month, and I'm not posting birthday cake pics and German pancakes that were already posted here.

Roast with mashed potatoes and gravy, salad, and roasted cauliflower:

 Vegetarian taco salad:

 Oatmeal with cream, brown sugar, and pecans

(although my favorite way is with fresh strawberries, blueberries and bananas with raw almonds and honey):

 Potpie with gravy and salad and roasted carrots, cauliflower and onions:

 Homemade truffles: Dark chocolate orange, peppermint, and chocolate cream, rolled in pecans:

 A tunafish sandwich with potato chips tucked inside:

 Orange rolls rising on Christmas Eve morning:

 Huge pan of potatoes ready for roasting:

 Russian tea:

 Pomegranates...because I always think they're so beautiful:

 Cherry pie:

 Dinner rolls on Christmas:

 Chocolate chip cookies from just the other day:

Yup...she pretty much couldn't be more right.

I love to talk food, love to make food, love to eat food.

It's such a happy part of life.

Wreath Love

Last Saturday night I made the project I've only been waiting to do since last year when it came out in one of the fall issues of this magazine.

Here is my counter, supplies all spread out, before I began:

A big black bowl, full of the water/dye mixture.

A roll of paper towels to put under wet, dyed corn husks.

Gloves.

Corn husks.

A straw wreath form.

The picture from the magazine makes all the corn husks look so uniform.

I started in and was nervous I wasn't going to like it, because some husks took the dye better than others.  There were striations that were more white than colored.

But ah, as they started to dry, I could tell.

And the next morning I knew.

It was gonna be a love.

Monday afternoon, I hung it up.

 (closer up, you can see the various colors in the striations)

It's now the harvest welcome for the front door.

...And Another Makes Six

Simple Gifts

I have a friend who has impressed me of late with a simple thing he says.

His parting greeting is always, "Peace."

What a lovely thing to say, a lovely thing to strive to bring, a lovely force to be.

(I heart the word lovely.)

I want to give peace.

If someone were to ask me what one of my favorite simple gifts is, it would be so easy to answer.

Surely one of them would be watching light.

Over the past few weeks I've watched the end of day's long rays.

I've watched as it blesses the valley for the coming hush of night:
kissing the green peeking buds on the huge tree in our backyard, 

 and the way it filters through plum blossoms.

I felt that glorious benediction whispering right into my soul, 

Peace.

Peace.

I thank God for such beautiful, abundant, quiet, and stunning gifts.

I heart Sunday (and the family meal)

I love Sunday.

We wake up and I put sacred music on and generally make something warm: baked french toast or German pancakes or oatmeal with half n' half, brown sugar and pecans.

We get to go to church.

I get to sit by Mr. C and feel his arm around my shoulder or hold his hand.

Sometimes we crack up at stuff that the children say aloud, trying to stifle our breathing and moving shoulders and restore reverence.

I feel enriched by words from others' souls, and by the deep, penetrating, truths that we talk about there.

There are a family of people there that I dearly love and it's meaningful to hear how the gospel works in their lives, how they notice it day-by-day.  

I love the raw sharing that takes place.

Then we come home.

Yesterday afternoon I was picking up the getting-ready-to-go-to-church frenzy and overhearing Mr. C. talking on the couch with the children.  Mia on his lap, the boys on either side.  

They wanted story after story about when he served as a missionary.

The house was quiet, and all I could hear was their discussion.

It did this all day.

And while it did that, we did this.

Isaiah helped me make dinner, cutting the carrots and celery.

Mimi sat on the counter by me while I peeled carrots to give to Isaiah.

Benji read to his dad, who was feeling under the weather.

I made homemade wheat noodles and rolled them out on the counter, slicing them into thin strings.

And then we ate.

Menu: 

Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup

Spinach and lettuce tossed with sliced peppers, tomatoes, green onions and feta cheese with a balsamic viniagrette

Artisan bread, hot with melted butter

The fire was warm and we chatted about this and that.

{Cozy.}

Then we began our new chapter book.

After they were down, Mr. C. and I talked in front of the fire for a long time.

Snow falling out.

Peace, quiet and warm within.

I love my time with him.

Sunday is one of my favorite days of the week.

(And, I like this article from Time magazine.)

Favorite Books

This is one of my loves.

Yesterday the boys were playing out in the backyard.  I had left a new stack of library books on the kitchen counter.

When they came in, I found all of them like this in the front room.  Books spread out all over the floor from their perusing -- and then quiet, each in their own book.

I had to snap some photos. We love stories and words.

After reading my friend Catherine's post about their favorite books for children in 2011, I vowed to post our favorites, too. 

I commented and told her how much I love new recommendations and that I'd post our faves.

So here they are Cath, and I'm probably leaving out a few.

This is kind of exhaustive, but once I got started, it was hard not to include this one or that one.

Hopefully some of these will be new reads going into your library bag.  

You'll have to let me know what you think.

Bread & Jam for Frances (and, for that matter, all the Francis books: Best Friends for Frances, Bedtime for Frances, A Baby Sister for Frances, and A Birthday for Frances) by Russell Hoban

OxCart Man by Donald Hall

Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey

Lentil by Robert McCloskey

Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey

Millions of Cats by Wanda Gag

Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel

The Beatrix Potter books (particularly The Tale of Jemima Puddle Duck and The Tale of Tom Kitten, currently)

The Little Engine that Could by Watty Piper

Rumpelstiltskin by Paul O. Zelinsky

Rapunzel by Paul O. Zelinsky

The Olivia Books by Ian Falconer (Olivia, Olivia Saves the Circus, and Olivia Forms a Band, among others)

A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead

The Wedding Procession of the Ragdoll and the Broom Handle and Who Was In It by Carl Sandburg*

The Biggest Bear by Lynd Ward

Caps for Sale by Esphyr Slobodkina

Strega Nona by Tomie dePaola (and the other Strega Nona books, too)

I Will Never Not Ever Eat a Tomato by Lauren Child

Row, Row, Row Your Boat by Iza Trapani

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst

Owl Moon by Jane Yolen

Danny and the Dinosaur by Syd Hoff

The Curious George Books by H.A. Rey (esp. Curious George and Curious George Rides a Bike)

The Story of Babar by Jean De Brunhoff

Babar and His Children by Jean De Brunhoff

It's Raining Said John Twaining by N. M. Bodecker*

Albert's Toothache by Barbara Williams (old edition, which I have, is out of print -- but there's a newer addition and the title is Albert's Impossible Toothache)

Mother Rabbit's Son Tom by Gackenbach*

Ring O' Roses by Leslie Brooke*

The Frog & Toad books by Arnold Lobel

Jack & The Beanstalk (several versions of this)

Mike Mulligan & His Steam Shovel by Virginia Lee Burton

The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton

Katy and the Big Snow by Virginia Lee Burton

Ira Sleeps Over by Bernard Waber

Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile by Bernard Waber

Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig

We're Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen

Lon Po Po by Ed Young

One Fine Day by Nonny Hogrogian

Library Lion by Michelle Knudsen

Sleeping Beauty by Mahlon F. Craft

The Little Wooden Farmer by Alice Dalgliesh*

Harry the Dirty Dog by Gene Zion

A Girl and Her Gator by Sean Bryan

The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats

Roxaboxen by Alice McLerran

Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney

Some fun learning books

26 Letters and 99 Cents by Tana Hoban

Domino Addition by Lynette Long

Hailstones and Halibut Bones: Adventures in Color by Mary O'Neill*

Dr. Seuss' ABC by Dr. Seuss

Some Newly Discovered Favorites

The King's Taster by Kenneth Oppel

Samantha on a Roll by Linda Ashman

The Sea Serpent and Me by Dashka Slater

Puss in Boots by Charles Perrault

The Best Kind of Kiss by Margaret Allum

Hogwash by Karma Wilson

Clever Jack Takes the Cake by Candace Fleming

The Man Who Walked Between the Towers by Mordicai Gernstein

That Rabbit Belongs to Emily Brown by Cressida Cowell

Epossumondas Plays Possum by Coleen Salley

*Out of print but available on Amazon

What are your favorites that you read again and again at your house?

Please share!

Yet Another Extolling of Butter

Yesterday we finally did our liquid to solid discussion.

I've been so excited about this and thought we'd do it Monday and it didn't happen.

And Tuesday, well.  It was busy.

Yesterday morning we got up.  The boys did reading and writing.

I am so proud of them.  They are really coming along!

We ate lunch and they got to benefit from their valentine gift from Mr. C. and I (a big bag of Sour Cream & Cheddar potato chips).  These are a real treat around here.  I rarely buy stuff like that, and they were so stoked!

Then we read this book.  I wanted to find a book on making butter, specifically how they used to do it down home on the farm with a butter churn.  (I think youtube might be my friend for this request.)

I told them that if I had my way, I'd love to have a cow and have fresh milk and fresh butter sans pasteurization.  Oh, and chickens.  And a lot of other things.  I think that is the healthiest option available, really.  One of my fave reads from last year was this book.  I was so inspired and love all of the things she talks about.  Growing your food.  Being connected to the whole process.  Eating local.  Sans pesticides.  Building a community.  Love, love, love, love, LOVE. I really can't say enough good about it.

(One of my wishes?  If we ever own more land to accommodate a cow and chickens etc, maybe I'll convince Mr. C. to jump on board.)

So.

We dumped cream into a jar and started the shake-uh shake-uh shake-uh.

We took turns, passing it around.

We talked about liquids and solids.

I was so surprised at how quickly it changes from what looks like a more dense form of whipping cream to butter, surrounded by whey.  

My gosh!  

It was literally one second to the next.  Funky clump of something in there, frantic shaking, and then whey and a large clump of butter.  

So fun!

We spread it on crackers. 

It was yummy.

I mean, c'mon, all good things begin and end with butter.

My next endeavor is to go tour a dairy, and learn to make cheese from scratch.

AND get the kids in on the project.

And dream about my own Guernsey.

Oh, and ya know, a few cluck clucks for my backyard.

It's one of my dreams.

What We're Waiting For

We hung this out a few weeks back.  Last year when we put it out, we didn't have any visitors for such a long time.  Just about the time I felt all hope was lost, they began to come.  We watched them through breakfast, at lunch, in the afternoon.  One at a time, two at a time, three and four...huddled around, pecking quickly, bumping each other.  It was so fun and magical, really.

They got so used to us being on the other side of the glass that they'd go on feeding without flying off at the first movement from inside.

We're in the waiting game again.

It had only been up six days or so when the first visitor noticed it and my heart leaped.

I thought we'd have plenty of chaps coming from that moment onward, after the announcement was made to feathered friends far and wide in our neighborhood trees.

It has been sparse, though.  I think they're still scared of us.

But we are oh so eager.

I am oh so eager.

It is one of the sweet joys of winter (mild though it has been) to watch them.

Different colors, bigger, smallish, brown or bright.

Chirping, gathering, watching wings in flight.

I hope they come soon.

And these.

My heart jumps at the thought that within a few weeks time, these beauties will stretch up through the dark, moistened soil, and brighten the world with their brilliance.  

It shan't be long, friends, til the daffodils.

Letters

 (pics of my Mom with Mia)

 My mom made a big move to the Middle East this past weekend for a new job.

I am so proud of her.

She's almost 61, and went to teach at a school that was founded with the express purpose of educating women to be leaders.
I think it's brave.  She went without knowing anyone.
I love my mom.
From her example she teaches me to think for myself, to stand alone if that's what it means, to be honest in my feelings and how I express them, to be brave, to be okay in my own skin, to not stop learning, to be considerate of others, to never laugh at or mock something different from myself and to respect all peoples.

That's a tall order.

I'm trying to live up to them.

I love these legacies.
This is something to be proud of.
Thank you, Mom.

Each day we're doing schoolwork, we do something with reading and something with writing.
So, we wrote letters last week. 
To my grandparents, who we were going to visit.



 To give well wishes to my mother, beginning this new chapter and adventure.


 We added scratch-n-sniff stickers.
 And wrote these cards for my sister who is recovering from knee surgery AGAIN.


These are so cute I couldn't not share them.
I am proud of these boys.

Mia wanted to write letters, too, so I helped.



As I was getting ready to post these the other day, I thought about how much I love letters.

Super heart heart love them.
They are so romantic and timeless.
There is something about taking the time to put pen to paper, to personalize them with your own handwriting, something that calls back yesteryear in today's frenzy of gmail and text and everything quick quick quick. It's a beautiful thing to take the time for personal, quaint, charming touches that say I CARE.
I've written a few letters in my day.
I think about the role they've played in my life.
I have cards and letters saved in the hope chest at the foot of my bed, in scrapbooks, tucked in corners of desks and stacks to be organized into meaningful reminiscences.
Each a tangible reminder of someone significant in my small world, of a specific time, of how that person influenced and blessed my life.

I went to the letters that Scott and I exchanged on his mission.  
We have four huge binders of letters.

 I looked at the fun letterheads, at the cutouts of Calvin & Hobbes' comic strips, various pics that were part of this or that joke, nicknames, bunches of hand-drawn flowers.

I choked up as I read expression after expression at the beginning or ending of his letters to me -- about what an amazing woman he thought I was, about being such a lucky guy, about how beautiful I was, how special I was to him.
He was so focused as a missionary, so dedicated.
(In fact, later on, I wished he would say a few more of those cute things because he was so into the work.  I knew he loved what he was doing, 100%.  But it was lovely he was so dedicated to truth that I felt so passionately about, too.)  

I knew he had me tucked away in a safe place, tho.
I was reminded of this the other day, and became pretty emotional.

I had forgotten.
One of my favorite parts that I read in those few minutes was a snippet where he remembered the night that he really kissed me for the first time.  And he said something like, "Honestly, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from that night."
I'm more grateful today for his companionship than I was then.
We've been through a helluva lot more.
I feel more bound to him.
But I look back and I see these seeds that were planted.
I see things I've forgotten.
I felt gratitude again.
I felt like a little dry, parched piece of earth in my memory of time got some rain, and little flowers remembered how to grow over there.
A beautiful, shocking, outcropping of wildflowers abloom again.

I plan to order a copy of THIS book I read years ago, but want to read again.

I keep thinking about it.
I loved it.
This is a lovely, lovely compilation.
So romantic.
So sweet and genuine.
Charming and heartfelt.
Inspiring.

Maybe you wanna order it too and get into the valentine love?
And maybe you also wanna join my personal goal for the week and send out a few handwritten somethings?
A card, a letter, something genuine and with a personal touch?
I do, I do!