Week 3 - The Great Adventure

A bassinet, Fisher Price Rainforest Gym, and play baby cradle in which a Shirley Temple doll has been lovingly put to bed grace the formal living room.  A double stroller, a really monstrous piece of equipment, probably 6 feet long, sits alongside the formal dining room table, just next to the packed diaper bag and the car seat/carrier.  The front hall sports two rocking chairs, a big one and a tiny one, a Pack n Play, toy grocery cart, wooden blocks and assorted toys, too numerous to mention.  Clean baby bottles are lined up on the kitchen counter right next to the can of formula.  As I meander through the house, the scene repeats itself in almost every room, evidence of little people everywhere.

Only when I put on my big girl eyes do I even notice any of it.

The babytization of my house has been taking place for almost two years, when Baby Granddaughter first came to spend her weekdays with me while her mom and dad worked.  11 weeks ago, Baby Grandson was born to Orion and The One.  2 weeks ago, he and Baby Granddaughter arrived on my doorstep.  The Great Adventure had begun.

I think it fair to say that fear and confusion ruled the day, heck, ruled the week.  The simple logistics of getting two children into a vehicle for a trip to pre-school were mind boggling.  My train of thought for a two minute period of time went something like this.  Make sure two year old has tried to use the potty.  Put the sleepy, crying infant, who is looking at me as if I were an alien, into the car seat, arms flailing in every direction.  Remember to put blanket over infant. Help two year old put on jacket.  Make sure snacks, blanket, and stuffed animal are ready to take to school. Pick up keys and diaper bag.  Forget setting burglar alarm.  Who has time?  Pick up car seat and head towards door with infant and two year old, hoping two year old will not bolt toward the street on her way to the car.  Be calm.  It will be OK, I keep reassuring myself as I try to decide which child to put into his/her car seat first.  Whew!

After collapsing into the driver's seat, I seriously begin to my question my fitness for the job, not to mention, my sanity.  This scene was played out over and over again during our first week together, as we we struggled to adjust, me to them, and them to me.  Tears were shed by all of us. Nap times were sketchy, and irregular, and when neither slept, a long ride in the gorgeous fall countryside put them to sleep and quieted frayed grandmother nerves.  New routines had to be learned by Baby Granddaughter and me, as we assimilated Baby Grandson into our previously private rituals. 

Week Two, thankfully, was a little easier and a lot happier for us all.  To ease our cabin fever on a blustery rainy day, and to prove to myself that we were making progress, we ventured out to Wendy's for a little lunch.  It was a stress-free, fun outing, even when Baby Granddaughter announced  that she had to potty, in the middle of the restaurant, and even when Baby Grandson decided to serenade the patrons with the "I've had enough of this car seat, Mamaw" cry.   I have learned, in the past two weeks, that "I have to potty" means "I HAVE TO POTTY NOW!"  I have also learned that infants make their needs known anywhere and any time.  

Friday afternoon, as Baby Grandson lay sleeping in my arm, Baby Granddaughter snuggled up to my other side.  There we sat, happily, contentedly, on the sofa, until Daddy came to claim them.  During those blissful moments, I did actually rejoice in having the opportunity to experience little children in my life again, to watch them grow, and to help them along the way. Then, Daddy pulled out of the driveway with his two beautiful creations, bound for home, and I rejoiced again!

Bring on Week Three!

So Long Summer

Golden orange leaves litter the yard.

Sleet blew in on the cold October breezes this morning.

Better Half turned on the heat.

And, I gathered, what will surely be, my last buckets of zinnias from the garden.

How I shall miss these these gaudy blooms!

What day brighteners they have been!

I

So long sweet summer!

The Incidental Bouquet

Recently, I was asked to supply flower arrangements for the local Farm to Table Dinner.  Only this past weekend did I learn that 25 table arrangements and two large arrangements would be needed for the food tables.

Now, I have a hefty couple of zinnia beds, but there was absolutely no way I could come up with that many flowers, unless expectations were for a couple of zinnias thrown into a bud vase.

So, I set about, as I always do, to seek inspiration from those who have come before me and shared their ideas with the world via the internet and Pinterest.  As September is midway gone, I did not envision the outright boldness of summer, nor did I envision the burnished golds, reds, and oranges of fall.  The arrangements must have one foot set in summer and the other tiptoeing toward fall.

With the tone set, and no budget with which to work, the choice of materials seemed obvious, roadside weeds and wildflowers.  The choice of containers was even easier, though much overused these days - Mason jars.  They would impart the farm to table feel quite adequately.

A little green floral tape stretched over the top would add support for the flowers.

Now, for the flowers.  Zinnias, to be sure, but not too many.  A wedding order for 10 bouquets this weekend will require many flowers.  A touch of celosia, cosmos and salvia will add texture and color, but what about the rest?

Time to take it to the roadsides for the abundant wildflowers and weeds which bloom freely in my little part of the world.  Goldenrod grows everywhere and is very vibrant.  A couple of white weeds, both having small flowers, along with the golden rod, offered a perfect backdrop for the brighter blooms to come.  Add a couple of weeds I have always referred to as foxtails and a base for every bouquet is set, both table arrangements and the larger food table arrangements.

Setting out in my trusty ancient Suburban, with water sloshing around in the back in buckets, Better Half and I began the search Sunday for free flowers, ummmm, weeds.  Monday, I set out again, and discovered, much to my delight, a fabulous cache of wild asters, crabapples, wild ageratum, and ironweed peering out at me from behind "No Trespassing" signs erected by the State of Ohio.   I parked the Suburban just in front of the "No Trespassing" sign.  My feet did pass onto the forbidden property once I spied a perfectly beautiful bunch of purple wild asters.  As I rapidly clipped the asters, I glanced upward to behold the biggest, lushest crabapples I have ever seen.  Boy, did I begin to clip fast.  Here are the results of my illegal and legal clippings.

The bouquets would consist of, when all is said and done, two white weeds whose names I do not know, goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace, black eyed Susans, asters, ironweed, crabapples, peppers, Johnson grass seedheads, a weed I've always called foxtails, cosmos, coneflowers, salvia, zinnias, celosia, wild sweet peas and gorgeous lavender thistles.

These are the finished large arrangements, just the right amount of summer balanced with fall  I love the lush crabapples which spill over the sides of the containers.

Three of the 25 table arrangements gather for a pose on my side stoop.

One of the hot hued arrangements graces an ancient oak folding chair.

The arrangements, set atop crisp white tablecloths,added just the perfect touch to the dinner, lending a bit of rustic informality.

Summer 2014

Here it is already September, and I've barely written a word all summer, though not for lack of subject material, creative endeavors, or interesting events and encounters.  There has simply not been time.  It is not possible for me to dash off a quick post, with a couple of bad photos and call it a day.  No, each photo and word I write must be carefully chosen, edited, weighed, and rewritten.  All of that choosing, editing, weighing and rewriting takes precious time, a commodity in short supply since June.  In that respect, blogging is a luxury.

Summer began with a foray into the world of the Farmer's Market.  My brother, sister-in-law, and I sowed seeds in the community garden.  It looked as though a good summer was in store.   A planned 10 day vacation to New England to sight-see and reconnect with a long-lost friend was cancelled when an unexpected death occurred in my family.   Baby projects for my grandson expected in August, along with wedding plans for September then began to fill my days, until my dad suffered an injury, requiring hospitalization, surgery, and extended rehabilitation.  It seems like a year or more of life has been played out in the past three months.

Today, Baby Grandson celebrated his two week birthday, Ivie and Sister Golden Hair celebrated their second full day of marriage, and my dad returned to his beloved home after his lengthy ordeal. The garden harvest has been bountiful, and the Farmer's Market experience has buoyed my days.  A certain peace pervades my spirit this evening.  There have been many, many highs and lows this summer.  It is nice to think that perhaps the ship has righted itself and will remain on an even keel for a while, at least.

So glad you are home, Dad!

Ode to Sunday Evenings

As I pulled away from Mom and Dad's house just a little bit ago, giving my customary wave and a tiny honk of the horn, my dad's hand shot up to wave good-bye and a smile lit his face, as he sat on the cushioned bench, the late evening sun in his eyes.  That familiar scene has been replayed almost every Sunday evening of my life for over three decades.  Honestly, no Sunday is complete without a visit to Mom and Dad's.

When I was a little girl, Sundays were made for two things, church and visiting. Early Sunday afternoons were reserved for visits with my mom's parents, Julia and Roscoe.  Long leisurely drives in the country, gathering nuts in the fall, ice cream comes and playing in the backyard filled our afternoons.  Late Sunday afternoons were reserved for visits with my dad's parents, Elizabeth and Earl, where playing with cousins in the side yard, checkers with papaw, raiding the cookie jar, catching crawdads in the creek, and pestering papaw in the garden kept us occupied.

When Better Half and I began our fledgling little family, we adopted the same tradition - late morning visits with his parents and early evening visits with mine, where one never knew just which family members might show up.  Tonight's crew was a big one, with Mom and Dad sitting quietly, taking in the spirited scene.

Ivie and Orion, as little boys, were thrilled to have their grandma, EE, make cereal and cinnamon toast with orange juice for dinner.  I'm sure they believed that's what every reasonable person ate on Sunday evening. Later, the cereal was replaced by a great big pan of popcorn.  Dad always offered a cold beer or soft drink to everyone who came through the door.  Many decades of winter evenings were spent watching "This Old House" and "Victory Garden" as the boys wrestled and played on the family room floor.  Summers saw us sitting on the back porch and patio while the boys climbed trees.  As they grew older, spirited games of corn hole took place between young and old, and still do.

Now, Orion and The One have Baby Granddaughter, and Ivie has Sister Golden Hair.  They, too, as often as possible, thrill both sets of their grandparents by joining in on the Sunday visits.  Baby Granddaughter often takes center stage, playing with decades old toys and books, winning over everyone in the room with her gay demeanor and spirited banter.

Tonight was one such evening at Mom and Dad's.  As Great Grandpa did not say much during the evening, Baby Granddaughter pranced over to his recliner, from time to time, to throw him a quick little 2 year old "Hi" before resuming her play.  It was as if she wanted to keep him engaged in her goings-on.  The smile he returned was heartwarming.  Baby Granddaughter has taken a liking to tiny bite sized tomatoes.  She walked over to her greatgrandma with a simple request, "EE, tomatoes, please."  EE was on her feet as quick as could be, washing the few early baby tomatoes she had sitting on the countertop for Baby Granddaughter to happily munch.  Baby Granddaughter then wanted to play outside, so a contingent of family retired to the porch and patio to have a look.  She ran, stumbled, chased a bunny, played jungle in the weeping willow tree, and grew quite rosy cheeked in the humid air.  She and Orion and The One left shortly thereafter, when she cut her chubby little finger on a pampas grass blade.

One by one, family members made their departure.  Good byes rang out.  Good spirits reigned. Another family Sunday evening was coming to an end.

As cliche as the saying may have become,

There is No Place Like Home.

To Market, To Market . . .

This is my beloved daylily bed, safely protected from the herd of deer which freely roam the neighborhood. Over 100 different types of daylily call this 40 foot garden home, most from McMurry Gardens, featured in a post in 2012 entitled "Gifted Hands".

As the daylilies grow and multiply, it is necessary to divide the plants to help them to retain their vigor. 

Last July, I divided 24 of my favorite and oldest varieties, and replanted the divisions in a separate garden.

It was my hope, at that time, to, one day, sell them at a Farmer's Market, 

never believing I would actually do it.

This week, with Baby Granddaughter in tow, I made my way to the office of Main Street,

local sponsor of one of the community's Farm Markets.  There, I requested an application for

the Farmer's Market.  All at once, the director asked what I intended to sell and indicated she

would spread the word in her newsletter.  Whew!  That was a quick decision.

Tonight, in the cold, soaking wet garden, I set about lifting 21 dayliles out of their garden homes.  I planted them in temporary pots, gave them a good drink of water and labeled each one.  

Tomorrow, they will make their way to the Farmer's Market, along with me, a makeshift display of sorts, and a sampling of felt fruits, vegetables, flowers and breads from the Felt Farm Market.

Dreams, be they ever so humble, do come true! 

Of Weddings and Wildflowers

I traveled to a wedding today, some 35 or so miles from home,

 passing the Shawnee State Forest on my way. 

 The forest called to me,

inviting me to come have a quiet shaded drive

 through her magnificent spring green canopy.

The wedding was lovely, though, as I cast my eyes about the church, 

I knew only two people assembled there, the bride and her mother.

At that moment, I decided to forego the reception,

give in to the forest, 

and indulge in that quiet shaded drive.

While the canopy was gorgeous, 

it was the wildflowers that drew me from my trusty Suburban,

over and over again,

in wedding attire,

to capture their stunning beauty.

Against the brown remnants of last year's leaves, 

And the just sprung-from-the-earth green foliage,

the tiny, fragile, intricate blooms shone.

Thanks to Roads 19 and 4 for the spectacular show.

Enjoy!

 Hispid Buttercup

 

Iris

 Ragwort

Phlox

Lousewort

 Trillium

Ladyslipper Orchid

I would loved to have captured the front side of the orchid,

 but poison ivy and wedding shoes prevented me from doing so.

White violet

 Geranium

Asparagus Bacon Pizza

Homemade pizza on Friday nights is something of a tradition on the North Forty. Asparagus fresh from the garden rounds out most meals for several weeks each spring. Tonight, as Better Half and I debated dinner, he jokingly suggested combining two favorites, asparagus pizza.

The idea of a regular pizza topped with asparagus held little appeal. However, the idea of pizza topped with Alfredo sauce, cheese, asparagus and bacon sounded altogether luscious. Hence, the Asparagus Bacon Pizza was born. Hat's Off to Better Half for the suggestion.

Let's get cooking!

The pizza crust is easy to pull together.

1 package of active dry yeast (2 1/4 teaspoons)
3/4 cup warm water
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Dissolve yeast in warm water  Pour yeast mixture into mixing bowl. Add flour, salt and olive oil. Stir by hand until a rough dough is formed. Using kneading attachment,  mix with electric mixer until dough forms a ball. Knead for 5 or 6 minutes. If you don't have a kneading attachment, you may complete this entire process by hand. You want a shiny, smooth ball of dough at this point.

 

Pour a tiny bit of olive oil into the bottom of a mixing bowl.  Put in the dough, turning to coat all sides with oil. Cover and rise in a warm place one to 1 1/2 hours.

While the olive oil is handy, pour 2 tablespoons into a tiny bowl and add a large clove of smashed garlic.  The garlic flavored oil will be brushed onto the pizza crust before it is parbaked.

While the dough is rising, gather together the other ingredients for the pizza.  I had on hand Asiago cheese, about 3 ounces, and provolone cheese, about 4 ounces.   You may use whatever cheeses you like on pizza. These cheeses happened to be in my refrigerator.  Parmesan Reggiano cheese will be used for the Alfredo sauce, 1/2 cup, and also as the last ingredient to top the pizza, approximately 1/4 cup.

The best Alfredo sauce is, to me, the most simple sauce.  With the aforementioned Parmesan Reggiano cheese, you will use 1/2 cup whipping cream, 2 tablespoons butter, and a dash of both salt and pepper. Heat the cream and butter in a saucepan over the merest simmer until it begins to thicken.  Add the grated Parmesan Reggiano cheese just before using, and season with just a tad of salt and pepper. Stir until the sauce is smooth and has thickened.

Fry 4 slices of bacon which has been cut into small pieces until almost brown and crispy.  The bacon will finish browning as it bakes in the oven.

And, now for the piece de resistance.  Choose several asparagus spears.  If the spears are thick, slice them in half lengthwise.  Then cut each spear into slices about an inch to 1 1/2 inches long.  It is best if the pieces are fairly uniform in length and thickness.

Drain all but a couple teaspoons of oil from the pan in which the bacon was fried and add the cut asparagus. Saute for about 2 minutes over medium heat, just until the asparagus has deepened in color.  Remove from pan and place on plate to prevent further cooking.

By this time, the dough should have risen to double its original size.  Punch down the dough and roll into a rough circle about the size of a pizza peel.  Fold over the edges all around, forming a crust.  Transfer the dough to a peel which has been liberally sprinkled with yellow corn meal.

Brush the crust with the olive oil garlic mixture you created several steps above  Bake crust in a 450 degree oven on a pizza stone for about 3 minutes.

The crust will look like this once it has parbaked. Time to assemble the pizza. Spoon the Alfredo sauce onto the crust. Top with the 4 ounces of chopped provolone and the 3 ounces of grated Asiago cheeses. Spread the asparagus and bacon evenly across the crust, so you get a taste of each with every bite. Sprinkle with Parmesan Reggiano cheese.

This is how your pizza will look just before it is baked.  Return to the the 450 degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes until the crust has browned nicely and the toppings are bubbly.  

The finished pizza!!!  Better Half gave it a two thumbs up!  So did the cook!  The combination of flavors is wonderful.  The best of both worlds - Friday night pizza and fresh asparagus from the garden.

Enjoy!