tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20211606245195097962024-02-26T09:41:13.038-05:00Homespun: My lifeThoughts on family, food, faith and farmLisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.comBlogger392125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-90448797910015135962024-02-21T11:08:00.005-05:002024-02-21T11:08:56.694-05:00"So great a cloud of witnesses"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nfqgoM7Bcsnr4Ss6k22x1ne9R5J4yJc8nP1LloVh6HvJS7P-zkunP3An-i_coWn_xZrIl9371d-L6n5OH5_LBoiDhWXALLDLm7Uacl87VNFidn82N2lK4BjFYsG1ojTNfH5dWtP-uCv9mM5NJOoK1ivhkU7KFou_iSyuTPamw20B2JEEPPecGsZXWMfe/s3075/edit_Oaklee's%20Baptism.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2253" data-original-width="3075" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nfqgoM7Bcsnr4Ss6k22x1ne9R5J4yJc8nP1LloVh6HvJS7P-zkunP3An-i_coWn_xZrIl9371d-L6n5OH5_LBoiDhWXALLDLm7Uacl87VNFidn82N2lK4BjFYsG1ojTNfH5dWtP-uCv9mM5NJOoK1ivhkU7KFou_iSyuTPamw20B2JEEPPecGsZXWMfe/s320/edit_Oaklee's%20Baptism.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Our nine-year old granddaughter was baptized on Sunday, fully-immersed in water that had been warmed in an inflatable hot-tub. <p></p><p>I grew up Baptist, which, if you know anything about the denomination, full immersion is the way to go. </p><p>I'm not making that argument, but I've witnessed a lot of baptisms over the years, and they always move me deeply. This one, in particular, gave me pause to reflect. </p><p>I could see that our granddaughter was nervous, and I sure could relate to that. </p><p>Despite the nerves that sometimes go along with them, baptisms are occasions for gratitude and joy. Typically, mountain people will gather for a baptism as they would for a graduation or some other once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment. These type of ceremonies bring people out of the woodwork to support and celebrate. </p><p>My own baptism was one of the most memorable days of my life. </p><p>After a long autumn of wrestling with my conscience or the conviction of the Holy Spirit (maybe both), I finally "went forward at the invitation" during a service at the little country church where I had attended all my growing up years. </p><p>I think what I wrestled with most was my shyness. I'd been reading the Bible, books about the Bible, and praying for months, if not years. But Lord, how I dreaded that march down the aisle. </p><p>However, Baptist preachers admonish that if we are ashamed of Him, He'll be ashamed of us. So, with much fear and trembling, I walked the aisle to the altar, and I knelt and prayed in front of everyone. </p><p>I told the preacher that I believed, and I wanted to be baptized. </p><p>Shouts of joy erupted throughout the church after he informed the congregation of my commitment. I'll always remember that my momma was especially happy. I am the oldest of her children, so I guess she was encouraged to hope for the salvation of all five of us. </p><p>The next Sunday, it was announced, I'd be baptized. There was no question of where. Our church had no baptistry, so baptisms were held at the creek, even in December. There were a couple of favored spots where they were typically held, one of them beside a gravel bar near Greenbriar Baptist Church. </p><p>Law, I love the names of these little communities. Greenbriar, Drip Rock, Station Camp--how these names do define me. </p><p>The next Sunday morning dawned cold. Very cold. Cold enough that ice had formed at the edge of the waters. I wouldn't swear that the creek had ice at the edge...perhaps a shallow puddle near the creek was covered in ice. But I do know it was chilly. </p><p>I remember the turquoise-colored polyester dress I wore. I had added some layers beneath it, and I wore pantyhose when I stepped into the waters. </p><p><i>"Step into the water, </i></p><p><i>wade out a little bit deeper, </i></p><p><i>wet your feet in the water of His love..." </i></p><p>This hymn was frequently sung by the Smith Sisters during baptisms at the creek. </p><p>So was: <i>"Shall we gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful, river? </i></p><p><i>Gather with the saints at the river, that flows from the fount of God?"</i></p><p>Anyway, after being nervous about it all week, once we all "gathered at the river," I felt more settled and excited. Eager, in part, to get my moment in the spotlight over. </p><p>Some of our aunts and uncles who attended churches elsewhere in the community drove over after their own services and gathered on that creek bank to celebrate another child of God joining the flock. </p><p>Most of those aunts and uncles have since departed this life into eternity. I like to think they are still part of a "great cloud of witnesses" cheering me on, through thick and thin, through good times and bad. </p><p>The green waters of the creek were fittingly icy as I was lowered quickly, symbolizing my death and burial in Christ, but I paid no heed to the chill, for I was raised just as quickly to newness of life, eternal life, warmed by the love of God and joy of family, both blood and spirit kin. </p><p>My hubby made the decision right there at the creek to also be baptized, no small decision for someone who hates cold water as much as he does! </p><p>Country baptisms are typically followed by the congregation circling by the sodden new baptist, now wrapped in a towel, dripping creek water and tears. We received many hugs and warm handshakes, "extending the hand of fellowship," many mountain preachers call it to this day. </p><p>I was 21 years old, and I was very, very serious about this new walk with God. </p><p>And I've been walking with Him since. </p><p>More accurately, He has stuck beside me through all my stumbles and starts, mix-ups and meanderings. </p><p>Almost 40 years later, I realize better all the time that "getting saved" was the start of a journey. It's a walk. And, as you might imagine of any 40-year walk, I've grown weary and discouraged at times. I've been through green valleys, the ground firm beneath my feet. I've slogged through the mire of despair and discouragement. I've wondered "why?" </p><p>I've been confused, and sometimes I have felt sure I'd lost my way. Other times, I've been just a little ornery and rebellious. </p><p>I'm a worrier, an over-thinker, I will confess. Child-like faith does not come easy to me. </p><p>Forty years ago, I had no inkling that my hubby and I would later be blessed with two daughters and five grandchildren. At the time, I did not imagine witnessing the baptisms of our daughters in a heated baptistry inside a nice church, or the baptism of a granddaughter in a hot tub while the frost melted outdoors on a cold February morning. </p><p>I had no inkling what was in store for me, for us. I still don't. </p><p>But I know I have a friend in Jesus, "all our sins and griefs to bear." What a privilege it is to take it to the Lord in prayer. <br /></p><p>I've lived long enough that I know this life of faith sounds ridiculous to many folks. Sociologists would say my faith is a product of place. The world we live in often views the Bible as old fashioned, a bunch of far-fetched fairy tales, completely unbelievable and irrelevant to our times.</p><p>But I've also lived long enough to see, by faith, yes, but to see the hand of God on my life and on those that I love. </p><p><i>"I have decided to follow Jesus, </i></p><p><i>I have decided to follow Jesus, </i></p><p><i>"Though none go with me, I will follow...</i></p><p><i>No turning back, no turning back."</i></p><p>Would I do it again? <i> </i>Would I set out on a journey of faith if I had a do-over?</p><p>I would. I cannot imagine me without Him. This relationship is at the heart of me. I make no claims to be anything special, quite the contrary. I see that better all the time now. </p><p>I also see that there's no need for me to try so hard, no need for me to seek to impress God or earn His favor. </p><p>I already have it, in Christ.</p><p>So yes, dear granddaughter, dear daughters, seekers, skeptics, believers and doubters, I believe it is worth the discomfort of taking a public stand, of making that commitment to Him. </p><p>Because <i>He</i> is the faithful one. </p><p>And what a friend. </p><p><br /></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-28505410307309669252024-02-17T16:46:00.000-05:002024-02-17T16:46:02.142-05:00Watching bread rise, one year later...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY0ZZrv9_K0unQZv5IMRsu4BkCC4fBK7SaUc1-EOebW6p57rmb2gF6PLzc3_SsXd_E2wwErT0wOxPfgDJrDhStMpzo3s7aviL20ftaNRMGSgIWhSlrE6mi5eygXLOFkLj7SpG3qZqNYkU8MUFWhe3GvYG1nCQxIQM-RI-eRAnH7_zV8h3gc2JuZyB1Le6/s275/winter%20sky%20on%20the%20farm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="275" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY0ZZrv9_K0unQZv5IMRsu4BkCC4fBK7SaUc1-EOebW6p57rmb2gF6PLzc3_SsXd_E2wwErT0wOxPfgDJrDhStMpzo3s7aviL20ftaNRMGSgIWhSlrE6mi5eygXLOFkLj7SpG3qZqNYkU8MUFWhe3GvYG1nCQxIQM-RI-eRAnH7_zV8h3gc2JuZyB1Le6/s1600/winter%20sky%20on%20the%20farm.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Winter skies can be beautiful too. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>We have a wind chill of approximately ten degrees today. <p></p><p>Not a comfortable temperature to do some of the spring prep chores that I'd like to be doing outside--pruning, raking off flower beds, and starting some seeds. </p><p>So, I decided to tidy up my neglected desk area, then I remembered I have a blog, covered in dust deep in the interwebs, I reckon. </p><p>I dug it up, figuratively speaking, and when I saw my last post, I couldn't help but smile. That happened exactly a year ago! </p><p>I had titled my post "Watching Bread Rise," or something brilliant like that. (I was referring to my new hobby of making sourdough bread.) </p><p>Well, let me tell you about that. I baked bread for a couple of months, my thighs got thick(er), springtime arrived (I moved outdoors), and I quit. Baking bread, that is. </p><p>I also wrote in my last post that I was a burgeoning forager. </p><p>Ha! When I discovered fruit fly larva squirming among the pristine white gills of the winter oyster 'shrooms that are quite plentiful in the woods in these parts, I lost my appetite 'fer em. </p><p>I'd rather watch a roach crawl across my plate than knowingly consume worms. That's just me. I cannot stomach the squirmy little fellers. </p><p>I know, they are most likely in lots of foods I consume--wild berries, cultivated mushrooms, greens--but ignorance is bliss. I haven't seen them in those foods--yet!! </p><p>When I blogged last, I was about six weeks post-newspaper closing, and I was digging into dusty corners, organizing, etc., with great zeal. </p><p>Fast forward a year, and I still have tons of stuff, piles of disorganization, and plenty of dust! </p><p>What the heck have I been doing all year?! </p><p>I can tell you that I have been busy--working hard even, probably as hard as I've ever worked in my life. </p><p>It's been exhausting, honestly. </p><p>Besides the usual rhythms of planting, tending, and harvesting produce, taking care of a big yard, putting up hay, celebrating the birthdays and milestones (Hubby and I both turned 60!) of a big ol' growing family, we had some big projects to attend to. </p><p>For one, we continued to work on our rental cabin/cottage. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek5ekpBCmOGtzVyGSnWjzPlFwdtJXRBLOVKUCLtx9E5hbbykSxspQjQ7C0BIhdXfF4T9F3nKXNCqfloiihXp5JQSag5JyCYbyh00-MAIc_lA5KtMN2EkNICUfBDBXCm35A8Pdaz1LYV-GvG06mn0KrPfJYpR1qLYiSzD3XlrqdnSCTRjGc1FmkHqZhQ30/s275/Cabin.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="275" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek5ekpBCmOGtzVyGSnWjzPlFwdtJXRBLOVKUCLtx9E5hbbykSxspQjQ7C0BIhdXfF4T9F3nKXNCqfloiihXp5JQSag5JyCYbyh00-MAIc_lA5KtMN2EkNICUfBDBXCm35A8Pdaz1LYV-GvG06mn0KrPfJYpR1qLYiSzD3XlrqdnSCTRjGc1FmkHqZhQ30/s1600/Cabin.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The green door of our country cottage really pops when there's snow on the ground. </i></div><br /><p>We also had a MAJOR overhaul of our old farmhouse, the foundation of which was about to crumble into the dirt, due to rot and termite damage. That involved months of fretting to the point of losing sleep (because it took forever to find someone who would tackle the job), then months more of the actual de-construction and re-construction. It also cost a whole heck of a lot. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2UYbyQbNmgDky5s_Twqz_VN_ajzTtDEDnvj2bVsj56WYn7wuSnscjbskqZzabzDZ4nxdhSoEuPEqi476v_VZKFa49oXZ7Z5fbA_J4Ezn6XLHqWwArc7FM1YZTaDRQMy_YC0EvgIzSehOFy6jb3b_NgvVI1eOGavP2Pne5AUot6MM_G2eVeqLc5DgBHaZF/s275/family%20reunion.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="275" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2UYbyQbNmgDky5s_Twqz_VN_ajzTtDEDnvj2bVsj56WYn7wuSnscjbskqZzabzDZ4nxdhSoEuPEqi476v_VZKFa49oXZ7Z5fbA_J4Ezn6XLHqWwArc7FM1YZTaDRQMy_YC0EvgIzSehOFy6jb3b_NgvVI1eOGavP2Pne5AUot6MM_G2eVeqLc5DgBHaZF/s1600/family%20reunion.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>We were able to squeeze in our annual family reunion before we had to move out of the front part of our farmhouse so renovations could begin. We packed up and moved the day <b>after</b> the reunion. </i></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUlrc5B7bFMutAvOK6Jl6oplWPQZWKqFKVYUNljEXAW5eKEvkghWLqb-ZdHv5_7EUAOk-Z7438e043CHLaNIRyX2Df4x11SddDlXM-GgMrLJUPGIOy679gbGFzUTQVh4InlJP8IhF2pn6Y0OafsCDPuqz_ccOHhlY39-Qf-ZAmFgcgtzRbNmQunFCunWA/s275/cabin%20deck.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="275" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUlrc5B7bFMutAvOK6Jl6oplWPQZWKqFKVYUNljEXAW5eKEvkghWLqb-ZdHv5_7EUAOk-Z7438e043CHLaNIRyX2Df4x11SddDlXM-GgMrLJUPGIOy679gbGFzUTQVh4InlJP8IhF2pn6Y0OafsCDPuqz_ccOHhlY39-Qf-ZAmFgcgtzRbNmQunFCunWA/s1600/cabin%20deck.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This was taken on the deck of our cabin. We lived in it while our farmhouse was being renovated! </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>In addition, our grandson Clay had a major, major, CDH surgery in Florida, which added layers of anxiety and activity to our lives. Thank the Good Lord, Clay recovered yet again and is now thriving. He's a middle-schooler now, and he is beginning to look like a teenager, a very handsome one at that. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBiPrsJX89JitpTgAW3s4TuzDg710SLvJa4dtA6U8QortaxSrj77eDdyPZR5ae8WgDa-SxflqmCoyo_4qhL2FSEIE6eaiQ1LWJvreiZnDTnN1CysUb24X2TwQRzDVnnGxkQDmzkGC8QaiIZPJ070SQmfTt8qG9SOVtXen-wUw5l9ncY5XEGJO9cJ6Z0LI/s206/My%20whole%20crew%20at%20zoo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="155" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBiPrsJX89JitpTgAW3s4TuzDg710SLvJa4dtA6U8QortaxSrj77eDdyPZR5ae8WgDa-SxflqmCoyo_4qhL2FSEIE6eaiQ1LWJvreiZnDTnN1CysUb24X2TwQRzDVnnGxkQDmzkGC8QaiIZPJ070SQmfTt8qG9SOVtXen-wUw5l9ncY5XEGJO9cJ6Z0LI/s1600/My%20whole%20crew%20at%20zoo.jpeg" width="155" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>We celebrated little Miles and Pops' birthdays at the zoo! We also threw a family reunion/birthday party for Pops here at the farm. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Throw in a few extra challenges, like helping a daughter move back out to the country and prep her house for sale, and I remember now why last year was tiring at times. <p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXja0hI0O2yA72zbFwFgvpG-BKQb0FiuHh0HYlynYc972nyino1BHGG6rD0N_DpBVQzpvk4CGiXSDi81Q4VwPfbCz_dFdKYuVZ7QiMLQ4DW0BjvJXme7kTJbeltVEfxcx1n4Ll1K-pC16kpI75OTIfsyD4mQmpwqeaQzB2KUCmpyThZ_kspOwtUF-0lxd_/s206/my%2060th.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="154" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXja0hI0O2yA72zbFwFgvpG-BKQb0FiuHh0HYlynYc972nyino1BHGG6rD0N_DpBVQzpvk4CGiXSDi81Q4VwPfbCz_dFdKYuVZ7QiMLQ4DW0BjvJXme7kTJbeltVEfxcx1n4Ll1K-pC16kpI75OTIfsyD4mQmpwqeaQzB2KUCmpyThZ_kspOwtUF-0lxd_/s1600/my%2060th.jpeg" width="154" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The girls threw a surprise party for my 60th! This happened in the middle of our farmhouse remodel. </i></div><p></p><p>I'm not complaining. </p><p>I'm thankful we were able to do all that we did, and I'm thankful for all the people in our lives that we get to love on. </p><p>So far, this year has been a time of settling. Or re-settling. I'm playing catch-up on dozens of "small" tasks, the kind that tend to sift through the cracks when one is in the middle of a major upset in their routine. </p><p>I have enjoyed the quiet of winter, although I do feel deprived of sunshine at times. </p><p>I'm <i>so ready</i> for spring now, and all the work involved with that.</p><p>There you have it--an update on my life on the farm--a homespun labor of love! <br /><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfpLqja5o79DAo9LEyg_GqCr_MMZEs3dW2zCqJeSs8itKcfqeLbEpWzvWV1rLNGXEX0vQdMmGTD4ZdY1e5KAJ06mQpXZj1L9InU1NpKiJMaQwBDw9-aw55ydcZWm7-DUYXdTWzJY3TxBefQ0Be3f_zKplIARY1pxeEQ_vsAm7Fjc9V2sLFdDPP_kc9iEK/s206/Grandkids%20at%20church.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="154" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfpLqja5o79DAo9LEyg_GqCr_MMZEs3dW2zCqJeSs8itKcfqeLbEpWzvWV1rLNGXEX0vQdMmGTD4ZdY1e5KAJ06mQpXZj1L9InU1NpKiJMaQwBDw9-aw55ydcZWm7-DUYXdTWzJY3TxBefQ0Be3f_zKplIARY1pxeEQ_vsAm7Fjc9V2sLFdDPP_kc9iEK/s1600/Grandkids%20at%20church.jpeg" width="154" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Pops and I have five beautiful grandchildren. This pic was taken at church during the Christmas season. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>We could not ask for more! </i></div><i><br /></i><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-77448759339714774612023-02-17T09:47:00.001-05:002023-02-17T09:50:15.910-05:00What have I been up to? Watching bread rise...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm several weeks into this post-newspaper season of my life, and time is simply flying. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Seems like it flies whether the days are long and hard or the pace of life is more relaxed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Is that a sign of "getting old?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been busy and content here on the farm for the most part, but during the infrequent times I do get out in public, I'm being asked what I've been doing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wellll, you asked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For starters, pun intended, I think I'm growing a new hobby! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I say "I think," because my intention was to cut back on carbs this winter and focus on building muscle instead of fat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">However, habit or some other mysterious force compels me to bake during the winter months. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I thought I'd try my hand at making sourdough from scratch. Starting my own starter, if you will. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That process begins with mixing flour and water, pretty close to equal parts, then setting the mixture aside in a bowl, and allowing the wild yeasts of the air to ferment it into this fragrantly sour-smelling bubbly mess that can then be added to dry flour and worked up into bread dough. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZmHHBAGjn18B4z7px-UmV0rgmFPWDtcWiZThBAbndjmE1n3pgPs6LhIT-VVq1HBnhuU8WRZk5QzV_Pa23F_TJ62BIPkDnISRpNXsn9RVaeV-H6eVTDAfNZMncIWCbeEFw1E0UFWDrEK5-9Pd2cLYBiIgPXdkTNKOM0tAOJjCwvl-PjdPs-4FTwNpUg/s4032/E8957D44-D514-4B8F-9715-3D8466159492.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZmHHBAGjn18B4z7px-UmV0rgmFPWDtcWiZThBAbndjmE1n3pgPs6LhIT-VVq1HBnhuU8WRZk5QzV_Pa23F_TJ62BIPkDnISRpNXsn9RVaeV-H6eVTDAfNZMncIWCbeEFw1E0UFWDrEK5-9Pd2cLYBiIgPXdkTNKOM0tAOJjCwvl-PjdPs-4FTwNpUg/s320/E8957D44-D514-4B8F-9715-3D8466159492.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I fed my starter more flour and water for five days, baked two loaves of bread from it and made sourdough crackers from "the discard." <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMPucvK0i1FJBqlM5H-qiHntp0n3PP8_HCsIL6ZlvSxg6nMkWIpm2tqB2KZDR4XmNOHoYCg16owtZCy1YOoQtShFktVyzlkfkRJ5QK1U-9zFRaMO_rCjGzbYVlceWBtPBUvC9ZMrl4FuOWXXJc0ektQMV-EWSvpPPdz7KIFQzFiEZ6bY4_0HwD-oSiA/s4032/391C89AF-57E5-49C7-B372-D43039D1E30F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMPucvK0i1FJBqlM5H-qiHntp0n3PP8_HCsIL6ZlvSxg6nMkWIpm2tqB2KZDR4XmNOHoYCg16owtZCy1YOoQtShFktVyzlkfkRJ5QK1U-9zFRaMO_rCjGzbYVlceWBtPBUvC9ZMrl4FuOWXXJc0ektQMV-EWSvpPPdz7KIFQzFiEZ6bY4_0HwD-oSiA/s320/391C89AF-57E5-49C7-B372-D43039D1E30F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I think I needed to let the dough rise a little longer, but I was in a hurry for fresh bread! </i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPA02lLeYgWyx7au9j5zpVp4mma8W9B1LEqsnIxzvKCBgzLcgr_hmsbeZP0cMGiBsHDRbTjJtufo39fEHgW5qiW8vcyf9fCy9102DrJzYZpFWfaCphut4YEgjlUhC4Sco_eYuZJZ2xBza3-vrlMa2FMNEggdEjVJOt-UIWgUCskaGrc6LAridpVDGaKA/s4032/12305A6E-EE21-4E31-8B08-A601C932135B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPA02lLeYgWyx7au9j5zpVp4mma8W9B1LEqsnIxzvKCBgzLcgr_hmsbeZP0cMGiBsHDRbTjJtufo39fEHgW5qiW8vcyf9fCy9102DrJzYZpFWfaCphut4YEgjlUhC4Sco_eYuZJZ2xBza3-vrlMa2FMNEggdEjVJOt-UIWgUCskaGrc6LAridpVDGaKA/s320/12305A6E-EE21-4E31-8B08-A601C932135B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Ivy liked it! With lots of butter and sweet tea. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because I loved my baked goods so much, I intentionally used up all the starter. Fresh bread is too carbo-licious to resist!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, as so often happens around here, good intentions go by the wayside. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of weeks ago, someone gave Hannah a starter, which she fed for a few days then divided with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, I certainly couldn't let the poor thing starve, so I fed it every day until I had another bubbly seething bowl of sourdough starter just begging me to bake something. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I made two more loaves of bread, most of which is gone already--I'm not telling how many days ago I made it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, I find the whole process fascinating, that delicious bread can be made from fermented flour and water (sourdough starter) by simply adding more dry flour and salt, kneading it a bit and giving the leavening time to work/rise. It's crazy!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've taken to watching You-Tube videos about it at night. There's a gal with a blog called Farmhouse on Boone (I think), who bakes all the yummy things with sourdough starter or sourdough discard. (Discard is basically when your starter goes a little flat and needs feeding again. But it would be sinful to actually discard it because you can make pizza dough, pancakes, waffles, etc., etc., from it. And crackers. I mentioned crackers before, but let me tell you a little about them. They remind me of Cheez-its! I love Cheez-its.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Besides learning all about sourdough, I've also decided to learn more about wild edibles. I want to become a bonafide forager! š</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I found some mushrooms in January that I researched to the point I felt mostly comfortable eating them. (They were wild oyster or winter oyster mushrooms.) I took a deep breath, said a little prayer, sautĆ©ed up the 'shrooms, then my hubby and I ate them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We did not die! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since then, I've been hunting for them a couple of other times, but I haven't found more---yet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I will! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Besides foraging and baking, I've been poking around in dusty corners of the house, sorting and tossing and passing along a few things I no longer need or want.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On pretty days, and I'm happy to say there have been quite a few of those this winter, I've been cleaning off flower beds and garden spots, and playing in muddy puddles with the grand-babies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjXe2U5V-4n7hswqL9ICfyl7I9y1mPrE1OWPiNKPvrTvrmWJH-IbZFZkexnfFAdO8hSY-mdE5IBboneS9r2A54GAVqly7O5EPf21bvQY4nwSnnIy_crs9aGVnBY6jkgrV1IXoxhi3GrsJDgdjX9MrcrqJ6H8MUli-4obaYjDvRK_2uPrVkEZcNmtTUQ/s4032/BEE944C9-3402-4F54-8EBA-918A46DFEDE8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjXe2U5V-4n7hswqL9ICfyl7I9y1mPrE1OWPiNKPvrTvrmWJH-IbZFZkexnfFAdO8hSY-mdE5IBboneS9r2A54GAVqly7O5EPf21bvQY4nwSnnIy_crs9aGVnBY6jkgrV1IXoxhi3GrsJDgdjX9MrcrqJ6H8MUli-4obaYjDvRK_2uPrVkEZcNmtTUQ/s320/BEE944C9-3402-4F54-8EBA-918A46DFEDE8.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>It's calving season here on the farm. We have an assortment of adorable calves bouncing around, including the latest one that I'm currently bottle feeding. She is the cutest thing with big dark eyes and sweeping black lashes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IedZmtgq2fG9fiyGCcM_8Xyjl0HuVLsyR8KcCs7zV6V_LyFet4POGvDuQwmIqNz2WeXnjKNZoXkMxL-KG_j_8KtgQZqExdViggn5LFlGGtdKyoPmWuwaElIeGK7M8Y-GlbrZB59ARnF_HKx6QT_5NzrXUw-R-HkhxhaBlEwdObkjCmccYDCpEY334w/s4032/B7A5F31B-AA25-4995-93A2-0A968A70AE42.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IedZmtgq2fG9fiyGCcM_8Xyjl0HuVLsyR8KcCs7zV6V_LyFet4POGvDuQwmIqNz2WeXnjKNZoXkMxL-KG_j_8KtgQZqExdViggn5LFlGGtdKyoPmWuwaElIeGK7M8Y-GlbrZB59ARnF_HKx6QT_5NzrXUw-R-HkhxhaBlEwdObkjCmccYDCpEY334w/s320/B7A5F31B-AA25-4995-93A2-0A968A70AE42.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>Kelce was born on Super Bowl Sunday. Football fans may "get" that we named her after the Kelce brothers who played in the Big Game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu05JrlWJBTL8JuoVXeKUpMaTqJsLjoxlbDe9I_qklS2wjO4qnRKSuqiXfcWW1d8mL-YNup9qD7CkuKjicfTYp7bAf4jpWNic9SRGY5xkGM9P-5eFc5SYoidXzvIRnXJmMEKRKRjT3gcTxMPgnwJZ5CX2J04sj2xTz8NYiigIW1g7THTk0ndhGoYT24Q/s4032/A719A997-A75A-4D09-9CF4-B36D75996E86.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu05JrlWJBTL8JuoVXeKUpMaTqJsLjoxlbDe9I_qklS2wjO4qnRKSuqiXfcWW1d8mL-YNup9qD7CkuKjicfTYp7bAf4jpWNic9SRGY5xkGM9P-5eFc5SYoidXzvIRnXJmMEKRKRjT3gcTxMPgnwJZ5CX2J04sj2xTz8NYiigIW1g7THTk0ndhGoYT24Q/s320/A719A997-A75A-4D09-9CF4-B36D75996E86.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Look at sweet Kelce in the doghouse! </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>In addition to all the farm chores, we are working on a couple of other big projects, one of which I hope to be opening as an airbnb in late spring/early summer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think I'll call it "Cottage in the Trees" or something real unique like that, he he. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VxkuEIwMSNiiUXz559qf6u2ew-iaVLLGSHfT5Ms3iqsmpkd21LpgmzkaW1gL57yggM1LgSBdV3rnBRfo5z1wnNlpJZ1yAf-sLmO9Yd014ej9dul8Lxi-T2ZM3WW3FrDRPrpLhXuudzHD0yXF1ZLUFOUqzucgpEtM6x9WUN8aCrv1Z3L8jVu-ZWBv5A/s4032/F4700412-3595-4204-B4DB-07F7830F8C5D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VxkuEIwMSNiiUXz559qf6u2ew-iaVLLGSHfT5Ms3iqsmpkd21LpgmzkaW1gL57yggM1LgSBdV3rnBRfo5z1wnNlpJZ1yAf-sLmO9Yd014ej9dul8Lxi-T2ZM3WW3FrDRPrpLhXuudzHD0yXF1ZLUFOUqzucgpEtM6x9WUN8aCrv1Z3L8jVu-ZWBv5A/s320/F4700412-3595-4204-B4DB-07F7830F8C5D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Our little "Cottage in the Trees," undergoing renovations.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>So there you have it, a few of the things I've been up to this winter. Nothing real exciting, but my days have been full! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8TlVYojQSWJiJ1D4jVBLzdYoxfc-zZZj0hVfdOrq0oWjDUj9yAGyc3IOV1y_r54BhCtbOn_CBKtT53fak6y-5ZvCz2sSEpJjaEin7HTyQ5wMIMjvYORscOvOQZNLrj7Y6po7hguSUxH-BxJjdvnfSPwrMuuESxXl6KXpsVP8-K0_YQbOgP-YlcN80Bg/s4032/D470D687-4DB0-4A5A-A01D-6C7DB371F713.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8TlVYojQSWJiJ1D4jVBLzdYoxfc-zZZj0hVfdOrq0oWjDUj9yAGyc3IOV1y_r54BhCtbOn_CBKtT53fak6y-5ZvCz2sSEpJjaEin7HTyQ5wMIMjvYORscOvOQZNLrj7Y6po7hguSUxH-BxJjdvnfSPwrMuuESxXl6KXpsVP8-K0_YQbOgP-YlcN80Bg/s320/D470D687-4DB0-4A5A-A01D-6C7DB371F713.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Look at those blue skies! I love hanging sheets on the line on pretty days like this--in February!! </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83Eldh7gSTtUr-cr_FfBxwKisaKYiL23HAH1nzrL10Jd4yx8yiGRYR1rgfTL2-wTLhVT5L8QIIqCcfTmTvfM2NQHj_ZLMes_q3lrDg9Ie4biXWMJH3aIn0JYyDvUtHLP3YoCxJgkgncdCp6uddavSTbiXU6Bua-G718igf06voatQwpvZdRLfsU6xuA/s4032/CEA821ED-5A00-4C63-93DC-8C689E9E582E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83Eldh7gSTtUr-cr_FfBxwKisaKYiL23HAH1nzrL10Jd4yx8yiGRYR1rgfTL2-wTLhVT5L8QIIqCcfTmTvfM2NQHj_ZLMes_q3lrDg9Ie4biXWMJH3aIn0JYyDvUtHLP3YoCxJgkgncdCp6uddavSTbiXU6Bua-G718igf06voatQwpvZdRLfsU6xuA/s320/CEA821ED-5A00-4C63-93DC-8C689E9E582E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>We've also been blessed with some pretty sunsets this winter. </i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-80492050548173018902022-11-30T20:51:00.001-05:002022-11-30T20:51:26.652-05:00Day 30: NaBloPoMo complete!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgga13vmQP7iIadtXUZJMbmm9x15Kt8gduPd2kwUFiU3Bj0mlsCeeNQPuw7D4o8IQ-DcsQKjY7v562Twugikiu_QkDRKzCLdbPCVV0MHaM2KzDmvghTPe7UQh6_VUc404X3fqbYsDQftN7r418OYuGs9htb37Cr2FPXCgODiyn5ukk5fpI5CxdUsODUjw/s4032/23130D8F-52FC-4160-BA50-7B605F56D468.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgga13vmQP7iIadtXUZJMbmm9x15Kt8gduPd2kwUFiU3Bj0mlsCeeNQPuw7D4o8IQ-DcsQKjY7v562Twugikiu_QkDRKzCLdbPCVV0MHaM2KzDmvghTPe7UQh6_VUc404X3fqbYsDQftN7r418OYuGs9htb37Cr2FPXCgODiyn5ukk5fpI5CxdUsODUjw/s320/23130D8F-52FC-4160-BA50-7B605F56D468.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I broke from my normal town office/farm routine today for an appointment and a lunch date with my girls and these two cutie pies. Ivy was behind me and didnāt make it into the photo. But she was definitely there! </div></blockquote><p>We stopped by Aldi for a few things. I love that store. Iām not a shopper, unless itās one of my favorite grocery stores, that being Aldi and Trader Joeās. </p><p>I can always find something seasonal and unique at those places. </p><p>Today I picked up a little tub of sugar cookie flavored dessert hummus. That was interesting. Yes, it tasted like sugar cookies, but it also tasted like blended chick peas. </p><p>Sugar cookie in a fiber filled spread. </p><p>Yum. </p><p>Ho-hum</p><p>Iāll eat it though. I think it will be good with pretzels. </p><p>Aldi sometimes has household goods I like. </p><p>Today I found a print that I liked for cheap. And itās reversible with another print on the back! </p><p>I grabbed that and added it to my mantle when I got home, along with some greenery from Chelseaās shrub trimmings , lol. </p><p>I plan to add some nandina berries and pine cones too.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHzodpiMlXbOAJiyPBKNho4UUMaj2anNAoCkcQzjptzoY2ztItLnQOXk2H9snjRQ6gNnj_OLmCSbGX_yp04YzrzLHx40DT7ZMAYvM4BdjC6Da5W-yKjZXZKTuEoSWs1u4_k4Wl12MzGJT8sRlEC3Sy8EJmUjbAqHBZz2IfFngNVg1EoqeEcRb1x53rw/s4032/E9E905CF-719A-4C5F-8974-243F9461A9C1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHzodpiMlXbOAJiyPBKNho4UUMaj2anNAoCkcQzjptzoY2ztItLnQOXk2H9snjRQ6gNnj_OLmCSbGX_yp04YzrzLHx40DT7ZMAYvM4BdjC6Da5W-yKjZXZKTuEoSWs1u4_k4Wl12MzGJT8sRlEC3Sy8EJmUjbAqHBZz2IfFngNVg1EoqeEcRb1x53rw/s320/E9E905CF-719A-4C5F-8974-243F9461A9C1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Doesnāt look too bad for starters, does it. </p><p>Today is the last day of November and therefore the last day of my 30 day blogging challenge. </p><p>I posted a little something every day except one. Nothing of much consequence, but a little something, something. </p><p>Making myself write every day feels very much like a writing exercise at times. In the sense that exercise is sometimes difficult. It feels hard to start. Thereās always a million reasons why we donāt have the time or energy. </p><p>I have found that inspiration rarely if ever āstrikesā before I write. </p><p>Itās just one of those things ya have to sit down and do, then the creative juices flow. Maybe. </p><p>Iāve written little snippets about my rather boring life, but theyāll be fun to look back on one of these days, just to see what we were up to, if nothing else. </p><p>Thanks for reading! </p><p>Until next timeā¦ </p><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-58733120609858692102022-11-29T20:36:00.001-05:002022-11-29T20:36:24.034-05:00Day 29: A little snowy scene<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGcSBwHGERVKdNt3EiUDAE877YzXjFzDVtZbbrlsOlMgrIk6sWwn6FJsfSoSYvT_uTm3c6iG0egDcf1WGxVtYtymxWSGYI3QzUI4qO-Nnzp2pu-ow2WEsMu70Qps5eMCw_dWdF_ljKQ6eTnmm0S5QX-ZEU7TKqrRmZ1UsPy9DccKSS5xikHOwDai7uQ/s3498/7F429AC1-AFB3-4C22-832F-CA2F619DE3ED.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2437" data-original-width="3498" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGcSBwHGERVKdNt3EiUDAE877YzXjFzDVtZbbrlsOlMgrIk6sWwn6FJsfSoSYvT_uTm3c6iG0egDcf1WGxVtYtymxWSGYI3QzUI4qO-Nnzp2pu-ow2WEsMu70Qps5eMCw_dWdF_ljKQ6eTnmm0S5QX-ZEU7TKqrRmZ1UsPy9DccKSS5xikHOwDai7uQ/s320/7F429AC1-AFB3-4C22-832F-CA2F619DE3ED.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Maybe I should have brought this snowy little scene home with me from the office and used that in place of my Christmas tree. <p></p><p>Because my big tree is still not decorated. </p><p>Iāve barely been home since we put it up. It will get done eventually, I guess! </p><p>My aunt once had a tree in her basement decorated with lots of clear lights and a single red cardinal perched on a branch. I thought it was simple and chicā¦I wonder if I could get away with that? </p><p>***</p><p>At dinner tonight, my husband informed me that today is the day Thanksgiving leftovers should get thrown out. I think we have pretty much cleaned up the leftovers from Thanksgiving day, but we are still working on round twoās leftovers. </p><p>So tonight I made turkey salad with some of the leftover turkey. I added diced celery, onion, dried cranberries and a dab āa mayo. </p><p>Yum, yum! Itāll be good tomorrowā¦ just before the expiration date, lol. </p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-81321100377175555672022-11-28T21:31:00.001-05:002022-11-28T21:31:49.248-05:00Joy and bliss<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaDZ-VqyDpzaNWb-0VU99taX-ggyDXl6x9kQuBqCskP1F4GL-plH5iUgloUp7Hr6EkHItrEwmhKFV4jUqnT-NjAaQtQzmNwjyFg2DVVJXmnSQmkyHzUoHoXaJBpFkCbcoqeyPHG30nxr7vWqlP4imWED5-8qag-c5kv9d_X4hYaYBS4GgQ2ITeK054g/s2049/FBDE56C2-B282-491F-AED7-9176ED650F00.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaDZ-VqyDpzaNWb-0VU99taX-ggyDXl6x9kQuBqCskP1F4GL-plH5iUgloUp7Hr6EkHItrEwmhKFV4jUqnT-NjAaQtQzmNwjyFg2DVVJXmnSQmkyHzUoHoXaJBpFkCbcoqeyPHG30nxr7vWqlP4imWED5-8qag-c5kv9d_X4hYaYBS4GgQ2ITeK054g/s320/FBDE56C2-B282-491F-AED7-9176ED650F00.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>One of my girls took this last week and shared it with me. I thought it was just the most precious photo. The boysā goofy grins express pure joy, reflected, no doubt, in the loving smiles of their mommas and in the warm bright sun beaming down on them from a blue sky. <p></p><p>Pure innocent bliss and plain stinking cute! </p><p>Thatās about all I have for tonight. I had a late meeting and my brain is ātard.ā Iām tard. </p><p>But this little pic was a quick pick-me-up; maybe itāll do the same for you. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-11248716107355990412022-11-27T19:37:00.001-05:002022-11-27T19:37:51.129-05:00Another Thanksgiving dinnerā¦<p> We enjoyed another big turkey dinner with all the trimmings this afternoon. </p><p>As usual, the kids keep things interesting. </p><p>Ivy was obsessed with the kittens and trying to catch them, but they were elusive, always slipping away when she got near. </p><p>And Finn got introduced to the mooing cookie jar. </p><p>Granny G has had that thing since my kids were little, I think. </p><p>Whenever she lifts the lid on the cookie jarāthe lid being its headāit bellows a loud moo, which tends to startle the little ones. Even so, they keep coming back for more. </p><p>Mwoooah!!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbKGC9yYbrfGqqsXtJcmNtR8MQWLigNO5_NMB3jG_PCBcjzfH6FE34QVYRQ2K8ftQiJnqIYZ9QtTcanWP7lHjtSROed639QNDfEOdagB-1Zc9ik9v0iXXJ2-5E-zbcj4IUJ0JBYn0DcMyA2DDL7x_zNq6WhEcJAfAz4MRbOT60HjOOGOWpvRgQotDtg/s2049/8F49A370-3739-4B96-83AB-107807676FE9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbKGC9yYbrfGqqsXtJcmNtR8MQWLigNO5_NMB3jG_PCBcjzfH6FE34QVYRQ2K8ftQiJnqIYZ9QtTcanWP7lHjtSROed639QNDfEOdagB-1Zc9ik9v0iXXJ2-5E-zbcj4IUJ0JBYn0DcMyA2DDL7x_zNq6WhEcJAfAz4MRbOT60HjOOGOWpvRgQotDtg/s320/8F49A370-3739-4B96-83AB-107807676FE9.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finnās eyes were big as quarters. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Granny G. has always enjoyed seeing the kids reaction to the cookie jar. She giggles like a kid herself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Itās funny the random things you associate with certain people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The things theyāll go down in family history for. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The things we will forever have fond memories of. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Like mooing cookie jars. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Or chalk horses. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When we were kids, my aunt Myrl had a scary looking chalk horse on a kitchen cabinet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We would eye that thing warily as we walked past it to get a drink of water from the water bucket on her enamel farmhouse sink. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(The water was drawn from a well behind the house and always seemed to taste so good.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It looked to me like the horse was eyeing us back as we sneaked by it. It had big black circles painted around its eyes! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Creepy! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Makes me wonder what quirky and random thing my grandkids will associate with me after they grow up? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-35113208689715346042022-11-26T21:33:00.000-05:002022-11-26T21:33:16.793-05:00Still decking the halls<p> Decorating is a big job when youāre as unorganized as I amāand when you have kept nearly every piece of garland, every ornament, ever ratty-looking stocking you ever did own in all the 40 years youāve been housekeeping. </p><p>Who would do such a thing? </p><p>But, Iāve been real busy and got a lot done the past coupla days. Iām still debating whether or not to put up the last two treesā¦</p><p>If I do, Iāll just have to take them back down in January. Iām not sure itās worth the effort. </p><p>I will eventually finish decorating this one, I hope. </p><p>But for now, Iāll just enjoy it with the lights on! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iyTibYMvXGe3ttlvyA_dUoUggbqQWZxX5YljPDW-8eopdGu6vPenZONc7iRHncZIIwjgPmdMeDaEixIFHgOn3W_lQRPCuoe40C8y44BRvEAYECW2QM4_l1LLOS7k535CHhYytxuW8_7fXjzxWxuTaqLst-z4d3sKwOTpj2rAUd4o2TQ0LA6UM2x_YA/s4032/36F08790-8364-441A-AD27-4774B0039162.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iyTibYMvXGe3ttlvyA_dUoUggbqQWZxX5YljPDW-8eopdGu6vPenZONc7iRHncZIIwjgPmdMeDaEixIFHgOn3W_lQRPCuoe40C8y44BRvEAYECW2QM4_l1LLOS7k535CHhYytxuW8_7fXjzxWxuTaqLst-z4d3sKwOTpj2rAUd4o2TQ0LA6UM2x_YA/s320/36F08790-8364-441A-AD27-4774B0039162.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-42232996393401171822022-11-25T22:30:00.000-05:002022-11-25T22:30:41.048-05:00Transitioning into another season <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ6D2y59lWesFW0kDe6MfXHnu7PXUrPHjaXpk6X_51hW6w-f2-dxVRyoKMjjTgld7SqoVgubuMPan20Bi6GTSax6DsoAp8mCRYwnm81CBi3_JuqDwUhINxR6FprGTikhWJeJO4v4hV71hKoTd5dv04NoMKHFZD2eDR9Q7KfetKD8dm9TEJm9238FdRA/s4032/BBD532EC-1EB9-41A2-8B83-C02ACEBE0635.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ6D2y59lWesFW0kDe6MfXHnu7PXUrPHjaXpk6X_51hW6w-f2-dxVRyoKMjjTgld7SqoVgubuMPan20Bi6GTSax6DsoAp8mCRYwnm81CBi3_JuqDwUhINxR6FprGTikhWJeJO4v4hV71hKoTd5dv04NoMKHFZD2eDR9Q7KfetKD8dm9TEJm9238FdRA/s320/BBD532EC-1EB9-41A2-8B83-C02ACEBE0635.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Now that Thanksgiving is past, Iāve launched straight into Christmas prep. </p><p>Iāve been messing around and decorating all day. </p><p>For lunch I made myself the tastiest sandwich. I grilled a big ol slice of sourdough in a cast iron skillet with a little olive oil. </p><p>I piled on some turkey, lettuces, a slice of sweet onion, some Mayo, some cranberry sauce and a spoonful of leftover cornbread dressing. </p><p>Yumm! It was soooo good. </p><p>Better than the original meal, I think. </p><p>Iād been simmering the turkey carcass for several hours, and I had 5 quarts of rich bone broth to pour off! </p><p>I put four in the freezer to add to soups, and I kept one in the fridge to heat up later to drink. </p><p>Bone broth is very nourishing and a good alternative broth for cooking ramen noodles. </p><p>Yummm. I need some ramen noodles now. A sprinkle of green onions and a bit of fresh ginger would make them especially nice! </p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-77629825588524650092022-11-24T21:07:00.001-05:002022-11-24T21:09:13.092-05:00Good gravy, what a day<p> I had the turkeys baked, the dressing made, and the pies made, so all I really had to do this morning was make gravy for today's dinner at my sisterās house then we could pack up and head up there. </p><p>Gosh, I struggled with that gravy. I made one batch without much trouble, but it didnāt yield very much so I started another. </p><p>The second batch was so lumpy! I stirred and whisked and scraped ad sweated over the stove. Despite my best efforts, the lumps refused to dissolve. </p><p>I think Mom would have laughed if she could have seen me trying to beat out those lumps. </p><p>After what seemed like hours, I gave up and poured the gravy through a strainer. </p><p>It tasted decent, most of it got eaten, and no one complained. </p><p>Iām still scratching my head though; why does turkey gravy cause me such problems while my breakfast gravy is never lumpy?!</p><p>Another of lifeās great mysteries, </p><p>Anyway, it turned out to be a lovely day, and we spent a lot of it outside. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOELqrbWQ2wS_cTd-2bvjlTEV_FB9QIVVYx4aeqj_ZZhabcqw0ziZcHvfMxVZLfGR0AZo3F0eEEfvNnNJ9vJYf3p4Zpg1gmL7GNdxOUwnV2H6WhBcEscWsTjw48LV2y3iSUNxOd1yPFwxia6KFugQ-0tcQabVGDERGjrH6OqJcd0lrHIGe3RbUeNw5g/s2049/25599D3B-179C-42EC-A788-0E0EC9A8CC5D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOELqrbWQ2wS_cTd-2bvjlTEV_FB9QIVVYx4aeqj_ZZhabcqw0ziZcHvfMxVZLfGR0AZo3F0eEEfvNnNJ9vJYf3p4Zpg1gmL7GNdxOUwnV2H6WhBcEscWsTjw48LV2y3iSUNxOd1yPFwxia6KFugQ-0tcQabVGDERGjrH6OqJcd0lrHIGe3RbUeNw5g/s320/25599D3B-179C-42EC-A788-0E0EC9A8CC5D.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>This picture of dad with some of his grandkids and great grandkids was a challenge to take. </p><p>Well, it wasnāt hard to take, but it was hard to get everyone to look at the camera at the same time! </p><p>Bunch āa turkeys! </p><p>I love them tho. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-12184334024429709372022-11-23T20:10:00.000-05:002022-11-23T20:10:46.236-05:00Birds without feathers bake together<p>Turkeys were a little harder to come by this year. </p><p>I ordered mine from Kroger last week, requesting a 25 pounder. </p><p>They substituted a ten pounder! </p><p>Seriously!? That wonāt go far with my bunch. </p><p>So, I made a trip to an actual store and was able to snag a 14 pound turkey too. </p><p>10+14 = 24, right? Twenty four pounds of turkey. </p><p>But two birds have double the bones, double the waste. </p><p>So, the way I figure it, these two birds may produce less meat than weāre used to. </p><p>Iām sure we wonāt go hungry though, with 47 sides and a coupla dozen desserts accompanying the main attraction. </p><p>The cushaw pies were a success. Iāve āsampledā so much of the one, itās about gone! š</p><p>While baking today, I took down my fall decorations. I felt a twinge of sadness. Where did the season go? </p><p>Where do they all go?</p><p>Round and round and round, it seems. </p><p>We were blessed with a beautiful fall though, and plenty of good memories were made. </p><p>As our little granddaughter sings, we have to ālet it go, let it gooooo.ā</p><p>Time to move on and prepare for the next big thingāChristmas! </p><p>My hubby helped me get the trees down from the storage shed, and the big tree is now in the house so if we have a rainy weekend, Iām ready. </p><p>Ready to deck the halls! </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMEe6KZBaxMFqWqFqBl46kqAGijGMp7MPT6y1Cw-CDMKPlJU2O5rlN8EBM9lpoKeC2ZVxrhnNWdrNOGrQsGalB11Yz4R-7I0D6VuNN4-ZOTd_4osG9mwkUczb3lEzFE9wLg2QcJvzcoEATwbNQsPXjeOkTmbg6KI9nG_oiC2-s8U6y9kvmdhMa8HQFA/s4032/BE9DFDA2-65D2-464C-BF34-CA0F930B3414.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMEe6KZBaxMFqWqFqBl46kqAGijGMp7MPT6y1Cw-CDMKPlJU2O5rlN8EBM9lpoKeC2ZVxrhnNWdrNOGrQsGalB11Yz4R-7I0D6VuNN4-ZOTd_4osG9mwkUczb3lEzFE9wLg2QcJvzcoEATwbNQsPXjeOkTmbg6KI9nG_oiC2-s8U6y9kvmdhMa8HQFA/s320/BE9DFDA2-65D2-464C-BF34-CA0F930B3414.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />After we eat those turkeys. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-34730826919246666882022-11-22T20:56:00.000-05:002022-11-22T20:56:43.772-05:00Cushaw pie about to happen <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtP-ygK0OyfP0fCl7NaEVypPuTtPKTx7zfxW9VX6QXCZ1RRWieuOkHXesfHkkBUAF9jQt-_R751SYfzzSK6veU-fAa1x0bldeospnyPXfxQQ3925CGtHKBwwRCGtyCC6uM1Ahwt-VLRqcvz8VoRjPQRMvJLUezrSIl42NHYt0wgt8Zoj9xuXkGTaUALQ/s4032/1D003054-F40C-4726-BE6E-70F236CD858E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtP-ygK0OyfP0fCl7NaEVypPuTtPKTx7zfxW9VX6QXCZ1RRWieuOkHXesfHkkBUAF9jQt-_R751SYfzzSK6veU-fAa1x0bldeospnyPXfxQQ3925CGtHKBwwRCGtyCC6uM1Ahwt-VLRqcvz8VoRjPQRMvJLUezrSIl42NHYt0wgt8Zoj9xuXkGTaUALQ/s320/1D003054-F40C-4726-BE6E-70F236CD858E.jpeg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD7m2azyDRJNnRrhm9QcX5OymaXpxnnJ_joKtP6CbtFae1AqytshNGXTGd7zYv-JBqqrzfAjJ1o1S6y0m8OE9a7QyAn1gZAzeZeIBJi-Dch32cHPZxfHWSxQJKVx5mmfgwXcgghy2TNCYk8s-QzcLg7f0KqnffFTFx_lN0dhaWMaTHpjsca7woaEMcQ/s1792/440F2898-C95D-483E-A49E-870ADCC14DBE.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD7m2azyDRJNnRrhm9QcX5OymaXpxnnJ_joKtP6CbtFae1AqytshNGXTGd7zYv-JBqqrzfAjJ1o1S6y0m8OE9a7QyAn1gZAzeZeIBJi-Dch32cHPZxfHWSxQJKVx5mmfgwXcgghy2TNCYk8s-QzcLg7f0KqnffFTFx_lN0dhaWMaTHpjsca7woaEMcQ/s320/440F2898-C95D-483E-A49E-870ADCC14DBE.png" width="148" /></a></div><br /></div><br />Cushaw pie is a pretty labor intensive process, because you canāt go to the grocery and buy a can of it like you can pumpkin. <p></p><div>We grew a few cushaws this summer, mostly for fall decorating, but I like to make pies with one or two. Itās a thanksgiving tradition in our family. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cushaw is similar to pumpkin, but itās lighter in color, more yellow than orange, and to me has a milder creamier flavor. The pie calls for more nutmeg than cinnamon. Actually, this recipe doesnāt have any cinnamon, come to think of it, which is how I remember the cushaw pies of my youth. I loved their nutmeg flavor, but I think my sister did not for this very reason--they tasted like nutmeg. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love this pie cold, and itās better after itās been made a couple of days or so. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mom always made these pies at Thanksgiving because they are my dadās favorite. </div><div><br /></div><div>I made them last year because Mom was in the hospital at Thanksgiving. She was released in time to eat dinner with us here at my house, but she didnāt get to make any of her specialties. </div><div><br /></div><div>I donāt have her original recipe, but this one is very similar. In the past, if I had questions about how to make it, Iād call her and ask her. </div><div><br /></div><div>This year, I canāt do that. I think of things I want to ask her all the time. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Iām going to attempt these pies, and I may shed some tears while doing it, but I need to make them for Dad, and for the rest of us who like them. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, I cut the cushaw, that large green striped curvy squash of a thing, into big chunks and roasted it a couple days ago. </div><div>Cushaw is like butternut, itās hard to peel, but if you bake it a while, it softens and is easier to peel. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mom did not do it this way. She somehow peeled those big old squashes with her old worn butcher knife, holding it Brenda Gandt style. Sheād cut it up in neat cubes, then cook it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Iām not that patient, so I roasted mine so I could rip and tear and slice the soft yellow flesh from that tough skin. I was not neat about it. I'm rough on my food. It doesn't stand a chance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, I cooked it some more so that the flesh is very tender. If it isnāt cooked well, itāll be stringy and unappetizing, and we canāt have that, lol. </div><div><br /></div><div>Itās also important to drain the cooked cushaw in a colander before mixing in the eggs, cream and spices. We donāt want our pie runny and unappetizing either. </div><div><br /></div><div>So my cooked cushaw is draining in the sink as we speak. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFRqo6hJUfU9Hvp2nn_kOFQRnMjNONpun8zNBid5qwMtOm4lhVBD6XaDC8KS7PFiycbHa6p0XhGXKZ49cqMWlobKhwGmkBSFuPTcCDGme2T_jDgEa435BHM0FWw6CFydDbfP-tl4cBCzl0ZM6ns8SzK78KnVp_rUBVKrF0GgJ20VjoXroYlaGtUISdA/s4032/526DA838-0CD4-4EE1-BDC0-4C041014D629.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFRqo6hJUfU9Hvp2nn_kOFQRnMjNONpun8zNBid5qwMtOm4lhVBD6XaDC8KS7PFiycbHa6p0XhGXKZ49cqMWlobKhwGmkBSFuPTcCDGme2T_jDgEa435BHM0FWw6CFydDbfP-tl4cBCzl0ZM6ns8SzK78KnVp_rUBVKrF0GgJ20VjoXroYlaGtUISdA/s320/526DA838-0CD4-4EE1-BDC0-4C041014D629.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow I plan to bake these pies. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully they will be edible, good even. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully they will do Momās cushaw pies some kind of justice. </div><div><br /></div><div>Weāll see. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-22243466292006271832022-11-21T20:32:00.003-05:002022-11-21T20:32:35.273-05:00Thanksgiving prep: Bake cornbread<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sexeoxXJ9fsiUWcuFYNJVay6TRAzuN5LVszTt8sW3OuoP-WcxGjnME2tL6mBtedrjhIKc-Ts640ZwZTmg2WF43jEEwi9HIsEykFZ5JEUwjL0Z7oPAByYGTnXVEmbDNTGtNF9N52kJhH_hvM6grJuLhDtjGuISzuFS_UDmy9Z_qvBexJ8pElCzJmgDw/s4032/E380A4E8-808E-41E3-96F6-D7B0019C8F61.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sexeoxXJ9fsiUWcuFYNJVay6TRAzuN5LVszTt8sW3OuoP-WcxGjnME2tL6mBtedrjhIKc-Ts640ZwZTmg2WF43jEEwi9HIsEykFZ5JEUwjL0Z7oPAByYGTnXVEmbDNTGtNF9N52kJhH_hvM6grJuLhDtjGuISzuFS_UDmy9Z_qvBexJ8pElCzJmgDw/w240-h320/E380A4E8-808E-41E3-96F6-D7B0019C8F61.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> What a Monday/Tuesday all rolled into one. <p></p><p>Our printer gave us an early deadline and my brain is sore this evening. </p><p>Pages sent, two meetings attended after that. </p><p>I think Iām suffering from too much information induced indigestion of the brain! </p><p>I sat through one of the meetings and pondered why I needed to know how many county roads there are, or how much will be spent on three defibrillators for CSEPP, etc. </p><p>So I can pass this info on to our dear readers, of course. </p><p>I did learn that the health department will come to you to give vaccinations if you canāt easily get out. </p><p>Before my meetings I had a break long enough to bake a pretty pone of cornbread. </p><p>What we didnāt eat for supper, I will allow to dry for cornbread dressing on Thursday. </p><p>Let the festivities begin! </p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-5762898174394272302022-11-20T21:09:00.000-05:002022-11-20T21:09:07.549-05:00Thanksgiving week begins<p>November has simply flown by, and here we are beginning the week of Thanksgivingā a time to be extra mindful of our blessings. </p><p>Tonight Iām thankful for my cozy corner when itās cold outside, for someone to share life with, for the pleasantly mindless chatter of a ballgame on tv in the next room. </p><p>Iām thankful for the freedom to gather to worship. Iām thankful for those who have answered the call to be pastors in this ageā¦never an easy task, but especially not now. </p><p>Iām thankful for generations of family. The young ones so brighten the days of the oldest ones, and itās a joy to see them together. </p><p>Iām thankful for the health and energy to manage days that I sometimes feel are too full. </p><p>Iām thankful for all the reasons my days are fullā¦ home and farm and work and family and friends. </p><p>The more we consider our blessings, the better we can see them. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5Ve3cZvnAQkiYmqYlCzCtg3p8uJXH9-tT3HQFaJBLJDBeFjKgxkDw926P4FuwABo2Au3leXRXb604r34mMOKlkBF7gg1BXiT3dp_4-6qBo6KYYd-YcnlehZpXqgEIWipRO7-u90lOY3XdVggRVhGXABCh-DGhZ29VK_C8JjOkptPz94qzJbPeWZ2ug/s4032/A5DD2BDC-C5BE-4818-B634-9B55EAC069DF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5Ve3cZvnAQkiYmqYlCzCtg3p8uJXH9-tT3HQFaJBLJDBeFjKgxkDw926P4FuwABo2Au3leXRXb604r34mMOKlkBF7gg1BXiT3dp_4-6qBo6KYYd-YcnlehZpXqgEIWipRO7-u90lOY3XdVggRVhGXABCh-DGhZ29VK_C8JjOkptPz94qzJbPeWZ2ug/s320/A5DD2BDC-C5BE-4818-B634-9B55EAC069DF.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-60403580858623700972022-11-19T20:03:00.000-05:002022-11-19T20:03:10.138-05:00Hot salsa on a cold day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzc2_--yMuLKnR2jpfmZMbTd0KzDk9kuSZ4fYbtULDgDcPTHs6GkgMoQ5OV0FQuslLPtHTe1z-OQSZTY47V3nl83NMsVL7L8O04Dv03aFuJSN1dGyyU4rp9l7VgWQakVjczXTyDbzbIlliMdag3XPJejhVTYKKkvKwOBIWpe0gxkKkFoWiG010vgHVg/s4032/EB7A9FA2-5C44-42FA-A3D0-888072F6EDB1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzc2_--yMuLKnR2jpfmZMbTd0KzDk9kuSZ4fYbtULDgDcPTHs6GkgMoQ5OV0FQuslLPtHTe1z-OQSZTY47V3nl83NMsVL7L8O04Dv03aFuJSN1dGyyU4rp9l7VgWQakVjczXTyDbzbIlliMdag3XPJejhVTYKKkvKwOBIWpe0gxkKkFoWiG010vgHVg/s320/EB7A9FA2-5C44-42FA-A3D0-888072F6EDB1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgXEzhBq8OT1uJAUGKBBkSFjWifeWsEpnAIVg5ubLlLDZVeb5259Q82yhQvt3hbqKtqeJfChH5VPovHMMjjsj9eKi8pI-r2XioPq36ztbKtRRvTUgydisLK10QZ_lrOxZQrHCbDW2gB3yt6YdFyh7DPPbL4tp054VfVxQ2y15YyvnIyMK2urSEtGtcQ/s4032/1E114981-D331-400A-BF43-90D61E0C3632.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgXEzhBq8OT1uJAUGKBBkSFjWifeWsEpnAIVg5ubLlLDZVeb5259Q82yhQvt3hbqKtqeJfChH5VPovHMMjjsj9eKi8pI-r2XioPq36ztbKtRRvTUgydisLK10QZ_lrOxZQrHCbDW2gB3yt6YdFyh7DPPbL4tp054VfVxQ2y15YyvnIyMK2urSEtGtcQ/s320/1E114981-D331-400A-BF43-90D61E0C3632.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> The day began with a thick layer of frost. It was 10.30 or so when I took this photo of lingering iciness on the car! <p></p><p>The sun shined bright today though; itās been a beautiful day. </p><p>Beautiful but chilly, so I spent most of the day indoors, canning salsa, making tomato juice and putting out a few Christmas decorations! </p><p>While I appreciate still having tasty homegrown tomatoes in mid- November, Iām kinda over the garden, on the other hand. </p><p>Iām sure the 16 degree cold killed everything except the cabbage in the high tunnel, but we picked all those maters the other day, and I couldnāt let them go to waste. </p><p>So, I canned salsa and started Christmas. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiHZ856hx0-Va8xEIi-qHfR2_N2UNVBb-RB894kRGOu07qeLhMfqSL65H0av2tJJYI6Gqow9cHWoWTrwJkB4lLf4RzS83TpSNiYhEdVBtUFwiqeyQv_3NkbvBkCfBZ4k8rHgddgaDx03To9IE0_JqWKTjb8JTTGOIHyW9Lhx4_Mpof1fytzwEQCUJlA/s4032/F3006952-3EE7-4A93-B74D-FD255342D6C3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiHZ856hx0-Va8xEIi-qHfR2_N2UNVBb-RB894kRGOu07qeLhMfqSL65H0av2tJJYI6Gqow9cHWoWTrwJkB4lLf4RzS83TpSNiYhEdVBtUFwiqeyQv_3NkbvBkCfBZ4k8rHgddgaDx03To9IE0_JqWKTjb8JTTGOIHyW9Lhx4_Mpof1fytzwEQCUJlA/s320/F3006952-3EE7-4A93-B74D-FD255342D6C3.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Maybe Iāll leave salsa out for Santa or give it as gifts. </p><p>Reckon Santa would like that? </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-79147819597820803382022-11-18T23:05:00.002-05:002022-11-18T23:05:37.796-05:00I hope the woolly worm is right! <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9yx0A7ba7vem53UzsVafhjkA2Yd8DkcFkTwuCjFheHTSKT46c2h4GuX0ZThFqXIkuZqFEh5xfxjkJker-7mSka4PMNAvGtswu3Wy5oElsaxgppnogBr3NfML8nc-giQCvjYSfNZdeHDgElPG43MotyqIkzpbgvpmDJSCLUzs7epeCYS_KVU1tPJsmw/s2048/266965AC-F511-47C3-8A5D-47F84B21AF97.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9yx0A7ba7vem53UzsVafhjkA2Yd8DkcFkTwuCjFheHTSKT46c2h4GuX0ZThFqXIkuZqFEh5xfxjkJker-7mSka4PMNAvGtswu3Wy5oElsaxgppnogBr3NfML8nc-giQCvjYSfNZdeHDgElPG43MotyqIkzpbgvpmDJSCLUzs7epeCYS_KVU1tPJsmw/s320/266965AC-F511-47C3-8A5D-47F84B21AF97.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Old timers say brown in the middle of a woolly worm means there will be a mild spell in the middle of winterāthe black represents a cold beginning and a cold ending to the winter. <p></p><p>I hope they are right! We seem to be in the thick of a cold beginning, which Iām hoping wonāt last long. </p><p>I really do not like being cold.</p><p>However, I am grateful for a relatively warm house. Itās painful to think that there are people who donāt have a warm place to stay. </p><p>Brrrr!!</p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-25417308007303636932022-11-17T21:27:00.002-05:002022-11-17T21:27:46.934-05:00Day 17: Giving credit where credit is due<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLi58FP27YrIhZm0HB8Aewbxs4nLuvbM8mHxdifYMkYRyxmlpz5fUh7RP1HdMJ6fR6B2xM3nUheH5EY9vqSuzZDGmWeOzfgoCqFw5Zr1BLl9e5hqdh4GHRm0hUdjMVlnTqtG0BAQlhk7IB_mwd9qCFyR7qSOFzuEiREXdUQh0mo62PsG14g0HMhM1bw/s2048/B08EFB07-F417-4488-972E-A57F78C404EA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLi58FP27YrIhZm0HB8Aewbxs4nLuvbM8mHxdifYMkYRyxmlpz5fUh7RP1HdMJ6fR6B2xM3nUheH5EY9vqSuzZDGmWeOzfgoCqFw5Zr1BLl9e5hqdh4GHRm0hUdjMVlnTqtG0BAQlhk7IB_mwd9qCFyR7qSOFzuEiREXdUQh0mo62PsG14g0HMhM1bw/s320/B08EFB07-F417-4488-972E-A57F78C404EA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Since I typically only write these blog posts in November, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the photos of the landscape that I use tend to be monochromatic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So I thought Iād dig a little deeper in my camera roll and find something a bit more colorful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ahhhh, green grass and wildflowers. Who else is ready for winter to be over soon? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyway, tonight I covered one of my favorite events to cover for the newspaper, and that is the Kiwanis Clubās Farm-City Banquet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Every year, the Kiwanis Club presents awards to a couple of farmers and a farm-related business. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Being a farm gal myself, Iām always happy to see farmers be appreciated. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Farming is not a job that people typically associate with accolades and achievements. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Farming is humble and dirty work. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Farmers wear grimy jeans, sweaty shirts, and muddy boots instead of suits, ties and shiny shoes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Although farming might seem like menial work, feeding the world is pretty important, donāt you think? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Did you know that only two percent of the United States population are farmers? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Adversity is about the only guarantee a farmer has, whether they deal with supply and demand issues or the weather, but every farmer I know is a pro at figuring out ways to work around whatever daily challenge presents itself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For all these reasons and many more, Iām happy to play a part in giving credit to the hard-working farming community. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-66606545638275479562022-11-16T20:42:00.004-05:002022-11-16T20:42:57.582-05:00The pie was good! <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The pie was good! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I donāt make apple pies very often, so I was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, except the crust was placed a little crooked in the pan. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I drizzled a little bit of melted caramel on it too. Yumm! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had some visitors today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We convinced Ivy to try on this fancy dress so we could send her daddy a picture and surprise him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8JQxmxxzONVL6hHdds8G9Krc-qh0zLu8zbmcK1tiH6iJ80cx0B7ILohJFz2O31hf7lnVetpvRrprNmWR2l9eCnF3CNv4GT6_ADboT3_F8pWNoFZs6E2ztDpm_YzIAJEtommfrxYGV3zqybYmS6hBz5Lhz-uVS5u64BXr9p8_9r1u0-LHdc4jcfxg5A/s4032/B9534AF0-FAAF-49E6-9CA0-5FE66E0312A6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8JQxmxxzONVL6hHdds8G9Krc-qh0zLu8zbmcK1tiH6iJ80cx0B7ILohJFz2O31hf7lnVetpvRrprNmWR2l9eCnF3CNv4GT6_ADboT3_F8pWNoFZs6E2ztDpm_YzIAJEtommfrxYGV3zqybYmS6hBz5Lhz-uVS5u64BXr9p8_9r1u0-LHdc4jcfxg5A/s320/B9534AF0-FAAF-49E6-9CA0-5FE66E0312A6.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Sheās a hard one to photographāhardly ever still. Pretty girl, nonetheless! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBc9l-K3M5IdEL_0Dx4MYH6pddJxmMP6yhPNdmPmM9Qja1T3CufzioGHIo_bPpnWwZEL227r8zamRm60iUnMeDBctMFYbuSI_OUl6w7cVftnE-Fxpu7jxlGrlLaK5RVZ-iQcg6UHoPIJCuELiF_wqBAEPQLMceLIRQLkP8mQ0LRMqq4TGRUIMgEnYVQ/s4032/E565EF30-DB44-4048-AE7A-EC8C7EC6A8D1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBc9l-K3M5IdEL_0Dx4MYH6pddJxmMP6yhPNdmPmM9Qja1T3CufzioGHIo_bPpnWwZEL227r8zamRm60iUnMeDBctMFYbuSI_OUl6w7cVftnE-Fxpu7jxlGrlLaK5RVZ-iQcg6UHoPIJCuELiF_wqBAEPQLMceLIRQLkP8mQ0LRMqq4TGRUIMgEnYVQ/s320/E565EF30-DB44-4048-AE7A-EC8C7EC6A8D1.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was so cold out today! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So cold that Miles didnāt pull his hat offā¦ I imagine it felt pretty good to him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yUx6GuOvGg7PDcyn89K6Hh6v0MxsxDdVyedG-prcXT87IArhgrVuh0ONAbdHSDtKyOz-xQWor4GwuMh3jbNhDwfTbDEtoac6ENZyayzFfmo_VclKgt2CdELX0wf41rAeU2d6e91fRfFm7aZ8OCQHB54OZANBrw6N57nW30xc0I93-UUUGdeRJfk5WQ/s4032/1A9163C5-9EF6-4403-AB67-46D121E30765.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yUx6GuOvGg7PDcyn89K6Hh6v0MxsxDdVyedG-prcXT87IArhgrVuh0ONAbdHSDtKyOz-xQWor4GwuMh3jbNhDwfTbDEtoac6ENZyayzFfmo_VclKgt2CdELX0wf41rAeU2d6e91fRfFm7aZ8OCQHB54OZANBrw6N57nW30xc0I93-UUUGdeRJfk5WQ/s320/1A9163C5-9EF6-4403-AB67-46D121E30765.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I didnāt get pics of all the cuties. Those grandkids hop around like a roomful of jackrabbits! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-44471653888621684872022-11-15T20:41:00.000-05:002022-11-15T20:41:20.637-05:00Pie, but which way? <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVzcwNyEQ6rNLs-tnC4g1qkVMU7vIBKSnkT5uSOb4IxjLFQa5i_0YrDma0aqZO3yAxFnWq9kkPmWAejL-ZkaG7pWSdtJ29BqcqCOC3dUiri2VHHTyBCmMP22XNopi6KPgTigce8ZsfbFjaBXnIMw49MA_H9HlToSOdOmGoE5ZWA2PVznuWYtoxZujvw/s4032/230C21F8-B419-4D8D-B98D-B3B56BE6B084.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVVzcwNyEQ6rNLs-tnC4g1qkVMU7vIBKSnkT5uSOb4IxjLFQa5i_0YrDma0aqZO3yAxFnWq9kkPmWAejL-ZkaG7pWSdtJ29BqcqCOC3dUiri2VHHTyBCmMP22XNopi6KPgTigce8ZsfbFjaBXnIMw49MA_H9HlToSOdOmGoE5ZWA2PVznuWYtoxZujvw/s320/230C21F8-B419-4D8D-B98D-B3B56BE6B084.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>We were gifted some locally grown Granny Smith apples the other day, and they were developing some dark spots, so I figured Iād better do something with them.<p></p><p>I debated with myself about making apple bread, apple cake, apple pie. Iāve decided to make pie.</p><p>But which kind of pie? </p><p>A lattice topped apple pie?</p><p>A Dutch Apple pie? </p><p>A pecan crumble apple pie? A caramel apple pecan crumble pie? Or a pecan oatmeal caramel crumble apple pie? </p><p>Ummm, that sounds good. They all do. I think Iāll make an oatmeal pecan crumble caramel apple pie.</p><p>I have my apples all peeled and sliced and sugared and spiced with cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. </p><p>My house is going to smell soooo good tomorrow. </p><p>And Iāll probably burn my tongue in my hurry to taste the pie because Iām impatient like that. </p><p>Maybe Iāll take a picture to share if my apple pie topped with pecan oatmeal crumble and drizzled with warm salted caramel sauce and served a la mode isnāt a flop. </p><p>Maybe. If I donāt gobble it up before I remember to take a pic. </p><p>š</p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-91202357607189546242022-11-14T22:02:00.001-05:002022-11-14T22:02:22.958-05:00Shucks, yeah, weāll eat cornbread<p> A few days ago, when it was warm and sunny, we shucked our Hickory King corn and placed it in crates where it will be well ventilated and can dry out good before we have it ground. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo3HzrIt5gHSwQm-jdlaDAR7bdv2QX0FE91m3HOHJPNhYskHVOXzpEyOl49p9bRKRSFx-pY0O4CG01bK-DEHOpGLQAlmEFrEermn6lxDwT8MLZ-7PftyuY5dQLENoLmZH-tq4IMCrvjuyMk0ottT1EwXMvoMzDlkrP558x7yNLEiZd-nmO-cQpqlHpA/s4032/FBF2A400-A7A6-4760-BFDA-5D8250258F29.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo3HzrIt5gHSwQm-jdlaDAR7bdv2QX0FE91m3HOHJPNhYskHVOXzpEyOl49p9bRKRSFx-pY0O4CG01bK-DEHOpGLQAlmEFrEermn6lxDwT8MLZ-7PftyuY5dQLENoLmZH-tq4IMCrvjuyMk0ottT1EwXMvoMzDlkrP558x7yNLEiZd-nmO-cQpqlHpA/s320/FBF2A400-A7A6-4760-BFDA-5D8250258F29.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTzl98CA4QiAaA2H6GocRDUSiQgzOLrRydWedyP5q75DCr1GxII9ZZrqXZvd5z5RRs0iwqTMIlaSZVSduvh95nXK-Sw4SMSv6K4fGS5DeKSyRG_6NT8p0cl1F45Vz7mEWh3pfLlX9RIB6Uplcl7_EcMCBBJlpHDd0aHNUwtqS3Uaxwyr7hpr4iqsdYw/s4032/EB8C267C-86FD-4BC3-AEB7-49CED4EA6486.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTzl98CA4QiAaA2H6GocRDUSiQgzOLrRydWedyP5q75DCr1GxII9ZZrqXZvd5z5RRs0iwqTMIlaSZVSduvh95nXK-Sw4SMSv6K4fGS5DeKSyRG_6NT8p0cl1F45Vz7mEWh3pfLlX9RIB6Uplcl7_EcMCBBJlpHDd0aHNUwtqS3Uaxwyr7hpr4iqsdYw/s320/EB8C267C-86FD-4BC3-AEB7-49CED4EA6486.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmC-hKrQETpKItSyoR53m4GCS56svwX6zsKURPIghCffVT4Jo_XFg4KrJ11JSrSNQziX0YghlsAOj4ev2zCHrF3TtRVAZ7ng36zhGzGcUlbodnx6fnYPaaF2tjxgzKJgtBezKrP8oPa27SbqcxxzINo5RvLwOFdoOgetJRvIuAg9r-WpvZl0XqA2xLA/s4032/B0BE7C2A-9A3A-4564-85E0-F365C1C3AF35.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmC-hKrQETpKItSyoR53m4GCS56svwX6zsKURPIghCffVT4Jo_XFg4KrJ11JSrSNQziX0YghlsAOj4ev2zCHrF3TtRVAZ7ng36zhGzGcUlbodnx6fnYPaaF2tjxgzKJgtBezKrP8oPa27SbqcxxzINo5RvLwOFdoOgetJRvIuAg9r-WpvZl0XqA2xLA/s320/B0BE7C2A-9A3A-4564-85E0-F365C1C3AF35.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>How can it not be dry already, I asked my hubby. <p></p><p>After three months with little rain?! How could it not be dry?</p><p>This was before we got some rain. </p><p>Soon we will have this little corn crop ground into cornmeal. </p><p>Then, weāll eat cornbread! Hoecakes. Maybe even try some cornmeal mush or something. </p><p>Itāll be good! </p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-24473220218625474372022-11-13T21:12:00.001-05:002022-11-13T21:12:44.464-05:00Barn art brings back memories <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoc4HCp7XzOcsn6IoDrJKHDy6eTYv1mLMEI6H32iZzQpIcDm4sIa4QNAsA8gMQp4pO2VIqZUXwTts5NMMxJfMeBFQKo8eUojDHHroTN1td45WbrH7hKZ9ZR4-c7BZRB_VUdHb2GzCT1lEMROeQK5qkr64_BIRuhM72paaGVXltFRDiibYgWGQANDgsgw/s2604/ED6F55DF-D8C4-42A4-8A50-8BA44E137006.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2604" data-original-width="2445" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoc4HCp7XzOcsn6IoDrJKHDy6eTYv1mLMEI6H32iZzQpIcDm4sIa4QNAsA8gMQp4pO2VIqZUXwTts5NMMxJfMeBFQKo8eUojDHHroTN1td45WbrH7hKZ9ZR4-c7BZRB_VUdHb2GzCT1lEMROeQK5qkr64_BIRuhM72paaGVXltFRDiibYgWGQANDgsgw/s320/ED6F55DF-D8C4-42A4-8A50-8BA44E137006.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p><br /></p>The cold weather discouraged me from lingering outside today for long, so I snapped this photo through my car window. <p></p><p>This barn quilt has found a new home. </p><p>My sister and I painted it years ago for our aunt, who was just captivated when she saw my barn quilt, also painted by Sis and myself. So we decided to paint one for Aunt and surprise her with it on her 90th birthday, I believe it was. </p><p>After my aunt passed, her farm was sold. The new owners removed the barn quilt to paint the barn and graciously allowed us to take the quilt and keep it in the family. </p><p>My brother hung it on his tobacco barn this weekend, and I think it looks right at home. </p><p>Every time I see it, I will think of Aunt Ruth and how impressed she was that a quilt could be painted and hung on a barn. </p><p>Being a talented seamstress, she recognized the work and detail that went into beautiful handmade quilts, whether they be painted on or sewn. </p><p>I like to think that the sight of the barn quilt out her window lifted her spirits a little during her last years.</p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-68034299606516123032022-11-12T21:06:00.001-05:002022-11-12T21:06:40.247-05:00Winterās here?!?<p> Wait! </p><p>What happened to that extended Indian summer weāve been enjoying? </p><p>Overnight, it feels like winter. Brrrr. Iām ready for spring. </p><p>Because weāve had a long warm fall, our tomatoes have survived and flourished. With subfreezing temperatures predicted, we figgurred weād better pick āem. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsInezxQzj1AicnL67IciPzaKRhNq2O3qO60Uce9jqcG8eZE1K1Twnb7G6rOYfSZ99wP_Y0Wk_AIXWS60dbgrlD_AcYwe8zY8xlct0ur6S-6ZmpRzeYRB7cA7MljncQCjj2ITbc5dUc0oBaEAR7hnF86wm28MiqRV9kQNdlZrykENZ7L1pHJEYApyXg/s1008/5E1E0EE4-A405-41F7-835B-3B18B512EFC5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="756" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsInezxQzj1AicnL67IciPzaKRhNq2O3qO60Uce9jqcG8eZE1K1Twnb7G6rOYfSZ99wP_Y0Wk_AIXWS60dbgrlD_AcYwe8zY8xlct0ur6S-6ZmpRzeYRB7cA7MljncQCjj2ITbc5dUc0oBaEAR7hnF86wm28MiqRV9kQNdlZrykENZ7L1pHJEYApyXg/s320/5E1E0EE4-A405-41F7-835B-3B18B512EFC5.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>So we did. Eleven trays full, and some green ones too. </p><p>This afternoon we entertained three sweeties. </p><p>We watched football, ate chili, made sāmore dip, read board books and snuggled. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKbqYD4WuhmiCv8W_lzHVHpvR-QQ7wHPpLTC9r-NJsqJ_xb4Zepdxx9tePbUD1uxnNLtb1UrU9dDzpH0EcetkbeXGM6LNn1k-3pOVHMRQ1q370i6igrd3wh-M_-b9lFsm1U3Fsk-3rDf_pv8OBAQzb6q4S3aN6-i6XwFSRLd1O1dCrPERpijatHOSUA/s4032/A1A36060-3D82-42EC-826A-F1386832921B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKbqYD4WuhmiCv8W_lzHVHpvR-QQ7wHPpLTC9r-NJsqJ_xb4Zepdxx9tePbUD1uxnNLtb1UrU9dDzpH0EcetkbeXGM6LNn1k-3pOVHMRQ1q370i6igrd3wh-M_-b9lFsm1U3Fsk-3rDf_pv8OBAQzb6q4S3aN6-i6XwFSRLd1O1dCrPERpijatHOSUA/s320/A1A36060-3D82-42EC-826A-F1386832921B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcD19SmOInZpaedQFQ_5LwZCmUwA8rWckbFor8H4y22327b14pOKIgewIBMlAfd-fA9VMGvJc8Itg4apZVMcRj9r0JCfpvDOgBikMK4fjLGpYkr3szEY2lnq2fk2sVYZF8U9MVfnW6SVb0NytExCS94tmzErjdjB1QTdGPtvrOpGu1ZqCxNNPhDpGo1w/s4032/4451792E-4C96-4E2C-8C33-7DBB2512B666.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcD19SmOInZpaedQFQ_5LwZCmUwA8rWckbFor8H4y22327b14pOKIgewIBMlAfd-fA9VMGvJc8Itg4apZVMcRj9r0JCfpvDOgBikMK4fjLGpYkr3szEY2lnq2fk2sVYZF8U9MVfnW6SVb0NytExCS94tmzErjdjB1QTdGPtvrOpGu1ZqCxNNPhDpGo1w/s320/4451792E-4C96-4E2C-8C33-7DBB2512B666.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t6IJrqUNQ1QYgJpuW1QEfjzdAHlelScfSYDK9-B6MjzKEr47Sc9V7331JgW8p9iV1lWlaAflpUn6YmAUwva0Gu45il6BDE4bGLRCEEJRZV9l84A692dlyufRpamVer2S2Nh0anKrWwwELzFCk2Le0-OXg3ceF2FDv2J6bq4YCcxkRc-EaIh4CONX-A/s3088/65BBB86A-399E-4929-8C76-63C64B8F134F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t6IJrqUNQ1QYgJpuW1QEfjzdAHlelScfSYDK9-B6MjzKEr47Sc9V7331JgW8p9iV1lWlaAflpUn6YmAUwva0Gu45il6BDE4bGLRCEEJRZV9l84A692dlyufRpamVer2S2Nh0anKrWwwELzFCk2Le0-OXg3ceF2FDv2J6bq4YCcxkRc-EaIh4CONX-A/s320/65BBB86A-399E-4929-8C76-63C64B8F134F.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>After the kiddos went home, pops and I did something we seldom do. We watched a movie! </p><p>Where the Crawdads Sing is now on Netflix. </p><p>I had read and enjoyed the book, and was pleasantly surprised that the movie was good too! Better than I expected, really. </p><p>Check it out one of these cold evenings. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-66619895026507142782022-11-11T19:56:00.000-05:002022-11-11T19:56:51.840-05:00A whole different kind of dayā¦<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_f7LEDH9_pcxYM4YsedYxAMk_RCrzQ5hq3bofvcL-7F79qSmKcMNeIo7nqC3l8h8Gyd4lY8NgKDglmtxt5LnyDFrOo3WN51HDQAxtCdFBb_rVyvWsCH36lEIYpMXwQY69biukkrbi3AzrFZoufBNVLwnmBCaOA_GTkru9_WmuHhC72B1ecnGPbf20A/s4032/F7F26B5C-6C1B-47BE-914A-D3398F5EA42D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_f7LEDH9_pcxYM4YsedYxAMk_RCrzQ5hq3bofvcL-7F79qSmKcMNeIo7nqC3l8h8Gyd4lY8NgKDglmtxt5LnyDFrOo3WN51HDQAxtCdFBb_rVyvWsCH36lEIYpMXwQY69biukkrbi3AzrFZoufBNVLwnmBCaOA_GTkru9_WmuHhC72B1ecnGPbf20A/s320/F7F26B5C-6C1B-47BE-914A-D3398F5EA42D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>I donāt know when Iāve ever been so happy to see rain. To hear it on the roof, to smell the dampening earth and the freshening air as the rain dispersed the smoke that had settled in the valleys. </p><p>On my way to work this morning, I had to stop and snap this photo from just out the road, overlooking our farm. </p><p>I thought the layer of smoke/fog looked so pretty. </p><p>And so different from yesterdayās hot dry smokiness. </p><p>I never get tired of looking at these mountains! They are constant, but always changing, if ya know what I mean. </p><p>Iām sure all those directly affected by the fires were happy to see the rain too, whether they lived close to the stricken area or were battling the blazes. </p><p>We can all breath easier, literally and figuratively! </p><p>Natural disasters have a way of putting us in our place, donāt they? </p><p>They remind us that we are no match for the elements, and sufficient rainfall is not to be taken for granted.</p><p>They also remind us that weāre all connected in unexpected ways, that we breathe the same air and that a careless act can have some serious repercussions. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-7488461452459341882022-11-10T20:01:00.000-05:002022-11-10T20:01:02.767-05:00So dry the fish are dying<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxyZPl-lhsW2lHCun-HQMTqeWmRXpRqRld-TY60A_FX4boXjeAPxCT_NwHPEuSZ17mUWVfAi_G4cvrEiCZxndk6eFVpUlC8Va1tsTDjcfxbvSgVGJ05NJluc0fqn9uOdeaLE2vBEHF4edlvxJpWGl5TI4eOSDCP7gtJM8J4Q6N-_Tfm1JBNoEgfssDA/s2049/3C488BC7-4E41-4A6E-9E76-DFEC9A3F2900.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxyZPl-lhsW2lHCun-HQMTqeWmRXpRqRld-TY60A_FX4boXjeAPxCT_NwHPEuSZ17mUWVfAi_G4cvrEiCZxndk6eFVpUlC8Va1tsTDjcfxbvSgVGJ05NJluc0fqn9uOdeaLE2vBEHF4edlvxJpWGl5TI4eOSDCP7gtJM8J4Q6N-_Tfm1JBNoEgfssDA/s320/3C488BC7-4E41-4A6E-9E76-DFEC9A3F2900.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TOpb5NmdzS8wb4K9ZL3UpGqkVtgO8sqRmO5ynS8-Ps-D_3MIv86SeGV7FP9sXkLv4oXhG_pjUE9H0_5cJSUfhQc4eS_0ydVjAle1iZ5Zio5JY0IKn7aJ1KTj8bjGMzbthj4Qk8yYDnRDL9bpsma-zWGchLwfCBVt4bA771lldwE1X3puJ7xzPbHXBw/s2049/67A99BA1-3497-4AA0-B258-D8E910F6B102.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TOpb5NmdzS8wb4K9ZL3UpGqkVtgO8sqRmO5ynS8-Ps-D_3MIv86SeGV7FP9sXkLv4oXhG_pjUE9H0_5cJSUfhQc4eS_0ydVjAle1iZ5Zio5JY0IKn7aJ1KTj8bjGMzbthj4Qk8yYDnRDL9bpsma-zWGchLwfCBVt4bA771lldwE1X3puJ7xzPbHXBw/s320/67A99BA1-3497-4AA0-B258-D8E910F6B102.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> In very dry years, the creeks will turn black from all the decaying leaves that have dropped into the water. <p></p><p>Iāve always thought that was interesting to see, but this is the first time Iāve noticed fish dying in the black water. </p><p>Maybe it has something to do with this beaver dam slowing what little flow there is in the creek here because this is where I saw the dead fish. </p><p>This photo was taken last week. I saw one fish that appeared to be dying, but this week, I saw 8-10 dead fish caught on this dam. I saw others surfacing and sucking air, poor things. </p><p>What a stinkā¦a peculiar odor of dead fish, rotting leaves, then there was the smoke hanging heavy in the air. Yuck!</p><p>This is but one more reason why I am eagerly waiting for tonightās forecasted rain. We need it to sweep away some decaying leaves and fill up ponds and branches and creeks. </p><p>A lot of folkās livestock are drinking this black water too!</p><p>I donāt see how it can be good for them. </p><p>Let it rain! </p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021160624519509796.post-34466368262702103162022-11-09T20:29:00.000-05:002022-11-09T20:29:02.972-05:00I missed a dayā¦<p> ā¦but I had good reason. Yesterday was a looong one! I was out until nearly ten oāclock awaiting election results. </p><p>The wait was long, but I appreciate the process of counting, checking, verifying.</p><p>People of both parties seated across from one another at a table, maintaining an election of integrity. </p><p>People gathered in a courtroom to hear the election results announced. Smiling and cordial, accepting results with grace. People who value our democracy. </p><p>I came home feeling some renewed hope that maybe we as a country aināt goinā to hell in the proverbial hand basket just yet. </p><p>I honestly do hope and pray for a new spirit of cooperativeness to sweep this nation. </p><p>Iāve seen over and over in small scale the results of pettiness in governing. </p><p>Little gets accomplished except hard feelings, if you want to call that accomplishment. </p><p>I donāt. </p><p>I think we can do much better than that. </p><p>I know we can!</p><p>Iāve also seen over and over the results of public servants behaving like public servants. </p><p>Weāve seen that in the past few days, elected officials and scores of volunteers jumping in to help fight the wildfires plaguing our county and supporting the firefighters. </p><p>Itās a beautiful thing. </p><p><br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10302748786061178260noreply@blogger.com0