blue ribbon leavening

 The making of your own baking powder is so simple and economical. And the quality of it is steps above the canned sort you purchase at the grocery store.

 1/4 cup cream of tartar

 2 tablespoons baking soda

Sift together 3x and store in a clean, dry tight-sealing jar at room temperature, out of direct sunight, for 4 weeks.

This may be used for any recipe that requires baking powder. I give it a blue ribbon.

*Also, I have used it only recently with a batch of biscuits and it was over 4 weeks old, still worked like a charm.

giving thanks

As I walked in November's mellow sunshine this afternoon, my heart was absorbed with the matter in which these times of my life have stacked themselves. Like old suitcases with silk linings, solid mahogany dining room cupboards and tarnished pieces of silver, the familiar, the treasured, and the changed tell a story that scribbles across pages, creating chapters and requiring volumes, yet the words are not enough.

My mother has not lived near me since I officially left home and became a wife over thirty-two years ago. That changed yesterday when we moved my mother into an assisted living home only three miles from my house. Sounds neatly packaged and stacked, yet the tugs of my heart in this matter are strong.

But thankful I am, and my heart rests and daily lifts up genuine thanksgiving and praise to my Lord.

Happy Thanksgiving each and every one!

no secrets here

It is no secret that this is my most favorite young couple.

No secret either that their birthdays are only two days apart in late October.

We let go of any clandestine tendencies and celebrate grandly with both families. Dinner, cake, and presents, 

              

the only secrets hanging around until the wrappings are peeled off.

And since it should not be a secret to anyone, I am simply pleased as punch to announce Claire's spot in the blogging world.

                                                                                       

Treasures gathered on an afternoon walk in the woods, that is except for the pink chrysanthemum, it was snipped from my front yard.

Amidst

I awoke in a strange bed. Mother must have heard my stirrings and quiet rustlings because she came shuffling down the hall, early. I read a portion of John 15 to her, "I Am the vine, you are the branches." 

I continually averted her attention from my father, who is currently not with her due to his recent illness, to childhood memories:

churning butter with her grandmother, 

springs of fresh water,

 deep in the country,

 country hams taken from the smokehouse and given to a hungry man who stopped by the porch, 

moustache cups from which Papa drank his coffee,

 and sleeping in the bed with Big Mama and Papa because the bats hitting against the chimney during the night aroused such fright. This personally was my most favorite because she would pat the side of the couch and smile, remembering the comfort.

The conversation ran along with me filling in the missing pieces of words lost.

I prayed, at times tears running down my cheeks, on the drive home that morning. A drive that took me through heavy traffic, where the sunlight danced across the windshield and the sky was so unbelievably clear after a weekend of mindboggling confusion.

He embraced me. 

It is good to be home with my family once again. Doing the routine things with revitalized appreciation.

Entirely different conversations than that of the previous days.

We laughed a lot last night. A hopeful antidote to balance the tears. 

It might possibly be time to add caregiving as a label. A portion of my day is spent with the concerns of my elderly sick parents these days. 

nature study tea

The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming

and exhilarating than any wine they tell of.

The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value
 to the bounty of July.

-Henry David Thoreau

 


sketching
               knitting
                          reading
                                     a cup of hot tea
                                                             a lighted candle