I don’t like fall.

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Everyone seems to love fall. Except me. I love spring and summer. I get sad when the long, hot days come to an end. I wish they could stay forever.

Yes, fall has pretty colors. It has Halloween. It has college football. It’s apple season. It’s starting to be soup season. And it even has my birthday to entice me to like it. And yet? I don’t. Because I know winter is coming up right behind it and I dread those long dark days. I dread the grey. The cold.

Sigh. I just don’t like fall.

I love apples.

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For me, the best part of fall besides college football season, is apples. I am, and have been as long as I can remember, an apple a day gal. You can drop one in your bag and carry it around with you for days without it going bad. When you pick 40 pounds at the orchard, you don’t have to go home and deal with them immediately, you have a few days, weeks even. They bake, stew, fry and cover themselves in caramel quite beautifully. They are, hands down, my most favorite food. I always, always have apples on hand. Always. They are one of the few foods I break my usual must eat local rules for. This past year though, thanks to the Local Food Hub I was able to eat local apples through spring without having to store them myself. They are the best though, and you get the best selection of them, when they are fresh and in season.
As a kid, red delicious was the way to go. Somewhere along the way, I discovered the fuji, and from there, it became the stayman, the pippin, the ginger gold, smokehouse, and the best of all, the Arkansas black. I stumbled across the Arkansas Black (sometimes also called black stem) one year and have been in love ever since. So many apple varieties, so little time. If I see a variety I’ve never heard of before, I need to buy a few to try them. Other than the grocery store Red Delicious, a childhood favorite now throw to the wayside, I have never met an apple I didn’t like.
Currently, I probably have close to 40 pounds of apples laying around my house – 4 different varieties. Last Friday night when I didn’t feel like cooking dinner, I made an apple crisp. Sunday after picking? Baked a pie and made one for the freezer. Tonight I made caramel apples with homemade caramel. The first time I’ve ever made my own caramel – who knew it was that easy? And that good? I want to get a few more pies in the freezer. And a batch or two of apple butter made.
I love apples. They are low maintenance, easy to travel with food you can eat right out of hand. How can you go wrong with that?

End of the Season.

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Since last spring, I have had the distinct pleasure in having that view right there, looking out from Leni’s front porch, while I have enjoyed the most lovely, lively and inspirational conversations every Second Wednesday of the month.

I had met Leni once, while assisting her first canning class at the cooking school, but otherwise, showed up at my first Wednesday knowing not a soul, nor what to expect. Over the months, I have met a number of lovely people, who all share a love of food, real food and alot of respect for knowing how to do things by hand, yourself. In short, I have found a world of kindred spirits. I met Rowena, who’s magazine I have picked up for years, completely inspired by her monthly meal planner. I have gotten to know Leni, my hostess.

The first time I met her, it was apparent she had this amazing knowledge of cooking and gardening that I really, really wanted to be able to tap into, but she is also charismatic as hell. I was, and still am, completely in awe that she invites me to hang out. I’m really not sure what I can offer. I like me, and I think I’m a good time, but I’m always slightly touched when other people think that about me too. Call me slightly humble.

Every second Wednesday, we have sat on the porch and discussed cooking, canning, raising children and livestock, gardening, we have toured the gardens, we have tasted each other’s treats from the garden and oven. It has been something I have looked forward to every month. Every month, I have driven home, feeling completely inspired, like anything I want to do is possible. I just need to figure out WHAT. But I also sense that will come in time. The universe has put this in my path, it will put whatever it is I’m supposed to do next in my path too. It has a habit of bonking me over the head with things.

Last night was the last Second Wednesdays of the season. They’ll resume again in May and I don’t think I can wait. Rowena mentioned she might be agreeable to some sort of winter plan….in the meantime, I will miss my Second Wednesdays. And I am already, even more than usual, anxiously awaiting the arrival of next spring already.

I’m that old and cranky apparently.

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I grew up camping. It’s one of those things I’m sort of ambivalent about. I used to go with just me & my dad, sometimes we’d bring the sister closest to me in age, but oftentimes, not. We’d go out to the middle of nowhere and have a nice campfire and some hobo type dinner that involved spam.
When my mom would go camping with us, it was a whole different type of camping. We always stayed in a campground, with a bathroom in sight. We had a huge tent, with cots, for sleeping. There was a dining tent, a whole kitchen set up – there was nothing roughing it about camping with my mother.
I never felt the urge to get my own camping equipment. In college, there would be groups that would go camping, but I never joined in. Not sure why. When I met Pat, every time we camped it would end two ways – we’d wake up in unseasonably cold weather or, it would rain. One year I was brave enough to suggest camping at the Outer Banks, as I just really wanted to go to the beach and it seemed like an economic way to go. Until we woke up in the middle of a tropical depression. There was the canoe/camping trip when I was pregnant where there was no rain in the forecast and as soon as we put in, the bottom of the sky fell out and we proceed to get 3″ of rain that day. I love that man, but even suggest putting us in a tent for a night, and you’re going to make it rain.
Needless to say, I decided a few years ago, that if we must go out to the woods and sleep, we have to have a roof over our heads. We need a cabin. I can live without electricity and running water. I can live without internet and tv for a few days, but, I like a roof. I want to be able to make coffee in the morning, under cover of some sort. That’s really not asking too much, is it?
Pat had to work a booth at a music festival this weekend. We know a good number of folks that like to go to those things and since we got to go for free (thanks to his working it), it seemed like something good to take Edie to. I can spend one night in a tent for this, right?
Edie had her mp3 player and her nintendo ds. Pat had his new laptop with the gps device that can find internet anywhere so we could have football scores. We knew a slew of folks going and best of all, there was no rain in the forecast. It was going to be unseasonably warm & sunny. I had no excuses as to why I could not go.
Having never been to one of these things before, I really didn’t know what to expect. I recognized the names of the bands, but I’m not a huge blue grass fan, I’m not a big Americana fan either really, so I can say, I had never listened to most of them. There were alot of young hippie types there – some really unsavory looking ones too. It was billed as a family event and while there were kids activities (the best of which were offered by my better half as part of our free entrance to the festival), I found myself having to yell at several young men on several different occasions for unsportsmanlike behavior. There were all sorts of sketchy looking characters walking around the campground with all sorts of things they were selling.
First was partyboy, in the next group of tents over. Now our little group had quite a campfire and picking circle going on until the wee hours of the morning. When Edie called it a night, she insisted one of us come with her into the tent. As the spout on my box of wine had apparently stopped working (still don’t have a clue what that is about, but there is still plenty of wine left), I took it as a sign that I had been cut off and went with her. We fell asleep well enough, but got woken up by sounds of partying a good number of times. Most notably, the next group of tents over, a group of young men, one of whom had this loud laugh that I can only describe as very beavis & butthead like, only dumber sounding. As everyone else fell into their tents and went to sleep, this party continued on and got progressively louder. Finally, they grew quiet and we all managed to get back to sleep….until just a little bit later (about 5:30 or so), when they cranked it back up a notch. As I laid in my tent between my husband muttering ‘shut up. just please shut up’ and my daughter complaining about the language being used, I finally sat up, unzipped the tent and in a voice a little louder than I had intended yelled “PARTYBOY”. A very quiet, ‘yes m’am?’ answered me. “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!” Silence. Golden silence.
Later that morning (a much more reasonable hour), I apologized to everyone around me for being so loud in my yelling at partyboy and every last one assured me it was fine, and thank you very much. In fact, later on, I got to witness a neighbor giving a hard time to a youngster on the other side of them, for trying to abscond with some of their stuff, like their firewood.
I didn’t start feeling really old and cranky until this kid came walking by with an armful of water pipes, offering them up. First of all, I’m pretty sure he hadn’t had a personal association with any form of soap in longer than I wanted to know. Secondly, he looked as if he had been trying his merchandise along the way. Thirdly, there were children running around! I don’t give a rats behind how ‘legal’ your things are, be cool. Don’t make me have to answer questions from my curious child. I mentioned to him that children were around and he might not want to be so flagrant with his wares. He told me to stop being uptight.
If you know me at all, you know I am NOT the most uptight parent out there. I know that I myself have stayed up partying to wee hours of the night and have had people yell at me to just shut up and go to bed. I brought her to a hippie fest for crissake, how uptight can I be? I was trying to warn the kid that other mothers might not be so nice about his offering his wares to everyone in sight and looking like he did, he was just trying to get busted. Seriously.
The festival itself was ok. It was their first year and they have some kinks to work out for sure. Next time the family camp ground on the hill next to the road might actually be the better option, instead of in the woods with all the riff-raff. The upside to the weekend? It didn’t rain. And I didn’t get poison ivy.
I’m just that old and cranky apparently. What a way to find out.

Dreams really do come true.

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For years I have harbored this secret fantasy that one day in my thrifting adventures, I was going to stumble upon a beautiful, large, mint condition, nice rug for a completely unbelievable price, like $50. I had never actually mentioned this fantasy to anyone because I was worried that if I said it out loud, it would never happen and I was already pretty close to thinking it really might never happen. I have luck with thrifting, but that seemed like a whole new level of luck. Like, the thrifting gods would have to smile down upon me and shower me with serious love kind of luck.

Yesterday, that dream came true.

I just so happened to be at the shop when a guy came in unloading a van full of housegoods. He dumped the rug on the ground and it had a $50 price tag on it. Really? It literally landed at my feet. The other end of the rug had the label – I started getting excited seeing the name of the manufacturer and the fact that it was 100% wool. We unrolled it so I could check it all out and omigod I knew I could not pass this up.

The best part? As I was carrying it out of the store, a woman walking in stopped and offered she had purchased a similar rug 20 years ago, for thousands of dollars. !!!!!!
I’d say the thrifting gods definitely showered me with their love yesterday. Next up, I want a new round china butter dish, something floral please, (in pinks of course) and some cake stands. Something pretty and vintage looking. That’s reasonable, right? Certainly more reasonable than a really nice rug for $50.

Highlights from yesterday.

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The Fall Fiber Festival and Sheepdog trials at Montpelier.
More of those luscious ultimate chocolate cupcakes from here.
Stewed okra & tomatoes with brown rice.

A batch of cinnamon raisin bread & english muffins for breakfast this week.

Not shown: Planted some seeds for late fall and (maybe) early spring greens. Spent some quality time going through boxes of stuff I keep meaning to go through and purge at some point. (Finally!) While I was good and didn’t buy any yarn for future projects for myself at the Fiber Festival, I did buy Edie some angora yarn for her first knitting project, at her request, so there will be knitting lessons in our future. And I think I’m starting to resign myself to fall and winter coming. Sigh. I’m not really a cold weather fan, but it is more conducive to baking. And I do love to bake….

October already?

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September was filled with lots of being a mom time. First the kiddo was sick, then her dad, with this nasty virus going around that lasts a week or more. Multiple upheavals at school on top of her being out a week sick made her not her happy little self, and so I devoted a good bit of time to just being there as a mom. I miss the baby and toddler days, when it was more physical, this mental and psychological stuff is just hard. I really do not have a good blueprint for it. I don’t have a relationship with my own mother, most of what I go by is instinct and just respect for my little girl. I want her to feel loved and like she can always talk to me, but admittedly, I’m not always sure how to go about that. I really cherish my mom friends, especially the ones who have older daughters, who don’t mind sharing that third grade was hard for them too. I’m not quite sure how I would get through without them sometimes.

So while I didn’t get as many things accomplished as I would have liked, my girl is much more her old self again, thanks to alot of mom time, a good number of playdates I forced upon her, and some good old cupcakes. I know this motherhood thing is just going to get harder, but if there is one thing I know I’m good at, it’s motherhood. Even when it’s rough. That and baking chocolate cupcakes.

Kid’s clothing week challenge.

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It’s Kid’s Clothes Week Challenge over here this week. I really was going to give it a go, but here is it Tuesday and I haven’t done a thing. I did bake cupcakes for Rebecca’s birthday last night, so that’s something nice and productive and thoughtful, right? And tonight I ordered some kid’s clothes from Land’s End (I got her the jacket she’s been asking for for months), so while I didn’t make anything, I did get her some clothes and that counts for a wee bit of something, right?
I’m going to go with that. And tomorrow I will try again to make something. After all, tomorrow is another day.

For Jed.

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I’m a big believer in divine intervention.

Months ago, Jed’s mother and sister announced the Jedediah Thomas Smith Memorial Luncheon with all proceeds to benefit the Four Diamonds Fund to help conquer pediatric cancer. Sadly, Jed lost his battle with pediatric cancer last January and Kristin & Savannah are holding this in honor of what would have been his 13th birthday. I wanted to do something to help and told them I’d donate something for the silent auction. It’s being held Saturday, October 2.

I have since then considered many ideas for this donation and in typical me fashion, have put them off time & time again. I’ve had all summer, but of course waited until the very last minute to sew anything. Worse, I confused the day I needed to have my item to Savannah. Sweet thing that she is, she said it was fine, she knew I would come through. (It was pre-Labor Day for those wondering.)

I promised myself I’d do it this weekend. I’m tired of it hanging over my head, I feel like I can’t get anything else done until I do this one. I spent yesterday canning oodles of tomatoes so today was it. IT.

First I had to clean up my cutting table. Instead of just moving the piles that had accumulated (mostly clothes that I have a bad habit of just throwing there), I folded and sorted and put them away. In the process, several quarters, Jed’s signature means of communicating, came flying out at me. OKAY, I got it I muttered to myself. Got the space cleared and got to work. I had the radio on and considered coming downstairs to get some new music. “Some Black Keys would be good, I’ll just run down and grab some to listen to” I thought to myself. Bingo! The Black Keys came on the radio. I figured Jed was politely trying to tell me to stop farting around and just get it done. So I did.
I knocked it out in about an hour. I realized I should just keep it simple, so I used some Laura Ashley purple toile I still have from making our master bedroom window treatments. It’s nice, durable fabric. And tomorrow I will mail it to Savannah, finally.

For more information on the luncheon or the Four Diamonds Fund, check out Savannah’s blog. In my humble defense though, it took months of putting this off and a missed deadline to really figure out what I thought would do well at the silent auction. Don’t you want one of these? I do think it turned out well if I say so myself.