Some crunchy goodness ...

Almost all of my favored recipes come from one of the many good cooks I know. I'm not likely to try something unless someone I know and trust has already tried it and pronounced it "good." Sometimes I break my own rule, as I did for Christmas Eve dinner. I made a cake -- a buttermilk cake with caramel frosting -- that I found online. The recommendation was glowing; this cake was "prize-winning," "always a hit at potlucks," "moist and rich" -- all the things you want your Christmas cake to be. But it wasn't moist and it wasn't a hit with my family. Although I'll concede the fault might have been mine (could I have cooked it just a teensy bit too long?), I won't make the cake again. No, I'll stick to my tried and true file for cakes I KNOW will succeed with my guests.

Many of those tried and true recipes, the ones I go back to again and again, came from one special lady. She is my ex-step-grandmother, I think, if she must have a label. Actually, she is just simply my Annabel. Annabel is the only Annabel I know, and she truly is one of a kind.

Annabel married my grandfather in about 1973, after they had both been divorced for many years, long enough for each of them to become rather set in their ways and independent. I loved Annabel immediately, for her hearty laughter and sense of humor, her zest for life, her I-can-do-it attitude, and for the many shared interests we had. She loves to garden and to cook, and she really, really loves antiques (especially antique dishes.) I guess it all ties to food, somehow. She makes the best homemade rolls and pies I've ever had and can make them with seemingly little effort. I've never mastered that.

I will always remember the first time Grandad and Annabel came to visit us after we moved our little family to a farm on the prairie in Mississippi in 1975. I had been with her a few times but this was the first time we spent considerable time together. Annabel is a natural storyteller and kept us up late each night they were there, telling tales in her inimitable way. One story had to do with when she was a very young woman and drove her family from Missouri to Florida in the World War II years to meet a family serviceman. Nothing was going to stop Annabel from making the trip, not even the fact that her old car's transmission was going out. When she got to Birmingham, the vintage vehicle wouldn't make it up the steep hills in that city, so Annabel simply turned around, put the car in reverse and BACKED THROUGH BIRMINGHAM, to the amazement of other drivers and her own family. We laughed until we cried! Actually, that story says something about the lady -- she is unstoppable.

After Annabel and Grandad had been married for many years, it became apparent that they were simply too much alike to get along. But although they couldn't live together, Annabel and I have remained friends, even though we don't see one another very often. She still sends me a new recipe occasionally and we talk on the phone and keep in touch. She is 91, still lives alone and drives herself everywhere, cooks holiday meals for her family, plays cards with friends and is still a keen antique collector/trader (she can tell you the cost of every piece she has ever bought, down to the penny, and if she sold it, what she made, in 70 years of doing this.) Our enduring friendship is proof that age, distance and time don't really matter when hearts align.

The many recipes Annabel has shared with me are ones I trust; they are ones I return to over and over again, even though they may not be trendy or new. One I just finished making is Annabel's homemade granola. As a confirmed cereal eater, I count on that cup of milk each morning for part of my calcium intake. And when I can pour it over a bowl of this crunchy, filling goodness, it makes for a good start to my day. There are also other ways to use granola -- with yogurt, sprinkled on ice cream, as a topping for hot oatmeal or simply by the handful for a great snack -- it's versatile and yummy any way you try it.

When I go through my recipe file, Annabel's handwriting greets me often. Her Date Pinwheels are one of our favorite Christmas cookies, and her Chess Pie is easy and wonderful. She sure knows her way around a cucumber -- Annabel's Ever Crisp and Refrigerator Pickles are the best! Next to my mother and grandmother, Annabel is surely the best cook I've ever had the privilege of knowing.

If you're thinking of eating healthy for the new year, maybe you'll want to start with breakfast. This granola is all natural and full of fiber, with just the right amount of sweetness. It is also great for gift-giving -- simply fill a vintage canning jar with granola, tie on a pretty ribbon and it's an appreciated gift. Here's how to make it:

GRANOLA

8 cups regular rolled oats (not quick or instant)
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup (or more) wheat germ or bran
8-oz. shredded coconut
1 cup salted sunflower seed kernels or salted cashews
1/2 cup oil
3/4 cup honey
2 tsp. vanilla
Raisins or chopped dates, if desired

Mix first five ingredients together in a large bowl. Stir in fruit, if desired. Bring oil, honey and vanilla to a boil and pour over dry ingredients and fruit. Stir and stir (I end up mixing with my hands) until well mixed.

 

 

Spread in two greased 10 x 15 baking pans and bake, uncovered, at 325 degrees for 15-20 minutes, stirring with a spatula halfway through cooking. Don't let it get too brown. Remove from oven and cool, stirring a couple of times to break the granola up. Store in an airtight jar. 

 

I just filled my gallon vintage pickle jar -- wonder how long it will last?

How I got the Christmas Spriit

We arrived at Sargent's Chapel before darkness
descended so I was able to get a photo of the building.
 

Last week we finally got away for a few hours to do something I've longed to do for years --

The communion table at Oak Ridge Baptist, which celebrated 150 years of existence in 2015.
 The décor in this lovely church was simple -- greens, burlap and candles.

we took the Country Christmas Church Tour.

The Advent Wreath table was skirted in burlap.

Featuring 22 churches, each one at least 100 years old and most much older, in two counties near the Mississippi River ...

In the fellowship hall, a nativity scene spilled out a basket.

this was WONDERFUL!

The people who greeted us at each church were the nicest folks. The man here
"grew up just two hills over" from Sargents Chapel and has attended here
all his life. Their daughter drives out from Cape Girardeau each Sunday to play the organ,
helping keep this little church alive.

In the early 1800s, 700 German families followed a spiritual leader to the New World and settled on farms in this place that now spans two counties.


After visiting three simple churches, walking into St. Maurus Catholic Church
was a jaw-dropping experience. It was simply gorgeous!

They came because of their faith, and the first thing they did was organize churches.

I loved the grouping of trees with lights behind the nativity scene.

Many of the churches on the tour are Lutheran churches that resulted from that emigration.

One of the ladies who greeted us at this church said she and her husband decided
to move back to the very small community just to be able to attend this church.
It was where she grew up and meant so much to her.

There are also Catholic, Baptist, Methodist and Presbyterian churches that participate in the tour. They are all bastions of the faith history of the people of this area.

Most of the time, we drove 4-5 miles between churches.

Some of the decorations were lush ...

and some were the simplest style.

The tour began at 3 p.m. and ended at 9. We were able to visit 13 churches in that span of time.

 

Next year, we'll go back and see the ones we missed and perhaps go back and visit some of these again. It was simply MARVELOUS!

The greeters were so friendly and gladly related a bit of the history to us.

Each church also had a array of treats for visitors.

Three dulcimer players did a wonderful job in the balcony of one of the Lutheran churches.

I took hundreds of photos and still could not capture how lovely each church was, often lit only by candlelight.

This was the only church that no longer holds regular services. There are still
some special services throughout the year. This church as decorated only with cedar and
candles.

 

This MADE Christmas for me. Thank you to all the many volunteers who decorated and hosted this unique and special event.

Looking down on Hill of  Peace sanctuary. The pews are original to the 1858 structure, made of poplar boards; they cost $1.25 each when they were made.

We loved the big cedar tree and the nativity set up on an old cobbler's bench.

 

My favorite Christmas tradition

Vintage sled with greenery

In another life, I would have loved having a nursery and a degree in landscape design. There is nothing I love much more than making landscape beds, planting things and having my hands in good dirt. The trouble is that I have no knowledge, so I've made mostly mistakes through the years, as I've planted, dug up, transplanted, killed, thrown away and mostly mismanaged my own landscape. What I'd really focus on (in that other realm) is using native plants for landscaping -- such a smart and practical way to do it, and those things have a much better chance of survival! Maybe when we retire (Hahaha!) I'll do that -- go back to school and become a world-famous landscape architect. In the meantime, I'll content myself with practicing and playing in my own backyard.

 

 

 

Winter is my favorite time to be outside (except when it's 20 degrees with a stiff north wind.) The approach of Christmas always inspires me to head out and clip some pine, cedar and red berries to make a few decorations. I love the elegant, tasteful, everything-coordinated-and-matched décor I see in magazines and on sites like Pinterest, but my truly favorite kind of Christmas decorations are the homely ones made with simple trimmings from the woods nearby. My homemade decorations won't win any Yard-of-the-Month award, but they make me happy. I guess that is what matters, after all. This weekend we'll cut a cedar tree and put lights and ornaments on it and my decorating will be complete. Just like we've always done it ... keeping traditions is what makes Christmas special, isn't it?

A simple tree skirt

I love finding things that other women have made, especially vintage items. This simple tree skirt was in a flea market, tucked in among other nondescript items. The price was very low, but when I pulled it out and really looked at it I could see it was all done by hand.

 

The lady who made this simply cut a large circle out of a single piece of material that feels like a lightweight cotton duck, cut a slit to the middle, finished the cut edges with twill tape, and cut a circle for the center to fit around the base of the Christmas tree. Then she embroidered her simple message and sweet shapes that might have been traced around cookie cutters. The work is not perfect nor is it of exceptional quality, but the overall effect is very sweet.

 

 

Around the star ...

 

 

 

and around the snowman, the embroidery is couched. Kind of interesting that she added this element to such a simple, primitive piece of embroidery.

 

 

I love that the little deer is smiling.  :)

 

 

The candle is cross-stitched.

 

 

A sweet little wreath with holly berries and bow ...

 

...and a purple bell with rust spot nearby for accent.  :)

 

 

The underside of the tree skirt reveals how neatly she worked her outline stitch on the sleigh and star.

 

 

And here is the mystery element in this primitive piece. It's an airplane, with some numbers and letters embroidered upon it. Any guesses as to what they mean?

 

 

This shows how she finished the hemmed edge with a wide blanket stitch.

This modest little tree skirt is nothing special, except perhaps to me and hopefully to its new owners. This little piece is going to a new home where some wonderful little children will love it. The shapes look as if Wyatt and Addie could have drawn them! I wish the woman who made this could somehow know that it is still being loved and used.





An unexpected gift ...

Sometimes the best gifts are those you didn't even know to wish for. A couple of weeks ago I was given an unexpected gift ...

... this beautiful hand-knitted blue sweater. Oh, my! Can you imagine the pleasure this gift gives me? I am a knitter, and I know what went into the making of this lovely garment. But that is not all that makes it special. I remember when this sweater was made!

When I was a teenager, I was very keen on knitting. A very special lady, Bernie Sanders, with whom I went to church and who also happened to be a distant cousin (so there was another bond) cheered my efforts and helped me when I ran into trouble. I even remember her showing me how to make a bobble, sort of a little knitted pom-pom, the kind of decorative element that adorns this sweater. I distinctly remember when Bernie was knitting complicated and beautiful sweaters for several of her relatives, including this blue beauty which she made for her sister-in-law, Edith. I was much in awe of Bernie's knitting skills and admired her creations endlessly.

Fast forward almost 50 years and imagine my delight when Edith's daughter (who also happens to be Bernie's special niece) gave me this vintage jewel as an unexpected gift. Oh, my! I do hope that Bernie is smiling from above, knowing how much I love wearing this sweater. I love that I have something that was Bernie's, for she really was an inspiration to me. I love that my friend, Susan, could bear to part with it (since it was too large for her to wear.) And I love that Susan knew just how much I would treasure this sweater, which is why she could entrust me with it.

 

While she was here for Thanksgiving, I asked my granddaughter to take a picture of the sweater (I don't do selfies) and I told her the story of the sweater. Just telling it made me feel warm and loved, all over again. This sweater is like a hug from Bernie, a completely unexpected and beloved gift ... the very best kind.

Everyone is shocked and saddened at the untimely, seemingly senseless death of Robin Williams. Me, too -- saddened, I mean. Really, really saddened, because he was one of the most talented actors ever. The brilliant gift he had, the ability to be comic, almost beyond funny, in one minute and to turn it into tragedy/pathos the next instant -- yes, I'm truly sad for the loss of such an immense talent. How few there are with such a gift! But I'm not shocked, nor am I even surprised.

It was in his eyes, even when he was being hilariously, uproariously funny, the sadness that was at his core. When he was still, you could see it. He made others laugh, but he wasn't sharing in our hilarity. It's the look of a true manic/depressive, a person with bi-polar disorder, whatever you choose to call it. When things are good, they are very, very good; and when they are bad, it's just beyond awful. The ones who have it the worst are the most genuinely gifted -- and suffer the most when they fall.

If you've been close to someone with bi-polar disorder, you know what I mean. If you haven't, perhaps you just write such behavior off as a weakness, a lack of self-control, laziness, a tendency toward melancholy, or a need for dependence on something. Most of the people who have this disorder do also have dependency (self-medication) issues. How many times does alcoholism, drug abuse, obesity -- any behaviior that seems to indicate a lack of self-control -- mask a much deeper, darker problem?

Surely the death of this genius actor will cause a new focus to be directed to the mystery and the questions surrounding mental illness. And maybe it will help some sufferers to get the help they need. In that respect, maybe his death won't have been in vain nor seem like such a useless waste of a bright mind. Perhaps we will think of his senseless death and begin to look at those around us with new eyes, to try and see into their inner beings rather than just the outward appearance which may present as disregard or even nonchalance. But no matter how much help is available or how much others care, it will always be up the individual with the problem to accept help. Therein lies the hardest part of this problem. It's a tough problem -- too tough for Robin Williams. What about those you know -- or you? Surely death isn't the only answer.

Relic

 

Someone is out standing in his field, yes he is. Truly outstanding.

I'm always glad when he asks me to go along on a ramble. This morning we were heading out to a remote location, but first we stopped to check the green-graze. It's nearly ready to harvest, to be turned into juicy silage for next winter's feeding. That will happen near the end of this week.

 

 

It was a beautiful morning, and we needed to go to the way-to-the-back-of-beyond place to close some gates in preparation for getting up cattle the next morning.

Sadly, not all the wildlife in our country is desirable. Wild hogs are becoming a terrible scourge. The conservation department is working to help get rid of them, and they've trapped quite a few off this place. Lately they are trying something new. Believing there are 30 or more staying in this locale, they've set up this big net.

See the pile of corn around the base of the center pole? It looks like something has been scratching in it...hope it's hogs and not just coon. It's an awful big net just to catch an ornery coon or two.

There is something surprising near the silos.



Usually, the farmers in this family are diligent about cleaning up the pastures of debris, but I guess this was sort of unique. It has been sitting in this same spot for all of the 50 years since our family purchased this farm. All this area was brush and woods at one time, but as the clearing and grass planting and pasture establishing progressed, this relic was left to sit, a reminder of days gone by.

Looking into the hopper of the old pull-type combine, the only harvest it now anticipates might be a few wild blackberries.

Ripe ones are few and far between yet. See the one lonely black one?

Model no. 76, McCormick. Wish I knew what year it was made.

The guys have worked hard to get rid of blackberries, which are invasive and a nuisance to deal with, but I'm always glad to find a few still surviving. They aren't quite ripe yet, but there's a pretty decent crop coming on.

My morning snack.

We didn't see any sign of cattle as we progressed toward the big mountain to the west ...

... nor as we looked south toward Caney Mtn.

This is why. Mamas and babies were all congregated in this oasis, where there is welcome shade from the hot sun and a supply of fresh, cold spring water.

The cattle know how to find the best water.

The stream gets low in the middle of a hot summer, but this year, because we've gotten consistent rains, the flow is strong.

Such a cool, inviting place -- no wonder the cattle gather here and stay during the heat of the day.

You've all heard of Watergate? Well, this is a homemade one.

He's pulling some fencewire a bit tighter where it has gotten loose.

These walnuts are already nice and big, and the trees are really loaded. A good crop this year ...

... but not many gooseberries.

As we were leaving this farm, I saw this reminder of the farmwife who lived here long ago -- common daylilies were scattered all around the old homesite, all that is left of her handiwork. There was once a lovely white lilac here, but it died a long time ago. When it was still living, I tried digging up a start and took it to Mississippi, but it didn't make it. Dug at the wrong time of year to transplant. Still, I remember.

Masses of fleabane grew around the gate, having escaped a hard-working farmer's efforts to eradicate weeds. Do you think there is some flea-repelling property to this pretty plant, to have given it such a name? Most people just call them weeds, but I think they are so sweet and pretty and daisy-like.