Wood Choppers

Drew Swinging an Ax

The Growing Pile

Intense Wood Chopper Face

Good Swiss Form

Nice Stack

Warm Dogs Are Happy Dogs

The crack of axes beats double-time as two wood choppers hack at rounds of logs on the knoll above Elmira Pond. Bellies full of pumpkin pancakes, linguisa and mulled apple cider these two men are fueled to work.

I cannot swing an ax. If I did, someone would lose a foot, namely me. Not to be sexist, but I do believe wood chopping is a guy's thing. It takes powerful upper body strength, focused energy and a desire to whack something.

My son-in-law Drew and his friend, Samuel who moved to America from Switzerland, both have that manly desire to chop wood. I have a more womanly desire to have a warmth hearth  which requires someone chopping. My husband loves to chop, too but he's happy to share the chore.

Ax overhead, arms taunt, the axes swing again and again. Wood is piling up and I feel like I'll be able to survive winter in the greatest of comfort. Already we have a nice stack on the south porch and the dogs have their downstairs beds by the fires. Although the huskies seek colder napping spots like on the tiles by the door.

Then the dogs all burst into barking. The wood choppers have returned to the house. Drew says something terrible has happened. Seeing no obvious wounds or fountains of blood, I'm not too worried. He goes on to laments that we are out of wood. It has all been chopped.

What now? Samuel has a splendid idea based on generations of Swiss woodsman flowing in his veins. Drink, he says. We all laugh. There's mulled cider on the stove and that satisfies the post-chopping activities by the warmth of the fire, of course.

Mulled Apple Cider: quart of apple juice with simmering spices of vanilla bean (halved and seeded), 3 bay leaves, 8 whole allspice, 12 peppercorns, rinds of 1 lemon).

Mills Family Salad

Pond Ice

Jello in Cherry Juice

Mills Tradition

Prepping the Fruit

The Mixture

It's Tuesday. The pond is frozen and Bobo skitters across the ice in an excited sprint. The "Fluffy Boys" have arrived from Missoula, Montana--Ilya and Jasper, the husky-mixes belonging to my daughter Allison and her husband Drew. My house comes alive with presence and I am grateful for it.

No matter how full or sparse our home at Thanksgiving, we always have Mills Family Salad. It's a traditional moment for us filled with memories. Kids in the kitchen, helping drain maraschino cherries so they can snitch one, or two, or three. Husband dicing canned apricots and slicing grapes in half, eating one grape for every three he halves. Mixing, whisking, folding, pouring.

There's just a tad too much to fit in the old mint-green Tupperware mold. That goes into a recycled sour cream container, hidden in the freezer. Several years ago, Brianna discovered what had always been the parental stash. Do mergansers hide away frog legs or fish tails?

The salad is a frozen jello dessert. It's unique combination of ingredients makes a tangy-sweet concoction. It is best made in advanced because of the numerous steps involved. From my freezer, to yours, here is our traditional recipe shared.

Mills Family Salad
1 large package of jello (cherry or raspberry)
1/2 cup maraschino cherry juice
1 cup sugar
6 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 cup Best (Hellman's) mayo
1 cup maraschino cherries, halved
2 cups diced apricots (1 can)
2 cups crushed pineapple (1 can)
2 cups red grapes, halved

Soften jello in cherry juice over double boiler. Add juice and sugar. Chill until mixture gels into syrup (not too long; usually I chop fruit while it is in the frig). Whip cream with syrup. Fold mayo into the cream. Fold fruit into the mixture. Spoon into mold or 13 x 8-inch glass pan. Freeze. Remove from freezer 2 hours before serving.

Breaking Bourbon

V for Vanilla Bean

Easy!

Smoldering Sauce in a Jar

Sunset as Colorful as Cranberries & Bourbon

Today I broke the seal on the bourbon bottle. Officially, it is "Let the cooking begin!" This year's theme (thank you, Spokane Review) is "Bird, Meet Bourbon."

But before we get to the bird, we start with the condiment most loved by slices of tender white breast or dark leg. Cranberry sauce. Since my bird will meet up with bourbon, why not the cranberries, too?

A few tweaks to one of my favorite recipes and we have Smoldering Bourbon Cranberry Sauce. What makes it smoldering is the hint of vanilla and cardamon layered among the bourbon infusion. These are adult cranberries (seriously, the alcohol is added after cooking so parents beware).

Cranberry sauce is so easy to make that it is wonder that the canned cran-goo even exists. You can substitute apple juice for the bourbon if you prefer it less boozy. Be sure to use whole cardamon seeds.  Pre-powdered cardamon from the grocery store might as well be powdered sawdust. Except sawdust would be more flavorful.

You can get a jar of whole seeds from Penzeys Spices or try a co-op or natural food store that has bulk spices. Use a mortar and pestle or place seeds in a heavy baggie, set on a cutting board and hammer. A hammer is my favorite way to crush peppercorns!

This particular recipe is super easy because you bake the cranberries. No stove-top stirring. It stores well in the refrigerator for a week and is best made ahead. Thus it was the first Thanksgiving recipe to break the seal on the bourbon bottle.

Smoldering Bourbon Cranberry Sauce

4 cups fresh cranberries (about a pound)
2 cups sugar
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. cardamon (peel hulls, crush seeds)
3" of vanilla bean
1/4 cup bourbon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Dump cranberries into a 9 x 13-inch dish and sprinkle with the sugar, cinnamon and crushed cardamon. Split open the vanilla bean and scrape the seeds into the mixture. Place the bean in the mix, too. Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Pull from the oven and mix well with a wooden spoon. Cover and return to the oven for another 30 minutes. Remove, mix once more and cool about 10 minutes. Then add the bourbon (or apple juice). Mix and pour into a large canning jar. Seal the lid and store in the frig and let the flavors smolder.

Town and Back

The wind may be snapping the the thin white piece of kitchen garbage-bag that I duct-taped over the open window of the Blue Goose, but at least I'm dry. Heavy gray skies are spitting popcorn snow at my windshield which is dripping slightly. But, hey--the heater works fine! It's on full blast as I cruise to town and back. Again, the dogs are impressed that I fired up the truck and they are tucked up into dog-balls, Bobo on the passenger seat, Grendel in the back.

Bought a new mouse, cute as can be. It's to replace the one destroyed by the dogs last weekend. Little birds twitter on holly branches amid swirls of sky blue. Groceries restocked, Penzy spices ordered, food donated to the food shelf, mid-month bills paid and butter chicken left-overs for dinner. Fire is roaring, wind is blowing but the writing life is delightful...off to another round of NaNoWriMo!

Butter Chicken Recipe
2 pounds boneless chicken breast, chunked
1/2 sweet onion, chopped (red if no sweet)
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon of chopped ginger (from a jar)
3 teaspoons sweet curry powder
2 teaspoons Thai Red Curry Paste (from a jar)
1 tablespoons garam masala
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 ounce can tomato paste
14 ounce can coconut milk
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1/4 cup half and half
2-4 tablespoons butter
cooked jasmine rice


I make this when I have left-over plain yogurt in a a large tub, and if you have that, use your tub to mix the sauce. Otherwise, just use a small mixing bowl. Combine: coconut milk, yogurt, half and half, tomato paste, garlic, ginger and all the spices. Mix well. Grease the inside of your crock-pot with cooking oil. Sprinkle garlic and onion over the bottom. Add the chicken and then pour the coconut milk mixture over the chicken completely covering the chunks. Slice the butter and dot the sauce with it. Cover and cook on high for 4 hours or on low for 6 to 8 hours, depending upon how hot your crock-pot cooks. Mine tends to be hotter. Serve over rice. It would be splendid with fresh Naan bread, but I live in northern Idaho. If you have access to it or are gifted to make it, Naan would be excellent as this is very "saucy."

Reheats well, which is why it is dinner again.

When Snow Flies Buzz

Snow Flies Buzzing in the Boughs

Heating System (Dog Included)

Pumpkin Pancakes Trump Snow Flies

Buzzing around the pine boughs are little white flies. Since nothing is accumulating on the ground, we'll just call them "snow flies." Snow flies bob in the air with gossamer wings and bodies that melt when they cascade to the ground or land on your tongue. Unlike house flies, you can eat snow flies, but they will splatter your glasses with droplets of water.

The best things to have in the house when snow flies show up outside are a sturdy stack of split wood, a blazing orange fire and a sleepy dog to let you know that the temperature of the fire is oh-so-right. If the fire cools measurably, the dog will plant a cold nose beneath your wrist as a reminder to set another stick of wood in the big black box of warmth.

The best breakfast to prepare when snow flies turn up in autumn is butter-fried cajun ham, coffee and pumpkin pancakes. Add 1 cup (half of a small can) of pumpkin puree to 2 cups of buttermilk, 2 eggs, 2 cups of Wheat Montana flour, 2 Tbsp. oil, 3 Tbsp. brown sugar, 2 tsp. baking powder, 1 tsp. baking soda, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. cinnamon, 1/2 tsp. cloves, 1/2 tsp. ginger. Mix into a batter and prepare on a hot skillet. Serve with Tillamook butter, maple (or maple-like) syrup, whipped cream and dust with fresh ground nutmeg.

Soon you'll be saying, "Snow flies? What snow flies?" And tomorrow you can shovel away the extra calories! Or use that second half of pumpkin puree and repeat until the snow flies are knocking on the door.

Gratitude For What's to Come

Green Pastures and Still Waters

Invitation for the New Mummy

Birthing New Creativity (404 Pages)

Hope for Tomorrow

Expressing gratitude grounds us in the moment like smelling that aroma of the morning's first mug of dark-brewed coffee. We feel grateful, and we sigh.

Yet, gratitude can also bring us hope, something to look forward to in the future even when the future is as uncertain as the path of a retreating glacier full of rocks and debris that we seem to collect slogging through tough times. Gratitude lets us release the rocks and see the beauty of life unfolding.

Joining other grateful bloggers in a weekly activation of the gratitude attitude, Tuesday is reserved for cultivating universal "thank yous" of life, living and loving. If you blog, join us in this community expression and link your post in the comments. If not, simply write what you are grateful for today...if you have one, you can find seven!

Gratitude for what's to come:

1. More green pastures and quiet waters. Psalm 23 reminds us of where God will lead us. And then I look out my window and see the horses lying down in green pastures along Elmira Pond. I am grateful for the good peace to come.
2. A phone call from Nae. Funny thing about being grateful for this is that she called while I was writing! I'm so grateful that she is my lift-me-up and that I can always look forward to joy when we giggle about what our eyebrows are doing as we age gracefully. And yes, the secret to graceful aging is giggling like a child.
3. A new crop of family babies. Like rich soil, the Mills heritage is yielding a new generation. I am so grateful to have two young grand-nephews and and to more in mommy-pods. My nieces remind me my sisters-in-law (can I just drop the in-law?) and how we had showers and babies and toddlers together with such hope and expectation. I am grateful that hope yet lives.
4. Birthing a new kind of creativity. It's not all about babies, and I'm grateful for the expectancy of raising books like they were my new brood. My first manuscript is headed to beta-readers and I am thinking of this as kindergarten. I am grateful for what I will learn from this new path in life as a full-time writer.
5. While I am grateful for babies and new creations, I am equally grateful not to be a grandparent. It may sound counterintuitive, but that choice is such a personal one and no longer my own. I am grateful for daughters and a son who have the independence to carve out their own lives and the strength to say to the older generations, not now. I am grateful for free-range, grown children and the future moments we still have to share.
6. Traveling friends. Sounds like a circus act, and maybe it will be just as exciting. I am like a little kid waiting for the parade of elephants and lion tamers to train through town. My friend gets on Amtrak tonight and will be at Elmira Pond tomorrow night! I am excitedly grateful.
7. Venison pasties. The rutabagas are balls ready to be plucked from my fall garden in time for that deer or elk I know my husband will harvest soon. He's hunting as I write. I am grateful for having harvests yet to look forward to and old recipes to renew.

Don't let the sun set without being grateful for something to look forward to tomorrow! Keep hope ever lifted high and gratitude tucked in your pocket.

Rock Monkey

How many disappointments, how much rejection can one take? I do not like August. Too much to do, not enough inspiration, prayer-time, just watching birds soulfully. Wasps buzz the apple tree, the sun pulverizes soil into powder. Will it ever rain again? I'm out of whack.

Spiritual adjustment comes at a place I simply call, "My Peace." Water gurgles, reminding me: As you come to him a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious (1 Peter 2:4). So I sit on worn granite along the Pack River, surrounded by rocks, breathing waters and stones.

It all washes away. Tomorrow morning is a new day. The dawn renews hope; God renews dreams. As if to tell me to lighten up, I see a smiling rock as I clamber out of the basin to go home. How I love miracles--who else but God would put "rock monkey" in my path!

Rock Monkey...Cousin to Sock Monkey

Endlessly Eating

Blackberries at Last

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner

Blackberries in Coffee Yogurt with Coffee (Redundant)

Woodchopper's Blackberry Jam

Chocolate Zucchini Cake

Prepping Zucchini Boats

Asian Hamburger Stir Fry Stuffing

Four Boats, Enough to Feed the Navy

Frozen Blackberries in Prosecco

My hands smell like Berry Kix. It's that berry-so-sweet smell that overwhelms commercialized products from cereal to hand-soap. Only, my hands are saturated with the real deal; I'm picking blackberries.

It's the season of endlessly eating, when berries bloom on brambles, peas appear overnight and cucumbers replace cucumbers. Twice now I've picked a monster zucchini as if my plants are sneaking steroids. In the beginning, I said I was farming dirt. Well, I'm eating what that dirt unleashed.

Peas while I water, cucumbers with coffee to clean morning breath and blackberries in my Brown Cow "cream-top" yogurt. Today I picked my first tomato, one of the Russian heirlooms. It became breakfast, too.

I'm saving cucumbers to make another batch of pickles or maybe I'll just make cucumber dip with cream cheese and dill. That's the beauty of food flowing from the garden--so many possibilities. The fate of the berries, however, are predestined to freezer jam.

Grendel stays by my side as I glean; brambles stabbing my t-shirt and tearing at my finger tips. I feed him an over-ripe berry and he lolls it around his mouth, chewing lightly. He swallows and looks at me for another. Any spent berry becomes Grendel's treat. His sister, Bobo is pointing at grasshoppers and not interested in the picking. Setting down the bucket, Grendel dives muzzle first and I have to wrangle it away from his gobbling maw. He never liked raspberries, but blackberries he adores.

Unlike the prolific raspberries, the blackberries are slow and few. I learn to look for the dark ones that seem to have fatter bulbs as they slide off easier into my hands. By the time I've picked through all the brambles, I have just enough for a single batch of jam. I toss a few into a flute glass and set it aside in the freezer for later. The Jam I call, "Woodchopper's" because I will use it to gift my son-in-law who helped us chop winter wood last year, and perhaps the jam will encourage more chopping this year.

Digging through recipes I decide to bake a chocolate zucchini cake and make stuffed zucchini for dinner. The recipe I have is heavy on the Italian flavor--tomato sauce, oregano and Parmesan cheese. I don't feel like Italian; I'm craving Asian flavors. I have a recipe for an Asian hamburger casserole and decide to make up my own "Asian Zucchini Boats."

First I prepare some rice with garlic, about a cup's yield. Next I make a stir-fry with hamburger, sliced baby bella mushrooms, celery, red onion and the insides of the big zucchini and crook-neck that I just harvested today. For seasoning I add equal parts soy sauce to rice vinegar and sprinkle the mix liberally with French tarragon. I only have four "boats" to stuff with my mixture but they are so big as to fill a cookie sheet and weigh five pounds. When Todd is closer to home, commuting back from work in Moses Lake, I'll bake the boats at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes. A complete meal.

In the meantime, I have run my route of watering the garden, roses, berries and weedy-grass that we mow into lawn. Time to retrieve my flute with the now frozen blackberries and add Prosecco, a sparkling Italian wine. And, I'll nibble some more cucumber slices.

Back in the Saddle

Summer Harvest

Roosting Blue Heron

It's a Bird, a Hawk, an Eagle or Something Like That

Refrigerator Pickles

Into the Frying Pan Zukes!

Mmm...Patties

Two weeks of travel and I'm ready to be a homebody, bird-nerd, barefoot gardener, writer again. From vistas of a real working ranch in eastern Montana to the Ireland of the Rockies, my eyes have charted new sights.

My garden grew without me. A zucchini big enough to bat a bear clung to the vine next to the crook-necked squash plant that burst with a bouquet of yellow veggies. I let one of my radishes bolt to see if I can harvest seeds. Right now it is full of pretty pink flowers.

Amazing how the pea-pods never make it to the house; I nibble as I weed. One lesson from this year's garden classroom is that peas can be planted much earlier. They are as cranky as me in the heat of full summer. And I'm cranky. It's hot and humid. Humidity is for the Midwest, or so I thought. My Midwestern friends say it's beautiful, even cool out that way. Somehow our weather swapped. I want my cool northern Idaho nights back with dry days. I feel like a late-season pea pod gasping in the heat.

Today I closed the windows, drew the curtains and sheltered in the cool dark house. Not the best way to reconnect with the birds, I know, but I needed down-time, scripture verses and mindless Mahjong tiles. I pondered big concepts, such as the importance of repenting before forgiving and tiny ideas like adding Aleppo pepper to pickles. I recalibrated.

Pee breaks for the dogs draw me closer to the pond. Despite the heaviness of the air, the pasture is crisp and dusty. The pond is looking stagnant, yet still full for this time of year. Blue heron greets me with sleepy eyes, neck tucked into his body for roosting. The hawk--or perhaps Golden eagle since I can't seem to tell the difference--perches high above us all in the tamarack along highway 95. At least two mergansers remain and one looks to be a young male. Wasps thrum ominously and grasshoppers pop like corn kernels in hot oil.

The feel of Elmira Pond is returning to my bones, my blood, my spirit. It is good to be home.

Refrigerator Pickles with Aleppo Pepper
(Aleppo pepper is a deep red Turkish pepper similar to ancho chilies.)

6 cups sliced, unpeeled cucumbers
1 cup sliced red onion
12 cloves of garlic
1 bunch of fresh dill
1 Tbsp. celery seed
1-2 tsp. Aleppo pepper
1Tbsp. sea salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup white vinegar

Mix cucumbers, onion, garlic and dill. Stack in quart jars or a large crock. Mix remaining ingredients and pour equal amounts if using multiple jars. Top with water to cover cucumbers. Store in the refrigerator.Gently swish jars upside down every day to blend. Best to eat after pickling for a few weeks. Good up to three months in the fridge.

Zucchini Patties
(Or what to do with all those zukes!)
 
Grate three to five zucchinis. Add two to three eggs and enough flour to form a stiff batter. Heat oil in a pan and fry globs of zucchini batter on each side until golden brown, about five minutes. Salt and pepper to taste.

Super Moon Salsa

Moonrise Over Elmira Ranch

What to Do With Left Over Produce

Make Super Moon Salsa!

Red-tailed Hawk Just Sittin' in a Tree

I Think he's a Red-Tailed Hawk...

Might Be Crazy Cat Bird Upper Left

Sparrow, Cat Bird, or Siskin Harassing Hawk

You Should Hear the Bird Alarms Whistling!

Super Moon

Like a Big Pizza Pie

Or Albino Navel Orange

Raspberry Peach-Man Jam!

Moonrise over Elmira Pond is a success since we lack the normal cloud cover of the region. A lingering hawk greets the moon, harassed by pine siskins or perhaps chipping sparrows, maybe cat bird. They flit too fast for proper identification. The hawk watches as I harvest tarragon  for an inspired batch of Super Moon Salsa. Basically, it's a way to use up refrigerator produce and ripe peaches from the Peach Man. This is what the recipe turns out to be:

Super Moon Salsa

4 small white onions, finely chopped
3 vine ripened tomatoes, finely chopped
2 limes, juiced
9 tree ripened peaches, finely chopped
1 orange bell-pepper, finely chopped
2 sprigs of fresh tarragon, finely chopped
Heavy sprinkling of dried Aleppo pepper
Salt to taste (Real or Himalayan)

Chop, juice, mix and pour into jars. Refrigerate and serve within two weeks with corn chips or gluten-free Nut Thins (try smearing a tad of cream cheese on the Nut Thins first).

Enjoy the photos of the moon, the hawk and raspberry-peach-man jam!