Wordless Wednesday

Yucca on a Frosty Morn

A winking sparkle drew me to the window. There was a glistening in the flower bed. I crunched across the frosted grass as the pale morning sun reflected off the ice shards on the yuccas. The patterns are fragile, fleeting and beautiful.

My World through the fog

I woke up to see my world shrouded in a think blanket of fog. Hours later the hush was still on the land; no dog barked, no birds called, what small sounds there were came faintly, clogged by the fog. I would not want to be lost in the woods on such a day.

To see other parts of the world, visit That's My World.

Witch Hazel

I was out to dinner the other day, and the topic of conversation fell to trees. I am not sure how we got there, fall leaves maybe. Anyway, I was telling my scary tree story, you know the one about the tree with the screaming face over by the dead boy bridge…. What, you don’t know about that tree or the dead boy bridge? Goodness, Ok. I’ll come back to that.

ANYWAY, the scary tree story led to a discussion of Halloween images-- crows, haunted houses, ghosts, witches, dead, gnarled, twisted branches raking a leaden sky, dusty tinctures with ancient peeling labels…people that go way overboard in decorating their houses and lawns. You get the picture. After everyone had named all their favorite iconic Halloween images and gossiped about their neighbors, there was a lull in the conversation. I offhandedly mentioned that speaking of tinctures, I have Witch-hazel growing on the property and although it is a leggy shrub, it could fit into the creepy tree category. Astonished by the lifted eyebrows and blank stares I started to tick off it unusual characteristics.


It has small snaky yellow blossoms in October when all other trees bloom in Spring.

It spits seeds for long distances rather than letting them fall to float on the wind.

The inner bark has long been used to brew a tincture to ward off skin ailments and relieve pain.

Its branches were and maybe still are used as dowsing rods to find water or minerals underground.

It is a rebel, grows wild in the woods….

The flow of conversation turned to Witch Hazel from Bugs Bunny abandoning the plant to conversational oblivion.

I like Witch-Hazel and I do have lots of it growing at the top of the property and it is in its glory right now.

Pumpkin Pecan Bread

You know how some days just cry out for baking? Well, it is gray, rainy and 40F here. And I happen to have pecans in the freezer and a can of pumpkin in the pantry. This recipe is from one of those little paperback cookbooks that are at the end of the checkout line at the grocery store. I have made it umpteen times. It comes out perfect every time, freezes really well, stays moist. Makes a great gift. It makes 7 mini loaves, if you prefer ( I've donated them to charity fundraisers). Gotta go, I just heard the timer!

Pumpkin Pecan Bread

2 1/2 c. flour
1c. whole wheat flour
3 c. Sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1 ½ tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1 c. oil
2/3 c. water
4 eggs
2 c. pumpkin puree
1 c. chopped pecans

Heat oven to 350F. Grease bottom only of 2 bread pans. Lightly spoon flour into measuring cup; level off. In large bowl, combine both flours, sugar, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg; mix well. In a medium bowl, combine oil, water, eggs, and pumpkin. Mix well. Add to flour mixture; beat for 1 minute at medium speed. Fold in pecans. Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake at 350F for 60-70 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes; remove from pans and cool on wire rack. Makes 2 loaves.

Pillsbury, Fall Baking Cookbook, 1988.

Wordless Wednesday

Apple Snob

There it is then. Out in the open. I have favorites. We all do. Mine is the juicy, sweet, tang of a firm-fleshed Crispin. I get them from a local orchard; the grocery store does not sell them. (Do not be confused with Honey Crisp which the stores do sell; they are not the same thing.) When they are in season I eat them a lot. More than that, I hold off buying any fall apples until the Crispins are ready in mid-October. They are the BEST eating apple. Of course you can cook with them, but why? One drawback, is that they are HUGE. So you might want to share. My favorite afternoon snack is a sliced Crispin with a nice sharp Irish cheddar cheese.

In terms of cooking, I usually use a combo of Granny Smith and Golden Delicious for pie and McIntoch for crisp.

Do you have a favorite apple?

Autumn Leaves

Hoo-ey! The Leaf-peepers were out in full force this weekend. The fall foliage normally peaks around here the second weekend of October, but since we had had no wind or rain, this weekend the trees were still in their glory. The weather was crisp, sunny, dry. Perfect for a fall day in the country.

You know how you take things for granted? Oblivious to the beauty around me, I tried to turn left onto the main drag to go to the grocery store yesterday but all I could finally do was turn right and go with the flow. Car after car was filled with families going north. Intent on driving north to turn around and come south again to do my errands, I too got caught up in the fall color. It was spectacular! Abandoning my errands I drove to some of my favorite haunts. Enjoy the pictures.

One of the joy and sorrows of living on the mountain is the hordes of city folk that come to recreate in the woods. I hope you were one of them. If you haven't been out to see the fall foliage c'mon over. It will be over soon.

Raking leaves

When is the last time you actually raked leaves?

I rarely hear the scrape of a rake on the chill autumn air anymore. Once a sure sign of fall, it has been replaced by the roar of the leaf blower. Yes, I know raking is back-breaking work, but there is something nostalgic about it for me.

As kids, we played endless games involving raking the leaves into long lines and gigantic piles. We would jump in the leaves, roll around scattering them to the winds, then rake them up again. No doubt encouraged by the adults in the family, we spent long hours on the weekends breathing the fresh air and tiring ourselves out. Eventually the leaf piles would get burned. There was nothing like the smell of burning leaves. And the danger and excitement of it.

One of my favorite games was to rake the leaves into a blueprint of a house. We would make rooms and doors and windows. We had to come and go through the doors of our make-believe house. Stepping over the "walls" was not allowed. We would argue over furnishings and create fake dinner parties. Sometimes we would actually make leaf neighborhoods with different styles of houses.

I don't see kids playing in the leaves anymore. The lawn services come, blow them all into bags and haul them away to the recycling center. Pity really. Some brilliant architect could get his start by designing leaf houses.

Wordless Wednesday

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Wordless Wednesday

Signs of Autumn

I am in denial.

Flat out denial.

Even though the grocery store has started to stock mums (3 for $10.) and there are some spots of orange and red where the sun has kissed the trees and the furnace kicked on last night because it got down into upper 30s (and the windows were wide open) and it is getting darker much, much earlier; I am turning a deaf ear---but not a blind eye. For how can I. Fall for me is when the trees themselves turn into flowers. I am feeling abandoned by summer; not yet ready to move on, but Fall is beckoning.

Are you ready?

Golden leaf

A Live Oak Leaf

How marvelous this bit of green
I hold, and soon shall throw away!
Its subtle veins, its vivid sheen,
Seem fragments of a god's array.

In all the hidden toil of earth,
Which is the more laborious part-
To rear the oak's enormous girth,
Or shape its leaves with poignant art?

Clark Ashton Smith

Clinton Road

She pushed my head forward, a drop ran down my cheek. I could feel cold steel against the back of my neck. She began to snip and little pieces of me began to fall.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” She asked.

“Why?” I asked

“Have you ever been down Clinton Road?”

“Yes, I go up and down it all the time. It’s a very pretty road through the forest .”

“It’s haunted, you know.”

“I’ve heard something about that,” I mumble.

“Listen.” She said.

One time, when my husband and I were first married, we were coming home up Clinton Road after a party. It was late. We were arguing. I made him stop the car and I got out, thinking I would walk home. He sped off. As you know Clinton Road has no streetlights. It’s just a twisting, road through a dark forest. There were weird sounds coming through the woods. It was creepy. I was beginning to regret the decision.

As I plodded along, stumbling in the pitch black, headlights suddenly came up behind me. The car slowed to a crawl and the couple in the car asked if I wanted a ride. I told them no and they drove off. The whole thing scared me. Shortly after they left, my husband came back to get me. I told him about the car that stopped. He looked at me shaking his head. He told me no car had passed him on his way back to get me. I insisted there was a car. He insisted that no car passed him. We were at a draw. If no car passed him, then where did it go?”

I glanced at her in the mirror.

“So what happened?”

“Nothing.” But let me tell you, I am glad I didn’t get into that car.”

She spun me around.

“What do you think?’

I looked in the mirror, shaking my new 'do.

Chilling conversation to be having with someone wielding a scissor and coming at you from behind.

Before moving north I had never heard of Clinton Road, or the strange stories and weird things that supposedly happen there. There are many weird tales of ghosts, demons dogs, murder, Satanism, even KKK meetings.

I can tell you that it a gorgeous ride in the fall with the sunlight turning the trees into a golden tunnel, but creepy at night. I drive through there with my windows rolled up, headlights on bright, music on the radio. I have never seen anything and I don’t want to.

Wordless Wednesday

"Leaflets 3, let it be."

Poison ivy turns the most beautiful color in the fall.

Mystery Caterpillar

Anyone have any idea what this is? It is smooth, plump and about 3 inches long. It is hanging onto a Russian Sage bush. It has been moving around from branch to branch for a week. It does not appear to be eating it. No chrysalis yet. Some sort of moth?

September

The light has changed.
Even with the visor down
The sun’s dying embers burn my eyes as I drive into the west.
The creep of darkness has begun
and will not end until the brittle cold of the longest night.

Leaves are changing
Sun kissed touches of gold and red decorate the hillsides
Glowing in the long light,
Splotches of nature’s paint that will soon run together
then turn brown and fall away.

There is a chill in the air
The kitchen floor is cold now in the morning.
When I skip across it in my robe longing for the first sip of morning’s heat
I am still warm from the comforter pulled up in the night
My bare feet are icy.


Change is good, it is inevitable.
It comes on so slowly that we do not notice
until
one day it seems to have happened over night.