Pumpkin Carving

Days of Grace

"This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem..." - Walt Whitman, Preface to Leaves of Grass

This week we have colds and it is cold outside. My thoughts go to last week when we spent warmer days outside, in the leaves. Sarah and I cut plants back for winter. Matt jumped in the leaves or dug in the dirt. Sam, who is becoming achy and arthritic, barked and ran in circles. Readying the garden for winter - can we call it work? 

Even on cool fall days, there is a sense of endings, of needing to things finish up. Like a squirrel with nuts, I become obsessed with completing my projects. Of needing to live life fully, and eat up, before winter comes.

Matt now seems to understand the concept of seasons. Waiting for the bus this morning, he crouched down to touch the grass, coated with crystals of our first hard frost. He tilted his head, "Is it winter now?" Last week, he stood in utter amazement, realizing the leaves were falling from the trees.

I am hoping for a few more warm days. Plants in the front yard need cutting back. Each year I hope for an Indian Summer, warm days I can open the doors and hear the leaves rustle.

Even with all the busy-ness, the colds, and my current bag of worries, these days feel like a poem.

Cheese Bread

It's dark, rainy and cold. The kids are doing puzzles, reading, and coloring. I made cheese bread. Nothing in the world smells and tastes as good as this bread. Nothing.

Cheese Bread

2 packages dry yeast

1 cup water (105-115 degrees)

1 cup milk

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons shortening

2 teaspoons salt

1 egg, slightly beaten

6 to 7 cups all-purpose flour, divided

2 cups (8 ounces) shredded cheddar cheese

Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Combine milk, sugar, shortening, and salt in a saucepan; heat until shortening melts. Cool mixture to 105-115 degrees. Add milk mixture, egg, and 2 cups flour to yeast mixture; stir until smooth. Stir in cheese; gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough.

Turn dough out onto a floured surface; cover and let rest 10-15 minutes. Knead dough until smooth and elastic (about 8 to 10 minutes). Place in a well-greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in bulk.

Punch dough down, and divide in half; shape each portion into a loaf. Place in two greased 9 x 5 x 3 inch loafpans. Cover and let rise in a warm place, free from drafts, 45 minutes or until doubled in bulk. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes or until loaves sound hollow when tapped. Remove from pans and let cool. Yield: 2 loaves

A Turned Brain

"She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain."
- Louisa May Alcott

It's great fun to see your kids take flight. This one may have inherited her father's penchant for reading for long stretches. Tonight she read Marvin Redpost for an hour and a half, not moving. I have never seen her still (and quiet) for that long. She got her own library card this week and is very, very proud. Her teacher said Sarah told her about the card 4 separate times.

Sarah's library card was a result of us hitting the limit the last few times we've gone. The kids and I are marauders, shrieking and flailing our way to the stacks (some hyberbole here). Books! CDs! Magazines! Learning kits! It's all too exciting. In the summer we visit at least twice a week. Hitting the limit is a little embarrassing, like we've overdrawn an account. The librarians (do I imagine this?) snivvle, like they sense our gimme-the-goods attitude. Aren't we supposed to do this? The library plies its patrons with "Support Your Library" swag. Aren't we just obeying? They are firm: we can't check everything out. We stagger out with our bags. At home we shiver, delighted with all the choices. 

A Walk in the Woods

The day started innocently enough. The promise: a fall family hike in beautiful Brown County State Park.

We started on the trail at 11:30. "Let's make the kids exercise a little before lunch," Erik said. Sure, why not--we'd had a late breakfast. "Are you happy?" asked Matt. Yes, we were all happy.

Matt was rearing to go. Right away he found a walking stick.
"Sacajawea" on the trail. She was both a fast walker and a curious collector. By the end of the hike her pockets bulged with acorns. Her braids bounced with her.
While the trees are still in the process of turning, there was stunning color in surprising places.
Most of the time these two were way ahead of Matt and me.  
We looked for deer and other animals but only saw a bunny. We were probably too noisy. We clattered through leaves. We heard leaves falling to the ground.
After one hour we found our trail was correctly labeled "rugged" on the map. The map? Who left the map in the car? The same person who said we didn't need a map? Where was the trail? Matt was starting to cry. Apparently he thought we were only taking a short hike to a picnic table (he had seen me packing the lunch). There were steep ravines. Large logs to go over and under, thickets, thorny thrashing branches...
It was beautiful, though. We hadn't yet panicked. That happened after we walked back and forth three times along the horse path (according to one rider, "waaaay far away from the road and any trail"). Either we had gone off the trail or the trail was missmarked. A 2.2 mile trail shouldn't take two hours. Right?
Or three hours. Thankfully lunch can be where you make it. Matt perked up. Here, Sarah is still traumatized from seeing her mother squat behind a tree. It didn't seem to hamper her appetite, however. Erik's thinking hard: do we continue on the horse path? Or turn around, again? We see more people on horses who keep saying to us, "we never see people walking in these parts." Where are we?
I am carrying Matt who is so tired he doesn't try to hang on. This view makes me almost glad we are lost, though.
Finally, we hear voices. Cars. Erik leaves me and the kids at a playground, then literally runs up up up a steep ridge road--for an hour and 15 minutes--to find the car.

The kids play but tire after an hour. Sarah: "What if Dad never returns?" I remember the book I have at home on edible forest plants. 

At almost 4:00 we see Erik in the car, happily listening to the Colts. We are happy to be together. Going home. The fall color in my own backyard has never looked so lovely.

Heaven on Earth

It must be the end of the world--I bought doughnuts for my family. Erik did not believe I did, at first. He had to see the box.

I'm a wheat-granola-sticks-twigs sort of girl. My children are generally brainwashed.  Matt will do anything for a dried apricot. Sarah will whine and cry for an apple.

I never would've considered it except Erik has been talking for weeks about doughnuts. Dunkin Donuts is building in Greenwood and he's all but parked his car at the worksite.

Since DD is still a pile of rubble, Target was happy to oblige.

It was worth it for the incredulous looks.

Matt was shaking as I handed one to him. Sarah all but snatched one from my hand. Erik shut his eyes when he chewed. They were happy. And, so was I.

Wonder of Trees

Each Fall I am reminded of Gustav Klimt's "Birch Wood" series. Don't you think it looks like my backyard? Some time I would like to make a quilt with a similar composition, with the trees made of striated fabric pieces.