The flames are lithe and silken, fanning from clean orange ribbons into soft, translucent wraiths in swift, curling gold. It is a miracle: that mountain dance of rich, pure colors sprouting from hot white ash, heart-beat coals and silent black chunks of oak. And its all tucked away, almost as if it were insignificant and normal, inside the tidy stove with its clean glass window, arched, crossing bars and cast-iron kettle breathing warm moisture into the air. But I know it isn't: Mama keeps glancing at it too--sometimes her knitting goes completely unnoticed for a few moments while she watches the sprite-dance inside the stove. And Chesterton is lying on the floor nearby, not even bothering to sleep on  the rug (anything to be closer to that gold licking firelight). But Daddy remains oblivious, I think, to the magic. For now.
Thursday night almost feels like the beginning of the weekend. That's a pretty good deal, when I realize that I then have only three full school days. Of course, it's not really that way... but it's a good perspective. Agatha Christie's life is almost laid bare, I have a treasure trove of things to work on during the next week of piano practice, Spanish will have a new beginning soon, and a new chapter of geometry is about to start. And it's all oh, so good. Sometimes I don't think like that--I am actually fully capable of feeling tired and worried--but right now, having worked a thorough, happy day and now relaxing with a merry fire and Following the Moon (a favorite baroque album) I can say it with a pure heart: life is good.
There is something unique and precious about this November. Maybe some snatch of firelight, kiss of cold air or shawl of rustling tawny leaves has lent me special joy. But I am more prone to think that it is, in fact, my appreciation for these things that has changed my attitude. After all, what is a glorious sunset if you aren't thankful for it? Just a sunset. I think it takes gratitude for it to be glorious.

Of a Saturday

Ladybird and Moonchild are about to have a regular brinner-feast. She is getting Gavin ready for bed now, and I have just finished a bit of washing up. When he's sound asleep, and the acorn squash is out of the oven, we will toast some bread and cheese, fry some sausages, brew a pot of tea and settle down to a long and satisfying brinner. After that comes miniature chocolate pudding tarts and gingerbread bundt cakes. After all, it's not every Saturday that Mama and Daddy head off on an anniversary date!

Little Things

It is golden, here on the hilltop,

Watching the sun-sweet day

Of the valley age in a splendor

Of fading loveliness--filled with

Smooth earth, crinkled leaves, twisted hay.

Rajah and Czar are looking too,

Both as alert to the tiny signs

Of a mouse chase as I am

To the beauty of an October evening,

 To the balm of apricot-scented wind and sticky pines.

The light over the friendly valley

Is so gentle, breathing its soft words

Over rooted mountains and straight,

Slim grasses erect in taught comfort,

Slipping small bright seeds to the birds.

The moon, coyly glowing her silver

Smile, rises in the dim, intricate

Coolness of the muscled oak boughs,

She is an evening soul in palest crepe.

Perfect before violet skies, still lit.

F. M. G.

Midweek with rosemary and garlic

I was finished with school at the great and alarming hour of 5:00, and I was ready to put my sparing creative juices to work. After a bit of messing with the piano and keyboard (I was toying with rhythms to incorporate into a piano lesson  tomorrow) it was time to begin the preparation of a long-awaited dinner production (something I had at Olive Garden a while back and haven't been able to forget). My plans were Baked Rosemary-Garlic Chicken, Cheese and Herb Potato Fans, and a garden salad. To my taste, the results were a bit too salty and "green with their coats of dried herbs", but Mama and Ladybird approved, so it must just be me.
Four baking potatoes were briskly scrubbed and thinly sliced, each one maintaining a thin spine of uncut fiber so the potato remained whole. I splayed the little layers as well as I could and drowned them in melted butter, salt and pepper. After about 45 minutes of moderate baking they were sprinkled with a handful of grated Parmesan, Cheddar, and Italian herbs. As soon as the cheese melted they were ready.
The chicken was more fun: Four whole breasts rubbed with salt and pepper, tucked into a dear old glass dish. They were drizzled with white wine vinegar and olive oil, and a scattering of whole garlic cloves was allowed to caramelize on top. Dried rosemary, fennel and thyme provided their "green coats". This baked at 450 for longer than expected (between 30 and 40 minutes, I think). My salad was a lively and simple affair of fresh lettuce, cucumber, purple onion and an exciting cilantro dressing.
We were all quite full after our warm, candle-lit meal, but couldn't resist a bit of dark chocolate to end it. I chose a chunk of frozen, home-made deliciousness studded with hazelnuts. And (with painful generosity) shared it with Gavin. Then me and Ladybird did the washing up and went out for a short walk. I hope I'm not the only one around here who has noticed the striking young moon tonight--it is slim and elegant, and cosseted by gentle, mysterious ash-colored clouds.
I'm still enjoying the "new" school year. Ladybird is finally beginning her second year of college, and it seems impossible that her summer break could really have been that long; but it was. So it's quiet around here, with me, Mama and Gavin puttering happily through our simple days (though we do tend to wear thin at the end of the afternoon, when he gets tired and hungry). I started my first research project of the year yesterday, and I'm surprisingly intrigued with the concept. I've chosen to write about Agatha Christie--maybe I'll gain some inspiration, or at least a little peak into the genius behind Murder on the Orient Express.

French bread and cheese

We had a wonderful last weekend of summer. Friday was spent at the Woodburn Outlets doing some back to school and birthday shopping, including a bit of chocolate with caramel and macadamia nuts in the late afternoon, and we met Daddy for dinner at a Mexican place in the outlets. It was a happy end-of-the-work-week reunion, and we were satisfied with our purchases. On Saturday we celebrated Ladybird's birthday with a family breakfast and a relaxing morning. In the afternoon I had a picnic in the woods with the birthday girl, during which we read a good bit of The Fellowship of the Ring and dubbed a squirrel "Sophie" after it's sound-alike, a squeaky plastic giraffe of Gavin's. The evening was a real celebration: creamy enchiladas with mango salsa, a friend over to help us enjoy it, a happy mound of presents, and Almond-poppyseed cake with chocolate vanilla tea. The three of us girls disappeared upstairs soon afterwards for a movie and some hair and make-up experimentation.

Yesterday started early--the 10-mile run to church with Daddy was first starry and dark (with a sliver of golden moon), and then ghostly grey with creamy-peach blushes on the horizon, and finally coolly spread with mellow, orange light of morning as we crested the last hill before town. Church was nice (after a quick, hot shower) and then we were home again (don't worry, we drove back!) to eat sausage-corn casserole, salad and slices of leftover birthday cake. I had a quiet afternoon of reading and being with family, and another workout with Daddy (push-ups this time). Before I left for youth group we shared fresh bread of Mama's making, bright, sweet grapes and pieces of cheddar and garlic white cheese--it was wonderful.

And now Monday. I'm busier, but still delighting in life. There is truly something to learn in each moment during the school week!

Spending Time

The "living at home" portion of our family spent Labor Day weekend at our favorite haunt for vacationing, a quiet, snug cabin about an hour Northeast of home, where the air is filled with pine scents and the freshness of the river. Craggy rocks add character and immense beauty to the softly dark green mountains--I like to admire them from the vantage of the porch swing just on the other side of Opal Creek, with a big mug of a spicy, hot tea (mountain mornings do tend to be chilly). We had a rich, chocolatey ganache cake both evenings after our special Trader Joe's dinners, while we watched Little Dorrit (Friday night) and The Croods (Saturday). Me and Ladybird worked up hearty appetites swimming in the icy cold, crystal green water and going on inspirational hikes in the rain and dew-glinting sunshine, and spent a bit of our time reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (we're making not very much headway in the series, although we both love them). I also got to go on a wonderfully stormy, 9-mile run with Daddy, read my own fun book, The Eagle of the Ninth, and play Ticket to Ride with Ladybird. Mama may not have had as relaxing a vacation as I: Gavin woke up at 4:30 on Sunday morning and could not be convinced to go back to bed. We finished our trip with Sunday dinner at Olive Garden on the way home (I thoroughly enjoyed my Garlic Rosemary Chicken and mashed potatoes, and am now determined to recreate the delicious concoction, with a valiant attempt at those garlic cloves, chewy, whole and caramely sweet). And then Daddy had to drive all the way back to the cabin to fetch his laptop, forgotten on the antique stove in the corner of the kitchen.
I spent my real Labor Day catching up on school reading, which was actually very pleasant, putting my room to rights, watching Doctor Who with Ladybird, doing push-ups with Daddy, running for an hour along my home roads... it was good. And in the afternoon, when everything else was happily accomplished, I slipped off into the woods, found a resting place, and lay there letting time slide by while I watched birds and dancing fir boughs, felt wind and fir needles wafting around me, and thought contentedly about life and health and beauty.
P.S. Happy September!

Up and Running

It seems a little early to start back to school, but I'm doing it, and it's not bad. Especially because my strategy this year is considerably less rigorous than in past school years: I'm going to grow and enjoy. That's it. No up at five, run in the dark, work till I drop schedule for me this year, just a simple succession of good days. Work days, true, but good days with lots of sleep, lots of running in the fresh air, plenty of geometry and music, Spanish, philosophy and writing, and hopefully a bit of spare time to devote to cooking and scrap-booking, gardening and bird-watching. There's no reason for summer to be over because I'm starting up another school year; it has just become even more full and beautiful!
P.S. I know it's not always that easy--I just happen to have a delightful junior-year curriculum and am very pleased with the prospect!

Goodbying

Funny how words work: I thought of the title "goodbying" to write about Lavender Girl heading off on her grand adventure, thinking "Autumn Rain might have written something like this before", only to find that Mama titled a goodbye album the same way. I suppose it makes sense that we both use Mama's words--she taught us to talk!
Our big family is spreading out even more now. With Lavender Girl, Cassio and Lulu on their way to build a life in Colorado we have shrunk to a house for five: just Mama, Daddy, Ladybird, Gavin and I. And Autumn Rain is home for a visit; impeccable timing.
The house is a little sad and quiet, but we will get used to it. For now we need to eat German Chocolate Cake (the leftovers from Daddy's birthday celebration yesterday) to cheer us up.

Summer Days

One partial week of quietude before the next roller coaster. It's going fast.
We started off with a trip to Ocean Shores for my cousin's graduation retreat. The next week cousins from Mama's side visited. The next one we had a reunion with Daddy's family, followed by a week with cousins from that side. It has been tiring, but fun, and I'm looking forward to another family reunion this week (this one a gathering of Mama's family at my grandparent's summer property in Idaho).
I spent Saturday recovering from the last spurt of busyness (including a wonderful trip to the ice cream parlor and the park with my home family). Yesterday I rescued my garden from the onslaught of thistles, chamomile and bachelor's buttons--chamomile and bachelor's buttons are lovely flowers, but far too quick to propagate in my tiny garden, and tall enough to block the sun from my gladiolas. I also cleared out the circular paths between my flower beds (these, too, had been taken over by bachelor's buttons and a host of thistles) and made vibrant plans for next year's garden, when I will be the one to plant and keep it. I'm thinking fruit trees and blueberry plants in addition to the vegetable and flower beds.
Today has been thoroughly summer-ish, even marked by a little bit of boredom. Tomorrow will be a bit more productive because I'm going to make a few car-drive/picnic snacks to take to Idaho on Wednesday--spiced pecans and almond-coconut energy bars. I love to cook and bake, so between a garlicky green side that I'm making tonight and the snacks tomorrow, I should get my fill of kitchen creativity for a few days.

A soft orange light rested across the track--orange light to temper the rough red rubber surface and smear the treetops, and grace the fields with shimmering wonder. 5:00 AM. Running with Daddy. We warmed up in cool grey light and balmy air, did breathtaking speed work in the building glow of sunrise, and one last mile to cool down as the light grew bright and yellow. It was lovely.
Amid several days of busy fun with cousins, involving late nights and too-late wake-ups, it felt wonderful to get up so early and run (especially having gone to bed early with such a good excuse). And having done that, I was able to have a quiet hour, shower and eat, and practice piano before any other project got too far underway. This is summer break at its finest :-)

Bubbles in the Rain

His small, round face is tilted upwards,

His mouth is open in abandoned delight:

There are wonderful bubbles flying by;

Mama's magic with wand, soap and breath.

This little boy is delighting in wetness:

Liquid sunshine, streaming rain,

And a myriad of brilliant bubbles swirling

Their blue and pink, silver and gold souls.

There is so much life out there--

Mama and her boy, blowing bubbles in the rain.

I can see the love and sweetness

There in the soap, sunshine and water,

And before my eyes a memory is created.

~Faerynn M.

The lilacs are in full purple bloom, and the rain is rushing down their stems and leaves and clustered blossoms to the ground. It's sliding on the windows too, and melting into the ground. Attempting to look out the south windows, it's as if the field and the trees and the valley are only part of a vague painting, blurred and softened by the wet sheen across the glass. But the lilacs, just outside the east windows, are perfectly visible.
Chicken curry soup is heating on the stove for lunch. Behind it is a covered sauce pan of just-made pudding, cooling for tomorrow's Easter dessert, and on the warming rack is the torte crust, a crispy thin mixture of pecans, butter and flour. There are egg-decorating things laid out on the counter.
For today, these things make up my life, and it is good.

A World of Breads

My favorite Saturday pastime is bread-baking. A Saturday morning is just not complete unless I fill that little teacup with warm water and a bit of yeast, then fluff a few cups of water and some salt in the big old bread bowl. I dig a well in the finely ground, whole wheat flour and pour in the frothy, bubbly yeast mixture. Then in goes a bit of oil and honey or molasses, and I swirl and stir and blend with my fingers until I have the dough I want. Then comes a few minutes of kneading, first a gentle pressure, and then, as the dough grows more resilient, a stronger palm-pressing, molding gesture. There is a delightful kneading rhythm to fall into as I watch the dough begin to stiffen into a pliable, strong substance. My most treasured bread-baking moments are those I spend deflating the twice-risen dough, smoothing it into a flat, circular disc, and then folding it into a round, which I then pat and stroke into a smooth, silky ball. I let these rounds rest on the floured board under a clean cloth, and by the time I uncover them they are relaxed and saggy and perfect for the final shaping. I also enjoy checking the loaves' "done-ness" with a few simple tests: I try to slide the bread out of it's pan (the more easily this is done, the better) then gently press it's sides (if they spring back that's a good sign) and sharply tap the bottom (the bread is done if the resulting sound is light and hollow).

The process varies, of course, with the kind of bread I'm making. Almost all of the recipes I use come from Laurel's Bread Book, a very well-timed Christmas gift that has sent me on a wonderful journey of weekend bread-baking. Today's fresh new adventure has been Anadama bread, a delectable-smelling basic wheat bread with a delightful addition of coarsely ground cornmeal. I baked one of my two loaves in a cornmeal-dusted, round steel bowl and the other in a regular rectangular bread pan. I have yet to taste them (that will be the event of the evening for me) but my guess is that this bread will be chewy and flavorful, but not very light. I imagine it will be one of those dense, hearty breads--quite different from a springy, fluffy french loaf, but just as good in its own way.

At Home

Just a minute ago, Gavin was sitting on the floor playing with Chesterton. He had a small plastic bowl of goldfish clutched in his waving fist; he would plunge his hand into the bowl, take out a bunch of goldfish and scatter them across the floor, then laugh uproariously as Chesterton greedily gobbled them up. No sooner were the goldfish gone, then Gavin took another handful to feed to the dog, giggling and screeching all the while. What a generous, and messy, little brother I have: his nice Sunday outfit of kahki pants and a thick blue knit sweater (as well as his chubby face) are crumb-laden.

My generosity may be needed in a different manner, but it is ever so important. Will it make a difference in this week if, behind my every subtle action, I am persistent in a spirit of generosity? Can I do it with Gavin's delighted smile and bubbling laughter? I think I've lost a good deal of that baby's glee in giving--maybe I can grow it back.

I've tried to stick around home the past few weekends, in order to preserve my time (this has nothing to with generosity, it's only common sense). I've been so much happier, and so much more fulfilled. Yesterday I managed to clean the bathrooms, sort my drawers and bake bread, as well as do plenty of small fun things that I never have time for during the week. It was a sweet and sunny day, ending with brownies and gelato and Return of the King with Ladybird.

Today I hope to wash cars and do a little more cleaning, then relax and write, or whatever else strikes my fancy in the afternoon. There's something to be said for "a quiet and humble life" as Paul wrote... though the humble part may take some time.

The snow was lovely, but brief, and I'm glad of it. We've had a week of fat cool raindrops coming down almost every day--yesterday was especially stormy and wet. I must really be an Oregonian now, being so relieved to be done with snow and have my sweet, normal rain back again. Besides, I need that rain if I am to have a garden this year.
Valentines day was a nice, chocolatey, family filled time. I wish the whole clan of my immediate family had been here at Hilltop Manor. But we enjoyed our small party with traditional Valentine hamburgers, chocolate milkshakes and "kissable" coconut cupcakes (they were named so a few years ago by one enamored eater). I was actually pleased with the Valentine cards I made this year--maybe I will develop an artistic side yet :-)

Snow and Mousse

It's falling thick and fast--a dry white waterfall. Our Oregon snows are usually moist and dense, falling in big wet globs; but today I can see each snowflake. Ladybird and I, on a sledding adventure, watched dry, thumbnail-sized clumps touch the black sled surface and burst apart, revealing all the intricate flakes. I've never been able to truly see a snowflake, with my naked eyes, before. It is wonderful to see the angelic, glittering bits of ice, shaped like flowers and stars in a myriad of sizes and exquisite points.
When we came back we found that Lavender Girl had left dessert at the house for us and Mama and Gavin. So we satisfied our sweet cravings with lemon mousse and giant meringues--meringues that crunch softly when you bite into them, and have a sticky, creamy layer inside, and even farther in are completely hollow. The best kind. Ladybird, after a bite, picked hers up and crumbled it all into her ramekin of mousse, "like chips in chili", she said. Perhaps, the dessert version.
I've decided to take a snow day today. After a hot soup lunch we went sledding, and then came the meringue and mousse. Now we have plans for a nice snow photo-shoot (it's been far too long since either of us had the time to keep our photo-shoot tradition!) and tonight, after dinner, it will be time for a movie (probably a Harry Potter, as we seem to be hooked on that series this past month) and drink hot chocolate. If we can fit any more dessert in us, we might even indulge in those cupcakes I know are still waiting in the freezer.