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.

As Daddy described it: "WOW!"

Gavin had a long day. I love the Einstein look about him. And those ENORMOUS eyes!

Speaking with God

When I was praying this morning, I remembered that I was speaking with God. I pray so often without really knowing with both my heart and my mind that I'm actually communicating directly with my Creator--it is a shocking thing to remember that God is hearing me as I pray. He is constantly loving me and designing my days and my future. I am in awe.

Prayer sounds different to me when I think about it as a conversation with God. I phrase the words in my mind differently: they are honest, and there are more spaces between them so that I can "be still, and know that I" (He) "am God" as I read in Psalm 46:10. When I remember God's presence, I have peaceful prayers in the knowledge of His care.

August on Crescent Hill

"Home sweet home!" Sighed Ladybird as the train neared the Portland side of the Colombia River.We don't go to Portland very often, but it is a city I'm somewhat familiar with, and it is in Oregon, therefore I felt at home. I smiled at the shape of the tall buildings, the shape of the hills, the shape of the fir trees which are such a part of my home state. Me and Ladybird had gone home with cousins after the family reunion (which was a wonderful one, by the way) and stayed with them for a week. It was a good time, and I am so glad I was able to spend it with them, but home is my favorite place in all the world; it's hard to imagine being any more excited than I was when we entered Portland, then Oregon City, then Canby, and finally Salem. We had to wait extra long in our "home" train station (I found that the longer I was in it, the less familiar it felt) but finally Bethany and Cassio arrived and we all went home.
Coming back to Hilltop Manor, we celebrated Cassio's birthday with mocha cheesecake and a rather quiet, though very content, evening together (those of us who are here, at least). I longed to go on a walk after the long train ride, but by the time I was ready it was too dark and late, so I managed to wait until this morning.
I spent time with Mama and Gavin when I woke up, and then I went out to look around at all my dear home places. I discovered that the blackberries are ripe, so I picked some for our pancake breakfast. Blackberries are nostalgic for me, as well as being my favorite berry, so coming home to find Crescent Hill (the hill at the bottom of our driveway) abundant with them made my morning ever so wonderful.
Today is the last day of July. I had a great two weeks away at the Quail's Nest and with cousins, the train ride was interesting and fun, but I couldn't be happier to be home at last, just in time to start off August with blackberry picking and the renewal of my sweet, good life at home!