November, Inside and Out

I've come to enjoy the waiting times almost as much (or maybe more?).  There is something about that pause before the big out-breath of color or celebration or flowers that is so special.  November is a time to keep, for sure.  I'm making lots of cranberry mors these days, several times a week, always eyeing my honey supply.  I've upped the water to eight cups, and I added in a few extras like orange zest or sliced apples that were not so great for eating fresh.  Star anise makes all the difference, but it's still very good with powdered ginger and spices. 

I made Susan Branch's star croutons (and discovered that I do like them, just not the rocks served on salads) and tomato bisque (that's your cheese, Kim!)  The croutons are from Christmas from the Heart of the Home and go like this: tiny cutouts (I used the end of a loaf of whole wheat), 2 parts butter, 1 part oil, healthy dose of garlic, toast in skillet.  I always use way more garlic than a recipe recommends.  Always.

We are horse sitters, again, as my parents have gone out to the original Old Davis Homeplace in Missouri.  The children love Golden Boy and he loves them, though he would love us more if we had grain for him or some of those long-gone September apples. . . I think Willow is mimicking his movable ears here.

I'm getting excited about Christmas and formulating some things to say about our plans this year, as always.  I like to keep a list of presents past for the children, as I forget so quickly.  I will say that my plans this year involve fewer baked, sweet things.  This is for health, in addition to easing my mind about the to-do list.  Oh, and look at this holly at my parents' house!  The trees near us in town are covered, too.  Holly in all the rooms!  I even have a wee green glass vase, just like my mother's big one she always fills with holly. 

Speaking of plants that are so beautiful right now, the blueberries are on fire with color.  Ours are a wonderful red-orange here in town, and my parents' are a purpley-pink as you can see.  The oaks are the last trees to come into their own with colorful leaves.  I love that the background of this photo has one of the children of the old-growth oaks.  Oh, to turn back time.  Roan would have loved those trees.

And some sheep for Willow, always sheep.  When I was little, there weren't many folks raising sheep, as best as I can recall.  Now, they are everywhere here.  Willow used to ask me to take alternate sheep-free routes if she had not brought her Lamby in the car, but now every road seems to have them.  Sheep and donkeys litter the landscape in the sweetest, softest way.  Maybe if my parents' field is still clear when the Old Davis Homeplace becomes mine. . .

Well, it's time to get up, I guess.  I think I hear someone stirring inside the house--the computer now lives on the enclosed back porch, which is also quickly becoming a library.

Happy final-weekend-before-the-speedy-slide-to-the-end-of-the-year!