Mood-Setting Monday

     This Monday, I'm thinking about rain. The smell of rain is renewing, refreshing, soothing, and healing. The air smells clean and moist, with undertones of green, growing life, and rich, damp earth. Having always associated rain with renewal and growth, I have come to cherish listening to rain drum on my roof, flinging open the windows to fill the house with freshly washed air, and even taking long, soaking wet walks without an umbrella.  Luckily for me, I live in Washington, which averages over 27  inches of rain annually. This is an average, because my city gets over 50 inches a year, and the peninsula can get over a hundred!
      Granted, not all of my experiences in the rain have been amazing. I remember as a child, spending the autumn frantically hauling and stacking loads of firewood to keep our cozy little farmhouse, well, cozy. Usually half of that work was in the rain, and we would be moving loads of wood all day, with our leather gloves becoming sodden and muddy,the wood seeming to double in weight from the waterlogged moss still clinging to the rough bark, and the frantic ants, centipedes and spiders frantically seeking shelter from the wet. We spent the days soggy, cold, grumpy, and in terror that an earwig or spider would run up our sleeve. (They never did)
     At the same times in my life, however, rain has been a comfort, a blessing, a release. I remember the comforting rattle of rain on the roof, lulling me to sleep. Then, there's long walks through the woods, listening to the patter of rain on leaves, watching for frogs and salamanders and newts to play with.   I remember building little dams, bridges, and making leaf boats for the hundreds of little rills that would spring up on rainy days. For those of you who didn't amuse themselves by reading the dictionary cover to cover, a rill is a very tiny seasonal stream.
      I've never really used an umbrella, mostly because the summer after I watched Mary Poppins, I jumped off our roof several times, smashing beyond repair a succession of umbrellas until my dad threw up his hands in disgust and swore that he would never buy an umbrella again. Given that this was twenty years ago, he may have changed his mind, but I not only still wistfully look to the sky and wonder how to float off into it, I walk in the rain with no protection from it's sodden charms. While I might not ever use umbrellas, I do like them, especially this cool black steampunk umbrella, this awesome retro umbrella, and this amazing wrought iron decorated umbrella, on Etsy.
     While I love being in and listening to the rain, I can certainly understand why lots of people don't see the same attraction in being either trapped inside, or soaking wet and cold. Well, for the rest of you, here's a cute, fluffy little cloud that nobody could object to. For we rain-lovers, here's a sampling of amazing rain images and ideas that I yanked from my Pinterest.

Well, enjoy the rain, let it cleanse your spirit and leave you refreshed. Also, I'd love to hear your stories about rain, rain-related accessories and crafts, ect. Please comment and join the conversation! 

  

Tea-spiration Tuesday

              Today, I'm drinking Earl Grey. It's piping hot, rich, sweet, and flavorful, with half-n-half and four sugar cubes, in a silly Pemco NW Profile cup.

I found it in Seattle, and yes, my coffee order is always ridiculous. Baristas would hate me if I wasn't a good tipper. On a side note taking this picture prompted me to figure out the ISO settings on my camera. Bam! One hundred percent better photos. I feel like a technology god.

          Anyway, I like Earl grey because it has a complex flavor. I have two boxes, one by Twinings, which is my favorite tea brand EVER, and some decaf by The Republic of Tea, which is excellent, especially when I'm supposed to be in bed soon but want another cuppa. Traditionally, Earl Grey is a black tea, with bergamot oil added to enhance the flavor. Bergamot has a rich, bitter, piney-citrusy taste, and accents the dark earthiness of black tea beautifully. I like to add cream to it sometimes, to offset some of the earthier notes, but I have been informed that cream in tea is tea heresy. Oops.

           While I prefer to buy my tea from Twinings, there are lots of interesting handmade blends on Etsy, including ones with rose petals, lavender, lemon and even mint added! I happen to like this cute rubber stamp of a happy tea bag, and the nerd in me adores the quote on this mug. I've never mentioned this before, but I have a fascination with French macarons, and the Earl Grey macarons here make my mouth water.

            I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to tea. To me, every tea has a different effect and mood. Earl Grey  and its flavorful cousin, Lady Grey, speak to me of richness, the earthy taste speaking of nourishing, of the farms where the leaves are grown. The bergamot adds higher flavor notes that inspire thoughts of wealth and grandeur, of English women in satin and velvet drinking from bone white china. Its a powerful, intense tea that is an acquired taste.

           Well! What teas are you drinking today? What are they inspiring in you? What mug are they in? Please comment and join the conversation!

Sneak Peek Saturday

I'm posting this a bit early, because I plan to sleep late. (lol) Later than usual, anyway. Here's something I'm working on as a fun needlefelting project.

And, of course, here's Coraline wishing you all a wonderful weekend! See you on Monday! 

Foodie Friday

I was going to post a BIT more this week, but I succumbed to the flu. Argh.

       Anyway, I wanted to discuss food today. I was rather bad and made chocolate chip pancakes: pancakes from a mix with a handful of chips sprinkled onto each one as I poured it into the pan. Mmmmmmm. I had to fry them in butter, too, because I couldn't find the vegetable oil. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't eat them all. Well, that means I get some for lunch!
        Chocolate chip pancakes are particularly special to me because my mother used to make them for special occasions. My mother is an amazing cook, and used to make all kinds of amazing food when we were growing up on the farm. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I grew up on a remote, self-sufficient farm in the Cascade Mountains. We made our own electricity, grew our own food, and were home schooled by my mother, who had an excellent college education and drilled us ruthlessly. We spent summers exploring the mountains, hunting, gathering wild berries, nuts, tasty greens, stocking up on hay, and learning advanced survival skills. In the fall, we would gather in all of our garden and orchard goodies, dig up bushels of potatoes to store in bins in the root cellar, harvest dozens of massive winter squash like Acorn squash and Hubbards, gather cords and cords of firewood, finish canning hundreds of jars of vegetables, fruit, meat, jams, jellies, and apple sauce, and hunt deer in their season. Winter was spent mending tools that had been broken, studying, playing in the two feet of perpetual winter snow, playing on the frozen pond and ice fishing, and planning for spring. Spring was a frenzy of planting the garden repairing the fences, gathering the first delicious greens, watching chickens hatch broods, calving milk cows, picking out the perfect suckling pigs to raise, and watching the streams and rivers carefully for flooding.
        It was a pretty awesome way to grow up, but everything was from scratch. Want a cherry pie? Stand guard over the tree all spring and part of summer, then, to make sure the birds don't steal the cherries. When they are finally ripe, pick what ones the birds haven't stolen, pit each one by hand with a hairpin, put in fridge.   (fridge is powered by propane, because the nearest power lines are five miles away) Whip up some piecrust from Crisco, butter, flour and salt. (the flour is storebought, but the butter is home-made from our grouchy Jersey cow's rich cream) Preheat stove, (also propane, unless you're feeling adventurous and want to use the woodstove) place crust in pie plate, put in cherries and sugar, bake. Fend off horde of hungry siblings with a stick. Serve pie hot from the over with a pitcher of fresh cream.
     Despite the extra time involved in making everything from scratch, it's extra delicious that way. Our cow gave four to six gallons of milk EVERY DAY. A third of each gallon was a thick, heavy cream so rich that you could pour it into a sieve and it wouldn't flow out.  It was slightly more viscous than sweetened condensed milk. You could cut it with a knife. Sorry, I tend to wax eloquent on the subject of cream, but it was one of my favorite things about the farm. Breakfast? Big bowl of fresh blackberries and peaches with cream. Lunch? Thick pile of ham or chicken sandwiches on homemade bread , tall glasses of milk, with homemade tapioca pudding- made with cream. Dinner? Grilled or steamed zuchinni, roasted chicken or chicken pot pie rich with big chunks of potato and carrot and spring peas, baked squash with brown sugar, butter and nuts, green beans with butter, onions and bacon. More tall glasses of milk. Lots of wild green salads, venison, and ham. Thick bean soup with ten kinds of beans, salt pork, and bacon. Cornbread with rabbit enchiladas. Her sourdough biscuits- oh, don't get me started on them. Amazing  mile high, crunchy crust with a flaky inside, amazing with pork or rabbit gravy or with jam. Rich, buttery rolls, and her plate-sized cinnamon rolls, studded with walnuts and raisins, with a secret caramel sauce.
           Ever heard of Creme Bulgare? It's a sort of whipped heavy cream with a yogurt starter, and DELICIOUS. My mom would make crepes and serve them with fresh berries and creme bulgare in summer, and berry jam and creme bulgare in winter. Lots of easy, soft cheeses. Lots of egg custard. In fact, she made me an egg custard just this past week, with wild rice and duck eggs. YUM.
      Ok, I have to stop now. I'm too hungry. : D