I made this apron from a beautiful white pillowcase.  The pillowcase is an odd size, it must have been a huge throw pillow or something.

I really like the apron, and I look forward to wearing it when I cook Thanksgiving dinner for my family.  It will be the first time I’ve had the whole family over since before having the kids.  I’m looking forward to it.

For Thanksgiving, I’m planning to make and freeze some pies and rolls.  I used to freeze dough in pre-shaped roll-sized balls.  Why don’t I do that anymore? Also thinking of freeezable side dishes.  Ideas?

I’m working on perfecting my pie crust, now that I finally have a real pie plate.  I’ve been making pies in a cake pan.  I’ve never been very good at pie making, so lots of pies are in my future.  I know, poor me.

I spent the past weekend processing the 73 pounds of tomatoes I picked on Friday, and it was exhausting work.  But now I have thirteen quarts of canned tomatoes, five pints of frozen oil-packed oven roasted tomatoes, thirteen pints of tomato chutney, and six pints of tomato jam.  Whew!  That’s a lot of chutney?  Do you like chutney?  Come over and get a jar.

Also on my mind lately is worm composting, vegetable gardening, chickens, and beekeeping.  I’m loving this video on “Backwards Beeekeeping.” All of this inspired by the book The Urban Homestead by Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen. I first read about Kelly and Erik in the book Radical Homemakers. 

The Urban Homestead has knocked my socks off.  I’ve always come up with excuses for not gardening or keeping chickens, and now I have none.  We are going to be removing a (mostly) dead tree in our backyard, and cutting another way back, to try to create enough sunlight for a narrow veggie patch.  I am so excited about it!  I have big plans for the front yard too, which involve a citrus tree and a rose garden, all watered with graywater from our bath.  I’ve always thought it was such a waste to not re-use all that barely used water, and now I see that there is a real way to use it.

I also started my first wooden spoon, and I just finished the quilt top for the new quilt I am making.  I’ve been a busy bee!  But for now, spring has made a brief return to Florida (It’s usually summer temperatures here by now) so we are on our way outside for some reading.

Oh hello there.  I’ve missed you.  I am still here.

We went tomato picking at our local farm today.  One dollar for a full plastic bag.  That equates to about 14 pounds of tomatoes for a dollar.  How could I pass that up?! I spent a total of five dollars on 73 pounds of tomatoes, which I still cannot believe.  So now the tomatoes sit on my kitchen floor, awaiting their canned fate.

In addition to 73 pounds of tomatoes, I also have very dirty fingernails which no amount of nail-brushing will scrub out, and a complete respect for the migrant workers who pick most of our nation’s produce.

When we arrived home from the farm, I was hot, exhausted, and hungry.  I managed to muster the strength to make this sandwich, and it was a miracle: grilled yogurt-marinated chicken, provolone, fresh-picked tomato, alfalfa sprouts, red leaf lettuce, and a schmear of mayo and horseradish mustard on a bakery roll. Homemade pickles and a glass of my first batch of kefir water, to wash it down.  Just thinking about it now makes me want another one.

My near-religious experience with a chicken sandwich could have been because I was so hungry, but it also could have been because I spent the morning communing with a field of tomatoes.  Somehow, being on a farm always makes me so happy, and leaves me feeling inspired in the kitchen. I am determined to find a way to garden.  I’m desperate to.  We are contemplating drastic measures to make that happen in our own yard. For now I have some herbs in pots, and I am registered for a chicken-keeping class, and that will have to suffice until fall.  Of course in this Florida heat, fall is about a million years away, which leaves me plenty of time to plan.

We celebrated our first May Day today.  Being a cross-quarter day, marking the midpoint between the spring equinox and the summer solstice, it signifies the peak of spring, and the forthcoming summer.  We joined together for flower crafting, singing, dancing, playing and feasting.  Enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, as many many before us have.  Celebrating community and a shared belief that we are all connected to each other as well as the earth.

This was our first outing to meet some local homeschoolers and they were all very friendly and welcoming.  Through a stroke of pleasant irony, The Boy’s previous First Grade teacher just happened to bring her son to the playground while we were there.  It was nice to see her (pregnant!) and fill her in on how it’s going.  It somehow seemed like a nice closure to school.  One thing I was really concerned about when The Boy left school was the loss of community.  Once we were gone, it seemed barely noticeable, and now it seems like a non-issue.

The Girl was very excited about the maypole, having watched several maypole dances online.  As we gathered to watch the experienced maypole dancers show us how it was done, she began to cry because she wanted so badly to join. Her turn came soon enough and she was delighted.

For the feast, I brought gluten free pasta with pesto and a gluten free lemon cake (with mini maypole!). The feast was delicious and I have to say that there once was a time that I disliked the potluck and having now enjoyed so many great ones, now I love it!  Not only is it enjoyable to build community through food, but what a treat to enjoy so many new dishes!

It was a lovely, inspiring day all around.

I love the springtime.  It’s my favorite season here in Florida, and it can be fleeting.  I love the whole spring holiday aesthetic: pastel colors, birdies, eggs.  What’s not to love about that?  I vowed to not let the holiday sneak up on me this year but it did anyway.  It seems that every year we are sick in the weeks leading up to it.  I don’t know why I am surprised that it happened again this year.  But every year I let go of a bit more and every year I am happier with our celebration.  I did not make The Girl’s dress this year, and I did very little crafting for basket stuffers.

And it seems I’m the only mama on the planet who didn’t make her own plant-based egg dyes.  Every year I want to and every year I don’t.  But I’m okay with that.  I have to be honest that I love the bright colors of the food coloring, but next year I swear I will make the natural dyes.

I did manage to make Not Martha’s Surprise Eggs which were a lot of fun.  The kids loved them. They are filled with chocolate, jelly beans, temporary tattoos, stickers, and a pipe cleaner chick.  These were seriously fun and with splitting up the tasks over several days, they were fairly easy to make.

I also managed to make some fresh butter while on the phone with The Bird. How’s that for pioneer woman productivity?

I made the same meal that I always do (except the salmon) and this year I made a gluten free lemon cake because The Bird planted the idea of lemon cake in my head and I couldn’t get it out. With cake flags, of course.

Hopefully next year I will actually get my act together early instead of just thinking about it.  I’ll admit that I’m still trying to find my rhythm as far as having both kids at home and working school into the day.  Watching the holiday come and go so quickly made me contemplate starting winter solstice gifts now.  Seriously.

It was The Daddy Monkey’s birthday yesterday.

The kids played with their grandparents while we saw priceless works of art and ate sushi.  Then we went toy shopping (of course).

It was a rare treat, being alone together for that long. (Our longest ever without kids, I think.)

I made this coconut cake. I made only a half recipe because we just can’t eat all that cake.  Especially with one of us being gluten free.

I’ve been so inspired by the cakes over at forty-sixth at grace.  They are so beautiful, they make me want to make a cake every day. Surely I can find more reasons to celebrate, no?

So I made some cake flags. Vintage ribbon from The Daddy Monkey’s grandmother, double sided tape, and wooden skewers.  I see more of these in my future.  A lot more.

Happy birthday, love.  I think you’re rad.

I’ve been wanting to organize my very favorite recipes into a very special place.  I could only imagine my happiness if someone handed me a box like this, filled with cherished recipes.  I would probably explode with joy.  So the journey begins.

The Daddy Monkey gave me this box for Christmas and I love it so much. It has a beautiful aged patina and I like to imagine its previous life.  Did it live in a hardware store?  A patisserie?  A busy office? Someone’s kitchen?

I haven’t written any recipe cards yet, but I have started to tuck my favorite recipes in there.  I’m searching Etsy for perhaps a nice stamp to embellish recipe cards.

But for now, I will share with you the first recipe I tucked into my new box.  A recipe for gluten free cornbread muffins, since we are now giving a gluten- and dairy-free lifestyle a go with The Boy. So many gluten-free recipes just seem so strange with their odd ingredients, but I am learning along the way.

I am a bigtime cornbread lover, having grown up eating my Alabama-born Grandfather’s southern-style cornbread.  I turn to The Joy of Cooking for that recipe, and it is perfection, containing only cornmeal, buttermilk, eggs, salt and baking powder.  However, the other members of my household prefer a more cakelike cornbread, and so I set about tinkering to find a suitable recipe. These are good, and everyone in my house loves them, even us gluten-eaters.  They are good for breakfast, or as a side with a bowl of soup or chili. They are really good with blueberries mixed in, but again, I’m the only one who likes them that way.

I trust you can decide for yourself whether or not to go down the blueberry path.

ROSE’S GLUTEN-FREE CORNBREAD MUFFINS

1 cup cornmeal

1/2 cup sorghum flour

1/2 cup tapioca flour (or cornstarch)

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon xanthan gum (can be omitted for a slightly different texture)

2 eggs

3/4 cup applesauce

3 Tablespoons light-flavored olive oil

1/3 cup water

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.

Prepare your favorite muffin tin with paper liners, or by oiling.  Combine the cornmeal, flours, baking powder, sea salt, sugar and xanthan gum in a largeish bowl and whisk together.  In another bowl, lightly beat the eggs, and add the applesauce, olive oil, and water.  Stir to mix.  Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ones, and fold together.  Make sure the batter is of uniform consistency, but do not overmix.

Pour into your prepared muffin tin.  It will make 10 big muffins with perfect little domes, or twelve smaller ones.  Your choice.  Bake about 15-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center of a muffin comes out dry.

If you are not concerned with gluten, you can substitute 1 cup of all-purpose flour for the sorghum and tapioca flours, and omit the xanthan gum.

Earlier this month, I was lucky enough to receive some lovely homegrown navel oranges fresh from my mother’s tree.  One of the perks of living in Florida!  I used Ashley English’s recipe for Orange Vanilla Marmalade, and after tasting the first bite of marmalade, I found myself directly in the kitchen chopping oranges for a second batch.

This was my first time making marmalade, and while the concept is the same as jam, there is much more chopping and cooking involved.  This recipe calls for no added pectin, so you actually have to make sure your jam will set once it’s cool.  It was completely worth the effort, and I’m sure this will become a yearly tradition.

I followed the recipe exactly, substituting Nielsen -Massey’s vanilla paste for the whole beans since the whole beans were so terribly expensive.  It turned out to be quite cost effective this way because the jar provided enough for two batches of marmalade, and I have more vanilla paste to use elsewhere.  I used two tablespoons of the paste on the first batch and three tablespoons on the second.

It’s also nice to have the help of a dog named Milo while making marmalade.  Hard to believe I was wearing wool socks just a few weeks ago.

The marmalade is not too sweet, with a nice “bite” that I like for marmalade.  The vanilla provides a nice background flavor for the tangy citrus punch that marmalade is known for.

I recommend it on toast with cream cheese, but it’s also good this way….

…straight off the spoon.

It quite a day.  The Boy ran around and played with friends, and The Girl and I picked berries.

It was a whirlwind sort of day.  Busy and fun.  Happy and productive.  Exhausting and satisfying.

Here’s how I felt throughout the day:

…stress from hurrying out the door to get there on time.  We were still late.  My get-up-and-out-the-door mojo is gone now that we are homeschooling!

…pride, as I managed to not get lost on the way to the farm.

…joy, at the glorious and warm Spring day it was.

…wonder, at the glorious sight of so many beautiful sun-ripened fruits.

…happiness, when The Girl said to me, “Mom, this is fun!”

…disbelief, when I discovered that the total for my 23 pounds of berries came to $57!

…regret, when I saw how much work I had ahead of me.

…fatigue, when I was up to my eyeballs in strawberries.

…relief, that I had started a pot of chili before we left, and did not have to cook dinner.

…satisfaction, that I made three batches of strawberry jam, totalling twenty-two jars!

Who knew strawberries could bring forth so many emotions?  I’m imagining a cold winter day in the future in which I will open a jar of this jam and taste a beautiful Spring day.

This year I did manage to spread the festivities out over a few days, but not by much.  I’m still feeling overwhelmed with homeschool some days and Candlemas just snuck up on me. But one thing I have learned is that it is merely the recognition of these special days year after year, and holding a place of mindfulness, that makes these festivals extraordinary.

We planted wheatgrass, which always amazes the children with its rapid growth.

We made beeswax candles, and this year I let the kids participate.  They loved it, and no one was hurt.  Here’s The Boy, threading a wick through a wick clip.

Since Brigid is the goddess of healing and birth, she is commonly associated with cows and ewes.  In honor of that, we made butter by hand, using only a jar and some organic heavy cream.  I remember doing this as a child in elementary school and I remember that it took forever.  It did not take as long as I thought and it was fun for the three of us to keep passing the jar around.

Its so magical and fun to see something so practical happen in such a humble way.  Jar + cream + shaking = butter.  And this stuff is amazing.  It’s a good thing there’s only a small amount.  This could be really bad for my waistline.

In the afternoon, I made a new Brigit’s cross, while the kids played outside.  Last year’s is awaiting our next outdoor fire, to be burned.  (Many wet days in a row have prevented us from having the fire I had planned.)

We started our day with oatmeal pancakes made with soaked whole grains.  We make them using soymilk instead of the yogurt and water, and substituting millet for the buckwheat. (Sadly, no one in my house shares my love for buckwheat pancakes.)  If you have the time, do watch the video.

Since Brigid is also the goddess of poetry, we read Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, always a hit with the kids. We also read last year’s favorites A Little Bit of Winter by Paul Stewart and The Happy Day by Ruth Krauss, and enjoyed “Saint Bridgit and The King’s Wolf” from The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abbie Farwell Brown.

I now understand a bit better what it means to celebrate these festivals, no matter how small they may seem.  Now that we have celebrated every festival for a year, I more closely feel a sense of the cyclical nature of time, the seasonality of the year and the comfort of ritual.  I have a better sense of the seasons, which can be hard to accomplish here in the South where it feels like summer eight months out of the year.  I hope I have passed this on to my children.  Even if they may not be able to articulate it, it is now a part of who they are.  A part of their childhood experience.