Woolybuns

Think Write Thursday Thanksgiving Edition

In this time when an 8 year old boy ended up in the hospital because he defended his 4 year old sister from young teens hurling mulch and racist taunts at her,  my list of who and what I am grateful for is very much different this Thanksgiving day.  I do recognize the value of taking personal stock and appreciating the positives in my life, but we are in a seriously troubled time.  Hate crimes surged in the immediate aftermath of the election.  Safety nets we the people have paid for - Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid - are in danger.  Cabinet post picks demonstrate our already fragile environment is a target.  And then there is the on going horror of peaceful protest by Native Americans met with the ugly and unjustified militarized police action.    With so much now in danger, giving thanks for my good fortune seems at best inappropriate.  Instead, today I focus on the world I want to live in, an inclusive world where  we the people can all give thanks for our inalienable rights.  To that end, my list to give thanks for is very short.  Today I celebrate both Southern Poverty Law Center and the American Civil Liberties Union.   

A Wildlife Kinda Day

Everyday starts the same for me: take the dogs outside to ... well, you know.  This morning while waiting for them, I heard some rustling in the bushes just a foot or so from me.  Then a bird shot out of there.  More rustling and all of a sudden there's a hawk hopping out of the bush onto the ground, but nothing clutched in it's claws.  Then if flew off.  I happen to like wildlife encounters  even when they are predatory in nature, so I enjoyed this aberration to my norm.  Less than 2 hours later, I was at my daughter and son-in-law's house and out the window I saw another hawk perched high in a nearby tree.  It stayed for a while but left as soon as I tried to get my camera.  Still, hawks having become common place again is a good thing, a reassurance that life can come back after nasty chemicals.  

Towards the end of the day, The Toddler and I were a few houses away visiting with a neighbor and her teenage daughter.  Suddenly the teen gasped and cried out "A bear!"  We looked and sure enough, there was the town's black bear (ok, who knows if the town has one or more) gamboling about in the front yard of the house just across the small street.  The bear appears to have come up through my daughter and SIL's wooded side yard then onto the other property.  After a couple minutes checking out the front yard, the bear went to the back yard, where it looked over and saw us.  My neighbor's 3 dogs were frolicking in the yard with us and it took each of us a minute or so to realize "jeez!  Get the dogs in the house before they notice the bear."  Bear just stood there watching the teen corral the dogs.  As soon as the dogs were safely behind doors, the bear, as if the entertainment was over, headed off into the next wooded area.  No big drama, just wow, a bear!  Bears in this highly residential area are not common like hawks are, so yes, a bit of excitement for us humans.  And now I know when The Toddler and I are outside, there is another big fuzzy reason to keep her close.  

Hey, Mother Nature, if you're taking requests, I'd love to see a moose amble through, too.

 

Mmmm, The Season Of Food Is Upon Us.

Favorite recipe, and relate it to Thanksgiving if you can, is this week's Think Write Thursday topic.  

First off, I have a problem with the concept of favorite.  I don't have favorites.  Of anything. I just don't see grey when it comes to like.  I either like or I don't, and liking one thing does not mean I like it better than something else I like.  So I can't pick just one recipe, especially for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners.  It's the total meal I look at.

For my ideal Thanksgiving dinner, the menu consists of turkey of course and it's gravy, bread stuffing (with onion, sausage, apple, and walnuts), mashed potatoes (real potatoes mashed not whipped with lots of butter and a hint of cream - milk if the cream disappears before I mash), mashed butternut squash, apple salad, green bean casserole, hot dinner rolls dripping with butter, creamed onions, homemade whole berry cranberry sauce, an assortment of salted nuts, sweet pickles, and at least 2 pies: pumpkin and mincemeat.  That to me is Thanksgiving.  And it should be repeated for Christmas.  That I have been able to enjoy feasts like these is something for which I am very grateful.

All that said, there is a brownie recipe that just begs me to share,  Good Housekeeping Fudge Brownies.  If you like fudge brownies rather than cake brownies (and oh boy, do I), this you need to try.  I copy/pasted the recipe from Epicurean but for me, butter never margarine and leave out the walnuts.  

Ingredients

• 1 cup margarine or butter(2 sticks)
• 6 1-oz. squares unsweetened chocolate
• 2 cups sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 8-oz. can walnuts(2 cups), coarsely chopped

Directions

ABOUT 2 HOURS BEFORE SERVING OR EARLY IN DAY: 

1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 9""x9"" metal baking pan with foil; grease foil. 

2. In heavy 3-quart saucepan over low heat, melt margarine or butter and chocolate, stirring frequently. Remove saucepan from heat. With wooden spoon, beat in sugar and eggs until well blended. Stir in flour, vanilla, salt, and walnuts. Spread batter evenly in pan. 

3. Bake 45 to 55 minutes until toothpick inserted 2 inches from edge comes out clean. Cool brownies in pan on wire rack. 

4. When cold, cut brownies into 4 strips, then cut each strip into 4 pieces. Store in tightly covered container. 

Makes 16 brownies. Each brownie: About 385calories, 26 g fat, 53 mg cholesterol, 235 mg sodium.

 

Bunny Stuff

Bailey, nearly 8 months old now, apparently doesn't like the little sweatshirt I put on her last night.  She needed a haircut so I gave her one, but it was cold and very windy.  She needed a replacement for her own coat.  Her sweatshirt is a sleeve off an old one of mine.  I cut little leg holes for her front legs but she is doing her best to chew the whole thing off and those little leg holes gave her a good starting point.  She is chewing both sides, close to meeting in the middle.  I hope it lasts at least one more night.

This is the time of year I scramble to get ready for winter.    Shearing bunnies is a big part of that, but so is getting their hutches all snug and clean.  Hard work but I'd still rather do that than house work or clean out the gutters.   Getting ready for winter this year reminds me I really want a small herd, not the  larger one of years past.  For one thing, I don't need a big herd anymore.  Over the years, I bred thicker, more productive coats into my bunnies so each bunny gives me plenty of foof, more than I can keep up with: seriously, well more than 5 pounds of angora every three months is ENOUGH!  If you want some, I'm happy to sell you some.  If you'd like a bunny of your own like the opal boy there to the left, I'm happy to help with that, too.  Just click on that little "email me" link up there on the right, shoot me an email, and we'll chat.

Falling For The Season

Ok, so I'm a bit late posting for this week's Think Write Thursday.  Fall is a wonderful season around here and I gave it lots of thought before Thursday, but come the day of write, I took my granddaughter to Equine Affaire, one of fall's annual excitements.  That was a wonderful but exhausting full day.  So here I am sharing what I love about the season on Friday instead.

No mention of what's good about fall in New England is complete without the leaves.  Oh how glorious the color, the brilliance of those couple weeks of peak perfection.  Sugar maples in particular put forth shades of peachy orangey red that glow in sunlight.  There is a spot here in my town with a whole long row of sugar maples that catch full sun and say thank you for that with a rich halo like glow, embracing those lucky enough to drive past at a leisurely pace, offering up peaceful comfort, mother nature's annual treat.  The color is so beautiful, I don't even mind raking up fallen leaves.  Those leaves, after all, are both  fodder and blanket for the gardens, a yummy meal for the compost pile.  

Fall also means delicious days outside with a hint of crisp that sends bugs off into deep slumber and away from my face, which means excellent hiking time.  My hiking so far this year has really been walking around neighborhoods with The Toddler, but that is also much more enjoyable in fall than summer, and dryer than spring.  This weekend's weather calls out for a nice hike.

Seasonal temperatures mean my bunnies are much more comfortable, so for that, I am grateful.  They kick up the antics a notch this time of year.  Those temperatures also make fall clean up enjoyable hard work.  I rake not only the leaves that shelter the bunnies from heat during the summer, but also under their hutches to clear out spilled hay, food, and poop.  I work at a casual pace, chat with the bunnies as I scratch out all the stuff they've dumped.  It's kind of a bonding time with the bunnies.  

 

Apples.  Specifically Macintosh apples.  Crisp, sweet with a bit of tart, and so very juicy.  They are at their best flavor in fall.  I grew up in Macintosh country.  When I left New England for a couple college years in Wyoming, one very big bit of home sickness came with the discovery that Macintosh apples only grow in New England.  Daddy to the rescue!  He asked if there was anything I wanted him to send and I said Macintosh apples.  He sent them.  I feasted.  

And finally, there is soup.  Those crisp days sink into chilly nights and occasional drizzly days of cold to the bone.  There is no better antidote than a big pot of homemade soup.

Think Favorite Teacher

When the topic of favorites of anything comes up, I am usually at a loss to pick one.  That is exactly the case now, with favorite or most influential teacher the subject of this week's Think Write Thursday.  So many names pop up.  Some, like Mrs. Olsen or Mrs. Barnes from elementary school, I remember so fondly but can't begin to explain why.  No clear memories, I just get all smiley when their names skip through the old brain matter.  Others, from high school in particular, I crushed on, male and female.  The crushes on women teachers was very different than those I felt for the male teachers.  The women did not provoke lust, I just wanted to be like them.  

One of those, Mrs. R, was young, vibrant, not so much pretty as compelling and kind of like colorful fireworks.  She was one of my English teachers.  The only assignment I remember from her was describe a tomato.  Oh, I had fun with that, turned all my exploding hormones loose and wrote salaciously about ripe curves and dripping juices.  That was perhaps the first time I realized just how much sex sells.  I got an A.  I was so crazy about Mrs. R that when she mentioned how much she loved horses, I invited her to go riding with me at the barn where my horse lived.  She accepted, probably against all kinds of rules but we didn't tell anyone else so there were no repercussions.  I don't know what I expected or hoped for with that invitation.  I already got good grades so I wasn't trying to influence that.  But we had a good time, just that once.   And with the end of the semester, that was pretty much the end of any hoped for friendship.  

Then there was Mr. G, a college professor.  He was a marshmallow, soft in habits, voice, and fitness, plump, sweet, my first journalism professor.  I only took his intro class because it filled a requirement outside of my major and fit a very tight schedule.  Our first assignment was to interview a faculty or staff member.  I got an A on that, too, along with an invitation to join the college newspaper staff.  Talk about approval!  That led the way to so many exciting college experiences.  I pitched and got my own newspaper column, got to attend 2 collegiate newspaper conferences which included travel a few states away and a tour of the US Air Force Academy (they hosted one conference), worked on editing a compilation book of poetry with Mr. G, and mostly learned there were career potentials with writing.  Science was the emphasis at home, not creative pursuits, so that was a big eye opener for me.  

Another college professor, Robin, was also in journalism.  She too was quite soft spoken, sweet, and roundish, but somehow she had much more strength and solidity, no marshmallow, she.   The first assignment she handed out was to describe ourselves.  That was quite a challenge.  And it ended up being my first published essay.  I got paid $60 for it.  I studied with Robin over the next few years and honed my writing skills beyond all my expectations.  And just as importantly, Robin taught me to believe in myself.  

I can't pick out any of them as my favorite.  Each of them helped me progress, and each built on the progress I made with those who came before them.  Each was a distinct personality but they had that quality, that gift, that really good teachers have.  They didn't just teach.  They encouraged, fanned a fragile flame that eventually ignited.  That encouragement was strong enough that when someone else nearly snuffed out the flame, thinking back on Mrs. R, Mr. G, and Robin still feeds the spark with hope.  Instead of labeling one as a favorite, I see each of them as one of the good ones, and I am ever thankful to have studied with each of them.