Pushing the button

An idea came to me today as I was walking down my road.  I have been looking for signs of spring for a few weeks now.  The snow is gone.  The temperatures have been close to ideal for March.  I search the likely places where some flowers should be trying to break through with a green shoot or some tentative leaves.  The picture above shows the daffodils we planted before our house was built.  They have survived a few snowstorms and cool weather during that time.  You can see the buds filling out.  I am encouraged.

But...what if, just for fun...there was a button you could push and suddenly, miraculously, it would be the middle of May?  Wow.  I can see it all now.  The trees are leafed out.  There is my favorite little flower hiding near the blackberry bushes, covered with white. The butterflies are fluttering.  My garden is beginning to grow. Birds are building nests.  I can hear bees.  And the air is full of the lovely scent that only spring can bring.

Wonderful.  I close my eyes and dream.  But then I wake up.  What if it were actually May?  What did I miss?  That's right.  What would we miss if we had that magic button?. For one, my daffodils.  Redbud trees full of blossom.  Dogwood flowers. Seeing the first bluebird building a nest in the box near my house.  That haze of green showing early leaves on the trees.  The soft light of sunrise as it moves along my porch, casting new shadows on the wall.  Discovering a wildflower that I had never seen before. Feeling the warmth of  noon and then the refreshing cool of evening. 

No.  I don't want that magic button.  I know I am as anxious as so many are to have spring come...sooner rather than later.  But be careful what you wish for.  You might miss those bright and beautiful days that are just around the corner.  The wait is worth it, don't you think?     

 

Warmth from a Sunset

Can you feel it?  Isn't it just the best treat in the world?  I stand on my porch looking west toward the sunset. 

After what seems like 100 days of grey skies and ragged, freezing wind, snow up to your eyeballs, frozen tundra, ceaseless trips to the barn for yet another load of wood to feed the stove, we see this beautiful sunset.

I know.  We have probably had lovely sunsets in the few days before I wrote this.  But I am a sissy.  I don't like to stand on my west facing porch with the wind from Siberia blowing in my face.  Right, right, Siberia is the other direction.  But give me a break.  If I say it feels like Siberia...IT IS SIBERIA.

This was the first big snowstorm that we have had this decade. It seems like it lasted forever even though it was only here a few days...turning our usual warmish "here comes Spring" February into a visit to the deep freeze buried somewhere in the Arctic north.

When the thermometer rose to above freezing today, I felt as if a heavy gray blanket had been lifted from my shoulders.  The snow was pretty.  When the sun shone it was a wonderland of sparkles and diamonds, reflecting the blue sky overhead.  I watched from the warmth of my living room.  I made endless pots of tea.  Lots of warm soup and sandwiches.  But I was missing something.

I usually go for a walk everyday.  I have a new hip, and even with my trusty hiking poles, I dare not  take my daily stroll to examine just what might be going on out to the east and then back to west.  I miss my daily talks with the trees, and rocks along my path.  You'd be surprised what wisdom I gather from them.

This evening I finally went out on the porch, just before supper, to see the sunset.  And this is what I heard.  "Don't despair.  This frozen view will soon be gone.  The gentler breezes will blow the budding trees.  Here. Touch my hand.  Better days are coming.  Just close your eyes and feel the warmth I am sending you."  And that is just what I did.  Who knew that a sunset could be so warm?  

 

Bread

Since early April of last year we have bought, maybe, 5 loaves of bread from the grocery store.  At that time we were stocking up to avoid having to go to the store every week. Baking our bread would be a good idea. We checked the recipe box and dug out Andy's Aunt Jane's recipe for Scotch Oatmeal Bread.  It has been a family favorite for many years.

It took a couple of tries to get the routine down again.  Baking bread is something we did when we were first married.  I made Swedish Rye Bread from a recipe from my hometown.  It was so good...but it took a lot of time to make.  We decided that oatmeal bread was quicker.  And it was.

I love making bread.  Getting the kitchen warmed up.  Scooping out the flour.  Adding the oatmeal and sorghum and yeast.  Mixing and mixing until your arm is tired.  And then the best part, kneading.  I love to knead bread.  Andy says that I attack the dough like a wrestler attacks his opponent.  Down for the count.  Just another smash to the floor.  I knead and knead and knead until the dough calls out for mercy.  Luckily this bread can take a lot of pounding and still rise magnificently in the bowl.

I love to see that golden mound as I take it to the counter and divide it in two.  It rests for a ten minutes and then gets stretched and formed into loaves.  

The loaves usually rise pretty quickly.  I guess they know I mean business.  No lolly gagging around in my kitchen!  You better do the job right if you are going to go into my oven.  I pop them in and set the timer.  I try not to peek but I can hardly resist sneaking a look to see how things are going.

When the loaves come out I tip them out of the pans on the cooling racks.  Bread really needs to cool some before you try it.  But it is hard to wait.

I get out the butter.  Make sure my bread knife is good and sharp.  Our ancient cutting board is ready and waiting.  Oh....how long will it be...hurry,hurry.  

The beauty of baking bread is that first slice, warm from the oven.  The smell is overpowering.  It makes your mouth water.  Quickly I put the warm slice on the plates and we slather it with butter.  The first bite.  I am hard pressed to describe it.  Heavenly.  Sweet on the tongue. And just about the best taste on earth.

Needless to say we usually consume at least half of the new bread the first day.  Lunch, snacks, and a little mouthful now and then.  Hot tea to go with it.  Just the best  of the best. 

If you have never baked bread, you really should try it some cold wintry day.  It will put a smile on your face...and joy in your heart. 

    

 

A Peaceful Escape

A few days ago we had a skiff of snow here in Luna.  But we could see the tips of the hills over in Caney covered with white.  Bundling up in warm coats and hats to ward off the cold wind, we jumped into the pickup and went to see what we could find.  

The Refuge is a favorite place of ours, no matter the season.  Spring brings wildflowers and mushrooms. Summer brings birds and sparkling streams, springs bubbling up under the gravel. Fall shows us brilliant colors of yellow and red and orange...and all the spectrum in between.  But winter... winter is a different story.  When the cold weather arrives, the trees shed their finery and present stark branches and trunks of grey and black and deep brown.  Only the sycamores shine with silver down by the creek and along the shimmering water.  

This day we were ostensibly searching for sheds.  It is the time of year when the bucks lose their antlers and leave them in the fields and margins along the hills and valleys.  We knew a few places to go and dutifully stomped around, seeking a glimpse of white bone there in the bronze leaves or among the turnips in the wildlife plot.  Armadillos, skinny and hungry, were all we saw, their poor red noses seeking a bit of food to keep them going.  Truthfully, I intensely dislike armadillos, but even I felt a little sorry seeing them frantically scouring the field for a meal.

The snow that lay on the ground, shadowy lumps of leaves beneath, caught my attention.  And the quiet.  No birds, no squirrels, no rustle in the grass.  Up high above the fields below, the sentries of the forest stood tall.  Their comrade trees that had fallen lay covered with white blankets.  It always amazes me how different forests look in the snow.  In the rain they are wet masses of dripping bark. On a cloudy day you pass them by with scarcely a look.  But when snow-covered , they make a statement all their own.  I looked beyond and down the hill and away.  And still they marched.  The silent soldiers of the earth. I could close my eyes and almost hear them sighing.  Guarding the hill until the warm weather arrives.  Keeping it safe for the next season.

 

 

Bluebird Sky

When I took my walk yesterday I headed up the road to a favorite spot.  Pine trees shade this path.  The shadows are always impressive.  Moving from bright sunlight to shade, I felt

 the comfort of the season. Winter is not dreary here in the Ozarks. We have our share of freezing temperatures and ice followed by snow.  But after all, it is winter.

I had a smile on my face while I trudged along on my way to the end of the road.  What made me smile?  The beautiful blue sky.  There were a few clouds but they were those wispy kind that seem to trail along with any good weather.  I stood there and gazed up and up, tilting my head and walking around so I could see the sky from every angle.  The sun was behind me and the light was perfect in bringing out the blue above me, the green pines beside me.

I love these first days of the new year.  Most animals are hiding in their burrows, dens, and nests.  They know that the pleasant afternoon will turn to frigid night.  The scurrying hunt for food goes on when the sun comes up and the temperature rises.  I see a few squirrels hopping along in the grass, looking for a nut they might have missed.  The crows gather on my driveway, pecking in the gravel for seeds or some scrap of food that might be hiding in the rocky ground.  I do not have a bird feeder.  It is just too breezy up here on the hill.  The seed would soon be scattered to the four winds.  And I can't imagine any bird who would want to feed while being blown around, sometimes at an awkward angle.

No, rather than looking for animals, I look up and out.  Across my neighbor's field, up into the Refuge.  The sky spreads above me.  Just as a friend said when she saw this picture.  "A bluebird sky".

Yes, indeed.  And may we have many more.

 

Opening the gift

At long last we have left 2020 behind.  I could feel the sigh of relief all the way up here on the hill.  

And as we look ahead what do we see?  What do we plan to do with the next 365 days and nights?

I have a few ideas which I will share with you.

1. I will spend less time trying to solve the problems of the world.  I am a doer.  I don't like to not give my two cents worth about anything....food, politics, how to raise your children.  But I am going to rein in my "here's my advice" habit.  It will be hard, but I will try.  If you ask me for my opinion,

  I will say "What do you think?"

2.  I will spend more time outside.  Or looking outside, depending on the weather.  I live in probably the prettiest spot in Ozark County.  Yes, I am bragging.  I do concede that your place is probably just a pretty.  And I'll allow you those beautiful pictures of the lake, and the hill, and the flowers and trees.  We have so much beauty here I think it would be selfish not to share.

3.I will think of at least one thing I can do during the day that will benefit not only me, but others.  I need to get out and walk.  I need to write a letter.  I need to read a good book.  I need to do at least one thing that I have been putting off, until a better day.  Better day?  How about...today.

4. I will treat this year, this day, this hour as a gift.  There are dozens of sayings on this theme.  But that doesn't make it any less true.  Think about it.  I wake up in the morning.  I have food to eat.  I am able to take care of myself and my husband.  I can go out and enjoy myself doing things that I want to do.  What better gift than the life that lies before me?  That is my question.  I will be opening that gift for the next 365 days.  Stay tuned for my progress report.  

Happy New Year. 

 

Frost Flowers

The other night when the temperature dipped into the teens we knew what we would see in the morning.  My hip is still in the mending stage but Andy took my camera and went in search of frost flowers.  He knows just where to look.  Down in the southeast of our property there is a pretty good patch of frost weed.  These plants soak up water and hold it in their stems.  When freezing weather comes at night, the water freezes and bursts the stems.  The ice comes out in ribbons and curls.  Sometimes the stems retain some water and we have a repeat from the same plant.

It is such a treat to look out over the field and see the white frosty flowers at the base of the plants.  They glisten in the sun.  When you move closer in you see such a myriad of shapes and sizes.  They are just marvelous.  I like to break off a piece of ice and look through it, seeing the bands of frozen water.  I know most people who live here have seen these flowers of ice.  Most call it rabbit butter...or a form there of which is not spoken in polite company.  I can see the smirks on faces from here..I know who you are!

Regardless of what you call them, they are one of those Ozark surprises that we all wait to see on a winter day.  Gleaming there in the grass, spread out like a million sparkling diamonds.  Just one of those marvels you see when you live in the country.  Hope you can get out and see some one of these frosty mornings.  Shiver and enjoy.  Because they don't last forever.  A treat to see...and remember.

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