Progress

I don't expect all of you to be fascinated by this post...

but considering that my grandparents asked me

to share some pics of the progress,

I'm more than happy to oblige here and there.

I'll admit, it is getting a little hard to hold the excitement in.

Just for comparison - here is a before picture.

Huck is loving his position as overseer...

Here is after the first day...

Plywood off the walls, and plumbing roughed in.

After day two...

Framing started on outer walls and floor.

And here is the latest -

Plywood down on the floors, and walls framed in!

(and the garage doors have disappeared.)

Kind of looking like a house all of the sudden.

It's finally dawning on us that we are majorly downsizing,

but it will be worth it.

God is doing amazing things.

We are so thankful and amazed at how fast it's coming

together. They've only been at it for a few days.

And Spence is making friends with all of the workers,

and getting his adorable little self in the way,

which is what he does best.

Nobody ever seems to notice what a complete pest he is.

He definitely has some people skills...

Today...

I'm thankful.

Thankful for a great floor plan for our new home;

a builder who is moving fast;

and a family that is growing closer

- to God and each other -

through it all.

I'm thankful for new beginnings,

fresh starts,

little pushes that get me outside of my comfort zone.

I'm thankful for a garden full of tomatoes,

and the resulting spaghetti sauce,

and salsa...

I'm so thankful for my sweet sister-in-law,

and other friends who have brought us meals,

and offered us help when we're overwhelmed.

I appreciate the new little orange cat

that decided to adopt us.

He's trying to fill the big shoes that Fiffen left behind

when he decided to go on a little adventure -

that's turning into a long adventure.

If you see him, tell him to hurry home.

Meanwhile, I appreciate this cat;

whom we refer to as

"the Squirrely cat."

Even if Scooter doesn't...

He's a little spastic;

and does greatly resemble a squirrel...

Huge bushy tail.

But he is pretty sweet,

and he sure knows how to cheer people up.

I'm thankful for

"Strength for today, and bright hopes for tomorrow..."

I'm being continually reminded of God's faithfulness to us,

even when I'm unable to recognize it all as "good" -

it is,

and today I'm thankful for that.

Victory on the Egg Front

We've had egg issues around here recently...

Life has been pretty chaotic;

we've been distracted;

and the eggs are taking advantage.

Everyday, Dad brings in another dozen or so as the

result of his evening hunts.

The ladies are still not confined,

and they like putting their eggs in the oddest places -

almost as if they have a contest for creativity going.

And no,

the eggs do not arrive in the pristine condition you imagine.

They probably have good reasons,

union issues, or something -

but their favorite thing to do, is break one

and then delicately glaze all of the rest of the eggs with

a nice thin layer of egg yolk.

Then they embellish it with a feather or two -

and allow to dry...

Lovely. Just lovely.

So we've had these eggs, piling up, and rolling all over

the kitchen counters...

One day last week, I received great inspiration for their

potential, and decided to wash them all...

and finish with a vow -

that no matter how crazy life gets,

we can't let them get that way again.

Yep. Those are green eggs...

Off the subject of the eggs for a moment;

here's a glimpse of the gang themselves.

Our ladies; as diverse a group as the eggs they lay.

That is the look they give me when they are demanding kitchen

scraps. They'll chase me all over the yard until I come up with something.

Besides the yolk and feathering practice,

they've also taken up a more vocal form of protest.

I think the main culprits are the green egg layers -

they are Araucanas from South America,

straight from the Amazon...

They are gifted with this tremendous ability to sound like

a herd of wild jungle monkeys.

And the best time of day to express themselves seems to be

around 6:30 in the morning.

The cover for their latest album - The Jungle Chicks.

Back to the egg story...

The Inspiration.

It seems that they realized that overdosing us with eggs - is way more

effective than going on strike, so that's what they do.

Sounds like a ridiculous problem I know, but we can't get rid

of the things. Four people can only eat so many for breakfast,

and they just don't sell at the local Farmer's Market

(they tell me they can buy them at the store for 98 cents...

What does being organic have to do with anything?)

Long story short;

I watched the Homestead Blessings DVD on canning -

and guess what?

Eggs are can-able!

I guess you'll have to watch it if you want to know eggsactly

how - but with a little vinegar, spices, and garlic -

you have pickled eggs, all ready for a Winter potato salad.

(Or to garnish a regular salad, and the list goes on.)

That's partly what I've been up to;

boiling and peeling lots of eggs.

We counted, and realized I've canned 18 pints in the past week;

(that's about 100 eggs to peel...)

But for the first time in years, we're keeping up with

the Summertime rush of eggs; the counter is clear -

and I've actually been out there looking around for more.

The chickens are re-thinking their tactics.

a French Favorite

Don't worry;

I'm not about to do a total switch of genres and

become a cooking blog - or anything like that.

But when I think of warm Summer days,

I think of the garden,

and fresh herbs and produce;

and lots of time in the kitchen.

As life has been somewhat hectic lately,

I've found it good to focus on doing

what I can do to make meals that are memorable,

and relaxing - and special.

This dish fits all of the above.

So I thought I would share it;

and besides - I promised my sister I would post it for her. :)

So here it is -

one of the most lovely French dishes out there...

Chicken Fricassee with Herbs and Roasted Potatoes

In preparation - you'll want to have about 8 pieces

of chicken thawed and ready to go.

(Boneless Thighs work well.)

Preheat oven to 300 F.

On high heat, seal the chicken in 1 T. of Olive Oil

for about five minutes (until browned.)

Season to taste with Sea Salt and Pepper.

Add 2 T. of Butter and 5 T. Red Wine Vinegar,

stir so that chicken is coated.

Add 3 oz. of Dry White wine or Marsala

cooking wine and bring to a boil for a few seconds.

The recipe calls for 4 cloves of garlic, but I'm more

along the lines of 9 or 10...

Just pop them in there whole.

Next, finely chop 1 Ripe Tomato.

(I needed two...)

Add the tomato to the chicken.

Here's the secret...

French Tarragon.

It's an absolutely amazing herb that comes back in

our garden every year.

You shouldn't attempt French cooking without it.

Add Two Sprigs of chopped Tarragon and

about a handful or so of Fresh Parsley leaves (opt.)

Stir that into the pot...

This is when it begins to smell amazing.

Now, put a lid on the pot, and stick it in the oven

(preheated to 300 F) to cook for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, I went and dug some potatoes.

There's just something special about growing your

own potatoes -

but the ones from the store work fine too.

Red Potatoes are the best.

The recipe calls for 4 medium sized,

but just make how ever many your family will eat.

Chop the potatoes to bite size.

Put them in a roasting pan,

and add:

Salt

Pepper

Dried Parsley

a Chopped Shallot

and drizzle with Olive Oil

Toss it to get it all well coated.

The chicken should be done by now -

so take it out of the oven and turn it up to broil.

Broil the potatoes for maybe 10-15 minutes;

(stirring them occasionally -but be careful-

that broiler can burn your hand off!)

until they are browned and done on the inside.

Watch them closely though, they scorch easily.

To arrange -

place a helping of roasted potatoes on your plate,

and then top with a piece of chicken, some garlic,

and lots of yummy sauce.

And there you have it.

Food you want to eat so badly;

that you can't even take the time

to get a decent photo of it.

Bon Appétit!

odds and ends

Dear me, it's been a week since I've given much thought

to posting a thing here...

So, just for fun - I dug through my archives and came across some

of the shots that make me laugh - but never quite reached the

'blog-able' status.

Like Buster.

This dog hardly ever makes it on the blog...

Let's just say he's hard to photograph.

If the above look doesn't make me go away -

He tries this one.

And if all else fails -

he high-tails it to the nearest grassy patch where

he proceeds to roll and frolic and be ridiculous until

I get bored of waiting on him to finish,

and move on to more rewarding uses of time...

Like photographing this dog;

who is so photogenic - he has his own post coming.

But even the best have their moments.

I even ran across a few memories from Winter,

like the day I returned from the barn to see the

neighbor's cat doing yoga on Huck's dog house.

Obviously, not an acceptable practice around here;

but what can you do?

Our cats would much rather hang out in the cast iron

pots on the front porch...

Which in some cases is kind of cute;

but then there are those other cases...

Mom gets a little miffed about this,

because cats in pots on your front porch that look like

this,

aren't all that welcoming.

I guess that's about it.

Hopefully I'll be back in less than a week with something

more - substantial...

God's Ways

If you were to ask me,

I would admit that the heat of August is probably

not the happiest time to dig through old boxes and

reflect on the nostalgia of times past...

That sounds like a nice Wintertime project.

But on the humorous side of things -

we don't have much of a choice.

Our house is kind of kicking us out.

Our treasured home of thirteen years is pushing the century mark.

We've fretted from time to time over the crumbling foundation,

the cracking walls and sporadic ceiling leaks.

But there is a charm in all those things;

especially when coupled with the floor to ceiling windows,

the old wood floors, and the door knobs.

It has been our home;

the place us kids have grown up in;

I'm terribly attached to it -

but it now has an issue that we can't simply live with.

Our home has been making us sick,

with a problem you can only really comprehend if you

have endured it yourself.

Something we can't smell, or until recently even see,

but we've been feeling the affects -

and we know it's in the walls, in that leaky chimney.

We have the tests that tell us so.

It's mold.

Bad news, yes, but when you've been sick for a long time,

any answer doesn't seem so bad;

because it's an answer.

If you're terribly interested, feel free to research the stuff.

Let me just say that it can make you sick. Very sick.

And while it's hard to fathom that the house that made your

girlhood so beautiful, also made it such a challenge -

it's still a relief to finally know:

it's not my genes, thyroid, food allergies, or all in my head;

It's my home.

Thus the memories,

the letting go and moving on.

I'm guessing you'll be somewhat happy to know

we're not moving moving -

in God's providence, we had built a building on our farm

a few years back for storage, and an art studio -

and are now in the process of making it into a new home.

Though it's much smaller than what we are accustomed too,

we're learning to embrace the process of simplifying

our lives, and living with less.

Long story short,

it's a good thing;

and we can see God's hand in all of it.

His timing is perfect.

Even looking back at years of illness and frustration,

I can see God's hand there too.

I would not know His strength in my weakness,

and my absolute inability to do anything without Him,

as I now do -

if it weren't for these years.

That's when I feel almost as if I can relate to what the

Psalmist meant when he wrote in Psalm 90:

"Make us glad according to

the days wherein thou hast afflicted us,

and the years wherein we have seen evil."

I'm learning that anything that makes me

more patient, more trusting, more willing to surrender,

and exchange my plan for the Lord's,

is a very good thing.

Even when it really hurts.

We still have a long road ahead of us,

building, moving, detoxing,

and eventually saying goodbye to this old house;

but there's a great anticipation and hope

in seeing what the Lord has for us next.

memories and old boots

Due to the season of life that we are living,

which is bound to be better explained in a future post -

and includes a large amount of downsizing,

sorting, and thus reminiscing...

lots of forgotten objects have resurfaced.

That's how I stumbled across a box of memories...

...in which I found my dusty old black riding boots.

Still a little dirty, still giving off a fragrance of

sawdust, horses, the sweet smells of leather,

and stories of all the places we'd been together.

Memories of hot July days, a sweaty pony,

and a blue ribbon.

That was 2001,

the year I rode a pony that was older and

smarter than I was.

A pony who took it upon herself to "teach" me.

Her background had been contesting,

and she was a little speed-devil.

Whether poles, or barrels, or something else -

her eyes would light-up, and she knew exactly what to do.

I quickly realized that as long as Butter knew the patterns

all I had to do was hang on for the ride.

She taught me all of them,

and since she was trained left-handed,

we did them backwards.

Her favorite was flag racing, and it quickly became mine too -

it was the only pattern where she really needed me.

She would slow down and lean in so that I could grab the flag,

and do the same on the other side so that I could get rid of it.

I never once had to whip her to make her go;

she raced hard because she loved it.

We both loved every moment of that Summer together.

When 4-H rolled around, we won first place in pony

Flag racing and pony Western Pleasure.

I was so proud of my multi-talented Buttercup.

We went to State for Flag Racing,

on August 3, 2001 - nine long years ago today.

We both messed up,

and came home with nothing but lots of memories -

but they mean more now than a ribbon ever could.

One sad day, I outgrew my pony;

and she moved on into the life and dream-come-trues

of another little girl.

I still sometimes miss my days with Butter,

especially when August rolls around again,

and memories of that Summer when I was eleven

are as perfect as ever.

And all still triggered by just an old pair of dusty boots.