Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Taking back Tuesday

It started last night when we needed a gallon of milk. Erin and I ran out to get some, and then heavy cream, peppermint patties and PUMPKIN SPICE coffee pods.

We ate peppermint patties in the car. Oh, how we love them!

This morning, a tea Tuesday and a special guest. I woke up to make pumpkin spice coffee to start off--the season's first (ACK! And then I got Autumn Story in the mail today and cannot wait to read it with Erin on the equinox). I fixed a batch of almond flour scones with mini chocolate chips. Then I went onto pumpkin scones, which called for pumpkin butter.

1 big can of pumpkin puree
1/2 cup of apple juice
1/4 cup maple syrup
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 lemon, juiced
2 1/2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
a pinch of salt

(adapted from Minimalist Baker)

Heat to simmer, and keep stirring for 20-30 minutes. Keeps refrigerated two weeks--if you don't end up gifting it away to people you love (we gifted a jar to Anita and one to our piano teacher).

It's like apple butter. I used to take a spoonful of apple butter and mix it in with plain yogurt and a banana. Now I'm crazy curious to see if using pumpkin butter in its place would seem like eating pumpkin heaven.

I don't think I've made scones since we went gluten free. We were in for such a pleasant surprise.

I iced them with a homemade maple flavored confectioner's glaze.

It's only our second tea party. Anita joined us. She looked lovely. Her hugs nurtured. She soaked in all this place had to offer. She sat at the table set in the outside cove and we sampled scones and meringues and nuts. We poured tea and lemonade. And my heart felt so full when she went back for more, and the tea being her very favorite. (I sent tea bags home with her so she could continue to enjoy it!)

There's a lot of happy that goes on here. I write these things down and take the pictures because I forget. I forget faces and voices and words. I no longer remember the sound of my mother's voice, and her face is two dimensional, stuck in a firm expression of a 1990s photograph. There weren't many pictures of her. (I know she laughed loudly--Erin and I both take after her in that respect.) I forget how little my kids were and the things they said and the things I treasured about our lives.

So thanks, friends, for indulging me when I write down these precious-to-me things. Thanks for understanding when I take lot of photos and plaster them all over this space. I sometimes worry how it all comes across--if it seems too showy or glorified. It's just me wanting to hold it all--every thought and smell and feeling and image.

I forget. And all this life, it goes so fast.

mini chips, and almond protein

my mom's china

I cannot get enough of these

This beautiful woman is like a mother to me

Tuesdays for her--redeeming the day

Anita read poems to us and it was such a treat.


One of our butterflies emerged today. Erin squealed and named it Eddie. But since it was a girl (and we know why--it doesn't have black glands on the wings), we changed it to Edie and set her free.
males have a black dotted gland on their wings

I got to hold her!

We are waiting for these to emerge. Look at the miraculous and majestic beauty of green and gold in this temporary and disposable chrysalis. This is the stuff God does. There is great treasure hidden in vessels. It looks like golden thread woven all around.

It feels good to be free.

She took off into the pines and it was magnificent. We have thought of her first flight all day.


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