As if it weren’t bad enough that Marshall thinks I’m a hundred years old, Livia said this to me a couple of times recently:
“Mommy, you have a big butt!”
Ouch!
But Livia is the smallest person in the house, so of course my butt is big by comparison. She’d say the same thing to a supermodel. At least that’s what I tell myself. 🙂
Marshall and his father had this conversation over breakfast.
Daddy: These eggs are too hot. We’ll have to let them cool down.
Marshall: Yeah, we’re going to have to wait a hundred years.
Daddy: That’s a very long time. I don’t even know anyone a hundred years old.
Marshall: But Mommy is!
Yesterday I was sad to find that I had some expired vanilla yogurt in the refrigerator. Expired yogurt always makes me unhappy. I know that there’s not a magical dairy fairy who destroys the yogurt the moment it hits its expiration date. But I can’t make myself eat expired yogurt, because even if it smells OK, what if there’s something icky growing in it? That doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty when I throw it away, though.
This time, however, I had a solution to my dilemma: a recipe for Dutch apple pie that called for yogurt. I figured that cooking would kill anything bad that might be living in the yogurt. So I pulled out my recipe and prepared to do battle in the kitchen.
The first thing the recipe instructed me to do was to precook the crust. I had never done that before, so I consulted the Internet and found Martha Stewart’s website. She said I needed parchment paper and something to weigh the crust down. As I was preparing to botch this new element of pie cookery, I noticed the instructions on the pie-crust box. Those instructions were simpler: crank up the heat and cook the sucker! That sounded easy, but also very wrong. I mean, anything that runs counter to Martha’s instructions must be wrong. She’s the goddess of cooking and crafting, and you disobey her at your peril!
But I, lazy thing that I am, chose the easier, riskier path. I put the pie crust into the hot oven, turned on the oven light, and then watched in horror as a whole section of crust melted down to the bottom of the plate. Crap! I took the pie plate back out, pulled up the saggy crust, and stuck it in the oven again. Please, I silently prayed to Martha. Please don’t smite my pie crust! Then the bottom of the crust puffed out like the throat of a bullfrog. Crap! I poked more holes in it (the crust, not the bullfrog). My last-minute crust surgery saved the day. The finished crust was slightly shrunken and misshapen, but it would do. How do you like that, Martha?
It was time to prepare the streusel topping. The recipe called for a whopping 6 tablespoons of butter, 3/4 cup of light brown sugar, and a whole cup of flour. It said to combine the ingredients to “create a knobby streusel.” Knobby? I kneaded and kneaded and not a knob did I see, though I did get a nub or two. Eh. It would do.
Next I was supposed to cook the apples in a pan with butter, lemon juice, sugar, and cinnamon. I rummaged in the fridge for a lemon. I found one. I wondered why it was in a bag with a lime. Then I realized why. The green thing was not a lime! Ew. Well, who needs lemon juice anyway?
But then something weird happened in my brain. I still don’t know what could have possessed me to do this. I decided that since I was leaving out the lemon juice I would need to include some water to keep the total liquid content the same. I reasoned that the water would help steam the apples. Then I misread “the juice of 1/2 lemon” as “1/2 cup lemon juice” and proceeded to add 1/2 cup of water to the pan.
Big mistake. The apples promptly responded by exuding more water than they could possibly have had in them. Suddenly I was cooking apple soup. I’ll just turn up the heat, I thought. It will reduce. The apples retaliated by disintegrating. Crap! I did not want applesauce, so I was forced to take the pan off the heat.
There was still too much liquid in there. Now what? I decided to spoon off a few tablespoons, knowing that I was removing a lot of the sugar and cinnamon. It seemed the lesser of two evils. In any event, it was the most delicious evil I have ever tasted! Then I threw a tablespoon of flour into the remaining apple stew to help thicken it up, mixed in the expired yogurt, and poured the whole pale mess into the lopsided crust.
Then it was time to top the pie with streusel. If anyone is wondering why Americans are so fat, I think that streusel topping might have something to do with it. How could anyone think a pie needs that much streusel? I left at least a third of it in the bowl, which means, of course, that this particular apple pie is low-fat and perfectly healthy to eat.
The pie baked beautifully, and it was delicious. I should have known all along that it would be so. I’ve tried many times to screw up apple pies, but they are nearly foolproof. An apple pie can leak a sugary mess all over the bottom of your oven, and that mess will smoke you right out of your house. I know, because I’ve been there and done that. But also know that after the smoke clears, the pie always tastes good, whether the apples leaked or the crust caved in, and even if you overcooked or undercooked it. The combination of butter, sugar, and apples just always seems to taste good. Thank God (and Martha) for that!
Dear Kids,
You are strange kids. You’re not afraid of doctors at all. In fact, you look forward to going to the doctor’s office.
Today you were scheduled for your flu vaccines, so when I went into your room this morning, I told you that we were going to the doctor. Marshall said, “Oh! I want to go, too!” Livia ran to get her socks, yelling, “I want to go to the doctor!”
You couldn’t wait to get to the doctor’s office, and all the way there, you pretended that the flu was chasing us. “Don’t run into the flu!” Marshall told his dad as we were driving down the highway. It was so funny.
I’m not complaining. I love that you want to go to the doctor’s office, and I love the way you behave when you’re there. Today Marshall handled his flu mist like a pro. Livia had to be held down for the second nasal blast, but she took that pretty well, all things considered. Afterward both of you were excited to have Super Flu-Fighting Powers, and you wore your “I Had a Flu Shot Today!” stickers with pride.
So I’m thrilled with your behavior, but I’m boggled by my good fortune. How did I get such strange but wonderful children?
Love,
Mom
Dear Kids,
This year you decided for yourselves what you wanted to be for Halloween. Marshall said he wanted to be a Scary Bee. Livia, taking her cue from her brother, declared that she wanted to be a bee, too.
As I was shopping for toddler bee costumes, I found some costumes for adults. It occurred to me that I could dress up, too. What a crazy idea! I hadn’t dressed up for Halloween for decades. I get uncomfortable just thinking about wearing a costume. But that’s not a good thing, and I don’t want you to feel that way when you grow up. I want you to know that you can still have fun when you’re older. It wouldn’t be enough to tell you, though. I have to show you. So I decided to be a bee, too.
When I told your dad that I was going to dress up, he said, “I don’t want to be a bee!” Then he saw that there were beekeeper costumes. Thus the theme was born.
Marshall, I couldn’t find a good costume for you, so I bought you some black-and-yellow striped pajamas. Then I found a bow tie, stinger, and deely bopper set to go with it, plus a pair of wings to strap on your back. And voila! You were a bee. Not a scary bee, perhaps, but a cute one. You were thrilled with your stinger. You kept backing into people to sting them with it. Attaboy!
Livia, you were supposed to be a princess bee. You might not have had a crown, but it was clear that you were a princess. The costume was small on you and the Velcro at the bottom refused to stay closed, but you didn’t mind. Just like last year, you were a Halloween trooper. You let nothing stand between you and your candy. You fell several times, and you kept losing your shoe. None of that fazed you. You were certain of your task and about what you were supposed to be. Every once in a while someone would tell you that you were a pretty butterfly, and you would correct them, saying, “I’m a bee!”
Some people noticed our family bee theme and commented on it, all positively. “I love it when the whole family gets involved,” they told us. And on the way home your dad told me that he had enjoyed our Halloween theme. He said, “It was fun. Thank you for my costume.” That made me happy.
But you two deserve most of the credit. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have dressed up or gone out for Halloween. We wouldn’t have seen the two cutest bees in the world. We wouldn’t have taken pictures, and we wouldn’t have the memories to go along with them. We would have missed out on so much. Thank you!
Love,
The Queen Bee
Yesterday I went to Putnam to meet up with my friend Sprite. Putnam is located on the Quinebog River in the Quiet Corner of Connecticut. Putnam is a pleasant place, sort of touristy in a slightly offbeat way. We like it for its location (roughly halfway between her location in CT and mine in RI) and because we always discover interesting things to look at while we’re there.
Of course, the combination of river and fall foliage is always beautiful. I took these shots as we walked down the Putnam River Trail.
Cargill falls
Foliage Along the Putnam River Trail
The trail is lined with many types of trees, including this one, which has interesting fruit. My guess is that it’s a kousa dogwood.
And then there is this tree, which looks like it produces both apples and some kind of cherry.
Weird! But a closer look at its base reveals that it is actually two types of trees growing close together.
The local critters often run away before I can snap their pictures, but the birds don’t seem to mind posing. I wasn’t sure what this one was, but after looking through my bird guide, I’m guessing double-crested cormorant. My friend guessed cormorant at the time, so I think that was a good call on her part!
We have always found the businesses of Putnam to be very welcoming. They go out of their way to add new things for us to see.
Scarecrow Contest in Progress
We often eat lunch at the Main St. Grille, because they are friendly and serve great food at a reasonable price. But they close fairly early in the day, so sometimes we have to go elsewhere. On this occasion we had lunch at The Stomping Ground, which looked like a great spot to catch a live show. We were not there at the right time for music, but the “Van Gogh” grilled cheese sandwich was excellent.
No visit to Putnam would be complete without a stop at the Victoria Station Cafe for a hot cup of tea or coffee, especially when the weather gets chilly. They have both indoor and outdoor seating. We opted to sit outside to enjoy the crisp autumn air.
Alas, yellow jackets love both autumn and sweet beverages, and one of them, in its excitement over my friend’s chai, broke an unwritten rule of human/wasp relations by trying to climb into her nose. Thankfully she was able to shoo it away without getting stung. It was not the first time some sort of animal had “jumped” one of us in search of food, and we reminisced about the time a duck jumped in my lap to steal my sandwich. For the record, I’d much rather be harassed by a duck than a yellow jacket!
The scary yellow jacket aside, it was a lovely visit. I am looking forward to returning later this year.
Signs of fall weren’t the only things I found on my late-summer walks. I also found Indian pipe growing in several spots. I think of it as being relatively rare, so it was a pleasant surprise to find so much of it.
Indian pipe
And I discovered this pink beauty.
Pinesap
At first I thought it must be pink Indian pipe, though I had never heard of such a thing. I looked it up when I got home, and now I know it to be pinesap, a cousin of Indian pipe. The way to tell the difference between the two plants is the number of flowers per stem. Indian pipe always has one. Pinesap usually has multiples.
I also discovered a new type of shrub. I think it’s probably spicebush. I only noticed it because of its pretty berries. Aren’t they gorgeous?
Beautiful Berries, Possibly Spicebush
But my mission during these summer hikes was to find evidence that the shrubs in the woods are blueberries. I knew that it was too late to find fresh berries, but it’s not uncommon to find shriveled, uneaten berries here and there, even well after blueberry season. I figured that those old berries would be my best bet for evidence.
Well, look at what I found near the overhang of the scenic overlook.
Fresh blueberries! In September! Who could have imagined? This is the only bush I found with fresh berries (though there were some desiccated berries on other bushes, just as I had thought there would be). What a lucky find! Not only did these berries provide me with definitive evidence, but they were tasty, too. And I’m doubly glad that I ate some, because when I got home and told my husband about the blueberry bush, he said, “I bet they were poisonous.” That was his way of saying, “Who cares? You’re too paranoid to eat anything you find in the woods anyway.” Having eaten the berries, I could tell him how wrong he was. I’ve decided, you see, that if something looks like a blueberry to me, it’s a blueberry (or something similar enough, like a huckleberry or bilberry, to be equally edible). I like blueberries, so I’m going to eat some if I find them.
The summer is definitely not my favorite season for hiking, but I’d like to go blueberry picking in the woods someday. Our plan is to have permethrin-treated clothing and shoes for next year, because experts are predicting a horrific tick season. Properly dressed, I might be willing to brave the woods in the middle of the season.
Until next year, blueberries!
I usually don’t go out in the woods during the summer, because it’s unpleasantly hot and I worry about ticks. I went up to the woods three times in the late summer this year, and almost regretted it. As expected, the woods were close and humid and terribly buggy. On two of the walks I managed to attract swarms of mosquitoes and deer flies that stayed with me for the entire trek. The flies would buzz by my ears every few minutes. And if I paused to take a picture, every bug in the whole forest knew it and attacked en masse.
But there were some enjoyable things about my walks. For one thing, I snapped a picture of the approach to the scenic overlook. Now I have pictures of the woods in all four seasons.
What was interesting to me was how many signs of fall could already be seen, even though the walks took place before the official start of the season. The tiny gardens were filling up with autumnal brown leaves.
Tiny Garden with Fall Leaves
In other places yellow leaves were already brightening the ground.
Here I snapped a picture because I thought that the pines needles filled in the rock crevices in a pretty way.
Pine Needles on the Rock
But there’s something else to notice in the picture. On the right you can see that the pine was starting to turn yellow. All of the pines were starting to turn yellow.
Pine Turning Yellow
The first few years that we lived here among the pines, I would see the pines yellowing and think they were getting sick. Then they would get miraculously better, until the next year, that is. Eventually the light bulb went off in my head. Duh! It’s fall for pines, too!
And there were nuts of many kinds on the ground, including some that I didn’t recognize. They will have to be subjects of an investigation someday. My favorite, though, was this colorful acorn.
Colorful Acorn
Nothing says fall like acorns on the ground!
BEE STORY
by Marshall
Bees sting everybody. They go back to the hive and eat juice. They sting the people even, even, even, even more. The people get mad and capture the bees. They catch them in a jar like I do. They bury the jar. The bees are buzzing underground far, far away. The frogs ate the bees.
My husband discovered one September day that the flower stalks of the astilbe that he had recently bought were covered with some sort of eggs. The eggs had just started to hatch, in fact. From a distance they just looked like a weird, purplish encrustation. But thanks to my digital camera, you can look more closely and see the larvae. Yuck!
My husband cut one of the flower stalks and put it on the walkway. Then it was easier to see the eggs.
And then the larvae started to flee.
Larva Up-Close
Fleeing Larvae
My husband and I feel as though we are custodians of the land to some degree. We thought that if this were an interesting moth or butterfly species then we should let it be. We would certainly never wish to harm an endangered butterfly species! But we also thought that if it were something bad then perhaps we should do away with it.
After researching on the Web, I came to the conclusion that the larvae were cutworms. And cutworms are not good, so we decided not to let them be. It was a sad end to an interesting, if somewhat gross, investigation.
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