What Songs Move You?

I'm really curious. Because music is super important to what I do.

I'm a writer. But I'm also a mom. A mom with three kids at home (all day long!) It's not easy to balance homeschooling, a newborn, and writing. So when I sit down to write between the spelling lesson in the morning and the peanut butter catastrophe that's sure to happen in the next hour, I need something to help transport me to the world my characters live in.

I have dozens of play lists put together. Countless songs for particular emotions, experiences or settings. But I'll name just a few. Keep in mind the list changes as I do. It changes as my characters evolve. As they grow. As they experience their world--emotions that are as unique as the characters themselves.

Sorrow. Joy. Tension. Anger. Bittersweet yearning.

So without further adieu, here are a few of my top choices right now:

Don't wait for me by Josh Garrels
Silver coin by Angus and Julia Stone
I will exalt you by Hillsong United

...and of course lots of Adele and Iron and Wine

Often times, I listen to folk music, like the Cold Mountain soundtrack. It helps me feel my setting and my surroundings. Helps me dive into the Appalachian culture I write about. I'm excited to expand on this in another post soon.

I'd love to hear from you. What songs stir your emotions? If you're a writer, what songs do you listen to that reflect the setting of your stories?

Photo credit: Cold Mountain, 2003

First Home School Days

Well we have officially begun home schooling. Yet isn't home schooling something so many moms do? Whether they send their kids to school or teach them at home? I think so. Playing blocks, coloring, learning numbers and letters and so many other activities are really teaching our children, so the transition into official schooling can be a smooth one.

We've casually done preschool up until now. Levi, who will be five in November has had trouble with numbers. Right now he has just mastered counting up to the number twelve. Some kids that I know of can count much higher by this age and at first I was worried because Levi really struggle in this area (sometimes making me want to bang my head against the table) but once I realized it was OK to slow down, it took the pressure off of both of us. And trying to work with a stressed out mommy is no fun for any child. It was time for a change.

We made a game by cutting out small pieces of cardboard and I spread them out in the center of the living room. Levi had so much fun jumping from one number to the next (whichever number I called out) like a frog on lilly pads. Other times I'd do a scavenger hunt by placing the cards in a special spot and after telling Levi what number I needed, he'd race off and find it. There was lots of laughing, high fives and woohooing as we played these games. And for a squiggly, wiggly, four-year-old, counting and numbers became a pleasant time again.

On the other hand, when it came to letters, I hardly had to try. He just naturally picked it up. Now we're working on sight words and he's picking those up just as quick. Once I realized that he knew about 20 words, I made him his own little book out of construction paper. I printed off sentences that included the words he knew, simple things like "Levi and Mabry run." or "I said truck." (I taught him a couple extra words like truck, dog, his name and sister's name, and a few others to make the storybook a little more possible.) He loves that he can read what the little book says and has such fun reading it with his grandma or dad and showing them what he's learned.

In all this, I'm learning just as much as he is. A joy of home schooling is that I can pace Levi differently in the various subjects so he's learning at a comfortable rate with enough of a challenge to find his successes thrilling. And his two-year-old sister insists on learning along with us. She hates being left out. So even though she's just a tiny tot, she wants me to show her the flash cards and I'll help her say them back. She thinks it's so fun to be doing what brother is doing and it makes it so much easier to have her close and participating so I don't have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into somewhere else in the house. Most of the time, though, she keeps busy scribbling on scratch paper. And her brother has the most generous heart. He admires her wild scrawling and points out what he sees. "Look, May. You made a boat." And my favorite was when he said..."You made a beaver tail, good job!"

Oh, and I almost forgot about the picture above! I grew up reading the Little House books and have been waiting for the right time to read them to the kids. I wasn't sure how well they'd get into a story with so few pictures, but they love sitting down each day and reading several pages and it gives Levi and I a special time to simply chat about what we're reading. He can ask questions and it's a great opportunity to explain history and pioneer life. And my time of having my children at home with me is only going to be a season. I'm so thankful to have them with me, learning, laughing and being together as a family.

Adventures in Country Living: Butter

I know that's a picture of pie, but my jar of butter didn't turn out to be so photogenic so the pie took center stage. But there will be pie in this post. Buttermilk pie...allow me to elaborate.

There is a handy blog out there by the "West Ladies" that I enjoy perusing for homesteading ideas and tips. They've also put together a wonderful collection of DVD's for everything from The Art of Soapmaking to The Art of Canning and I've been wanting to make their recipe for "Grandma's Buttermilk Pie" which not only calls for a cup of buttermilk, but also offers a super simple method for making butter. Yum! So here we go....

Butter Recipe
3 cups heavy cream at room temp
1 quart Jar
Willing shakers

Pour cream into jar. Shake.
Easy as (buttermilk) pie!

I used a quart size canning jar but you could use any large jar that has a tightly sealing lid. The kids were eager to help and when my husband (aka the worlds best cream shaker) saw what we were doing, he jumped in to try it. But the jar got really full, making it difficult to shake. We realized that the cream was just thickening and expanding into a runny version of coolwhip Something wasn't right. It was then that I remembered the one important rule--the cream needs to be at room temp. Oops. The recipe has ONE ingredient and I still managed to screw it up! Our jar was cool to the touch but after running it under some warm water for a few seconds, the fat instantly separated from the liquid and we suddenly had a large mound of butter!

I think the heavens might have parted at that moment, but maybe that was just me overly excited.

But then my husband (let's just call him Noah from here on out) got a call. Our neighbor down the street needed help beheading a turkey. Talk about random--and a little gruesome--my apologies. It was actually pretty ironic. I wondered how many wives and husbands didn't have that conversation this week. "As much fun as I'm having churning butter little lady, duty calls."

So turkey-killer and I parted ways and I set to work draining off the buttermilk. After reading that too much liquid left in the butter can ruin it, I was nervous about not being able to get it all out and probably only got a B+ so next time I will strain it really well through cheesecloth. But for now, we were thrilled. Especially my husband. We stood in our kitchen after the kids went to bed, spreading homemade butter on last nights biscuits, dolloped with spoonfulls of some pie filling I had made the week before--rhubarb, strawberries and butter never tasted so good! We leaned against the kitchen sink, devouring our late night snack as he filled me in on the details of his--er--own adventure across the street. When he finished, I told him I was going to do some canning with Mrs. Turkey-killer after church (hi Robyn :])

He started laughing and said, "We're such rednecks."

I think something about me being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen rounded out the moment :D
Happy Homesteading.

P.S. Buttermilk Pie...two thumbs up! Please don't make fun of my crust, I worked very hard, haha. And I used an AMAZING recipe by Ina Garten from the food network.
Also, visit Homestead-blessings.com for the recipes and much more.

Adventures in Country Living: Dutch Oven Cooking

100 years ago, along the path from the east to the west, came thousands of families traveling in a wagon with less cargo spaces than some refrigerators I've seen. They packed up what little they could tuck into nooks and crannies and set off on the journey of a lifetime. The supplies they packed varied, while some may have valued a prized fiddle or sewing machine, others clung to family portraits and hand-me-down cradles. But what most every family packed, was the key to cooking on the open plains--a Dutch oven.

Imagine standing over a campfire and relishing in the ability to bake breads, cakes and rolls, and cook stews and cobblers. The Dutch oven truly is a remarkable tool.

These are the images that come to mind when I think of a Dutch oven, but Dutch ovens still have their place in the here and now. Our family just got home from two week-long camping trips. And while my washer and dryer are working over time, our Dutch oven is tucked snugly in its home inside our trailer, resting from several weeks of feeding everyone.

The Dutch oven is my husband's baby. He's the campfire man. He can start one in a heartbeat, I've even seen him do it without a flame. He's basically like an over sized boyscout. But he's our resident chef when we go camping and he knows how to whip up more than one crowd pleaser. He pretty much does all the work, and I'm mostly allowed to observe. I think its a guy thing. They love cooking in the great out doors--BBQ's, can of beans tossed into the campfire, fish grilling in tin foil on the side of a stream, it doesn't matter where they are, they were born to cook in the great out doors.

But the guy makes a mean breakfast quiche, he learned it from his brother (who also makes an amazing stew), and when I asked my husband for the recipe so I could blog about it, he stared at me like a dear in headlights with this look like "I can't believe your going to give away my secret." So I'll just blurt out the ingredients, and run like the dickens in the opposite direction: egg, cheese, sausage, bacon, potatos. That's all I'll say, but if you see him, you might be able to work the details out of him, or just bring him camping. He's already had several offers..."um honey, did you pack the tent and the marshmallows, oh and the cast iron guy whose going to feed us like kings?"

So I'll share another recipe and it's as simple as, well, dump cake.
My favorite is blackberry-rhubarb. I like to cut fresh rhubarb from the garden, cook it down for thirty minutes with sugar then freeze it in quart containers, but the beauty about this way-too-easy cobbler is that the fruit combinations are endless.

Dutch Oven Dump Cake:
First, start coals by lighting a fire in a pit or using charcoal.
A 10 or 12 inch Dutch Oven work great. Grease the inside of the oven, or insert a greased foil liner.
Dump in 2-3 cans of pie filling or fruit and 1-2 packages of cake mix (depending on the size of the Dutch oven)
Pour over a stick of melted butter or spread diced butter evenly on top
No need to mix or stir anything!

When working with a fire pit, it helps to use a heat proof glove, like a welding glove and a lid lifter is a must. With the lid on the oven, set it gently on a small bed of hot coals, place more coals on top (more on top than on bottom if you like a nice golden-brown crust)and allow to cook for about 45 minutes, give or take. Rotate the Dutch oven as needed so the sides cook evenly and replace or remove coals as necessary to regulate heat.

This is not an exact science. The rate at which the Dutch oven cooks ranges depending on the amount of coals, heat of the coals, and the weather. The fruit will begin to bubble up and that's good. When the cake is set and as golden as you like, its done. Allow to cool slightly and serve with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream for those people who like runny vanilla ice-cream on their cobbler, but I'm weird, and I like it just the way it is ;)

Happy Homesteading!

A Very Country 4th

We celebrated the Forth of July Country Style. Some dear friends of ours have a lovely farm in the country. Literally, their home is the very last house on a rural dirt road which means they have only one neighbor and the 300 degree view from their back porch of the untouched mountains is stunning.

For most of the day, my son ran around in his bathing suit on the lawn chasing kids both older and younger, squirt gun in hand, water balloons flying past his head like little torpedoes. I don't think the kids stopped for a breather all day, except when it was time to eat. And then, I don't think anyone could have resisted that spread.

The enormous BBQ hauled in on the back of a vehicle was large enough to feed everyone with chicken, ribs and lamb drizzled in the most wonderful homemade BBQ sauces. Pots large enough to hold a couple of youngins held more corn than I have ever seen in one place in my life and with plenty of entrants in the cobbler and pie competition, there were desserts-a-plenty. My dad was eager to join in on the judging and as he walked around the table, sampling the cobblers with his fork, I don't think he could have been happier. The Lemon pie won, but I was too busy nibbling on peach cobbler that had been freshly baked in a dutch oven over a hot fire then topped with hand churned vanilla ice cream, I forgot to nab myself a slice of the winning entry before it vanished.

As everyone enjoyed the meal, a handful of toddler girls waddled about with chubby legs and ribbons in their hair. With watermelon juice still dripping from her chin, my daughter wandered from picnic blanket to picnic blanket, seeing what bites of food the kind folks would offer a doe-eyed, dimple-cheeked one-year-old. Needless to say, I don't think she had any room left in her little tummy by the end of the day.

As the meal came to a close, folks shared patriotic readings, poems and songs and when that was wrapped up, a gaggle of barefooted, sun-tanned kids hopped onto the flat bed truck for a trip down to the creek. I have no idea what they did down there, but when my three-year-old returned, he was wet, a little muddy and very happy. At that moment I figured he'd probably sleep for a week.

Earlier on in the day, names went up on a board in preparation for the shotgun competition. My honey did quite well in the shootout, making it all the way to the semi finals before getting knocked out of the competition. He has the bruise on his shoulder to prove it. His brother took the championship, shooting through four rounds of competition at twenty-five clay pigeons each round. I bet his bruise is bigger :-) Later on, some of the shooters took part in a twenty-one gun salute. My husband and dad were among the few who lined up for the series of shots in front of the garden...it was VERY loud...things you can only pull off in the country ;-)

As the sun sank on the 4th of July, the s'mores sticks came out and by the time the fire was crackling, a group of kids were huddled around the pit with eager hands. With my friend doing graham cracker duty and me on Hershey bar duty, we managed to sandwich those golden (sometimes rather charred) marshmallows up before any kids realized we actually only had 4 skewers. Even so, those too impatient to wait for a skewers, found a stick long enough to satisfy their s'mores cravings (several adults included) Meanwhile, the guitars came out and as we sang songs around the campfires. The littlest ones drifted off to sleep while the older ones were told they could have no more s'mores but if they were still hungry we had plenty of graham crackers and corn on the cob.

I realized just how late it was when my dad got a little droopy eyed, guitar still in hand. We packed up the picnic blankets and loaded up the kids. My dad managed to stay awake in the car, but my children were asleep in the car seats, with sticky stuff still on their faces, before we were out the driveway.