WINTER AND SUN...

It's a good thing I don't live in the Pacific Northwest where it is purported the sun shines rarely! Even living here in the mid-west, where we see the sun often, it is never enough for my needs. I fully understand the cultures that did/do worship the sun...I am a worship culture of one here on Jug Creek.

The sun has brought me to my knees in praise; has struck me dumb for lack of words to say; has been the reason I have placed a kiss on my own warm shoulder any hot and steamy summer day. I'd like to wear the sun, were I able, and nothing else. (Hopefully, none of you would have to witness that!)

And WINTER, without a doubt, my favorite season of the year! I am so far from being done with winter and unlike most people I know, would like the assurance that days like today, with plenty of snow and sun will last right up until the day spring bursts forth.

I don't even have to go very far, just step out my door, snap on my skis and I'm off.

...beautiful birch trees along a hillside on a ski path above the house...
it was stunning, the white snow, blue sky and white birch.

And weeds...

I know that a weed does not know it is a weed, nor for that matter, does it know its own beauty, but I am so grateful for it. Its starkness against the blazing snow today was a minor masterpiece of beauty.

...and yes, the sky really was this blue today...just outside my door.

One cannot help but feel a kinship with nature here in the valley. I easily slipped in and out of the blue, the sun, the trees and the snow today, and hope that I am so much a part of nature that the sky, the trees, the sun and the snow, were also struck with the beauty of the day and perhaps with that 'person' moving along the path and they too, slipped in and out of me.

Pane Fritta

From the time I can remember as a child, we lived with my mother's mother, my grandmother Gennuso, in her home on Liberty Street in Fredonia, N.Y. Every Saturday morning, she would set out her large stainless steel bread pan and fill it with rising dough. Not only did she make several loaves each Saturday, but she also made a pizza or two, and the highlight for us kids, was the pane fritta. After the dough had risen, she would break off small pieces of it, flatten them out, and quickly fry them in lard, turning them when browned. This took only minutes, and she'd take them out, sprinkle them with sugar, and one of the best 'doughnuts' ever was eagerly devoured by the four of us kids, and whatever adults happened to be lucky enough to be around.

Later she would form the loaves, let them rise, bake them, and when hot out of the oven, knife a thick, thick slice for each of us, drizzle olive oil atop it, sprinkle black pepper over all, and another mouthwatering treat for us...not to mention, of course, the pizza slices we helped ourselves to throughout the day. (To this day, I love room temperature pizza.)

My grandmother, Josephine Gennuso.

Now that my grandmother days are here, I find myself recalling with great fondness and poignancy my days with her. I find myself doing many of the things she did, now with my own grandchildren.

I have Iris each Wednesday, and now Elsa also, during the morning. So last Wednesday, anticipating them coming, I thought about Pane Fritta.

...dough rising...

When my first grandchild, Morgan was old enough to bake and cook I made us matching aprons. When Macy was born, I made her a matching apron as well. Iris, during our cooking times, would wear one of these aprons, but just the other week, thought perhaps we needed matching aprons of our own.

So, I set out to make Iris, Elsa and me these aprons.

...and we set out to make pane fritta...

To make it a bit more special, we flattened the dough, and then cut out shapes prior to setting in the canola oil (not lard).

I must say, we got so caught up in the sprinkling, cooling and eating (along with a cup of tea) I failed to even think about taking pictures of the finished product. It didn't last very long anyway.

While the girls were waiting for the pane fritta to cool, they dragged out their kitchen to the kitchen, and proceeded to 'cook' up a storm.

I guess it was a bit much for Elsa, as she is sitting down on the job.

I am grateful to my grandmother for all the wonderful memories, the skills, and the innate love of and for good food that she instilled in me.

Wonders Never Cease

I ask myself, why am I not weaving these days? It is not that I don't love to weave, nor that I really don't want to weave, because I do. However, I sense still a heaviness of spirit connected, I think, to the fiasco of the cabin basement, which I still am unable to use. My laments and middle of the night thoughts are that I've made one colossal mistake that will only take much more time and money to correct. I know I've gone overboard with worry and that I just need this time to step away and 'let it go' and come spring, deal with it. Actually, it isn't as bad as this may sound, really needing only to correct/replace the heating unit (is this a small thing?), and I have a tendency to take worry and doom to the nth degree. I think it is my Sicilian grandmothers coming through.


So, while not weaving, I am in fact enjoying other things. Those 5# coffee bags...

with the help of some lovely printed Duct Tape, have become tote bags.

yes, to tote wine, or produce, or coffee once again...

And enjoying other things!!

On Wednesdays I take Iris and that always brings with it some newly innocent and delightful forms of play.

She wanted to do a 'collection' despite it being on the warm winter side where soft snow and slush dominated the yard and surrounding woods...
she found many, many treasures, which we decided were worthy of an inside display on lovely linen cloth (which happened to be an Ikea find called Iris).

It really is heart warming to be with a little one so open to nature and all its wonders, so alive in her findings that she squealed in delight at the tiny grape leaves littering the snow. She collected dried weed flowers, pine cones, seed pods, pine needles both golden and green...and she was filled, as was I.

Her imagination is huge and creative. She asked, while in the bathroom, if she could take the small plastic zip bag of Burt's Bees products and look at them. I said sure. She then took them into the living room, and as she was spreading them out, she almost immediately saw the tubes and small bottles as people. She assigned me two, and took two herself, gave them names, and proceeded to spread them out. She collected other items, made pools, chairs, tables, etc. Thinking she'd find it fun, I drew faces on the tubes and bottles, and she was simply delighted.

Here is the 'family' put to sleep for the night.
Just as we were deep in play, Grandpa came home, and before changing into the boots he wore to the woods, came inside for a little while. He was recruited to join in the play.

...and here is grandpa in charge of moving the mother and father around, getting them tea and crumpets in his high mother's voice. Then off in a more manly way, to his chain saw and the woods.

There is much to delight in and I am so appreciative, in this age of little ones wearing heals and striking sexy poses, that this little girl is still lost in the wonder of nature and simple things.

HEARTS AND FLOWERS

Ah, Valentine's Day, the day for love and hearts and flowers.

An ancient technique developed, by among others, the Mayans...woven paper hearts.
I decided to resurrect this ancient art this season, and pulled out a couple of old wall paper books I've kept over the years. With pretty patterns and some patience, I, as usual, was so caught up in the making, I just kept making...and making...and making. Now I need to give my hearts away.

They were quite lovely as they stood, but I thought stamping them might give them an even more vintage look.

This one is made from paper I water colored first, wove, then stamped.

It got to be rather addictive.

And then....the old, fallen apart rug I designated for re-use into potholders. It came to me after I'd made several, that I could embellish them with felted flowers.

...and then some blatantly heartish pot-holders.

Then it was on to the Valentine Card/Books for Iris and Elsa.

Sometimes it is difficult to find the perks in growing old. It is relatively easy to recognize all that is tarnished, all the small indignities that, to others might go unnoticed, but to the one growing into 'old age' reflect not just back from the mirror, but from life itself. I think, though, the purpose of 'old age', the redemption of growing older, is quite simply, grandchildren.

With this in my heart, I set out to make small valentine books for Iris and Elsa.

Elsa's depicts, on every page, the love of an animal hiding under a heart.

And for Iris, who I often tease by saying something like, I love you with all....my tummy? Several pages of 'misplaced' love hiding underneath hearts.

The culmination comes with the love in Nonnie's heart.

...with all my heart...

KNEADING FRIENDS

I'm sure that it is impossible to count, or even estimate, how many loaves of bread I have made in my life. I've been baking bread most of my adult life, perhaps weekly, or surely averaged out to that. One might think that this could reach near-state of boredom, but each time I begin the process, I do it with a genuine enthusiasm and excitement. So when two friends asked to have a bread baking 'lesson', I eagerly agreed. In advance I prepared a container of my sour dough starter for them to use, replenish and take home. I believe both of these ladies are already bread bakers, but I guess they were intrigued with my sour dough bread. Anyway, it sure was a fun morning. I had a baguette rising, ready to bake when they arrived, so they could see the end process, as they were going to take home their kneaded and rising bread to complete for their evening meals.

I have never, not ever, gotten tired of the smell of bread baking in the oven. And as we began and proceeded through the mixing and kneading, we were surrounded with the warm, wafting aroma of crusty bread baking.


Bowls and baking ingredients at the ready!

Sour dough starter (which is nothing more then flour and water that has fermented), water, a scant bit of yeast for a burst, organic flours, both 7 grain and unbleached bread flours, and salt. Simple and ancient are these ingredients, nothing fancy goes in to making these crusty, earthy breads.

One must enjoy kneading for this bread, because it is best kneaded for 8-12 minutes.
Kneading friends....a great way to have the minutes fly by if you happen to get tired of it.

...a fleck of flour on the chin enhances the morning...

...ready for the bowl and hours of rising...
This bread can rise at room temperature all day, then can be divided into 3 sections. One can form all three sections into loaves....

and let rise for a couple of hours. Or, form only one or two, and refrigerate the rest of the dough for another time. I've refrigerated for several days, taking some out when needed.

Crusty, crunchy, aromatic, delicious sporting plenty of (gas) holes on the inside.

It was truly a wonderful way to spend a snowy Monday morning. When the bowls were covered and waiting to get to their own homes, we ended the morning eating the freshly baked baguette, cheese, olives and pepperoni (darn, too early for wine).