Weebles Wobble And, Yes, They Do Fall Down

I did it! I finished Bed No. 1 – well, it is as finished as I can do right now. Yes, I will have to add some more to it, but I don’t quite feel the urgency as much any more as I did before. It took quite a few bucket loads with the skidloader to get all the mulch put down, but a couple lows later – as there was a lot of shoveling and forking, and I was done.

Bob and I had gone to Farm & Fleet yesterday and as long as we were there, I wanted to pick up the obelisks that I had wanted for my birthday. No one got them for me, so as a little present to myself, I picked them up and an even greater gift was that they were also on sale. Yippee for me! Bob, on the other hand, did not find it amusing because we already had a cart full and I was able to get one on top of the cart – sort of looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but it did the trick. That left him to carry the other one. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for him, that stopped me from doing any other shopping.

His frustration, however, did not stop there. Once we got to the car, we then had the daunting task of trying to put these towers of frustration into the car. By sizing them up, I knew they were too long to lie in the back seat. Bob didn’t think so (because women are usually wrong about things like that!!), but he quickly found out this time he was wrong. Then he tried to stick them in the trunk and the bases were too wide to go in that way. After a little constructive "criticism," I told him I thought I had it figured out, to which his words were – "you bought ‘em, you had better figure it out." My reply was simply action, not verbalization. I opened the back door on the driver’s side and put the back seats down, slid the "towers" in (we had already stacked one over the other) and, finally, they were in. All it took was just a little womanly coaxing and ingenuity.

He also had a couple choice words to say about the fact that I had picked up a couple pink flamingoes, but my old ones were faded and the sticks were too bent and it was time they hit the flamingo retirement home; so I had been in search of a new set of younger birds and I just happened to find them there. I told him, everyone knows, every garden has to have a set of pink flamingoes! It is just natural, common sense. I now had flamingoes to roost in my gardens again.

After we stopped to eat at the Draft House in Verona and shortly before we left, sister-in-law Faye and niece, Jessica, came in and we visited with them for a bit, and then we headed for home. Once unpacked, I wanted to hit the flower beds again.

Bed No. 1 needed its final weeding before I could do anything further. I grabbed my trusty little cooler with my gardening tools inside that I also use as my stool to sit on when I am weeding. I can only kneel for so long because of the screw I have in my right knee from my ACL/MCL surgery. It lays on the bottom of my knee when I am kneeling and hurts badly when knelt on, so a little stool does the trick. My cooler does double duty. I can also put my camera in there to take pictures when I want.

I was just about done with weeding around my tulips and some of the bare spots that I had left for some future plants to call home when Bob came back to see how I was doing. I actually had my back to him as he was first approaching but then had picked up the cooler to change to another spot when I spied him. He was trying to sneak up on me to scare me, but fortunately for me, he didn’t. So, as we were talking, I moved to a spot on south end of the bed and set the cooler down on a mound of mulch that I had placed earlier around one batch of tulips. I plunked my butt down and was intensely looking for the roots of some weeds when I put my head up to say something, straightened my back and then the dang-dest thing happened – I feel backwards and thought that would be it – just a little tumble backwards. But, no, I did a full tumble – ass over tea kettle. If I would have been graceful about it, it would have been a practiced tuck-and-roll. NOT!! This was a full backward head over heels topple that left me sprawled out on the grass, with dirt and red mulch stuck to my backside. I looked to Bob hoping that he would have a sympathetic look on his face, but I knew better. As he exploded into laughter, my first thoughts were that he was either going to have a heart attack from laughing so hard or pee his pants. (I was secretly hoping for peeing his pants but then I figured I would have to clean that up, too.) The first words were, "where was your camera when I needed it?" To which my reply, luckily, was that it was right next to him sitting on a lawn chair and fortunate for me he didn’t have it in his hands. His next words were, "it reminded me of a Weeble tumbling over." Hahaha!! Not funny!! Well, not comical as I toppled over; later on, I could laugh at it but I can quickly get over it. Bob, on the other hand, can’t. In fact, even today, Bob still bursts out in laughter and says, "I don’t know what I was thinking about needing a camera, because it is still stuck in my mind and I can’t stop laughing about it." Ugh!! I have to admit, though, that I bet it was quite a comical thing to see.

As he slunk away to start milking, giggling to himself like a little school girl, I finished up weeding and then headed to get the skidloader. Just as I was finishing up I was starting to go into a low and knew that it was supposed to rain that night or in the morning, so I wanted to finish things up. I got one more bucket full and grabbed the fork and started pushing mulch around until I was happy and just about ready to fall on the ground. I had just enough energy left in me to safely crawl back into the skidloader, put it away and still be able to walk to the house. Once I got my low under control, I went back out and pushed the mulch around a little more, and then set out my obelisk. The flamingoes also found a little spot to in which to roost.

Again, as with Bed No. 2, I am pretty satisfied with this bed. I can’t wait to see the blooms from all the plants in this large bed. Although, it is, as I said, quite large, it will be a nice break to the bean field once that matures behind it. Usually, there is corn that is planted in there, but this year it is beans so from the road that goes past the farm you might be able to see some of its glory once it, too, matures.

The only thing, hopefully, that you can’t see from the road, is a middle-aged Weeble tumbling over. Hmmmmm . . . what was that about Weebles – oh, yea, Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down.

I guess no one ever told them that once they get to be a certain age, their wobble and tumble turns into a very unbecoming tuck-and-roll.

I Confess -- I'm An Addict

Question: What do I have in common with a crack addict, an alcoholic and a gambler? The answer: Addictions. I am going to confess to everyone that, yes, I, too, have an addiction. I feel and know what it is like for the crack addict to want/need that next fix, for the alcoholic to drool waiting for his next drink and the gambler who is all consumed about when and how to place the next bet. Mine, is Spring and getting dirt under my nails! Bad, huh?!?! – take me away now!!

I get a craving, a bad, bad craving once the snow starts to melt and Spring is on the forefront. There is a storm brewing inside and it is waiting to explode. I love to be out in my gardens, (that is unless it is 110 degrees outside and new congregations of weeds have moved in to greet me) They can sing their hallelujahs somewhere else because I absolutely hate weeds. But yet I certainly seem to still have a little place in my heart for them. Take yesterday, for example. One of my new beds got ahead of me – okay, a disclaimer here, there are more like three beds, but yesterday I had one bed that I wanted to concentrate on. Anyway, before I could get it mulched, a new village of weeds had sprung up. I am sure they moved across town from the last bed I cleaned out and thought this looked like virtuous ground to hang their hats. I let them for a week or so and then it was time to Clean Up Dodge! Marshall Dillon would have been proud of me.

I had gotten back from helping plant flowers/perennials on the graves, mowed the yard, needed more gas to do the rest of the farm, and decided before I ran to town to get gas, I would tend to Bed #2.

I know what you are thinking. Why does she call it Bed No.2? Simple, my dear Watson. Last Fall I dug up three of my back yard flower beds – all three were looking pretty pathetic. So I had Bob roto-till them up and I planted between 250-300 tulips, allium and muscari bulbs. This Spring, I am happy to report, they all came up.

The beds are distinguished as follows: Bed No. 1 is my oblong 30 ft. x 8 ft. bed running north/south along the west end of the back yard. It is individualized by the colors in the pink/purple/lavender families.

Bed No. 2 (my project yesterday and today) is an oval shaped bed approximately 15 ft. x 12 ft. running north to south on the east end of the back yard. Its makeup are colors of red, white, blue and yellow accent.

And, Bed No. 3 is an oblong bed along the fence line of the south end of the back yard approximately 15 ft. x 8 ft. running east to west. This bed is pronounced by colors of yellow, orange, salmon, and apricot. Now you will understand my madness when I talk about my beds in the back yard.

Back to Bed No. 2. I decided this was to be my bed of choice for the day to clean up. It already contained some exotic lilies that I had planted a couple years earlier that I left in there last Fall along with the tulips. After my birthday, I put in the following plants that I received from Casey/Nika and Brady/Jenne for my birthday: Annabelle Hydrangea (white), two Longsfield Twin day lilies (red/yellow), and Hot Papaya coneflower (red).

Now I needed to weed around those and the tulips, so I pulled out my little cooler that I use as my stool which also contains my gardening tools and went to town "cleaning up Dodge." What a wonderful feeling that is once you have accomplished something like weeding it out completely! Euphoria sets in . . . along with an aching back. Next, the plan of action called for running to town to get gas for the lawn mower and making a trip out into the country about 5 miles from town to a great nursery called The Salad Garden to see what other perennials I could find and add to my beds.

Pongo and I jumped in the car and headed off to the Land of Oz. I needed a fix and I needed it quick and now!! And, oh what a fix I got! Visions of sugar plums could not have been sweeter than what I saw. After a careful and meticulous scan of the inventory, I grabbed a wagon and started picking up what I wanted, concentrating carefully on what each bed needed and already had. In the end, I walked out with the following for each bed.

Bed No. 1 already had a Mistical Pink Mist coneflower, three Cote de Azure Asiatic lilies (purple), Meringue coneflower (green), Rose Returns daylily, two Pink Double Delight coneflowers, and three Oriental Lily mix daylilies (purple/pinks). I picked up two Wine ‘n Roses Wiegelas (deep pink flowers w/dark purple foliage), two Pow Wow Wild Berry coneflowers (hot pink), two Obliqua Pink Turtle Heads, and three Wartburg Star Hardy Asters.

Bed No. 3, already had: three Cappuccino Tango lilies, Limelight Hydrangea (lime green), Sundown coneflower. I chose three Sundown coneflowers (orange). Notice the slip-up here! Yes, I just bought three more of what I already had – the Sundown. But these are so pretty, that won’t bother me a bit. I always say that you should plant in groups of three, so one extra is not going to hurt. It will just add to the beauty!

And for Bed No. 2, my current project, I opted for: two Fireworks Fountain Grass (burgundy striped), two Lo & Behold Blue Chip butterfly bushes, Songbird Bunting Columbine (blue), Songbird Goldfinch Columbine (yellow), Karl Forester Feather Reed Grass (white) and a lime green Heuchera. The bed also already had six Exotic Mixed Lilies.

As soon as I got back from the nursery and after getting gas, I unloaded the car and set off to position my plants. Once I had them situated, I dug into Bed No. 2, as I wanted to get this one finished off as best I could. With the plants in, I could now see where I still had areas that needed planting, but since it was starting to get dark, I figured I would have to mulch in the morning and that night I would have sweet dreams of what other plants I wanted to put in this bed.

Today we were planning on going to the Green County Dairy Breakfast, unless it was raining. I decided that I better get an early start outside because if we went and in order for us to get there in time before they finished serving, I would have to be in the barn by 7:00. So I headed outside around 6:00 to do the mulching on Bed No. 2. I pulled the skidloader out and could feel that rain seemed imminent. I called Bob and asked him what he wanted to do. We decided with it looking like rain, we would forego the Dairy Breakfast but would do some errand running instead. Okay, that left me a little more leeway on my morning.

I scooped up a big load of mulch and as careful as you can be with a skidloader full of mulch, headed into the back yard, hoping not to do too much damage to the grass along the way. Two skidloader buckets later and a lot of shoveling and forking later, I am done mulching. And, I have to say it looks marvelous. As you can see, it even now has some visitors -- my garden gnomes have found a new home.

It just needs a few garden ornaments to finish it off and about two or three more plants in the back and Bed No. 2 can be put to rest. Oh, yes, I have to say, she looks so pretty, like a shiny new penney with its copperish-red dressing of mulch. Now I have to wait for all the plants to start to bloom. Fortunately, I think I can do that because I know it was all my own blood, sweat and tears that went into it. That is a good feeling. It may not be the prettiest thing to anyone else, but to me, it is that feeling of accomplishment, like looking at your newborn baby cradled in your arms.

It is a rush. My high -- that feeling of closing your eyes, rocking on your heels and then. . . wait for it, here it comes . . . ta-dah . . . aaaahhhhhhh . . .there it is. Yep, I can feel it pulsing through my veins right now. Now, I think, this is what every addict seeks – that high and final feeling of euphoria.

And the finale – I open my eyes and my high puts a big, ole’ smile on my face.

The Old Lady Might Just Be Getting A Little Too Tired And Cranky

I’m having visions of flowers springing up all over! Yes, the tulips I planted last fall came through amazingly! I am quite happy at the crop that sprouted this spring and at how well they have lasted throughout the ups and downs of temperatures. (See some pictures of my tulips, above). First, we had a weekend of 80 degree weather in late April that got every bulb revved up for the countdown to bloom time. Then, as usual, we slid into some unsightly weather after that. But undaunted by the extreme temperature fluctuations, the variations of tulips and muscari proved to rally against all odds. The alliums are up but haven’t bloomed yet, so that will be lovely to see, also. And my daylilies have grown and are showing they are ready to start stretching their wings, too.

A couple weekends ago I also got out and did my first lawn mowing of the season. I followed that up by trying to use up some of the mulch from last year and spread it around the Spring bulbs that came up in those beds that had not yet been mulched. Now that I can see where everything is planted, it is time to mulch. So I had Bob order 15 yards of mulch today. He thought that might be too much since last year we didn’t quite use everything, but then I reminded him I had three beds that I didn’t mulch at all last year because I was going to dig them up in the Fall and replant them. I’m assuming he just didn’t want that big of a pile staring him in the face again. As I am also sure, he remembers quite well from last year when we grabbed the skidloader, wheelbarrow, some rakes, pitchforks and gloves and set out to mulch, that we (errr, me) had a bit of a problem in keeping my blood sugars under control. It was such physical work that it kept sending me into lows every half hour. So he tried to take the brunt of it (and I am sure he will remind me of that again this year when we start putting down that mulch again).

In the past I have usually used lots of cocoa bean mulch. If it wasn’t so expensive and/or could have gotten it in bigger bulk than just bags, didn’t bio-degrade so fast, wasn’t bad for the dogs (if they eat it), then I would love to continue using it. It smells so good after it has been put down and it looks marvelous! But since after using it for just a couple beds, I can turn my pocketbook upside down and nary a single coin will fall out – I think is better to stick to a $400-500 40-yard load of shredded/colored wood mulch.

The dilemma I have this year is my rose bed. We are supposed to be putting in a new septic system – that is, if we (hmmmm....more like, Bob) ever decide on the final project contractor, etc. (I suppose I have to start throwing out a “honey-do” list again.) The plans that were drawn up puts the line from the house to the holding tank going right through my rose bed. Nonetheless, what I should be doing right now is digging up that rose bed and replanting them – so I guess I have to put that on my “honey-do” list and Bob’s “helper-honey-do” list.

When I mowed that first time this year, I cleared out some areas that I hadn’t mowed in years up above the “white heifer barn.” It is quite hilly so there were a lot of trips up and down a slope that is not meant to be mowed sideways. By doing these areas, I added a couple more hours to my mowing time so I am now looking at being out there for a good 6-7 hours at least.

This past weekend was a little bit harder to time the mowing because it had been drizzling on Friday and Saturday. But by Sunday I knew I had to mow what was now looking like a hayfield because it couldn’t wait any longer. The nice warm weather from last weekend combined with some rain made everything grown expeditiously. Yes, I do mean everything. The weeds sprouted like crazy, too. I started mowing and only got the front yard done had just started on the back yard when I was having problems shifting the mower. I shut her down and went and got Bob who crawled under her to get a peek at what she was being so cranky about. That is when he noticed all the oil that was covering a lot of her underbelly. Then we noticed that streak of grass that I had just mowed had a shiny shimmer to it (oil!!). We pushed her to the front of the house and took the cover off to see her oil-slicked guts. Bob then started her back up again and a spray of oil came off one of the hydraulic hoses. Initially, when I first explained what was happening and he first came out, he told me he thought the hydrostat had gone and she was done. I was beginning to get sick thinking about it. But now he thought, hopefully with either a new hose or alternatively soldering or welding the hose that was on there, we might be able to get by. So we were going to have to wait no matter what until something could be done with that hose.

Nevertheless, I desperately need to mow and have nothing to do it with at the moment. Hopefully, Bob will pick up the part today, be able to put it in and I can mow tomorrow. If the welding on the part doesn’t work, to put it bluntly, we’re screwed; the next step will be getting a new lawn mower.

My baby (Cub Cadet lawn mower) has certainly served her purpose well. We bought her (you will note that yes I am referring to her in the female sense as she has been a workhorse – hence it is a she) . . . anyway, Bob bought her about 17-18 years ago. I remember the day he got her from Studer’s in Monroe. I was appalled that he/we paid $2,000 for her at the time. She was used then – we figure she must now be about 30 years old – not sure what that makes her in human years – does this count like “dog years”???? hmmmm . . . but she has given us very little problems. She came with her own tiller and she has definitely paid her “rent” by the work that she has done.

The problems now are that she leaks hydraulic oil a little (a lot more after she blew a hose last weekend), and she might be a little cranky to start once in awhile, but heck what woman isn’t!!!! hahaha!!! What she likes is that she gets a good workout in the Spring, Summer and Fall months and she gets to vacation all Winter. (I’m thinking I like her job already!!) Yes, I might have accidentally rammed her into a few trees once in awhile just because I was trying to get too close, but a good headbutt every once in awhile hasn’t knocked any significant screws loose – or at least any that she has shown me cause to be concerned about.

I’m hoping that with this new little minor transplant we have for her, that she won’t give up and want to take a permanent vacation. If so, I don’t blame her entirely – especially since now she has to put up with Wolfie who likes to run around in front of her, taunting her, when she is trying to get some work done. She hasn’t had to put up with a young, pesky (outside) dog before, so maybe she might be thinking it is too late to teach old dogs new tricks.

Frankly, girlie, I’m hoping not.

Brownies Are A Girl's Best Friend

Comfort foods . . . brings to mind sweet treats. Back to basic, home baking. Whenever I need a quick fix for a sweet in our house . . . which is when the last of the treats just started heading down the digestive tract and Bob is pointing to an empty cookie jar or a crumb-free cake pan, I turn to my old, hand-me-down, brownie recipe. Deep Dish Brownies. It is a favorite in our house so it is always a good turn-to when the tears are running down Bob’s face because he hasn’t had sugar for 24 hours.

One Friday morning, was just the time for this old favorite. It was early, the little critters were fed, I had just had my breakfast and I knew we had errands to run, so a good portion of my day would be shot. If I needed to get some baking in, it had better be now. It was 6:30 a.m. and time to fire up the oven. I quickly pulled my Deep Dish Brownie recipe out and in a matter of 10 minutes, the brownies were in the oven. That is what I love about this recipe – it is quick to mix up. I will have to say, though, that it is heavy in the ingredient aisle. I do a double batch which fits in a 9x13 pan, which I use a pyrex high side one (deep dish) because in my regular 9x13 pyrex pans, it will raise so high that it is hard to keep a lid on it without squishing them. I could put this in a jelly-roll pan, but for God’s sake – this is a deep dish recipe, so you want it to be nice and thick, not thin, so I go for the 9x13 deep dish pyrex. (You can also use a metal pan, I just prefer glass.)

It bakes for 45 minutes and that was just enough time for me to be able to get my exercise in, too. So in went the brownies, timer set, and I jumped on the treadmill for a good 45-minute workout. See . . . baking is healthy for you! (Hmmmm . . . a twisted mind is a good thing to have!!!!!!!)

Comfort foods in my house (and mind) come from sometimes digging into my index card recipe box. When pulling out any of these recipes, you will find time-honored, stained recipe cards filled with great recipes and even greater memories. Most of these are the hand-me-downs. Ones I received from my mom, grandmother, aunts, or old friends and other relatives. I have my Grandma Sponem’s Butterscotch Pie or raised doughnuts or frycakes, my mom’s pie crust or brandy slush, an old, old friend’s Buckeyes, my cousin’s wife Karen’s yeast rolls or her scalloped corn. In my recipe files, these go way back, thirty or more years at least but have been tried-and- true recipes for three-quarters to a full century. These are the ones that you can remember by heart without having to look at the recipe. And this brownie recipe is one of those, indeed.

I have added the recipe below, but I always double it to put in a 9x13 pan.

DEEP DISH BROWNIES

3/4 cup butter, melted
1-1/2 cups sugar
1-1/2 tsp. vanilla
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup cocoa
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt

Blend melted butter, sugar and vanilla in a mixing bowl. Add eggs, beat well. Combine flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt, gradually adding to egg mixture until well blended. Spread in a buttered/greased 8-inch square pan. Bake at 350 for 40-45 minutes. Cool, and cut into squares.

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Please enjoy! I know I do every time I take a bite and try to savor the moment. It is a moment between me and one of my best friends – we don’t get together too often, so when we do I don’t like to rush it. I want a relaxed conversation between the two of us. Me, I do most of the talking – the conversation goes mostly like this:

"Mmmmm . . .haven’t seen you in awhile."
"Mmmmm . . .why do I wait so long?"
"Mmmmm . . . yes, we have to do this more often."
"Mmmmm . . . you certainly are an evil little thing aren’t you?"
"Mmmmm . . . okay, one more bite and then I have to go."
"Mmmmm . . . until we meet again, old friend."

Parting ways is sometimes hard to do!

Our New Hired Hand, Maybe

We received a surprise on Thursday - a little addition to our family . . . maybe.

When I pulled into the driveway later Thursday night after work and was making the bend to turn into the garage, I noticed something unfamiliar sitting on the front steps of the house. At first glance, I screamed because I thought it appeared to be a wolf. Now, don’t go laughing at me and everything, imaging I was thinking I was Little Red Riding Hood or something (and “my, what big eyes you have . . . “) but from first glance it did appear to be that. Then as I got up alongside for a more accurate view, I noticed it was just a big dog. What actually, I thought, materialized seemed to be more like a cross between a collie (yes, Lassie) and a . . . wolf.

Now, I know that there have been wolves released out in our parts, so it isn’t my imagination going wild. He had a tan color and a longer-looking snout, so I don’t think I was that far off. Bob, on the other hand, would beg to differ. He thinks he looks like a cross between a collie and a coyote. (We have coyotes out and about around us, too).

Anywho, we thought it was our neighbor’s as they had been down the day before looking for their dog. Upon placing a phone call to them, it wasn’t though. Their dog had been killed, probably run over, and moved about eight miles away. All I can say is, shame on that person. Man up if you hit someone’s dog. If it is in the road and unavoidable, it is unavoidable. But if not . . . man up, and if you have a beef with someone, don’t be so petty and childish as to kill their animals. Man up! That aside, he didn’t know whom this dog belonged to either, but thought he might have seen it wandering around a few days before.

So back to “my” dog. He is kind of shy and we have determined that if no one comes to claim him, then we will (may) keep him as a farm dog. We have been in need of a farm dog. Someone to keep the racoons away from the silage bags and the possums and coons out of our garage. We have a door to the garage that is nailed shut as it is rotting and no good and we haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet (that and the garage door itself). The cats have pried back a corner at the bottom so they can crawl into the garage in the winter time. And we let them. Poor things. The only problem is, we now also have a resident possum that likes to sneak in there, too. And, let me tell you, this thing is not any small little timid possum. This sucker is huge. It is as big as some of the biggest racoons I have seen – and we have some big racoons around our parts. Them damn (pardon my french) raccoons have dug holes in our silage bags, made themselves at home in the silos and they seem impossible to get rid of. And we also have a three-legged racoon that keeps coming into the garage when the door is open. A dog could possibly do the trick.

But we don’t want a dog that is going to chase the cows. They do fine on their own walking out of the freestall barn up to the milking parlor. They don’t need any extra help. But someone to help watch over them would be nice, too. Hence, the problem. We need a trained hired hand. Someone who has been there, done that. Those are sometimes hard to find. But, Wolfie . . . (yes, I have already named him and what a catchy name it is, too! Don’t you agree?!!) . . . Wolfie may just fit the bill.

He seemed quite shy at first and not knowing where he was from or how wild or possibly dangerous he may be, I kept my distance the first night. This also meant that when I let Pongo out so that he could do his duty, I had to go, too, to stand watch. Pongo is a little shy about doing his duty, and rightfully so, and now he is having someone watch, let alone follow him around when he has a job to do. But, alas, he had to put up with his guardian angel doing just that.

Wolfie stepped off the front steps when we came out and he jumped down off to one side or the other, giving us space. I talked to him as I went out, keeping myself between him and Pongo. He shied away.

The next morning, Friday, he was still there. We put out a couple calls and no one seemed to know who he belonged to. Could be the Amish down the road, but they would certainly come looking for him if they had lost their dog. I wasn’t sure what to do about feeding him because, as Bob said, he may hang around if you do, and we weren’t sure just yet if we wanted him to “hang around.”

Later that morning, we picked up our taxes in Mt. Horeb, ran some errands in New Glarus, Monroe and Argyle, went out to lunch and returned home around 3:00. When we returned, Wolfie was still sitting on our front steps. I told Bob that I was a little worried that maybe he was hungry or hadn’t eaten for awhile because I had never seen his tail come up. He always had it tucked under his stomach – he either was scared, hungry or being defensive, or a combo of all three. But I couldn’t stand to see him hungry, so I made the decision then and there that I would feed him. I had to do a little cleaning of my fridge, but I was able to get some scraps together for him. I put them in an ice cream pail and set it out for Wolfie to decide if he liked what was on the menu at the O’Connor farm or if he was going to leave without a tip. I let him be, and a half hour later, I got my tip. I went out to check on him and he was plunked down on the mat in front of the door. When I opened the door, he jumped up but did not go far. I stepped out, talked to him a little and that is when I saw his tail come up and start to wag. I extended my hand out and, with a few nervous baby steps, he came over and licked my hand. Not that my hand wasn’t shaking a little bit anyway, just because I wasn’t sure if he was still hungry (his pail was empty) and I wasn’t really serving up hand for supper. But he licked my hand. How nice. I was pleased, he was pleased.

If he is going to stay, however, I have to make sure things are okay with him and Pongo. Anytime Pongo goes out, he is right there on top of him sniffing at him. Now Wolfie is about 4-5 times bigger than Pongo, so Pongo is not quite sure what to make of this. He sort of looks up at me like “whatcha got me into here, Momma?” I just tell him to do his duty and try to coax Wolfie away from him best I can. There have not been any fights yet, but then again Pongo hasn’t growled at him either. Pongo and Paris (Brady’s dog) haven’t come to a good understanding yet, either. Paris is young and spunky and all over Pongo because she wants to play. Pongo is old and grumpy and not in the mood when Paris is around. So, we have another hurdle to get over here, too, if . . . that is, IF, Wolfie stays.

And, there is also the thing about Bob. He hasn’t gotten close to Bob yet either. So he hasn’t been following him up to the barn or around the farm. He has been doing his exploring all on his own or following the cats around. Oh, yea, there is that, too. The cats are scared of him. Their tails fluff all out when he comes around. The first night there wasn’t a cat to be found anywhere, not even in the garage. I think they didn’t dare come out of their hiding spots to make the trek to the garage. Now they sashay along a little until they spot Wolfie and then they are streaks of fur heading to the nearest high spot of building. If Wolfie sees them, he trots to them. Unfortunately, for him the cats are long gone by the time he gets there. I’m not sure if he means them any harm or is curious. But if he hopes to call this place home, he has to get along with Pongo and the cats. Anything else is intolerable.

So, now, a couple days have gone by and he is still sitting on our front steps. We haven’t seen a possum or a coon in the last few days, so he must be auditioning for a job. He may have gone just a little bit overboard, though, but that is okay as long as you don’t get too close to Wolfie or at least pet him for too long. Yes, he must have chased a skunk away that second night, because Wolfie is not smelling very pretty these days. Bob has noticed more paw prints around the farm, too. It looks like he has ventured down by the freestall barn, but we have not heard any commotion, so maybe he is keeping watch over our flock (herd), too. He has now been getting real dog food and water so he seems content. And, he lets me pet him (when I can get past the smell).

Maybe he is looking for a home. Well, we are kind of a looking for a cheap hired hand; maybe he will do just fine.

Oh, and if you are wondering when I named him Wolfie – it was that second day he was here and he had cleaned up the food, wagged his tail and licked my hand. I thought Wolfie was appropriate because of his looks. Actually, I’m hoping that he is less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Oh, scratch that, I’m beginning to think he is looking less like a wolf and more like a Collie – more like a Lassie – I just need to put a little more meat on his bones.

That is, of course, if he proves that he is a trustworthy asset to our farm crew.

Is It A Doughnut Or A Donut?

So, is it a doughnut or a donut? Doughnuts have a disputed history. One theory suggests that doughnuts were introduced into North America by Dutch settlers, who were responsible for popularizing other American desserts. In the 19th century, doughnuts were sometimes referred to as one kind of olykoek (a Dutch word literally meaning "oil cake"), a "sweetened cake fried in fat."

History of the Doughnut

Hansen Gregory, an American, claimed to have invented the ring-shaped doughnut in 1847 aboard a lime-trading ship when he was only sixteen years old. Gregory was dissatisfied with the greasiness of doughnuts twisted into various shapes and with the raw center of regular doughnuts. He claimed to have punched a hole in the center of dough with the ship's tin pepper box and later taught the technique to his mother.

According to anthropologist Paul R. Mullins, the first cookbook mentioning doughnuts was an 1803 English volume which included doughnuts in an appendix of American recipes. By the mid-19th century the doughnut looked and tasted like today’s doughnut, and was viewed as a thoroughly American food.

And, did you know that there is a National Donut Day? National Donut Day is on the first Friday of June each year, succeeding the Donut Day event created by the Salvation Army in 1938 to honor the women who served donuts to soldiers during World War I. The holiday celebrates the doughnut (a/k/a "donut") — an edible, torus-shaped (i.e., ring-shaped) piece of dough which is deep-fried and sweetened. Many American doughnut stores offer free doughnuts on National Doughnut Day. In 2009, both independent doughnut shops and large national franchises offered free doughnuts in the United States.

National Doughnut Day started in 1938 as a fund raiser for the Chicago Salvation Army. Their goal was to help the needy during the Great Depression, and to honor the Salvation Army "Lassies" of World War I, who served doughnuts to soldiers.

Soon after the United States entered into World War I in 1917, the Salvation Army sent a fact-finding mission to France. The mission concluded that "huts"* that could serve baked goods, provide writing supplies and stamps, and provide a clothes-mending service, would serve the needs of US enlisted men. Six staff members per hut should include four female volunteers who could "mother" the boys.

*The canteens or social centers that were established by the Salvation Army in the United States near army training centers were called "huts".

About 250 Salvation Army volunteers went to France. Because of the difficulties of providing freshly-baked goods from huts established in abandoned buildings near the front lines, two Salvation Army volunteers (Ensign Margaret Sheldon and Adjutant Helen Purviance) came up with the idea of providing doughnuts. These are reported to have been an "instant hit," and soon many soldiers were visiting Salvation Army huts.

A legend has spread that the provision of doughnuts to U.S. enlisted men in World War I is the origin of the term doughboy to describe U.S. infantry, but the term was in use as early as the Mexican-American War of 1846-47. By the way, it is still a fund raiser run by The Salvation Army.

And, there you have it, my history lesson about doughnuts, or donuts.

Donuts -- A Comfort Food

In my last post, I talked about comfort foods. One of the more comforting foods on my list are homemade raised doughnuts. I say this because when I think about these types of doughnuts, I remember all the times making them with my mom when I was growing up, and/or being at my Grandma Sponem’s and helping her make them, or coming to her house after she had made them, and/or raiding the kitchen when she wasn’t looking. Oh, it isn’t like Grandma would be too upset, but she never wanted you to spoil your appetite before a meal. I have to say, that no one could ever make these like my Grandma Nettie. She was the consummate cook, baker and bottle-washer.

Fortunately, she passed those most treasured recipes on down the line to my mom, too. Of course, maybe my all-time favorite of her’s would have to be butterscotch pie. I think I have finally mastered that one, so that it is now somewhat closer to her’s. It has now become traditional that I make that pie for such holidays as Thanksgiving and Christmas.

My mom, however, has perfected the raised doughnut part. And, she has spoiled the grandchildren (okay, and us kids, in-laws, too!) with bringing them to any get-together we have. They (we) all look forward to a tray (or two or three) of these pastries. Yes, they are a dessert, but if Mother brings them, she inevitably puts them out with the appetizers and there are none usually to be found when it comes time for dessert. It is first-come first-serve, and if you snooze, you lose, when it comes to my mom’s donuts. I have seen near hysteria break out when there is only one left. It can become a free-for-all to see how is going to get it.

Getting Down To The Nitty-Gritty: Mix, Rise, Fry, Eat

I had pulled my raised doughnut recipe out recently and was waiting for just the right time to make them. Needing a little comfort food on this cold, rainy-is-it-going-to-turn-ice-or-snow kind of day, Sunday proved to be just the right time, so I gathered all my ingredients together and started my dough. (See pictures above for some of the ingredients, 2nd row center, and the donut utensils, 2nd row right, I used). Note that in the picture of the ingredients, the yeast has already risen almost to the top of the measuring cup (about ready to spill over the sides) before I had mixed it into the rest of the ingredients. It does rise fast, so watch out!

(I should add a disclaimer here about the pictures above before I go any further. I am just learning to add the pictures, so yes they do look like a jumbled mess at the top; but hopefully, I'll master that, too, soon.)

Once I followed through on the instructions of the recipe (which I have provided below) and my dough was mixed, I set my mixing bowl with the dough in it to raise on top of my stove. (See picture above, 3rd row, left). I had things in the oven plus a beef broth simmering on the stove, so it proved to be just the right environment to help the dough double in size. I also placed a warm dish towel (doused with hot water and wrung out) over the top to aid the warm environment needed.

When the dough had doubled in size (see picture above 3rd row, center left), I punched the dough down, took out half of it, gently folded it over a couple times (which is really not a fold but more of a molding motion), and placed it in the middle of my floured workspace on my kitchen island. (See picture above, top row). I then rolled it out into a large oval and began the cutting process with my donut cutter. I carefully flipped each donut from hand to hand to shake off any excess flour and placed each on a lightly floured jelly roll pan. I did the same with the donut holes. (See picture above, 3rd row, center right). You will also note that the pans are laying on my apron-of-choice for the day. Since I was dealing with the flour, white was the way to go. I received this one from the Cooking Club of America, to which I am a member, and it also has my name on it. I think I will find this handy in the years to come, so that I will be able to remember who I am!!

Once I had all the dough rolled out and any scraps re-rolled, I started my lard on medium low to render it down to a nice hot oil. (See picture, 3rd row, right). With a candy thermometer in my oil, when it had reached 350 degrees, I carefully started dropping the donuts three at a time adding a couple donut holes, too. (2nd row, left, above, shows the frying process). It does not take long for these to fry so you have to be careful. You don’t want them to brown (which did happen towards the end with a couple of mine).

My process goes like this: the donuts go into the frying pot; then when they are done I pulled them out with a fork, they are then placed in a large oval shaped metal strainer I have that sits inside a cake pan with a paper towel in the bottom. Each is then transferred to another cakepan with a paper towel in the bottom to be stacked sideways to drain some more.

When all the donuts were fried, I started my glaze which only took a couple of minutes. Once the water boiled, I took it off the heat and started whisking in the powdered sugar. I think I used slightly over the amount needed (of powdered sugar). I next then dipped one side of the donuts in the glaze and set them out on the trays that I used before. They now were covered with wax paper to catch the glaze drips. (You can use a rack also, but I currently don’t have enough to cover this batch). (For pictures of the finished product, see the bottom three pictures on the left, above).

Now, the only thing left to do besides clean-up, was to taste test.

Oh, yummmm! Yes, I have to admit . . . that is the best part.

And, now that I saved my oil, maybe next weekend, I will have to make frycakes . . . oh, be still my beating, grease-soaked veins!!!

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Raised Doughnuts
2 oz. yeast (3 pkgs of dry)
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup warm water
1/3 cup butter
1-1/2 cups scalded milk
2 eggs beaten
5 cups flour
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla

Stir yeast and 1 T. of sugar in the warm water. Let stand 5 minutes. Scald milk and put butter and rest of sugar in milk. Cool until luke warm and then add yeast and eggs.

Add flour (now will be a soft dough). Let raise in warm place until doubled. Turn out on board. Cut in 1/2 (if doubled recipe); punch down and roll out until 1/2 inch thick; cut using donut cutter; let raise on pans (that have a touch of flour on them) in warm place.

Doughnut Glaze
1/2 cup boiling water
1-1/2 lbs. powdered sugar (or more if needed to get glaze consistency)

Add water to sugar. Dip hot doughnuts into glaze; move to cooling rack.

When The Weather Outside Isn't Very Comforting, It's Time To Turn To Comfort Foods

I’ve mentioned before in my posts that nowadays when I wake up on the weekends, I don’t necessarily plan out every waking hour of my day anymore. That used to be the case when the boys were young, at home, in sports and other activities, and my day would be an hour-to-hour or minute-by-minute marathon of running here and there. Now when I awaken each morning on the weekends, I have the “luxury” of being more complacent in my “older” empty-nesting years with just figuring (1) if I can open my eyes – whew – first step accomplished, I’m still alive and kicking; (2) rolling out of bed – second step hurdled, I can still walk; and (3) what am I going to conjure up in the kitchen today. Really, now, if it walks and talks, it has to be fed, right?

Some days I want to be artistic and creative in the kitchen, creating new dishes, modifying old ones. It's in the blood -- I come from an artistic family. My mom took art correspondent courses when she was first married and was a very good artist. Not that I am patting myself on the back or anything, but I did fairly well myself, with one of my proudest accomplishments having a drawing that went and was displayed at the Wisconsin State Fair when I was in high school. Casey took up the interest in art early on in his years and has continued it through the rest of his young years. Recently, he was the Art Director for a toy company in Chicago, but this week he starts a new job with a company in New York. Brady is also good at art and did start technical school in graphic design. It is funny how full circle things come because Casey has his Grandma Eidsmoe’s old art correspondence books and even more coincidental, he also has art correspondent books from Grandma O’Connor, as she took courses, too.

Be that as it may, other days in the kitchen I want to slip back into comfort foods. Last night when I went to bed the forecast was that we were in for another snow storm (of some sort). Whether it be snow, rain, ice, sleet or hail, it would all be determined by the temperatures. It was predicted that it would start after midnight Saturday night and go into Monday with possible accumulations (if snow) of two inches in our area, but with blowing and gusting winds, again. When I awoke this morning, (after checking off numbers 1 and 2 above), I looked out the window – nothing. Hmmmmm . . . that was good, at least for now. Knowing that the weather was going to be . . . (looking for the correct technical weather term here) . . . oh, yes, yucky, my thoughts turned to comfort foods – old standbys.

I let Pongo out the door so he could do his duty, started the coffee, and headed to the freezer. There I found what I was looking for – the plain, old, standby – beef chuck roast. I was feeling like it was going to be a roast, mashed potatoes and vegetables kind of day. Taking my first sip of coffee, I checked my blood sugar, gave myself my insulin and threw the roast in the microwave for a four-minute quick thaw. If I was on the ball, I would have taken it out last night and put in the refrigerator to thaw, but a lot of the time (okay, most of the time), I’m not that much ahead of myself. And, this works for me.

I took out my large stainless skillet and coated the bottom with some extra-virgin olive oil and turned the burner on medium high. When searing meat, you need a fairly higher heat. Not too high, but not too low. When the oil was starting to heat up, I placed the roast into the pan and put a cover on it. It will start to sputter and splatter all over the place, if you don’t. I then seasoned the top with a good dose of salt, a good cover of pepper, a sprinkle of Cavender’s Greek Seasoning, and a little Emeril’s seasoning. (For picture of ingredients, see third row pictures above, center). Once the bottom side was seared well, I used my big strong tongs and flipped it over to the other side. (See bottom picture above.) I always make sure I season the first side right away so it has time to melt into the meat before turning. After seasoning the second side and sure that the bottom was now seared well, I added a little red wine to the pan and after letting that cook in for about 5-8 minutes, I added about a quarter of a box of beef broth. I next poured a little Kitchen Bouquet into the sauce to give it a richer, darker texture. Still on the medium heat, I let that cook for about 5-6 minutes.

Next, I pulled out my roasting pan and poured the rest of the box of beef broth into it. I then took the roast out of the skillet and set it in the middle of the roasting pan, and added the juices from the skillet. (See third row pictures, right). Then I deglazed the skillet by pouring a small amount of red wine into it and when the pan was rendered tidbit free, I added that to the roasting pan. Now time to add the rest of the goodies. I took a bag of baby carrots and dumped them out around the edges of the roast (in the juices), then topped that with some mushrooms and on top of the roast I placed some slices of white onions. I put some aluminum foil over the top of the roasting pan, sealing the edges and placed it into a preheated oven at 375 degrees.

Once all that was done, I didn’t need to touch anything until about half hour before we were ready to eat. At that point, I peeled some Idaho potatoes since I was planning to make mashed potatoes. Having covered them sufficiently with water, I salted the water and set them on the burner to cook.

Here enters the great debate about what type of potato to use for what type of potato dish. My rule of thumb usually is if it is mashed potatoes, I am going to use either Idaho or Russets. (Picture of reds & Idahos above, 3rd row, left). I always have one of those two on hand. If making lefse, Russets. Baked potatoes, I go to Golds, Idaho or Russets – my fav for baked, though, is Golds (See picture, second row, left, above). Their skin is more tender and when I make baked potatoes, I tend to like to pierce them a couple times, put butter on top, and sprinkle a little garlic powder on the butter, all wrapped in tin foil. It melts into the potato when baking and provides a softer, silkier skin. For potato salad, I’m all for Idaho. They hold up better to the tossing they get during the prep time. I also am in love with Baby Reds. I like these in a red potato salad; or boiled, drained and tossed with butter and parsley; or cut up and baked in a scalloped Dijon mustard sauce. For scalloped potatoes, I’m strictly Idaho or Russet. I guess you could say that I am one particular potato head!

Okay, now that you know my deep dark secrets about potatoes, let’s see, where was I? Oh, yea, mashed potatoes. Since Bob likes gravy and I like butter on my mashed potatoes, I had to start some gravy. One other thing I absolutely love to have with my mashed potatoes, and that is cream style corn. I love to top my potatoes with butter, then a spoonful or two or three of the corn. Brady has picked this yummy little habit up from me, too. So, I also opened up a can of corn since I don’t have any canned corn in the freezer. It has been a couple years since I have put up canned corn, but I have some special memories of that, which I will leave to another blog. Hmmmm . . . maybe I have spoken of it before – I think I might have mentioned it in Auntie’s Eulogy.

Anyway, next step, I took a couple hoagie rolls out of the freezer, thawed them a tad in the microwave, sliced them in half lengthwise, buttered them (more like slathered them – that’s me the butter queen!!) and sprinkled them with some parsley-garlic powder. I took the roast out of the oven and placed the garlic bread in at the same temp. (See top picture, right, above.) (If you wanted to know my timing, I had the roast in the oven by 8:00 a.m., and took it out around noon). I wanted the roast out so it would rest and soak up the juices while doing so. (For picture of finished roast, see 2nd row, right, above). In addition, I needed some of that juice for my (Bob’s) gravy. Having accomplished that and the potatoes now done, I drained the potato juice off into another pan and added some of the roast juice. I put that on the burner and mixed up the thickening – a little flour and cold water a little at a time to form a paste and then a nice velvety thickening. Once my gravy juice was almost to a boil, I turned the heat down and slowly whisked in the thickening. That done, I turned it on simmer, took the bread out, plated everything up (in bowls or platters) and we are finally ready to eat. (See top picture, left, above.)

The timing was great because when Bob had come in after chores he turned the TV onto our new free Starz channel (another whole discussion – satellite companies!!). The movie 2012 was on and anytime we had caught it before it was usually half over with. This time it was only about five minutes into it, and I was able to catch most of it while hustling around the kitchen. Regardless, it was now just getting over with, so we were able to sit down to eat. And I wasn’t going to disappoint with having no dessert today either, because I had also made glazed raised donuts (and, of course, donut holes).

Reaping the rewards of a morning in the kitchen is always very satisfying. And, on a rainy, cold, windy day, it is even more comforting when you sit down to a hot meal of all things familiar. The only thing missing now is a nap!