It was a dark and stormy night...

Ok.. not stormy,

but certainly dreary.

In response to the cold rain

I made a warm and filling pasta bake.



Tomatoes from my gardens

picked at perfection and frozen before the sun's warmth had left them.

Slow cooked all day

until they were a beautiful sauce.

Whole wheat penne pasta,

alfredo sauce,

ricotta cheese,

shredded basil leaves,

garlic,

red and green peppers,

onions and mushrooms,

fresh spinach,

a little bit of hot red pepper,

and a ton of cheeses.. parmesan, romano, mozzarella..

Baked till hot and bubbly.

Warm against the cold, dark night

and, oh so good.

Celebrations

It has been a week of celebration here.
Simon turned 6,
Marc and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary
and it was Thanksgiving.

And in honor of it all
the battle cats have called a truce.


If only to warm up on the 'catch all' chair by the woodstove.
Their peace is greatly appreciated
if not short lived.
That is a great old chair.
It came out of the old family home deep in the mountains
and has traveled from state to state with me throughout the years.
I have thought of trashing it,
but I always hope that someday I will take an upholstery class
and have it be the chair that I bring in.
But I bet the yards of red and gold velvet will cost me a fortune.
So, it stays
and catches coats
and cats
by the woodstove.

Longing...

I went HOME
and I am longing,
aching
to return again.
Mornings of sweet sorghum dripping down cornbread
and evenings of a table fitted elbow tight
and brimming over with laughter.
Deep nights in an ancient four post under quilts.
My being warm against the bitter cold.

My family has lived in the hollers
and coves of western North Carolina
for nearly 300 years.
Cool spring water fills my veins
and my heart sings the wind in high ridge trees.


It has been a bountiful year
with the trees bending with plenty.


So much bounty that folks just can't haul off, store or eat anymore.

And yet there is more still to fall.

Ancient tree

to bear so much.

The moss is green, but don't be fooled.

It is 12 degrees at 9am.

Steve's gate.

May God rest his soul.

And little wisps caught

dancing in the morning light.

Brrrrrrrrrrr...

It is the first really, really cold day of the season.

It wouldn't be all that bad out if not for the relentless wind.
And I can rejoice in that fact that the sun is shining brightly
for just a short jaunt up the mountain would find me in snow.
As I did a round of barn chores and firewood hauling
I realized that the fall garden was looking lovely and bright.
(if not a bit weedy)
Here's what's happening in the dirt today...
Let's do cabbages!


I love, love and love Savoy cabbages!
The rich color and those crinkles and furls.


This is cabbage-gone-wild. I threw half a cabbage head in the compost last winter thinking that the chickens would eat it as they are constantly shopping the compost for delectables anyway.
Well, they didn't.
And I found that cabbage heads will sprout little, cute cabbages from the folds in the middle.
So, I planted it.
And it went to seed.
I never got around the harvesting the seed or pulling the cabbage
and now I have a community of cabbages.
There are little side heads all over and a flock of wee little cabbages that have sprouted up all around the Mother. I am leaving this be to see what happens.

And this is one of those SUPER cabbages that are supposed to get to 20 pounds or so.
Simon received it from the feed store as a gimmee one day and I honestly kinda forgot about it.
Looking good though.
Soon, my sweet. Soon

I have a few other things in the garden now too. But today is cabbage day.
Edited to add that Sweet Husband just came in and looked over my shoulder as I was telling Simon that these were pics of our gardens.
Poor Sweet Husband said, "But those look like cabbages." in curious tone that seemed to imply that we had no cabbages in the garden.
Sweet Husband doesn't spend much time out in the garden.
At all apparently.

In the beginning.....

there is a clamoring from the masses for pics! pics! pics!
And the masses are quite correct.
A picture says a thousand words and tells as many tales.


One of the main things that draw me to the blogs that I love are the photos therein.
I find that I look to them for inspiration, enthusiasm and the blatant theft of ideas.
I love garden pics, all green and bright in the morning sun. They fill me with promise.
The neat, tidy beds just brimming with the harvest gets my lazy bum up and out into my own garden to fluff the leaves and straighten the mulch.
The loaded larders and colorful jars all lined up perty-like on a groaning board quickens my weed killing hand.

And so I began to search the dusty corners of my computer for photos.
And I found plenty.
Most of them I realized could go in later posts and have a role in greater stories.
A few were really bad.
Some have yet to be taken.
But one stood out.
The best picture I have ever taken

So, without further ado...
The first pic in the blog......

Simon

age 5 days