From the Cookbook: Owl Cookies

A Wise Owl

A wise old owl
Sat in an oak.
The more he saw,
The less he spoke.
The less he spoke,
The more he heard.
Why can't we be like
That wise old bird?

~ Edward Hersey Richards

My mouth gets me into trouble.  All the time.  When I was little, my mother called me "frank."  I thought I was being precocious. When my in-laws called me "opinionated," I thought I was just being honest.  And on Sunday, when I offended that grown man at church after telling him what I really thought of his behavior, I thought I was being brave.  

The older I get, the more I realize how important it is to "listen" to others, especially BEFORE we speak.  For example, I have student right now who is testing me to my limits.  This person is disrespectful, antagonistic, bull-headed, and sarcastic.  Yep, a teacher's dream.  I hoped I would warm up to them.  I haven't.  A few weeks ago, I arrived at my breaking point.  I penned a stirring rant in my head that would force this student into humble submission after all the misery they have caused me this semester.  I summoned my frankest and most opinionated and bluntest self for the delivery.  

But then (uncharacteristically), I held back.  

I don't know why, but I just couldn't do it.  Instead, I decided to LISTEN to the student for a few days---and not just to their words, but to the "message" behind the words.  I had to sift through heavy shovelings of attitude and sass, but at the bottom of the pile, I found an individual who was scared and lonely and insecure.  They had come from a broken home, they didn't fit in, and they were starved for attention.  I now realize that the hesitancy I felt in speaking to this person was God and a host of heavenly angels clamping my lips shut so that I would learn the virtues of listening FIRST and speaking last.  This realization hasn't made my semester any easier, but it has made it more meaningful.  When this student makes my day a trial, I can see it for what it is instead of what it is not.

As a nod to the wisdom of "listening" as the wise old owl did in the famous nursery rhyme, I have decided to share these adorable little owl cookies with you.

I started with a spiced sugar cookie dough like this one and then started to assemble my little creatures.  

1. Start by cutting a circle of dough about 1/4 inch thick.  
2. Next, create two small balls of dough for the eyes.  
3. Press a chocolate chip with the bottom side up into the center of each of the eyeballs.
4. Take a whole almond, turn it on its side and press it between the eyeballs.
5. Finally, take a fork and gently press it twice into the bottom of the circle to create the impression of wings or feet.
6. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until cookies are set (not brown).

I will be honest here: I think I would have preferred peanut butter cookie dough for the base.  Without icing, the sugar cookie dough was just too blah.  But holy moly are they cute!

What I suggest you do now is make a batch of these, take them to a neighbor, and then just "listen" to the compliments roll in . . . :)

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Alcott Autumn: Pecan Wreath

“Here’s a nut, there’s a nut;    

Hide it quick away,    

In a hole, under leaves,    

To eat some winter day.    

Acorns sweet are plenty,    

We will have them all:    

Skip and scamper lively    

Till the last ones fall.” 

-"The Skipping Shoes," Louisa May Alcott

When I think of Louisa May Alcott and fall, I just feel the need to have orange and yellow leaves all around me, a warm crackling fire, and crisp air outside. Unfortunately, I don't live in Massachusetts.  There are no autumn leaves where I live. It is lovely weather; too lovely to turn the leaves on the three trees that happen to have foliage here, so I find myself without many options when it comes to natural fall decor. Luckily, I do have access to free pecans that I like to shell while watching tv.  I found a box in the garage from a couple of years ago that I had forgotten about, and figured they would really charm up an old grapevine wreath. 

I just hot glued shelled pecans all over. How's that for a tutorial? :)

I liked it, but wanted to add a little bit of color, so I added a small berry wreath to the inside.

Voila! Super easy craft, and pretty cute, I think. I will say that I wouldn't leave that candle burning past the picture taking because I am pretty sure grapevine wreaths and old pecan shells are both a tad bit flammable... Have a lovely day!

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Edgar Allan Poe October: Fall Pleasures

"During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year,
when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens,
I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; 
 and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, 

within view of the melancholy House of Usher."

~ Edgar Allan Poe, "The Fall of the House of Usher"

Today, while on an afternoon walk with my two youngest boys, 

I enjoyed some of fall's simplest pleasures, 

like watching two golden leaves of an aspen tree dance to the ground 

as if accompanied by a waltz.  

But that's nothing unusual.  

Everyone loves autumn leaves; 

they have been dancing for weeks now.

What I was more enamored with were the pleasures of fall that I didn't expect,

like realizing that you can use your dog to pull your big wheels . . . 

 or discovering that the perfect ensemble for said activity is 

an Iron Man Halloween costume from Target and a pair of black cowboy boots . . .

or capturing my flaxen-haired baby having a thoughtful moment . . .

or listening to the laughter of my littlest boys as they tickled each other in the leaves.

I love the scripture that reads "By small and simple things are great things brought to pass."  

Today seemed like a SMALL and SIMPLE day.

But it was also a GREAT day.

In the spirit of small and simple fall pleasures, I thought I would share the recipe for the cider that I enjoyed sipping with my kids today after our walk.

Mulled Apple Cider

1 gallon apple cider

½ cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons whole cloves
5 -6 cinnamon sticks

zest from one orange

Place ingredients in a large sauce pan.  
Bring to a boil and then reduce heat.  

Simmer for 30 minutes.  Strain and serve in mugs.

 

May your day be full of fall's simple pleasures,

and may you be full of mulled cider at the end of it.  

(I know I will.)

 

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Edgar Allan Poe October: A Frugal Table Runner for Fall

“Deep into the darkness peering,
long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal
ever dared to dream before.” 

Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven

Attention Ideal, Patient, and Go-with-the-Flow Parents:  

You may want to avert your eyes from what is about to follow.  

In a moment of exasperation with my toddler, I started calculating what he cost me in repairs this week.  Between broken vases, stained carpets, markered walls, and ruined toilets, I figured that my little man packs at least a $20 daily repair punch.

Most parents wouldn't stoop to actually crunching numbers, but they've never raised "the destroying angel" (as we affectionately call him around here).

So when fall dawned at my house and I started to dress the table, I knew I couldn't invest a lot of money or effort on a seasonal table runner.  Chances were my little man would have the runner off the table and in a light socket within five minutes anyway.

 

So here is what I did.

 

1.  I purchased an inexpensive length (like 2 dollarsish) of felt fabric to span the width of my table.  

2.  I cut notches in the edges of the fabric to give it a squared-scalloped look.

3.  I then scoured my random button collection for all of the orange and orangy-red buttons I could find.

4.  Finally, I hot glued the buttons onto the notched edges of the runner.

Two dollars and ten minutes later I have a frugal runner for fall which may or may not last through Halloween, depending on when my little guy gets a hankering for chewing buttons.

Even if he does, I figure I'm only out two dollars.  

And at the end of the day, I'll just add it to his tab.

It's a good thing he's worth it.

{photo by Samantha Mitchell}

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Fall Poetry: Wild Peach Orzo Salad

From Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches. 

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. 

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach. 

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

- Li-Young Lee

I ordered three bushels of peaches through my magical fruit lady a few weeks ago, and when they came and I removed the lids, you should have seen these peaches!!! They were the size of a baby's head. I swear to you, I have never seen peaches as big as some of these. Now why would I order that many peaches? Let me think... Peach pie, peach preserves, home bottled peaches, frozen peaches for winter smoothies, OH and Wild Peach Orzo Salad.

My Mother in Law (An avid foodie, cooking class instructor, bakery owner, you get the picture...) served this at her wedding, and I have loved it ever since. It is so fresh and lovely. It would be an amazing side dish for pork loin. Who am I kidding, it would be a great side dish for dirt. It is seriously so good. And I eat it on it's own as a main dish. So here you go!

Wild Peach Orzo Salad
Courtesy of my MIL, with a few modifications. We can't all have raspberry vinegar on hand, Martha Stewart!!! (Also, I didn't use the peach salsa. Because seriously? Who has that? Oh, my MIL does... ok)

1 16 oz. container Orzo pasta, cooked according to package instructions
3 Peaches, chopped
6 Green onions, chopped
1 Red Bell Pepper, chopped
1/2 C chopped Pecans
1/2 C Cilantro, chopped
1 C Peach Salsa
1 Lemon, Juice and Zest
2 TBSP Honey
1/3 C Olive Oil
1/4 C Red Wine Vinegar
1 Tsp. Salt
Pepper to taste

Cool your cooked orzo, whisk the last 6 ingredients together in a bowl, toss everything else in there together and mix it all up! 

As a side note,  a small little baby in this household sacrificed her thumbnail for this salad. Her older sister slammed the sliding door on it while Mom was out picking citrus off the tree. But several hours and one hospital trip later, I gave this to her for dinner and she thought it was totally worth it. Also, in running her to the hospital, I may have left out the pecans. Oh well, still delicious.

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Fall Poetry: An Autumn Home Tour

Autumn Offering

I shall be Autumn

this Halloween,

with leaf draped skirt,

and folds of

boysenberry velvet wine

flowing to the ground.

Brown stained face,

eyes rimmed in gold,

nails dripping sunset,

a crown of twigs

to cover my head.

You may gather from me

the spring of my youth,

my summer of maturity,

and hold onto with me,

the solace of these days

of remembering

before the frost. 

~ Judith A. Lawrence

I have no proof, but I am certain my home was born in autumn.  When autumn comes, it is like the walls take a deep breath and settle into their happiest and loveliest rhythm.  

Even my kids can tell the difference.  

Not one, but SEVERAL of my children pleaded with me this week to decorate for fall.  

(And this is coming from boys who have no qualms with wearing soiled socks on their feet or food on their face.)  

So I did.  I decked the walls and the windows and the cupboards and the counters with flourishes of fall.

But I couldn't stop there.  I decided that while I was hauling leaves and pumpkins and ribbon up from the basement, I might as well haul up the owls and spiders and skeletons, too.

Now our home is a full-fledged autumn showcase with just a hint of the haunted.

And I know it sounds a bit crazy, but when I stood back to look at the finished product, I could swear I felt the corners of the house raise a bit---like the contented smirk of a jack-o-lantern on Halloween night.  

Here is a brief tour of my Autumn/Halloween home . . .

After passing through our front door, you'll find banisters draped with harvest fruits . . .

and counters spilling over with gourds and berries.

Pumpkins fill baskets and urns in every room . . .

and some even line the wooden mantle.

Witches hold their brooms close . . .

while spiders dangle from the windows and chandeliers.

Wreaths adorn the mirrors and doors.  They may even host a creature or two.

As you leave our Halloween/Autumn home, a little owl will you wish you well, and a smiling skeleton may just give you a parting wink.

Happy fall decorating to you all!

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Fall Poetry: A Success Story Wreath

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                                Praise him.

~ Gerald Manley Hopkins

I was starting to feel self-conscious.  It seemed like everyone in the blogosphere had a garage-sale-or-thrift-store-"You'll-never-guess-what-I-found-today-for-a-steal-of-a-deal" story . . . 

Except me.

That is, until today.

I was driving past an affluent neighborhood on my way to an appointment when I saw a sign for a garage sale.  I was a few minutes early for my appointment, so I decided to take a peek.  Besides, I soon realized that this "garage sale" was two houses down from Donny Osmond's house and somehow feeling that neighborly with Donny was an opportunity I couldn't turn down.  

But I digress.

After perusing the offerings that were assembled on the driveway of the multimillion dollar estate, I realized I was WAY out of my league.  I saw designer couches for a small fortune, draperies and linens for hundreds of dollars, and a shiny sports car on sale for more than my annual income. 

As I went to leave, I caught a glimpse of a teetering pile of silver on a back table.  It was a stack of fifteen hors-d'oeuvres trays in different shapes and sizes.  I was relieved to discover that they weren't real silver because it meant I might have a chance of taking them home without having to take out a second mortgage on my home. However, the trays were thick and sturdy and embossed with beautiful designs, which didn't bode well for me.  I braced myself for the total as I asked the hostess about the price.

"Oh, those are my neighbor's," she said.  "She uses a caterer all the time and the caterer lets her keep some of the trays.  I'll give them all to you for 5 dollars."

I'm not sure which boggled me more---the thought of having a "regular" caterer, or the idea of tossing away beautiful servingware knowing that you would just get more of it at your next soiree.

I grabbed my wallet and handed the woman my meager 5 dollar bill and ran past the designer sofa and convertible sports car to my Toyota minivan before she could change her mind.

I then waved at Donny's house, and drove off.

After I got home, I picked one of the oval trays from the stack and decided that it would be the perfect addition to a fall wreath for my front door.

I wanted to put a plaque of some sort on my wreath to celebrate autumn, but I didn't want to go through the hassle of painting anything with chalkboard paint or stenciling letters.

So I went the easy route.

I took a bottle of fabric craft paint and wrote a little greeting on the tray.  (This is the same paint I use when writing on potatoes.)  After letting it dry for an hour or so, I simply wired the tray onto the wreath and hung it on the door.

Blessed Autumn indeed.

My only regret is that I didn't have room on the tray to write about my garage sale success story.   And how it all happened down the road from Donny.

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Fall Poetry: Silhouette Portrait Wall

I had a little nut-tree, 

Nothing would it bear. 

I searched in all its branches, 

But not a nut was there. 

'Oh, little tree,' I begged, 

'Give me just a few.' 

The little tree looked down at me 

And whispered, 'Nuts to you.' 

~ Roald Dahl

I have noticed a strange phenomenon in my children.  As soon as they enter third grade, they are completely incapable of taking a natural-looking school picture.  

In their second grade portraits they grin like the little gappy-toothed angels that I know and love.  But then something horrible happens over summer break.  It is almost as if some sort of latent squirrel DNA manifests itself in their bloodstream as soon as they sit down for that 3rd grade photo, because all of a sudden they feel the need to pull their lips back across their teeth so tightly that their cheeks puddle into poochy mounds as if they are hording nuts for the winter.  

30 dollars later, I have a permanent record of what my children might have looked like had they been sired by Chip or Dale.

So I'm skipping the photo order this week.

Instead, I decided to capture my children as they truly are with no expectation of natural smiles or combed hair or matching clothes.  And I have to say, it was the best photo session we've ever had.  I channeled my inner Jane Austen (not hard to do) and turned all of their photos into silhouettes.

Here's what I did.

I started by taking pictures of my children's profiles.  When I uploaded the photos to my computer, I changed the photos to black and white for better contrast.  I then sized the photos for my picture frames and printed them off on plain-old white printer paper and cut out the profiles with scissors.

Then I flipped the cutouts over and coated them with some black acrylic paint.

When the black paint was dry, I mounted the silhouettes with a glue stick to some 5x7 sheets of white paper and popped them in the frames.

I decided to hang my children's portraits vertically to pack a visual punch.

It has been delightful to see the kids analyze their features and determine who looks like who.   And the best part---not one squirrel-ish similarity in the bunch.

I'd easily trade thirty minutes of work for lovely keepsakes of my children rather than hand over hundreds of dollars to the school photographer and his rubber chicken.

Besides, that school photographer seems to do better with animals anyway.  

Especially the nut-loving variety.

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Fall Poetry: A Necklace for the Teacher

Around the eaves are fringes
  Of icicles that seem
To mock the summer rainbows
  With many-colored gleam. 

Along the walk, the pebbles
  Are each a precious stone;
The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,
  The clover jewel-sown. 

~ From "November Morning" 

by Evaleen Stein

A few weeks ago, we had "Back to School Night" at the elementary school.  I normally visit each of my children's teachers and get the lay of the classroom land, and then I leave.  

But not this time.  

This time, I happened to glance at the "Classroom Helper Sign Up Sheet" before exiting Mrs. Taylor's room.  There were oodles of volunteers for reading time and math time and field trips, but no one had signed up to be the room mother.  

As I looked at the blank space, I got the same twinge in my stomach that I get when I go into the pet store and see all those homeless eyes staring at me through wire cages.  

I'm not even an animal person, but my instinct is to pile each and every hamster and guinea pig and cat and puppy into my van and hope that the creatures are all potty-trained and willing to help around the house.  

I guess it is part of being a mother:  You can't help but want everyone to have one, whether they are in aisle 9 of Petsmart, or sitting in a desk in Mrs. Taylor's class.

So I did it.  I signed up.  My mothering instincts took over, and in one sympathetic flourish of a ballpoint pen, I adopted 28 students, one teacher, and a class pet bunny named Shadow.

I walked out of the school feeling quite satisfied with my self for saving room 231 from "orphandom".

And then I realized what I had done.  

I had just signed my life away to become a cruise director, except my boat didn't come with a snappy uniform or a clipboard or a lido deck or a catchy theme song.

My cruise came with a passel of eight-year-olds who needed email lists and parent volunteer spreadsheets and parties and treats and crafts and games and lots and lots of helpers.  

It also came with Mrs. Taylor's birthday and the expectation that I would gather my motley crew and celebrate her appropriately.  I wasn't too concerned about this fact until I realized that Mrs. Taylor's birthday two days away.

I knew 3 things at this point.  1. There wasn't a lot of time to involve parents, so this birthday celebration was up to me and the kids.  2.  Mrs. Taylor loves Hawaii.  She has an island theme throughout her classroom, including a big ALOHA! sign on the door.  3.  I didn't have the time or money to do anything extravagant.  I had to pack a punch on minimal resources.

So I went the sentimental-homemade-Christmas-kind-of-route.

I grabbed a pencil and notebook and raced down to the school.  After asking Mrs. Taylor for a few minutes alone with the class, I asked each of the students the following questions:

What do you love about Mrs. Taylor?

Some of my favorite answers:  

"Because she loves me."

"Because she is patient."

"Because she is good at math."

"Because she doesn't yell."

"Because she gives us second chances."

What would you give Mrs. Taylor for her birthday if you could give her anything in the world?

Some of my favorite answers:

"A unicorn."

"A skateboard."

"A Ferrari."

"A new couch."

I quickly jotted down the students' answers and told Mrs. Taylor that I would be back the following day for a little "presentation".

At home, I typed up the answers and printed them off on white paper.  I then gathered up some ribbon, cellophane, tape, and mini chocolate bars.

I cut each of the comments into strips and then wrapped them around the candy bars.  I laid them on a 6 inch wide strip of cellophane, rolled the cellophane around the candy bar, and then used a small piece of wired ribbon to separate the candy bars and create a "flower" effect.

When the lei was finished, it was over 5 feet long, so I doubled it up and secured the two layers with a big ribbon "flower".

The next day, I went to Mrs. Taylor's class, and while she was out of the room, I taught the kids how to sing "Happy Birthday" in Hawaiian (or at least as close as I could come after a 3 minute tutorial on YouTube).  When she came back, the class surprised her with a spirited rendition of "Hau`oli La Hanau" (Happy Birthday), and one of the little girls approached Mrs. Taylor and hung the lei around her neck.

Mrs. Taylor wore her lei proudly and seemed genuinely happy with our little celebration.  She told me that her birthday usually gets overlooked since it is so close to the beginning of the school year.  

It wasn't, perhaps, the most exciting gift, but I guess a candy lei is better than nothing.

I'm sure Mrs. Taylor would have preferred to take a cruise, but to be honest, this cruise director's boat is plumb full.

Perhaps Captain Stubing has an opening . . .

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