Red, White & Blue

Red, White and Blue

Happy July 4th weekend!

Ev'ry heart beats true 'neath the Red, White and Blue~George M. Cohan

Patriotism is easy to understand in America - it means looking out for yourself by looking out for your country. ~Calvin Coolidge

We dare not forget that we are the heirs of that first revolution. ~John F. Kennedy

The American Revolution was a beginning, not a consummation.~Woodrow Wilson

This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.~Elmer Davis

God Bless America

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,
Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free.
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer:
God bless America, land that I love,
Stand beside her and guide her
Through the night with a light from above.
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans white with foam,
God bless America,
My home sweet home.~Irving Berlin

Good Thoughts, Please

I hope you don't mind, but I'm not going to offer an explanation. I just ask that if you've got a minute today, please send a good thought or quick prayer our way. We would sincerely appreciate it.

I hope you have a lovely Wednesday! Sending good thoughts your way!

Nowhere to Run

He whistled as he stirred the marinara sauce bubbling in the pot on the stove. Her stomach rumbled as the aroma of fresh garlic mingled with tomatoes and basil.

“How’s that eggplant coming? Should I heat the oil yet?” He sounded as hungry as she felt.

“Not yet. I’m almost done slicing them but—hey, who’s that in the driveway?”

They peered out the window. The car was unfamiliar, a dark blue sedan they hadn’t seen before. They watched as a tall, thin man dressed in a suit emerged from the driver’s seat. He paused, straightening his tie, before he retrieved a briefcase and, closing the door with his hip, turned to walk toward the back door.

Blurp—blurp blurp. Blurp!

“The sauce!” A large splatter hit the tiled backsplash as he grabbed a wooden spoon and began to stir.

“Here, stir this. I’ll go see who it is,” he said.

The doorbell chimed but she didn’t take the spoon from him.“No, you stir. I’ll be right back.”

The man smiled as she opened the back door. Then, his smile faltered.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

She watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple moving just behind his tie knot.

“I…I’m Bill Daniels. I’m new to the area and wondered if I might have a minute of your…” He glanced down and annoyance shot through her like lightning. Whatever was he staring at? He regained his momentum but his words held a wobble. “A minute of your time to discuss the policy options my company offers. Would that be…uh, would that work for you?”

She shook her head, waving her hands as she spoke. “No, thanks. We’ve already got all the coverage we need.”

As if chased by all the demons in hell, he turned and hurried away. Over his shoulder he called, “Oh! Okay then. Sorry to have—” He reached his car, opened the door and threw his case inside. “Bothered you. Good day, then.”

They watched him back down the driveway, his tires squealing when they met the paved roadway.

“That was odd.” She returned to the cutting board where the eggplant waited. “He practically ran out of here. I wonder why?”

He chuckled as he crossed the room. Planting a kiss on her temple, he said, “It might have something to do with that huge knife you waved at him. Maybe next time you answer the door you should leave the cutlery behind.”

Magic

The night was warm and sultry. Moist, from the cloudburst that swept through earlier. Now moonlight shimmered on the water's surface. Crickets chirped. Frogs sang, their haruumphing overlapping so it was a steady hum.

She slapped at a mosquito so hard the sting brought a tear to her eye.

"Shh!"

"I didn't say anything," she whispered, rubbing her skin where it still tingled. She turned and scowled at him but he was too busy scanning the treeline to notice. Perched on a wooden picnic tabletop beneath the low-hanging branches of an enormous maple tree they were nearly obscure. Or so they hoped.

"And don't 'shh!' me."

"Hush, then," he hissed. "It's almost time." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side. When he spoke his lips were so close she felt his warm breath on her cheek. "Soon...it'll be soon. I know it."

Her eyes had become accustomed to the night. She reluctantly pulled her attention from the sight of his rugged good looks and focused on the meadow. A trail ran up the hillside, across the clearing and into the forest. She doubted the success of their mission but the adventure was enough to keep her from slapping the pesky mosquito again. It had found the only patch of unprotected skin on her ankle and seemed hellbent on biting her. Oh well, one small bite...what can it hurt?

"How do you know?"

He chuckled, softly. "I know."

"You're sure?"

"Mmm hmm." His voice was so low it was hardly loud enough to be heard above the rustle of the leaves that sheltered them. She felt it, though. Every word, rumbling from his body to hers, sending shivers of anticipation up her spine. Oh yes, she heard him. Loud and clear. "Two nights in a row. I thought the first one was luck. The second, a fluke. And tonight will be--"

Movement at the far edge of the path halted conversation. They stared as a gray fox stepped out of the shadows. It stood, sniffed the air, then walked out onto the trail. Surrounded by tall grass it must have felt secure because its stroll was casual, unhurried. They sat, transfixed, as the wild creature crossed the large meadow. Finally, with a last wave of its bushy tail, the fox melted into the shadows.

Together they exhaled. Neither had been aware they held their breath.

"Did you see it?"

She nodded, shaking her head in amazement. For once, words failed her.

"I told you it would come." Grinning, he squeezed her shoulder. "Three nights in a row! It's--"

"Magic," she sighed

Feathered Nest

This little bluebird decided it wanted to live with us.

So Hubby built it its own house.

Go to the Mattresses

Around here we can practically recite parts of "The Godfather"--even the Italian passages. It's one of our favorite movies. Don't ask me why, because I don't have a good answer to give. It just is.

So when things get bumpy, we just naturally look at each other and say, "We've got to go to the mattresses." We hunker down, huddle together and wait the storm out.

What about you? When life gets nuts, what do you do? Do you go to the mattresses, or do you have a different plan?

Us? We're finding it pretty comfy here in our matress nest. Later on, I think we'll watch Part Two of The Movie. You know, the one where they tell the story in flashbacks. I just love the old-fashioned clothes and cars, and watching New York and Italy from a historical slant.

Hope you have a great day!

Got Soup?

I love to share recipes with you. This morning, though, I've got an unusual request. I'm asking you for a recipe.

Why?

My darling husband speaks often of a soup he had years ago in a New York City restaurant. He worked near the restaurant (he can't recall the name of the place!) and often went in to have soup for lunch. The experience has left a mark on the man, and I'd love to be able to give him something that tastes even remotely like the soup he recalls with such fondness.

So, here's where you come in. If you've got a cannelini or navy bean soup recipe that you'd care to share with me, I'll be forever grateful.

The particulars of the soup? He says it was hearty, had clear broth and either cannelini or navy beans in it. Not much to go on, is it? Apparently the soup was so fabulous that when accompanied by a chunk of warm bread it made a meal fit for royalty!

I'm determined to cook pot after pot of soup until I make a batch that makes my sweet man smile. Any help would be very much appreciated!

If you've got a white bean soup recipe to share, please email me at snowdance1@gmail.com

Thank you!

Remembering the Dragon

"Where'd you get that scar again?" She pointed to the long, wide line just above his left knee. A fence? A piece of barbed wire? So many years, so many scars...who could remember?

"This one?"

"Uh huh, this one." Trailing her fingers over the line, she nodded.

"Well," he said, settling back against the lawn chair and grinning, "that's a long story."

A firefly flitted near her face. Swatting it away, she said, "I've got time."

"Well, I was walking in the wilderness--"

"New Jersey?"

"No, the real wilderness. New York."

"Okay..."

"And I came upon a dragon. And--"

"A big dragon? Or just a little, bitty pocket dragon?"

He scowled. "A big dragon, of course. Really big and--"

"What color was the dragon?"

"He was green, and he had shiny stuff on him. Silver, I think it was. A reddish green--"

"Reddish green?" Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him like she'd spotted a thousand dollar bill on a sidewalk. "Reddish green?"

"That's right. Dragons can be all kinds of colors," he insisted. "Now, do you want to hear the story or not?"

"I do. Continue, please..."

Covering her hand on his knee with his, he traced a lazy thumb across her fingertips. "All right. So, I was walking in the wilderness and came upon a dragon. A big, reddish green dragon."

He paused, turned and gazed into her eyes. Evidently her demeanor satisfied him because he turned back to face the mountains. She grinned, just a small twitch of her lips, but the growing darkness hid her expression.

"I startled it. It was sleeping, and when I walked into the clearing I scared it, I think."The challenge came on its own.

"You scared a dragon?"

"That's right, I scared a dragon. It didn't expect to see me but it did so when it opened its eyes it--"

"It what?"

He turned. Leaning close, he said, "It bit me." He stared into her eyes but her gaze didn't waver.

Finally, she nodded. Of course it bit him. Who wouldn't? In that instant she saw a flash of the little boy he'd been, rather than the man he was.

Sighing, he said, "So I did the only thing I could do. I pulled out my sword--"

"Weren't you afraid he'd bite that, too?" She snickered.

"No, of course not! I didn't want to hurt him, so I pulled out my sword and pushed him back a bit. Just a little. Just enough so I could pass. Then, before I left I--"

"You what?" With a giggle, she said, "Read him a bedtime story so he'd go back to sleep?"

Ignoring her, he continued, "I cut him on the leg, right above his left knee. So he'd remember me. With matching cuts, it's impossible for him to forget meeting me. Dragons live for three, four hundred years, you know."

"I'm sure they do."

"And that's the way I got the scar."

"Thanks for reminding me."

They sat quietly for long minutes. Stars appeared above them.

"That's a long time to remember someone. Think he still remembers? That dragon, think he still remembers me?"

She patted his knee. "I'm sure he does. How could anyone forget meeting you?"

A Bialy a Day...

...keeps the doctor away...?

I don't know if it does or not, but I do have a funny bialy story to share. It will show that I'm not the sharpest crayon in the box, but I don't care. We're giggling about it here, and I think it may bring a chuckle to lighten your day, so I'm going to share.

You know we live in the middle of nowhere, right? We're more likely to trip over farm boots than find a decent baked good around here. So, given the fact that my husband adores Italian cookies, I import them.

Thank God for Fed Ex.

A few days ago I called an Italian bakery in Brooklyn. I placed an order for Italian cookies. Then, I made my mistake. I made a request for one of my husband's favorite foods. I asked for bialys.

The lady at the bakery fell silent. I could hear customers in the store, ordering canolis and bread.

Finally I was informed, in a chilly tone of voice, that they don't sell bialys.

Yesterday the box of cookies arrived. My husband grinned from ear to ear when he opened the package. And, as I knew he would, the first cookie he chose was one of those seven-layer colored cookies with chocolate icing. My heart filled when I saw how happy he was.

After I got a couple of glasses of milk, I sat down with him and told him that I'd tried to buy bialys, too, but that the bakery lady shot me down cold.

He fell silent, just as the bakery woman had. Then, he laughed. Hard.

Me? Clueless. Absolutely no idea what was so funny. Loved it that he was so amused, but completely in the dark over the reason.

Evidently the joke is on me.

Italian bakeries don't generally sell bialys. Apparently I'll have to find a Jewish bakery for that.

Who knew?

From the Yard

In our yard we've got strawberries. Lots and lots of strawberries. So when I'm handed strawberries I make cobbler. Lots and lots of cobbler!

The fruit can be changed in this recipe to accomodate whatever's in season.

Fruit Cobbler

5 Tablespoons butter, melted
3/4 cup flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup milk
2 cups strawberries

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Place melted butter in a square baking dish.

Combine all ingredients except fruit and whisk until batter is smooth. Pour into baking dish. Put fruit on batter, then sprinkle with an additional spoonful of sugar. Cinnamon may be sprinkled over fruit as well, if desired.

Bake about an hour.

Best served with ice cream! But then, isn't almost everything better with ice cream?

Gotcha!

Mine! It's mine, all mine! Allll miiiiine...

Oh! Er, hi...it's me, Piglet. You startled me! I, um, well...I stole--no! I borrowed-- Sarita's blog today.

Hey, the chair was empty so I figured she must be busy somewhere. You could say I'm lending a hand--er, a paw--when it's most needed. Who knows? I might get a bowl of ice cream and a good ear scratch for my troubles. Hey, you never know, right?

Anyhow, it's been a while since I had the chance to give you a little tour so I won't keep you in suspense. Here are a few cat's-eye sights from around the farm...

Let's face it, it's all about the eating for me.

I can't help myself, I nibble on everything.

These grape leaves? Not so good.

Take it from me. I tried 'em.

I'll wait for the grapes.

The peony?

Smells fabulous, and I like them even though

they tickle my nose.

But taste-wise?

Ugh.

Okay, now we're getting to the good stuff.

The buttercups? Taste as good as they look--almost.

I saw this the other day, and gave it a quick sniff.I didn't dare bite it.

I thought about it, but kept my mouth closed.

Why? When I nosed it, Sarita flapped her arms like a crazed robin and muttered something about "driving an hour to get that" so I backed off. Wouldn't you?

Can you imagine driving an hour to buy colored string?

The woman must have eaten some of those dandelion thingys she's always picking. Or maybe she bit the peonies...they do make you feel kind of weird if you nibble long enough...

Do you see this guy? I didn't even bother to give him a lick.

Blech!

Don't let the bunny fool you.

The pansies aren't as sweet as they look.

You know, sitting in Sarita's chair isn't as easy as it seems.

And typing with paws would tucker anyone out.

Me? I'm ready for my ice cream and ear scratch.

You? Have a nice day!