And Dreams Are Horses

They had their very own horse for half an hour, today, and they couldn't have been any happier. You should have seen those faces - Hahaha! The three had found something they all loved, all at the same time.

The SconeLady had always wanted her own horse, and often dreamed of how fun it would be to see the world from that immense height. Never mind that one must also know how to take care of the horse and its gear. I thought all of it was oh-so romantic, and wanted these three to feel the same. I was almost positive they would.

The smallest was only 2, and there was some slight doubt as to whether he would make it onto the back of a horse. It could have gone either way, truth be told. All week he would be playing happily, then stop suddenly and say, "I NOT going horse ride!" The rest of us would smile and act like it was no big deal. Right up until the moment, we just weren't sure.

But when it came time, each of them climbed up with amazing skill. The 7 year old was an instant natural, as if he had been on a horse all his life. As his mother later said, he  seated his horse well. His sister and brother followed his calm lead, and listened carefully to all the things the horse lady told them. She told them how to make their horse go (squeeze and kick their sides, make a kissing sound, and shake the reigns slightly), stop (pull gently back on the reigns, saying "Whoa!"), and how to pat it to make it know you are nice.

They learned how to go up a hill and down again (lean forward when going up, lean backward with down), and how to 'jump' your horse ... well, there was a log for their horse to step over. But it was a beginning!

The place was simply crawling with horses - 30 of them in all shapes and forms. There were some mules, too. Or perhaps they were donkeys? I wasn't quite sure. They sounded dreadfully mulish, come to think of it. And then there was the obligatory Alpacas, seen everywhere in this central land of pastures and paddocks and pines. 

The grownups had as much fun, just watching. Mommy and Daddy helped to spot the two smaller ones, just in case. And Grandma followed along with her ever-ready camera while Grandpa walked behind, smiling and laughing as all loving grandpas do. It was all so terribly satisfying.

There is something pretty grand about being away from the asphalts of California, finding space, and lush greens, and huge blue skies. Makes you want to take a real deep breath and hold on to the moment, while you have it. 

Three small and drowsy heads will sleep comfortably, tonight. The stars in their eyes match those hovering above this sweet woodland cabin. There is one last day of the visit now left, a day in which to find adventures, and frogs, and to dream of horses and paddocks. I know of one lady sitting up tonight who wishes for more days like these, and who will be sorry to see them end.

The quintessential SconeLady. The one with the camera. 

Grandma.


See you along the way!
the SconeLady

Many thanks to Diane's Riding Place!

Paula Deen. Cinnamon Rolls. Say No More.

For years it was 'Mrs. Schweitzer's Cinnamon Rolls', and none other. This recipe made everybody happy, most especially at Christmastime. The children loved to watch as the flour and yeast and sugar seemed fairly to fly about, into the bowl and onto the counter tops. Slowly, gradually they learned to make the rolls, themselves. Or at least ... I should amend this to say that the lovely daughter learned to make the rolls. The rather stunning son - didn't. But he ate them enthusiastically, which is what really counts.

Those of us who make our own cinnamon rolls feel the same way about the process: It's a messy, but satisfying business.                                                                                                                                      

Who is Mrs. Schweitzer? She is the mother of a friend of my M.I.L., and can be trusted for taste and texture in a recipe. The end product (it must be admitted) is not noticeably fat free, or even fat-reduced. That would be impossible, and it is best just not think of fat at all. It doesn't figure into this. Stop it.

And then there came a day, one amazing day I learned about Paula Deen's cinnamon rolls. Oh-ho! they are apparently the Real Thing, better even than Mrs. Schweitzer's.

I had heard of Paula Deen's cooking show. We knew that there had been some sort of 'fuss' about Paula Deen, but I don't really know quite why. I don't mind about it, not if the woman can bake like she does and create great followings of people who wish to indulge in, or even copy-cat her show and her recipes. Millions of American taste buds cannot possibly be all wrong.

So, I am preparing a switch-over. And on a day soon when it is no longer sweltering in this sweet woodland cabin (oh may it be soon), I shall make Paula Deen's cinnamon rolls. In fact - I shall make them both, and see what we think right then and there! 

But for now...it is sweltering...

(Is there anyone else out there without a/c who can sympathize? Anyone...?)

See you along the way!
the SconeLady

"Yes, Headmistress" (part 4)

(Previous posts from this series):

part 1 part 2 part 3

Part 4

Holding hands, we talked about this and about many other things that night. I had rushed to get ready, but now realized that someone very sweet was scared about measuring up. Miss Lunn was, after all, her Headmistress. And a rather formidable one, too. I wanted to measure up with my American hospitality and perfected tea table. She wanted to measure up in another way. When you were young, did your mother ever blithely invite the school principal and your teachers over for cinnamon rolls on Boxing Day? I would guess, probably not.

And there was another flaw in my planning. 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/jcapaldi/11376074594/

But I did not discover this flaw until it was almost too late. I reached into the cupboard for ingredients. My sister assumed I had the ingredients because she thought (understandably) that no one would venture into an entertainment without them. She was mistaken. Oh, poor us!

What was I out of? I was woefully out of BROWN SUGAR. One cannot have proper cinnamon rolls without BROWN SUGAR. It would be a disaster, and we couldn't call everyone to cancel. That would be worse than the missing brown sugar! Nope - there was nothing for it but to forge ahead.

My sister quickly said, "Would any stores be open on Boxing Day?"

I knew the answer to this was a resounding NOOOOOOO. No British place of business would be open on Boxing Day. She said, "We have to try - call around." And I did.

4th or 5th on the list of possibilities (all no's so far) happened to be a petrol station that had a mini mart. We called. They were open. They HAD BROWN SUGAR!! And miracles...

Quickly we mixed the dough, cut the rolls, raised them, baked them, and the door bell rang! That's right, just in time. We three walked bravely to the front door; still nervous, still excited, and still a little bit out of our element. But together? we could do this.

The door was opened. It was Miss Lunn.

"Well, hello Miss Lunn! How very nice to see you.."


See you along the way!
the SconeLady

https://www.flickr.com/photos/oxfordshire_church_photos/540493920/

photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jcapaldi/11376074594/">Jim, the Photographer</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/oxfordshire_church_photos/540493920/">Martin Beek</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/">cc</a>

"Yes, Headmistress" (part 3)

(Previous posts from this series):

part 1 part 2

Part 3

If I were to say what my exact very most favorite breakfast food is, I would have to confess - it is a Cinnamon Roll. Not just any cinnamon roll, either. For instance, it wouldn't be the packaged variety you might find on a grocery store shelf. It wouldn't even be a nicer type found in the hallways of a shopping mall. Even Cinnabon hovers somewhere near 'good', but nowhere near 'great'. For 'great', one almost always has to go straight to a real baker. I mean a good old-fashioned, apron-wearing lady you might have grown up with. 

http://photopin.com/search/cinnamon-rolls

In a word? - Mother.

My grandmother and mother and aunties were always baking cinnamon rolls. Or if it wasn't cinnamon rolls, it might be dinner rolls or biscuits or cookies. There was always something in those ovens. 

I had it on good authority that the people of England might not have tasted too many really good cinnamon rolls. A cinnamon roll might be more of an American goodie. England has lots of other great things to eat such as scones, or Roast Beef with Yorkshire Pudding, or the amazing tastes within a superb Trifle. But cinnamon rolls are in a special class of tastes. Best of all tastes.



I longed to share this with the good people of our town, our sweet Norfolk town of Downham Market. We were newly arrived Americans, and thought surely this could be a way to win friends and influence people.

I had a willing accomplice in this plan, for my sister would be visiting for Christmas. We felt that Boxing Day might be the best time to share our exceptional goodies. It would be billed as 'An American Coffee Morning', and we invited our neighbor ladies, along with the female teachers at the school - and the Headmistress! Indeed, Miss Lunn would be darkening our door. 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/kelloggphotography/383459643/

We were nervous; we were excited; we were a little bit out of our element. As I put the children to bed, our daughter sleepily said, "Mommy, is Miss Lunn really coming to our house tomorrow?"

"Yes, my darling, she is," I replied.

"Why?" somewhat nervously.

I considered this. "Well, we want to share our home with her, don't we?"

"Yes but what if I make a mistake...like at school.."

The poor thing! I had been so busy worrying about my own 'debut' that I'd forgotten about hers. I took her hand, and we began to talk..


See you along the way!
the SconeLady



photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/sheilascarborough/4047833073/">TheSeafarer</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/kelloggphotography/383459643/">Whirling Phoenix</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>

Not Yet Old

All week long they had been asking, "When is Great Grandma coming?" and it had been hard to wait. 

Great Grandma Jessie was a lady they remembered from earliest of childhood, for she had lived nearby. Then she had moved far away. They wished to 'find her', only partly because there seemed always to be something for them in her bag of tricks; something lurking about that would be fun and interesting, and just right. 

Thus, the questioning; and the wishing.

Then there was a birthday, the epitome of fun. Cousins were there, and friends! Frogs were caught! Cake and pizza were eaten! Gifts were brought! And Great Grandma Jessie had come, watching all the fun and visiting with whomever was sitting near. She was having as much fun watching as they were having fun doing.

I think that age is in the eye of the beholder. So far I have not beheld it in her, yet. This must be because age has gone unnoticed, and gradual. She understands life. She is smart, and amazing at 90. 

A friend told me something a 3 year old boy had said to her when she was 65. The boy had suddenly looked up at her (she was very tall) and asked, "Willi, are you old?"

Willi didn't feel old, but.."Well yes, I suppose you could say I am," she replied.

He paused for a moment, and then said, "What were you like when you were new?"

I think of our mother as still 'new'. I can always call her and ask for advice (which she almost never gives). Her lemon meringue pies are still to die for. If anyone were to ask, "When is old, anyway?" I would have to say, "I'm not exactly sure, but I'm thinking it must be sometime after mom."

Sometime after mom. May it ever be so.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

A 'little blond girl' quilt, lovingly made by Great Grandma Jessie

Calvin and Hobbes Wins the Day

I don't remember just exactly when it happened, but books and reading have conquered the three who hold my heart. Probably it was because their mother is such an avid reader, and has passed this joy along. I think she even used to get 'in trouble' for reading all night (how sad - did I really do that?).

The two you see here have not gone so far as to read into the night, yet. But I sort of see it coming. This is because the grandson has now discovered the joy of CALVIN AND HOBBES. This is the pinnacle of books for a 7 year old! His uncle had become attached to these books at a similar age, and has now gifted his young nephew with the imaginative and crazy world of Calvin. 

This grandson had received birthday money (see it pictured above), and wished to spend some of it on a book. This request was accepted and so he, his mother, sister and grandmother went. Inside an adorable shop called Paulina Books, he found Something Under The Bed Is Drooling, and was instantly intrigued. 

Ever since, his head has been bent toward that book. Occasionally he will pop up and share something hilarious with his grandparents. We howl with laughter. We have heard/read/seen these stories tons of times with the rather dazzling son; we know them well. But still I howl. They are great!

One such page shows Calvin's mother dressing herself up in front of a mirror. She applies her lipstick. She washes, dries and styles her hair. She dresses nicely and chooses out her favorite shoes. Obviously she is going somewhere special and has taken great pains with her looks.

But upon stepping outside and onto the porch, a sudden and violent spray of water from the hose hits her full in the face. The water douses her and obliterates every effort at beauty. The final frame shows Calvin slinking away from the house, holding his sore bottom, looking back at the reader and saying, "Boy, what a GROUCH!"

https://www.flickr.com/photos/dolmansaxlil/5170260869/

We laughed and laughed. He laughed and laughed. In fact we have heard about and seen that same page numerous times now, and always laugh. Bill Waterson knew how to make something not only funny, but funny every time.

There are almost limitless books and series you can indulge your child in. It is the very best variety of indulgence. You open a book and suddenly another world opens up at the same time. Just think of how superior this is compared with something like, say, a video game. 

How can 'Grand Theft Auto' ever compete? I ask you.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady


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Just Where I'd Like To Be

He was situated in the bathtub, and did not wish to un-situate. It was so warm and so cozy in there with his sister and of course, his mother sitting next to the tub. But it was time, and his mother said, "Ok, it's time to get dressed. Grandma will lift you out.." And yet he didn't immediately see the sense in this plan. We could hear the dissension in his voice. His grandmother then gently interjected.

"Let's go see the new toys you got today. Show grandma!" and I smiled and laughed and did all the cajoling things grandmothers have been known for since forever.

This seemed to work, and grandmother did lift him out, and did wrap him up in a towel. His mother had laid out his pajamas in just the right spot, and he allowed himself to be dressed while his grandma joked and tickled him into helpless laughter. Then she said, "Ok, how about those toys? Or would you like to go see if we can see a deer?"

Oh yes, he thought he would like that very much. So down we trooped, over to the plate glass windows where often a deer or two or three are known to congregate. The light was slowly fading, and as it did we talked about colors. What color was the sun (golden!); what was his favorite of all colors? (green I think!); what about the grass? (green too?), and so on.

We discussed the color of bananas, and the sun, and the moon, and how many frogs he had caught that day. This intriguing thought of frogs suddenly animated him, and he wanted to go 'check' on his frog. Grandma wisely deflected this topic (more cajoling), and it was soon forgotten.

It was so fun to talk about his day. He didn't often get to talk with Mother or Grandmother without interruptions and occurrences from his brother and sister. So he settled back into his grandmother's comforting lap, and held forth.

The lights were dim, and from somewhere in the room a small, girlish voice piped up. "Grandma, can we live here for forever?"

Now how is it that she can come up with the exact thing I too am wishing? "Well, maybe not forever, darling. But we'll have as much fun as we can while it lasts! How's that?"

"Ok.." But she clearly wasn't so sure.

Their mother bore them off to bed, and I sat at the window, thinking. Living somewhere 'for forever', somewhere you love, with someone you love. 

There is Somewhere, like that. This must be a taste of It.

Heaven.

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady