In My Kitchen

          I had a lot more going on in my kitchen this week than normal. Early in the week, I was expecting a visit from my pastor. I decided to make a coffee cake to serve. Do you think I'd stick with my tried and true coffee cake recipe? No! I had to try something different. The brown sugar topping sank to the bottom and it was a sticky-sweet-gooey mess. I wasn't happy.

          "It's fine," Pastor Rick said. But I expect he was just being kind.

          Once he was gone, I warmed the coffee cake back up, dumped it out of the pan, and sprinkled it with pecans. Then I called my best girl, Miss Rosie.

          "I made a coffee cake and it's awful!" I told her. "You want some?"

          "Way to go, Peg!" you say. "After you described it like that who would!"

          I know, right! Miss Rosie laughed. "I don't know. How bad is it?"

          "You'll just have to see for yourself," I told her. "I'll be down in a few."

          I stacked as many on a paper plate as I could get (picture was taken after they sampled it) and took it down to them.

          "It's not so bad?" Miss Rosie said.

          "What's wrong with it?" Lamar asked.

          I'm glad they didn't mind it. "The next time I make it — if I ever make it again, I'll put the pecans in the bottom before I bake it."

          "Like an upside down cake," Miss Rosie observed.

          Midweek we were invited to a cookout. "Everyone usually likes the Dream Bars," I told Mike, "I think I'll make a double batch." And I'll have some to share with the Kipps, I thought but didn't add.

          I measured the pan I usually use when I make them then started measuring my other pans until I found one that was just a little more than double the size. Mixed all the ingredients, real butter, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, salt, nuts, and coconut; put it in the pan and baked it. At the end of the bake time, I peeked in and was pleased when the top was nicely brown. I always dump the bars out while they're still warm so they don't stick and I did that — and discovered the bottom center was gooey.

          OY!

          Two fails in one week!

          "Maybe you could put it back in and bake it more?" Mike suggested.

          "Great idea," I agreed. "I'll have to bake it upside down." My thinking was the top was already brown to too-brown. I cut it into four big pieces, put it back in the pan and baked it more. I checked it in eight minutes and I checked it after another eight. It still looked gooey to me. "I think it needs a few more minutes."

          "You're gonna burn it on the bottom," Mike warned and took a spatula and checked the underside. It didn't look too bad so I put it back in for a few more. When it looked done to me I pulled it out and flipped it out.

          Yeah.

          It was burnt.

          I made a new single batch and called the Kipps. Lamar answered. "How do you feel about burnt Dream Bars?" I asked.

          "They're all right."

          "Good. I'll be right down." And that's how I unloaded those!

           Later Lamar tells me, "I didn't think they were burnt."

          "Oh, yeah. They were."

          "The piece I had was just fine."

          I guess he'll get to the worst of the burnt sooner or later if he keeps at 'em.

          There was so much food at the BBQ that I'm glad I hadn't made a double batch. I brought half a pan home with me as it was. And of course, I took pictures at the BBQ. This one is my favorite. This is Willie. He and his wife (I can't think of her name) knew my mother.

          On Friday, I was thinking about the upcoming lunch at church on Sunday after the service. It's an appreciation lunch for the Vacation Bible School volunteers. I know they're serving a baked ziti and wouldn't you know it, a no-knead dinner roll came up on my FaceBook newsfeed. That would be good with ziti, I thought. I printed the recipe and started bangin' around in the kitchen.

          "Whatcha ya doin?" Mike called from where he was watching TV.

          "We're having a trial run on a dinner roll recipe from the internet!" I called back. "If it's any good I'm making it for Sunday."

          I'd been talking to my friend Trish and asked if she'd ever made any.

          "I did once," she told me, "but they're more like a biscuit than a roll."

          The recipe I tried was a Martha Stewart recipe and got rave reviews. Well, there were a few negative ones but you know what they say. You can't please everybody. I followed the recipe exactly and Trish was right. They were more like a biscuit.

          I loaded half of them onto a paper plate and off to the Kipps we went.

          "Another fail!" I cried when Lamar opened the door. "Three in one week! I can't stand it."

          Lamar took the plate and handed it to Rosie. "What's wrong with them?" She gave them the sniff test. "They certainly smell good."

          "I wanted a dinner roll and these are more like biscuits!"

          I talked with Miss Rosie later. "Other than you being disappointed in them, there wasn't anything wrong with them. Lamar and I both had one with our dinner and they were good."

          "I was going for a dinner roll to go with the baked ziti."

          "You can certainly make them for the church dinner if you want to."

          "I think I'll just make a pot of Cousin Stacey's Mac & Cheese." I didn't give all the rolls to the Kipps. I thought I'd keep a few and try them toasted.

          The rain has finally stopped for a few days. The ground is drying up. "You wanna try pulling a few stumps?" Mike asked.

          "Sure." It was a job that needed done and we haven't had a lot of opportunities to work on it.

          The very first one, the very first pull resulted in slipped bark.

            I retrieved the chain and wrapped the trunk again.  Mike pulled and pulled but only succeeded in getting the trunk halfway out. Mike was uphill and the trunk was just about on the ground.

          "I think you need to pull from the other direction now!" I called over the roar of the tractor. Mike repositioned the tractor and pulled. The downside of the hill was still pretty wet and after a few tries, we moved the tractor back uphill.

            I guess it did some good though because this time he got the stump out.

          The next one we tried wouldn't even budge. These are Black Locust trees and this one has his roots tangled with the one next to him, which makes him stronger, or maybe they're even sharing the same root system. They do that. You'll see the root come out across the yard and a new tree growing from it.

          When Mike's efforts to pull him didn't work he turned around and tried pushing. It didn't work either and we had to surrender in defeat. He gets to stay.

          The last one we pulled proved to be no challenge at all.

          I'll tell you what. Nothing stinks quite like the Black Locust. I'll tell you something else. One year the blooms were so heavy on the locusts that line the road and there were so many bees that when I stepped outside the buzz was deafening. I've not seen that many blooms on them since then. In fact, most years I miss it altogether like I did this year.

          Speaking of missing...

          I've missed showing you some wildflowers that have been blooming for weeks. This is Black Medic also called Hop Clover, Black Hay, Hop Trefoil, and Yellow Trefoil. It's sometimes used as fodder and will grow in nitrogen-poor soil as well fix the nitrogen levels in the soil. Sheep will eat it but cows don't like it.

           This is Blue-eyed Grass. It's not a grass, they're in the Iris family, but grow low to the ground and has long thin leaves. Blue-eyed Grasses aren't all blue, there's a variety that's yellow too.

          And my Lilacs! I showed you a flower right after they started blooming and was waiting for a full bloom before I showed you any more pictures. Well, my lilacs never got many blooms on them this year. I have a hybrid variety called Sensation Lilacs. One of my bushes has a branch of just white lilacs on it. It seems funny to have two different colors growing on the same bush.

          The Yarrow is blooming. It was used to staunch the flow of blood hence a couple of other names it was known by, Nosebleed Plant and Soldier's Woundwort. But it has a ton of other names it was known by too.

          Yarrow is an important plant in that a lot of insects use it for either it's pollen or to host their young. And some birds use it in nest building.

          The Native Americans chewed Yarrow to relieve toothaches, made a tea to help sleep and reduce pain.

          The Elderberries are blooming. I'll never see any. The birds get them quick as they ripen. Who doesn't know that you can make Elderberry wine or jelly?

          WebMD says not to confuse Elderberry with American Elder, Elderflower, or Dwarf Elder. I looked at the pictures — briefly— and can say with certainty that this is not Dwarf Elder. However, I can't say that about the other two names it mentioned.

          Ginger went for a swim.

          I'd been trying to get a picture of a frog on a lily pad for quite a while before I finally got this one.

          I was wrong about the Milkweed. I have flowers! They smell so good!

          The Indians used the milky sap of the Milkweed to remove warts and the roots were chewed to cure dysentery.

          During WWII Milkweed floss was used as a substitute in life jackets. It's six times more buoyant than cork. You could also use it to stuff pillows, mattresses, quilts, or carry it with you to start fires.

          The tough, stringy fibers of the stems were twisted into twine or woven into coarse fabric.

          Look at this guy, would ya! He's just sitting under the bird feeder stuffing his little cheeks!

          I know a lot of people don't like Alvin because he gets into the garden and eats all the tasty flower bulbs but you have to remember, he's just doing what comes naturally to him.

          I just love to take pictures. Every time I go out the door, I take my camera and look for things to take pictures of. Sometimes you're gonna see things more than once. Like this Delaware Skipper on Bird's-foot Trefoil.

          Red Clover.

          "Peg, it looks purple to me," you say.

          I know, right! But it's called Red Clover. We use it for a fodder crop but you can eat the flowers and leaves.

          We have a Crow that has one white tail feather.

          Something else I've been trying to find is a Flower Spider or Crab Spider. I can usually see them on the Oxeye Daisies and it's what I was looking for when I spot this guy with his unusual checkerboard pattern. This guy is a Fourteen-spot Lady Beetle. Cool, huh?

          Later, taking pictures of the Day Lilies, I found a Flower Spider. I didn't know he was there until I looked at the picture on my computer. See him?

          You can eat the unopened flowers and they taste like asparagus. Someday, maybe, I'll give it a try. You can eat the flowers too.

          I love the Deptford Pink.

            Mouse-eared Chickweed.

          In places where Mike doesn't mow, the Heal-all gets tall with a long head on it. Where he mows they're in more of a hurry to flower and set seeds so they don't grow as tall or have such a big head. Heal-all is also called Self-heal, Woundwort, Heart-of-the-earth, Carpenter's Herb, Brownwort, and Blue Curls.

          On my way to the mailbox one day, the frantic buzzing of a bee catches my attention. This poor guy is hanging by one leg, spinning himself in circles.

          A spider got him, was my first thought and I went looking for the spider. There wasn't one. He just seemed to be stuck. I reached out to pull him free...

          He might sting, I thought and pulled my hand back. I patted my pocket looking for a tissue but it was empty. Most critters seem to know when you're trying to help, maybe he won't sting. I decided to test that theory, reached up and gently pulled. He came free and didn't sting me.

          "Peg, what's all over his feet?" you ask. "Is he sick or diseased?"

          Good question but no. He's not sick or diseased. He has pollinia stuck to his feet. That's how the Milkweed cross-pollinate.

          Pollen is aggregated in sac-like bundles that are called pollinia, which are located down inside the flower (the stigmatic chamber).

          "Wait, wait, wait!" you say. "Doesn't aggregate have something to do with rocks?" you want to know.

          I know, right! Aggregate can refer to rocks but when used as a verb it means to unite. So the two pollinia bundles are strung together with a filament and when the critters (bees and moths and flies) feed, their feet slip down inside, snag a sac of pollen and carry it to the next flower. Sometimes they get so stuck, they die.

          Another interesting fact about the Milkweed is that it produces a lot of nectar, replenishing it overnight.

          Pennsylvania Smartweed or Pinkweed. It's in the buckwheat family and can be considered invasive. It's also an important food source for many birds and provides cover.  

          "Peg, does it have any medicinal uses?" you ask.

          Great question! The American Indians used it for a lot of things including epilepsy, horse colic, bleeding from the mouth or the bottom (hemorrhoids), and post-partum healing.

   

      

          Sometimes, when I'm out walking Ginger around the pond and upper barn she gets ahead of me and I have to call her. Sometimes she comes back. But if she can see me, she just looks to see what I want, like she did this time. I'm calling and looking for any sign of movement and eventually spot her.

          "I wish you'd bark and let me know where you are," I mumbled under my breath. Maybe I'll put a bell on her, I thought, but probably won't.

          In light of new information, brought to me courtesy of the Kipps, Ginger will have to be on a leash from now on. I know it'll break her heart but she won't stand a chance against a mama fox hunting for her young.

          "You have a fox?" you ask.

          The Kipps, on their morning walk, have seen three kits down by the Robinsons' barn. (The pictures were taken by Lamar)

          Then Saturday as they came up our driveway for a morning chat, Spitfire came dashing from the weeds and heading for the house. "Then I saw the mama fox," Lamar told me. I'm impressed that he got his camera on and took a picture.

          So she's hunting up here and I'm not surprised. One year she took all of my kittens. But we don't have kittens anymore and I don't think there are any more cats at the Robinson barn either. She'll have to content herself with rabbits cause I'm keeping Ginger a lot closer to me these days.

          Mike has a couple of does that aren't too afraid of him. When they come up he'll get a little bit of corn and shake the bowl when he goes out. He talks gently to them and they wait for him to go a little way away then they'll eat.

          This day we sat on the patio and watched her. Macchiato was on Mike's lap and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

          It reminds me of the time my older brother Michael brought his very first deer home. It was like the last hour of the last day of deer season. We had a Siamese cat that Momma nursed back from the brink of death and Simon thought that deer was his. He latched on to it and wouldn't let it go. He'd growl and hiss and scratch if we tried to take his deer away from him. It got so bad they had to lock him out of the garage (where the deer was hung).

          Macchiato's a handsome cat, don't you think?

          The deer come around and scrounge for seeds under the bird feeder. One morning there was one in the dog run when I went to let Itsy out. She never saw the doe and the doe stood and watched her for a few minutes. 

           When Itsy barked she took off and jumped the little three-foot high fence. Itsy, being a dog, chased her because she ran.

          The doe surprised me. She stopped, turned around, and just looked at Itsy like, What the hell is that thing?

          Check this out. Cool, huh? 

           This is a Mottled-brown Wolf Spider. I found him in the litter box and he couldn't get out.

          The funny thing about this is I had just finished reading Bill Bower's Reflections of Nature, my favorite column. Bill says that the Wolf Spiders get a bad rap because of their size and their fierce sounding name.

          Wolf Spiders are not aggressive and will not bite unless frightened or provoked, he wrote. The thing I found most interesting was when he said, After mating, a female lays several dozen or more eggs that she wraps in silk, creating an egg sac. These egg sacs are attached to the female's back. If separated from the egg sac, she will search furiously for the sac.

          How can you hate a critter that cares so much for her young? She'll be a little more aggressive when carrying her egg sac so be careful.

          "Come on, buddy," I cooed to the spider. "Let's get you out of there." Gently I scooped him from the box and carried him outside in my hands — and was only brave enough to do so because of having just read the column.

          On the other hand, you can't trust everything you read on the internet.

          "Duh!" you tell me.

          I know but sometimes the information you're given is good and you never know if you don't give it a try.

          Case in point.

          I bought an old brown crock bowl from a flea market. It was a deal at $10 and I checked it for cracks and didn't see any. After I got it home I found it was cracked. My deal wasn't a deal after all. There's a website that says you can fix china and crockery by soaking it in milk overnight. Another one says to boil it in milk for an hour. The comments said skim milk works best because it has more of the enzymes that will bond the cracked piece and less fat that'll go rancid. Someone else said they were going to mix up some powdered skim milk and give it a try.

          Guess who has a box of powdered skim milk that's been sitting on the shelf in her pantry for more than three years? Yep. Me. I gave it a shot and it doesn't work. What I don't understand is why no one else commented to not waste your time or milk because it doesn't work. Or maybe powdered milk won't work. I guess I'll plant flowers in my old brown crock bowl.

          I came across something else that said ants won't get in the hummingbird nectar if you smear the pole with Vaseline. I wasn't even looking for a solution to this particular problem because other than having to use the hose and squirt all the ants off, I didn't think the ants caused any problem for the hummers. Just for shits and grins, I gave it a try. I was pleased when the ants came up to the Vaseline and turned around. Fine by me, but as I walked away I thought of nature shows I've seen where ants will use their own bodies to make bridges and rafts. Would they do something like that here? I wondered.

          Later in the day when I checked, the Vaseline wasn't stopping them anymore.

          I'll tell you what. This week has been full of fails for me!

          Speaking of hummers! I've been diligent in putting out just enough food for three days and cleaning the feeders every time I bring them in to fill them. I don't want to be responsible for making the hummers sick.

          I guess with all the baking I did this week, I ran myself out of cane sugar — and I needed to make more hummingbird food.

          "Peg, can you use some other kind of sugar?" you ask.

          I wondered the same thing. No. You can't. The other sugars contain ingredients that are harmful to the hummers.

          "What about Stevia?"

          Those sugar-free sweeteners don't have any calories in them for the birds either and it's the calories they need. Stick to cane sugar.

          What was I going to do now?

          "Peg, you have a whole box of sugar in the way-back," Me says to Myself.

          Yeah. It's been there for like ten years and the mice peed on it — but it's almost a full box of 3,000 cane sugar packs.

          Well, I might just as well see what I can salvage. Taking care of that box of sugar was something I needed to do anyway. I set myself up a workstation and started sorting. Any one that had anything on it at all got trashed. There're still lots of good ones and even though I think it'd be okay to use, I'm only going to use it for hummingbird food.

          Do you know how many packs I had to tear open to get a cup of sugar? No? There's about a teaspoon of sugar in a sugar pack and 48 teaspoons in a cup. That's how many.

          Coming home from a walk with Ginger and my tag-along, Smudge, I see Mr. Mister up on the wall and had to laugh. The old mill operators used this wall to contain the chips they shot out the shoot. It's big and sturdy and made from 6x6s.

          He just looked at me.

          Smudge was going to climb up and say hello but as I walked away he jumped down and followed me.

          This is my favorite shot and I'm using it as my current desktop photo.

          Speaking of Smudge...

          He gets into everything. 

           The chiminea that sits on the patio.

          A ladder that Mike was using.

          The lawnmower Mike hadn't put away yet.

          Oh! Speaking of the lawn mower...

          Mike used it to mow down a really big bush that was in his way. The brown spot in front of the golf cart was where it was. (The golf cart is for perspective.) This thing is a workhorse! 

           Then he got stuck and I had to pull him out.

          I was standing at the kitchen sink and see Mr. Mister coming across the yard with something dangling from his mouth. I grabbed my camera and went to see what he'd caught.

          "What'cha got?" I cooed and he dropped Alvin. He'd caught Alvin!

          I was half afraid to touch him because injured animals will bite, especially if he thinks I'm the cat. I touched him. He didn't move. I felt his little chest and his heart was beating good and strong. I touched his back ready to pull away if he tried to bite me but he just arched his back and put his head back as if he were in the death throes. I picked Alvin up and checked him out. No blood. Mr. Mister didn't seem to care at all that I had his catch. Don't laugh at me but I decided to see if he'd recover. I had a big bowl in my stash on the back patio for making garden totems. I got it down, put Alvin in it, put a plate on top, then Mike called me. I was half-afraid that one of the cats would nose the plate off while I was gone but it couldn't be helped. When I got back and picked up the plate, there sat Alvin, all perky and looking about. I took him out to the edge of the lawn, picked up the plate, and Alvin jumped out. He stood there and looked at me for a moment. I hadn't taken my camera with me, doggonit! Would've been a great picture. Then he scampered off into the weeds.

          A couple of days later I found Alvin in the yard. Whether it was the same Alvin or another; whether the cat got him again or he succumbed to his injuries, we'll never know.

          I have so many more pictures to show you that I could easily do another extra letter.

          "Why don't you just keep going now?" you ask.

          Because printed, I'm on page 17 right now — and it's almost four o'clock Sunday afternoon. I've already decided to stop at page 18 and that leaves me with a dilemma. Which pictures would you like to see?

          Dragonflies? Road pictures? Wildflowers? Critters? I have some of all of those left in my file along with road construction and train graffiti.

          I have to show you this one.

          "What is it?" you wonder.

          I believe it's a dragonfly with a Delaware Skipper for his lunch. I didn't realize they'd eat moths.

         

          Three dragonflies!

          And a cool cloud pic to end with.

          Let's call this one done!