What do I do when I thaw a pastry dough for butter tarts and realize I don’t have enough currents or pecans?
Considering the house is now filled with Gravensteins I opted to make a pie. Not a shabby substitute by any means and hubby started drooling so it’s all win, win. So one full sized pie for us and a mini for Shane, who loves his momma’s apple pie!
It’s Gravenstein time again and I wasn’t sure I should put you all through another ode to of my passion for this apple. I’m on the fence about it though so perhaps one is coming. I wait for these apples every fall, I love their flavour so much I need to sing it from the rooftops, perhaps I’ll recycle the last two blogs to the almighty Gravenstein, but shrink it all down a bit into a doable read. As hubby says, you need to be novel, not write one.
Brrr, it was cold this morning and it was difficult getting my feet warm in bed last night so much so I had to get up and find wool socks. It’s time for flannel sheets!
The frost of last night turned the top of my rather large basil plant to a sickening cadaver colour. I planned to dry it but now I’ll have to settle for only the lower leaves. The broccoli and kale are hardier, actually snow and the cold temperatures of winter don’t do much to effect the greenness of kale. I’m not sure if freezes well in bags but it’s worth a try. Maybe blanch it first? Fresh kale from the garden is wonderful; we use it as lettuce in our sandwiches as well as steamed in a pot.
We haven’t lit the Woodstove yet although it’s tempting. We put it off until icicles hang off our noses because once you open that Pandora ’s Box there’s no turning back. (That reminds me, the guy hasn’t delivered our firewood yet.) At the moment a shawl can take the edge off and a blanket over the knees but the time is coming and more rapidly than sound through the air. There doesn’t seem to be much of a transition from summer heat to chilly winter anymore. Fall is a bit of a misfit without purpose. The leaves are falling on our driveway as fast as a heavy snow, they crunch under my feet when I walk to the car. Aren’t they supposed to turn fantastic colours first then drop to the ground?
We can still get some nice weather, at least I hope. Except for the Nonsuch Rendezvous, we didn’t do much sailing in this summer so we hope to get in a few days leading up to October. Hubby is still out of work so nothing should stand in our way if there’s a small window of double digit warmth.
I’m waiting for the pies to come out of the oven and then go out to the garage to wrestle with the spider webs to hunt for seasonal decorations for the Scarecrow Festival this weekend. It’s our biggest festival and there will be standing room only in the town. I checked the weather and it should be cooperating for a fun filled weekend. (Take note, the shop will be open Sunday as well.)
The scarecrows are out all over town and people are here early with their cameras. I see a lot of new ones this year which is exciting. Once again it’s snuck up on me so I’ll have to stick out my sheep photo board and called it my contribution. We’ve been busy repairing and painting the second floor apartment of the building we have to get it rented for October. What disaster the last tenant perpetrated on our property. The most damage we’ve ever sustained. A dog chewed the antique baseboard moldings and door frames and there are monstrous holes in the walls and of course it was left dirty. We are sick and tired of cleaning up after people that don’t have respect for the property. I wish someone would take it off our hands. My dream was to live there someday when we downsize and sell our house, but I can let it go now and refocus my dreams of retirement elsewhere. There might not be anything left of the place after today’s generation full of selfish indifference are finished with it. We’ve been in our house over twenty years and the woodwork is almost as pristine as the day it was painted. Every time a tenant moves out, even if it’s only months or a year later, it looks like they were doing the tango with a chainsaw. I’ll be sixty this year and I sure am getting tired of cleaning up after people. Please someone buy it and turn it back into a single family home, run an Airbnb, make condos, open a restaurant or keep it as rental income.
Anyway, the pies are out of the oven and smell divine. Sure wish you could do a scratch and sniff on the screen.
Considering the house is now filled with Gravensteins I opted to make a pie. Not a shabby substitute by any means and hubby started drooling so it’s all win, win. So one full sized pie for us and a mini for Shane, who loves his momma’s apple pie!
It’s Gravenstein time again and I wasn’t sure I should put you all through another ode to of my passion for this apple. I’m on the fence about it though so perhaps one is coming. I wait for these apples every fall, I love their flavour so much I need to sing it from the rooftops, perhaps I’ll recycle the last two blogs to the almighty Gravenstein, but shrink it all down a bit into a doable read. As hubby says, you need to be novel, not write one.
Brrr, it was cold this morning and it was difficult getting my feet warm in bed last night so much so I had to get up and find wool socks. It’s time for flannel sheets!
The frost of last night turned the top of my rather large basil plant to a sickening cadaver colour. I planned to dry it but now I’ll have to settle for only the lower leaves. The broccoli and kale are hardier, actually snow and the cold temperatures of winter don’t do much to effect the greenness of kale. I’m not sure if freezes well in bags but it’s worth a try. Maybe blanch it first? Fresh kale from the garden is wonderful; we use it as lettuce in our sandwiches as well as steamed in a pot.
We haven’t lit the Woodstove yet although it’s tempting. We put it off until icicles hang off our noses because once you open that Pandora ’s Box there’s no turning back. (That reminds me, the guy hasn’t delivered our firewood yet.) At the moment a shawl can take the edge off and a blanket over the knees but the time is coming and more rapidly than sound through the air. There doesn’t seem to be much of a transition from summer heat to chilly winter anymore. Fall is a bit of a misfit without purpose. The leaves are falling on our driveway as fast as a heavy snow, they crunch under my feet when I walk to the car. Aren’t they supposed to turn fantastic colours first then drop to the ground?
We can still get some nice weather, at least I hope. Except for the Nonsuch Rendezvous, we didn’t do much sailing in this summer so we hope to get in a few days leading up to October. Hubby is still out of work so nothing should stand in our way if there’s a small window of double digit warmth.
I’m waiting for the pies to come out of the oven and then go out to the garage to wrestle with the spider webs to hunt for seasonal decorations for the Scarecrow Festival this weekend. It’s our biggest festival and there will be standing room only in the town. I checked the weather and it should be cooperating for a fun filled weekend. (Take note, the shop will be open Sunday as well.)
The scarecrows are out all over town and people are here early with their cameras. I see a lot of new ones this year which is exciting. Once again it’s snuck up on me so I’ll have to stick out my sheep photo board and called it my contribution. We’ve been busy repairing and painting the second floor apartment of the building we have to get it rented for October. What disaster the last tenant perpetrated on our property. The most damage we’ve ever sustained. A dog chewed the antique baseboard moldings and door frames and there are monstrous holes in the walls and of course it was left dirty. We are sick and tired of cleaning up after people that don’t have respect for the property. I wish someone would take it off our hands. My dream was to live there someday when we downsize and sell our house, but I can let it go now and refocus my dreams of retirement elsewhere. There might not be anything left of the place after today’s generation full of selfish indifference are finished with it. We’ve been in our house over twenty years and the woodwork is almost as pristine as the day it was painted. Every time a tenant moves out, even if it’s only months or a year later, it looks like they were doing the tango with a chainsaw. I’ll be sixty this year and I sure am getting tired of cleaning up after people. Please someone buy it and turn it back into a single family home, run an Airbnb, make condos, open a restaurant or keep it as rental income.
Anyway, the pies are out of the oven and smell divine. Sure wish you could do a scratch and sniff on the screen.
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