country goodness

There is the most wonderful place of country goodness that I have discovered deep in the heart of the tiny town I live in.

The Hen House.

The Hen House is full of all things wonderful... fairy lights, cobwebs, laughter, and the most mouth watering, delicious smelling, homemade soaps and lotion you'll ever come across.

Ever.

The Hen House is a family-run shop on the property of my new friend, Veronica. She shares the shop with her best friend... so you can tell already, good things are happening in this little place. The shop itself is one of the out-buildings of the original dairy that called this gorgeous piece of property home.

From the time you turn onto the drive-way lined with untamed grape vines and rose bushes set off by the beautiful, lush irrigated pastures as a backdrop, a peaceful, warm feeling comes over you.

When you pass under the rusty iron arched trellis, stepping carefully on the concrete stone that has "welcome" scrolled on it, you are greeted by a friendly selection of lazy ranch dogs.

And you indeed feel welcome.

Whether you are being helped by a daughter or a niece or Veronica herself, you feel like the afternoon's most special visitor. You are told about the latest soaps, the yummiest lotion creations, and of course, any local news that has flown through the hen house...

Magical.

time to exhale...

I have been holding my breath for a week now. Ok, maybe not holding it completely, but I've definitely been taking shallow, jagged breaths, with my eyes squinched tightly shut, while I've waited for the dust of this last week to settle. I couldn't write, no photographs, I barely cooked.

You see, school started on Monday. And while that's a simple little sentence that I just typed, the actual meaning of it for this family is ginormous, life-altering... shallow-breathing-worthy...

After having an absolutely horrendous school year last year for three out of four of us... the prospect of it all starting up again seriously made me stop and examine what was really important to me and us, as a family.

The results?

Us, as a family.

Plain and simple. Our health - mental, emotional and physical... our time - well spent, relaxed, precious... and each other - inspired, at peace, and happy. All of which is compromised by the addition of school...

With one child heading to fifth grade (fifth grade math, fifth grade girl drama), one child heading to middle school (middle school math, middle school drama) and one parent heading to first grade (luckily, first grade math I can handle...) there was all the makings for a serious formation of the pressure cooker of last year.

However, upon waking up this morning, the Saturday morning of the first week, I had a very "Wizard of Oz" kind of feeling - the scene where the house falls on the Wicked Witch and after things settle, with the coaxing of Glenda the Good Witch, the little munchkins peek out from behind the bushes and hesitantly tip toe back out into life.

As the munchkins in our little life, emerging from the bushes, RT is kicking serious middle school booty, Bee is over-the-moon for her teacher, and I am thrilled with the group of little ones I will be spending my days with this year.

Lower the shoulders, open the eyes, unclench the fists, big exhale...

Dust has settled and I think we're all going to make it... of course, I'll cross my fingers just in case...

proud mother!

Well, after 21 days... actually 22 days of sitting on a clutch of eggs, Henrietta is the proud mother of four teensy little chickie-pies!

One tan and brown, one gray, two yellow and brown weighing as much as a feather and healthy as can be.

Mother is NOT resting comfortably. She's chasing chicks around the hen house, keeping all of the nosey Aunts away.

And really, the Aunts aren't interested in the chicks... it's the chick crumble that they want... those fat, pushy Aunts...

whoa there...

Wow, where did the weekend go? Lucky for me, part of the weekend was spent learning how to make jam with my sister. I have always, always, always wanted to learn how to make my own jam. To me, making your own jam is the quintessential country girl thing to do.

How many thousands of ladies across numerous generations have stood in sweltering summer kitchens just like my sister and I did? Creating yummy recipes in the middle of a busy and bustling kitchen. Kids in and out, and in and out. Dogs circling around looking for a cool place to rest. Kitchen fans whirling, trying to keep the steam scattered, while the pots on the stove filled with sugary goodness bubbled and boiled madly.

The results? Jams for all palettes: blackberry, peach, blackberry lemon basil, blackberry merlot, cinnamon blackberry vanilla, and peach jalapeno thai basil.

We used peaches from our trees, basil from our garden, and yes, blackberries from our lane. Not too hard, not too easy. A summer country culinary tradition that was just right!

De-lish, with a capital D

counting our pumpkins before they've hatched...

Every year I have a struggle planting pumpkins. It's not that the actual act of preparing the ground and planting that's hard. It's the fact that every year we work like dogs to plant everytyhing else in the garden and because you have a little bit of time before pumpkin seeds should go in the ground I am always late doing it.

But this year is a whole different story....

Ground prepared? Check.

Seeds purchased? Check.

Irrigation lines run? Check.

Sunny warm weather? Sunny warm weather? Bueller? Bueller?

Hey, where's the stinking sun?

We have had a crazy, insanely, seriously unusually cool summer. And while I personally love, love, love it! As a gardener it's no bueno.

"Look, Mother Nature... I have two large children, one small niece and her two mini girl friends that I am supposed to be growing a pumpkin patch for. I held up my end of the bargain - for once - so bring it! Cast you light, give us your best shot, let'er rip."

Sun on the pumpkins, please, ma'am.

Please?

purple hands...

The thing about living on our lane is that you spend a portion of the summer with purple hands. Part of our beautiful road is lined with the most luscious wild blackberries that you have ever tasted. And as soon as the they come ripe... "Let the games begin!"

You only have a small window of time that the berries are ripe for the pick'in. Too early and they are seriously sour. Too late and they dry up or get eaten by the birds. So, when the time is right, it is a mandatory family activity to pick for as many nights as we can until we can't take it any longer... until our arms and hands are scratched and stinging from the thorny vines protecting the berries.

Yeah, wild blackberry vines make you pay dearly.

Each night we don our rubber boots, load the berry boards into the landscape cart, get our bucket and hit the road. The berry boards are long boards ( like 2"x12"x8') that we can stand on. You toss one end into the vines then walk like you are walking the plank of a pirate ship up into the berries. Got'cha!

My favorite time to pick berries is at dusk. Tonight as we picked in silence - a rarity- you could hear the horses in the pasture on the other side of the berries. You could hear their hoof beats as they goofed around, bucking and playing in the evening breeze. You could hear the crickets tune up and begin their night music. Dogs barking in the distance. Oak leaves rustling overhead.

Peaceful.

Peace and purple hands...

miley, not cyrus...

Miley is a cat.

Miley is a very cool cat.

Miley is perfectly chocolate brown and white, like no other cat I have ever seen.

Miley sleeps every night on top of a big pillow that is on top of the hope chest at the end of our bed.

Miley is a fierce hunter and on this particular day Miley was bent on "fake" hunting this chicken (either Salt or Sugar, we can't keep them straight... go figure...).

Miley slinked right up to that chicken, and that chicken took right out after Miley...

See Miley.

See Miley run from Angry Chicken.

See Angry Chicken nearly connect with Miley's rear-end...

Lucky Miley...

sunday surprise!

Yesterday we discovered a summer treasure... the Pear Fair in Courtland, California. Courtland is a tiny town along an area of the Delta that is known for it's fabulous pears. So on this mild Sunday morning, we decided to check out the 39th annual Pear Fair.

After turning off the the levee River Road we descended into what seemed like a movie set... a tiny little town that consisted of a volunteer fire department, a school, a town hall, a church and a few blocks of charming old homes. There was the usual fair-type children's games, classic car show, vendors and a way-too-loud band playing under the enormous white tent. And also to our delight, there was the food!

We decided we could only eat food that had some sort of pear in it. So, let'er rip! We had prickly pear smoothies, fuzzy pear smoothies, pear sausage, pear pie, and finally, nachos with pear salsa.

Yum. Yummy, yum, yum...

But, I have to say, the food was not the best part of the day... The best part of this summer Sunday was the Pear Fair Parade.

We were witness to one of the most endearing parades I have ever seen. Led by the Pear Fair royal court, pretty high school girls being driven in classic cars, the short parade passed between the church and the town hall, circling the square one time. There were old tractors that had been cleaned up for the day, make-shift floats celebrating generations of river family farms, the high school cheerleaders and an assortment of young boys on quads.

And as each floats passed by, they were greeted by the Fair Pear Queen, Miss Sarah Simpson, a Courtland classic lady dressed in her pear suit and holding her staff and basket - a tradition we guessed. You could hear shouts of "Hello" and "Hey there" coming from the parade participants as they passed by.

With the giant trees that lined the streets shading the parade, small kids on their daddy's shoulders waved and clapped while some grown-ups chose to watch from the wine tasting tents or from their lawn chairs along the route.

As the parade came to an end, the new Pear Fair Queen was crowned as her Pear Blossoms, tiny future queens, surrounded her. 1940s music was keyed up over the loudspeakers and the crowd dispersed to resume eating, visiting or just relaxing in the shade.

After all, they needed their strength for the Pear Pie Eating Contest at 2:30...