Tuesday, November 24, 2015

apple crumb pie

We're gearing up for the Thankfully long weekend holiday. Our family is heading to Chattanooga where we have big plans to run the Turkey Gobbler race on Thanksgiving morning and drink whiskey slushies in the evening. I spent yesterday cooking my contributions to the weekend: French chocolate granola, the various components for two apple crumb pies (to be assembled and baked there), plain granola, and caramel popcorn. By evening I felt sickish from too many tastes. 

About those apple crumb pies. I've always been a sucker for a two-crust apple pie—up until now, it's been my standby. But a few weeks ago I decided I simply must have an apple crumb pie. Not having one in my repertoire felt like a moral shortcoming of unforgivable proportions. After a bit of digging around, I settled on this recipe. (I'm not sure where it is from. Perhaps Epicurious? Do forgive.)

What's delightful about this topping is that the crumbs don't melt into a lid of slimy sog. Perhaps this is because the topping calls for lots of nuts which help the topping hold up against the satiny apples and crispy-golden pastry. At first, some of my kids turned up their noses about the nuts, but I kept making the pies (I think I've made about six so far) and eventually they got over their silly hang-ups.

I never thought I would say this about a pie, but I actually think this one is better after it sits for a day or so. It gets deeper, or something. More luscious, but in a comforting sort of way. In other words, make two. Apple pie makes an excellent breakfast.

Apple Crumb Pie 

I always make two pies at time, so I double the crumb topping. Even if you're only making one pie, I recommend doubling the crumbs. They freeze well, and then your next pie is that much closer to becoming a reality.

To measure your apples, slice them into the empty pie plate. The apples will cook down in the oven, so the raw apples ought to mound up high above the plate. Once you have enough apples, dump the slices into a bowl, rinse and dry the pie plate, and proceed with the recipe.

for the pastry:
½ recipe rich butter pastry

Line a 9 or 10-inch pie plate with the pastry and crimp the edges. Place the lined pie plate in the fridge while readying the remaining components.

for the filling:
5-8 large apples, cored, peeled, and sliced
½ to ¾ cup white sugar
2-3 tablespoons flour
1 slightly rounded teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cloves

Stir together the flour, sugar, and spices before tossing with the apples. Arrange the apples into the pastry-lined pie plate. Pack them in—you want to eliminate air pockets and mound the apples high. 

for the crumb topping:
½ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup whole wheat pastry flour
½ cup sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
¾ cup chopped walnuts
6 tablespoons butter
¼ teaspoon salt

Using your fingers, cut the butter into the other ingredients. Distribute the crumbs over the apples (don't pack them).

Bake the pie on the lowest oven rack (to make sure the bottom crust browns) at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes before reducing the temperature to 350 degrees and baking for another 20-30 minutes. If the crust starts to get too brown, cover the top with foil. The pie is done when it is golden brown all over and the juices are bubbling merrily. (Merrily bubbling juices are important. If the juices don't bubble, then the flour in the filling won't cook and the pie will taste floury.) When you first pull the pie from the oven, it will be puffy high, but as it cools, the apples will settle and sink.

This same time, years previous: apple raisin bran muffins, how to use up Thanksgiving leftovers in 10 easy steps, sock curls, candid crazy, a Thanksgiving walk, ushering in the fun, right now, pasta with creamy pumpkin sauce, apple rum cakechocolate pots de crème, and pumpkin pie.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

spiced applesauce cake with caramel glaze

The evening Molly posted this recipe for applesauce cake, I had to talk myself out of starting a baking project at bedtime.

I'm not exactly sure why I was so completely smitten. I already have an applesauce cake on this blog. Plus, applesauce cake isn't the most thrilling-sounding recipe. It reminds me more of a practical-scuffed-up-shoes cake than a flashy-fancy-heels cake, and I've always had this (perhaps unfounded) assumption that cake ought always be a flashy heels sort of venture. But this recipe disregarded my uptight notions, wiggled into my brain with an upturned kettle and a wooden spoon, and started pounding away on the kettle while screeching, Make me! Make me!

By the next morning, my intense desire for applesauce cake RIGHT NOW had not waned in the least, so I made it. I had a piece with my coffee after lunch. I thought it delicious, but my husband was all like, Yeah it's fine. It doesn't taste like much, though. I decided he was being obtuse and that his opinion didn't count.

About an hour later, I covered the cake with plastic wrap and drove over to my parents' house where they were (again) in the midst of hosting out-of-town guests that I, too (again), wanted to visit. When I arrived, everyone was still gathered around the table. My mother placed the cake on the table beside the partially-eaten lemon poppy seed cake, and set about brewing another pot of coffee.

“There's a secret ingredient in this cake,” I said. “See if you can guess.”

Out of curiosity and politeness (because it certainly wasn't hunger), they all helped themselves to small slivers. Some of them started guessing ingredients before they even tasted the cake. I forget who guessed black pepper, but winning ended up being kind of underwhelming. The exotic bite from the pepper is so gentle that it went unnoticed by some.

But the icing, now. That's what got their attention. Soon they were all reaching for the knife to cut another slice. And then the coffee was ready and of course you must have another slice to go with your coffee…

By the time I was ready to leave, there was just a small piece of cake left on the plate. Back home, I divided it among the kids. Less than six hours after I had first cut into it, the cake was gone, gone, gone.

I made the cake again, just the other day. This time I swapped half of the white flour for whole wheat, and I used a heavy hand when grinding in the pepper. Right after I pulled the cake from the oven, we had to leave for a church supper, so I didn't get around to making the icing. And then later that night, after we tucked the kids into bed, I didn't feel like making the icing. Anyway, it was the soft, spicy cake that was calling my name. Turns out, I loved the cake plain.

The next morning I served it for breakfast along with oatmeal and fresh fruit. My husband packed some in his lunch (he reported it was good and was surprised to learn it was the same cake as the first one he didn't like!), and that afternoon I doled out the remaining pieces to the children for their snack. Wouldn't you know, less than 24 hours after making the cake, it was gone. Funny how that happens.

Spiced Applesauce Cake with Caramel Glaze
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg's blog Orangette.

The glaze is similar to this brown sugar icing, but this version has less butter and brown sugar, and more cream. It is really good.

for the cake:
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
½ cup dark brown sugar
2/3 cup oil
1½ cups applesauce
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ ample teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Beat together the eggs and sugars. Beat in the oil, applesauce, and vanilla. In a separate bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir to combine. Pour the cake batter into a greased baking pan. (Molly used a bundt pan or loaf pans; I used a springform pan, greased and lined with parchment paper.) Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes or until the cake is pulling away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool to room temperature. (If turning the cake out of its pan, allow it to cool for just ten minutes before doing so.)

for the glaze:
4 tablespoons butter
½ cup brown sugar
1/3 cup cream
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ cup confectioner's sugar

Combine all the ingredients but the confectioner's sugar in a pan and set over medium high heat. Bring it to a boil, stirring constantly, and let it boil for one minute. Remove from the heat and stir in the confectioner's sugar. Let it rest for a few minutes to thicken before pouring over the cooled cake.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.17.14), in my kitchen: noon, lessons from a shopping trip, the quotidian (11.18.13), the quotidian (11.18.12), red lentil soup with lemon and spinach, three things, orange cranberry bread, Swiss chard and sweet potato gratin, and brownies.

Monday, November 16, 2015

the quotidian (11.16.15)

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

A rare occurrence: I said yes to her request to make a kitchen mess.

I'm on a quest for the perfect sour cream cake donut. Things could get dangerous.

A delicious solution to the ongoing "problem" of too much cream.

For five girls: an indoor broccoli soup picnic.

Reading him to sleep.

For many months he begged for lessons. He finally got them.

And for this boy, a birthday guitar and some lessons to go with.

Staying warm.

Harder than it looks: measuring pigs. 
(They're ready to butcher!)

How many tosses does it take to get a Yahtzee?: show Numberphile videos to your children
and they will spend hours tossing dice. 
(Also recommended: a mile of pi.)

Parallel art.

Friday night's full table.

Family game time: round one did not end well, so a little later they (successfully) had a redo.

This same time, years previous: I will never be good at sales, gravity, refrigerator bran muffins, sparkle blondies, the wiggles, official, why I'm glad we don't have guns in our house, the quotidian (11.16.11), my apple line-up, chicken salad, so far so good, Chinese cabbage and apple salad, and SSR.      

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

George Washington Carver sweet potato soup with peanut butter and ginger

In the morning after I fix my coffee, locate my reading glasses, and snatch a piece of scrap paper out of the desk drawer, I write up a to-do list for all of us. Each child has chores, plus academics. List-making is the only way I can stay on the ball and keep everyone on task. Otherwise, a child might wander off and, without her in my line of vision, I may forget that, oh yes, I wanted her to empty the compost, write an essay, and wash the eggs. So I put all my ideas and goals on paper, first thing in the morning.

Lunch was late today because everyone was on a roll. My older son was practicing his choir music in his room. My older daughter was rewriting an essay we had just edited together. My younger daughter was doing some self-initiated letter writing. My younger son was in the downstairs room listening to a recording of Story of the World while jumping around and waving a wooden stake. While I waited for them to wrap it up, I pulled leftovers from the fridge and began reheating them: broccoli soup, chili, chicken and rice, and, for me, George Washington Carver soup.

I first had this soup at my mother's house. We had stopped by one evening to say hi to their out-of-town guests (and maybe to pick up some of our children? I can't remember now). When we arrived, they were just sitting down to their dinner of Carver soup, onion-corn bake, sauteed greens, and cake (I think). We pulled up chairs, intending to visit for a bit before heading back home. Mom, of course, invited us to eat, too, but we said no. However, she was insistent that I taste the soup. Fine, I said, and watched as she ladled a small scoop into a bowl, plopped a dollop of sour cream in the center, and sprinkled chopped peanuts on top.

One bite and my eyes widened. Wow, I said.

“I know.” she whispered. “I think it may be the best soup I ever made.”

I finally got around to making the soup for myself just last week. The soup appears plain and dull, but it's anything but. There's so much going on: the sweet potatoes give it a creamy sweetness, the peanut butter adds richness, the fresh ginger and cayenne give it a bite, and the spices (cumin! coriander! cloves! cinnamon!) supply depth and complexity. It's like a kaleidoscope for the taste buds. Enjoy!

George Washington Carver Sweet Potato Soup with Peanut Butter and Ginger 
Adapted from a recipe that my mother's friend, Lois, found in a some flyer, magazine, or newspaper. 

I used about ¼ cup fresh ginger, and the ginger flavor did not overwhelm. Also, I substituted ground chipotle pepper in place of the cayenne, and, while I thought the spice was pleasant, one of the children thought it was too spicy: be discerning.

This soup freezes well. To save freezer space, my mother omits much of the liquid when making the soup, and then adds the liquid when she is reheating the soup.

½ cup peanut oil, divided
2 sweet potatoes (about 2 pounds), peeled and roughly chopped
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons (or more) fresh ginger, minced
2 teaspoons each ground cumin and ground coriander
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
½ cup roasted tomato sauce
8 cups chicken broth (or water)
½ cup creamy peanut butter
condiments, optional but highly recommended: fresh cilantro, dry-roasted peanuts, and sour cream.

Toss the sweet potatoes, carrots, and onion with all but 2 tablespoons of the peanut oil. Spread the veggies on a sided baking sheet, sprinkle with plenty of salt, and roast at 375 degrees for 30 minutes, or until fork-tender. 

Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of peanut oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, ginger, and remaining spices and saute for half a minute. Stir in the tomato sauce, peanut butter, stock, and roasted veggies. Stir well and simmer for 15 minutes. Using an immersion stick blender (or a stand one), puree the soup. Taste to correct seasonings: you'll probably need a fair bit of salt.

To serve, pour the soup into serving bowls and top with sour cream, fresh cilantro, and chopped dry-roasted peanuts.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.10.14), butternut squash galette with caramelized onions and goat cheese, the quotidian (11.11.13), the quotidian (11.11.12), mashed sweet potatoes, a boy book, chicken and white bean chili, and peanut butter cream pie.    

Monday, November 9, 2015

the quotidian (11.9.15)

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

With sweet potatoes, chicken pot pie.

My view while taking the laundry off the line.

Leftover summer.

Treats and reads, post-Halloween.

For a leaf fort.

My older son bought a computer and then built a desk to put it on.

Off to work!

Self-selected screen time for the younger two: once a week for about ten minutes (per child).

Indoor rainbows.

Perhaps I take "wearing it out" a little too seriously? 

This same time, years previous: musing from the coffee shop, for the time change, awkward, "How are you different now?", maple roasted squash, meat and cabbage rolls, yesterday, let me sum up, Halloween candy-infused brownies, and crispy cinnamon cookies.      

Wednesday, November 4, 2015


My older son requested meatloaf for his birthday dinner. I have tried to blog about meatloaf before, but never successfully. There are reasons for this.

1. The recipe we love is so basic that I feel kind of sheepish.
2. All my fancy meatloaf experimentation has yielded non-inspirational results.
3. I don't make meatloaf that often because it's a lot of meat.
4. Meatloaf photos are kind of gross.

But then my son requested it and the whole family was so excited so I decided to just buck up and share the recipe because we totally love it and that ought to be enough reason, right? The only problem: I never got a photo of the finished meatloaf. By the time it finished baking, we were in festive-meal chaos mode and I forgot.

When I realized my mistake, all but one nub of loaf had already disappeared down the hatch, and then that last nub was gone, too. You're not missing much, though. Just imagine a long log of cooked ground beef, the bottom of the baking dish covered with a film of juicy fat. Really, not impressive. But it sure is delicious!

Adapted from the Mennonite Community Cookbook, by Mary Emma Showalter.

The original recipe calls for capping the meatloaf with raw bacon pre-baking, but I skip that step. To serve the meatloaf, I remove it from the yuck-looking baking dish and place it on a clean plate. Then I slice the loaf to facilitate the serving process and to limit the kids from going hogwild.

For Birthday Boy's dinner, I served the meat loaf with these outrageously delicious potatoes cooked in cream (as well as corn and green beans and sourdough bread and shoofly pie with ice cream): a killer combo.

1 onion, chopped
1 cup of bread crumbs
2 egg, lightly beaten
1 generous cup milk (or tomato juice)
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
2 pounds ground beef

Combine everything but the ground beef and let sit for 15 minutes to soften. Add the ground beef and stir to combine (I use my hands). Put the mixture in a 9 x 13 baking dish and shape into a loaf. Do not pack the meat. Bake at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes. Slice and eat. Serve with ketchup.

With the leftovers: make a sandwich of thinly sliced meatloaf, mayonnaise, spicy mustard, and lots of sweet pickles.

This same time, years previous: when your child can't read, the quotidian (11.4.13), the nighttime barkies, piano lessons, laid flat, lemon squares, and living history.

Monday, November 2, 2015

2015 garden stats and notes

This year's garden was fairly low-key and non-stress, which made for a pleasant break from our normal Summer Crazy.

rhubarb daiquiri mix, frozen: 2 batches (three little jars)
strawberries, frozen, sliced: 17 quarts
sour cherries from our trees, frozen: 8½ quarts
red raspberries, frozen: 14 quarts
zucchini relish: 13 pints
sweet pickles: 8 quarts
apricot jam, runny, canned: 6½ pints
wineberries, foraged, frozen: 2½ quarts
green peppers, cooked, frozen: 13 half-pints
blackberries, foraged, frozen: 3 cups
tomatoes, canned: 43 quarts, 3 pints
pesto, walnut-butter, frozen: about 8 half-pints
corn: 29 quarts and 18 pints
roasted tomato and garlic pizza sauce: 35½ pints
peaches, canned: 25 quarts
nectarines, dried: 17 bags (each bag roughly equaled 1½ pints)
pesto torte, 2 recipes, frozen: 16 slices
roasted tomato sauce, canned: 12 pints
sweet potatoes: 1 bushel

*Planting an entire row of cucumbers was slightly insane. We gave away bushels.
*Same for seven zucchinis. But they were lovely and the plants refused to die!
*FYI: 45 dozen ears of corn yields about 80 quarts of corn. (We shared with fellow corn processors.)
*The family is crazy about the pesto torte. Make at least two batches every year, please.
*No grapes this year because my husband pruned them too vigorously. Thankfully, we still have jam from 2014.
*The red raspberries weren't that great. Remember to fertilize (and only chop them back to about one-foot high) them in February.
*We got apricots and pears and cherries! If we remember to spray next year, we'd get a lot more!
*The strawberry crop was underwhelming. Hopefully, that's because it's the first year of production.
*Five pepper plants is a good amount.
*For some odd reason, the basil died halfway through the season. Plant them by the rhubarb next year to see if they do better.
*We have no tomato juice and I miss it. Don't forget to make some next year.
*Besides not doing green beans (oodles still in the freezer or potatoes (so buggy last year that it's not worth the trouble), we also did not put up applesauce or salsa. We aren't going through nearly as much applesauce as we used to, and we still had plenty of salsa (which we love) from the year before.

This same time, years previous: chatty time, posing for candy, cheesy broccoli potato soup, why I'm spacey, sweet and sour lentils, Greek yogurt, oatmeal bread, and blessing hearts.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

listening, watching, reading

My husband gave me an Ipod nano for my birthday. I was sick of always having to shut off NPR whenever any kids wandered into the kitchen/downstairs areaapproximately every 3.4 secondsnot because I didn't want them to hear NPR but because I can't handle competing noises, which is funny because my children don't take turns when they talk so you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

Anyway. Whenever I wanted to hear a podcast, I'd have to play it on the computer which involved navigating speakers and cords and then having a screen in the kitchen always drawing my eye when I just wanted to listen and cook without any pixelated distractions, and still, there was that same old problem of kid interruptions, plus some of the podcasts weren't fitting for young ears, so I'd end up doing lots of deep sighing and dashing across the kitchen to hit the pause button.

(Actually, even with the Ipod, I still do a lot of sighing and hitting of the pause button because the kids can't stand seeing me with earbuds stuffed in my ear holes, but at least there are no screens involved and no one else has to hear what I'm listening to.)

The Moth: fabulous storytelling that make for satisfying entertainment anytime. The older children enjoy them, too.

Fresh Air because Terry Gross is awesome.

Limetown: a fictional mystery told a la Serial. My older daughter loves this one (because I let her listen after me). When the story gets tense, she stops whatever she's doing and just stands there, frozen.

This American Life.

Real Education Podcast: Blake Boles interviews a wide variety of people about their alternative education beliefs, experiences, and practices. Highly (highly! highly! highly!) recommend the interview with Kenneth Danford on Thriving Without School and the interview with Carsi Blanton on Unschooling. (I made both my husband and son listen to the latter one.)

What are your favorite podcasts? I'm particularly interested in stories about raising kids without school, entertaining nonfiction, raw interviews with real people, etc. Also, do you know of any good podcasts geared for teens?

Everest: my husband and I went to see this on his birthday. It was eerie to watch such an intense movie while having him whisper in my ear, I was in that village, or I landed on that runway, or Our helicopter was in worse shape than that one. Back home I announced to the children that they were never, under any circumstances, permitted to climb Mt. Everest. PERIOD.

Spare Parts: our most recent family night movie (from Redbox) about a high school robotics club that beats MIT. All four kids were engaged so it counted as a winner.

The Martian: both older kids saw it in the theater with their mentors and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The Newsroom: a show that my husband will watch with me! Much less glitz than most shows, and heavy on the news (obviously). Republican news anchor Will McAvoy's rant in the very first show is pretty awesome. Through Amazon Prime.

How The States Got Their Shapes: a pleasant way to get a grip on US geography. The only difficulty is finding time to watch it when everyone is home, including Papa. Through Netflix streaming. 

I inhaled my Aunt's new cookbook (!!!), Baking With Whole Grains: Recipes, Trips, and Tricks for Baking Cookies, Cakes, Scones, Pies, Pizza, Breads, and More! This is the same auntie who gave us our recipe for salsa and blueberry bars.

Check it out, y'all. The woman knows her way around a wheat field and a kitchen.

11/22/63 by Stephen King. My very first King read and the experience was not traumatic! And then I bought The Eyes of the Dragon because the reviews said it's a good read for young teens and adults alike. Currently, my husband is in its clutches.

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. I read the library's copy and then ordered my own from Amazon because it's amazing and because I want my older son to read it this year. King is fascinating.

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. This is my selection for our next book club meeting so I recently skimmed it in preparation for our gathering. (Current dilemma: to serve pie or scones or something else altogether....)

The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. Ordered from Amazon because King wouldn't shut up about it. It's next up on my reading list (and it will be assigned reading for my older son, as well).

Crash-Proof Your Kids: Make Your Teen a Safer, Smarter Driver by Timothy C. Smith. Despite hating the title (sounds way too much like helicopter parenting and it contained a typo which does not inspire confidence), I ordered this one because my sister-in-law told me to. In a household bursting with new, and soon-to-be-new drivers, it's a fitting book to have laying around. The kids find it quite interesting. Even the nine-year-old has taken to reading sections out loud just because.

Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling. A breezy read.

Holes by Louis Sacher. This is what I'm reading out loud to the children. The younger two don't remember it, and my older daughter and husband are enjoying the repeat performance. (My son is excused to read other stuff since this book is way too familiar to him.) Also, at the kids' urging we've been reading some Edgar Allen Poe. It is October after all.

What the kids are reading: 
Older son: Into Thin Air by John Krakauer.
Older daughter: Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand.
Younger daughter: anything from The Dork Diaries by Rachel Renee Russell.
Younger son: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling.

What are you watching, listening to, and reading right now? Inspire me!

This same time, years previous: the business of school, the quotidian (10.29.12), how to bake a pie on the stovetop, and Go Obama!.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

reading-and-ice cream evenings

About a month ago I got this email from my father:

Sometimes I find material which I think the four kids would enjoy, but waiting for the spontaneous moment to read to them has proven elusive. Therefore, I propose a "reading and ice cream evening out." The setup could go something like this: Parent(s) bring progeny about 7:00 then may go on home or stay. I read for up to 60 minutes, during which time Shirley serves ice cream, followed by discussion/lounging for another 10 to 15 minutes. Unless parent(s) has stayed, I drive the kids home about 8:30. 

Of course I said yes. I'd have been a fool not to. And now Thursday evenings are reserved for stories and ice cream with the grands.

So far they have read "Nature Man" from Cruise of the Snark by Jack London, Ransom of Red Chief by O'Henry, To Build A Fire by Jack London (out by the fire pit, naturally), A Boy Named Sue, by Shel Silverstein, and "Wully, the Story of a Yaller Dog" from Wild Animals I Have Known by Ernest Thompson Seton.

Last Thursday when I dropped them off, I lingered. The kids immediately made a beeline for their seats (all except for my younger daughter who made a stop by the fridge, to check out the ice cream flavor of the night, I'm guessing). My dad took his seat in the red chair and began reading. At first the youngest had trouble settling—he kept popping up to fold and refold a blanket, and he and his sister had trouble sharing the sofa—but it wasn't too long before he had nestled into his spot and had the dreamy listening-to-a-story expression on his face.

My mother lit the watermelon candle and then set about dishing up the ice cream: mango, topped with a handful of their own handpicked wine berries. I snatched several pretzel rods from the bag and then slipped out the door and back to my quiet house where I showed my grumpy husband a series of funny home videos because the sourpuss man was in dire need of a laugh.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (10.27.14), the quotidian (10.28.13), the details, under the grape arbor, applesauce cake with cinnamon cream cheese frosting, garden tally 2009, and a pizza creation.