Tuesday, March 24, 2015

And Little Peepers Singing

 If March really comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, then send help because I'm still deep in the lion's den.

 It is by this time that I am well used to shortened school weeks, between the blizzards and Little Mister's with the colds and cough that never seem to completely go away. Muddy floors and cold nights, this is the winter that dragged on.

And on.

And on.

Let me just say that when the first crocus bloomed, I refused to believe it. Surely it was a fake or a fluke, or a blatant hallucination. Yes, I really thought all of these things for a few seconds.

It is the sounds of spring that bring back a cherished memory of one of my favorite childhood books. It had a line in it that I've retained in my heart for always. It is a verse that asks God to take care of all nature, animals, and "little peepers singing." Through my childhood I reflected on what exactly a peeper was; some sort of bird? A cricket? Something small, and vulnerable, in need of God's protection. Something with a mighty song.

I dug the book out, and reinforced the binding with tape, to survive a new generation. In the evening now I'm listening for those little peeping sounds as the snow melts and nature comes alive, having been protected by the Lord's hand through a brutal winter. 

Lately I've developed a fondness for my favorite childhood books, now that there is a child to share and appreciate them with me. There was one I recall about a penguin who hated the cold. He persevered and sailed off on an iceberg in search of a warmer climate. In the end, he finds it. You have to admire his tenacity.  Although it's been out of print for years, I was thrilled to find a copy in very good condition at a reasonable price. It's as much for my own enjoyment as for Little Mister.

One evening, it was after bath and before bed and sometime around sunset when Little Mister spotted his dad's worn Bible on a table and exclaimed, as only he could, that dad forgot his book. He extended his arm at the empty driveway to indicate that dad went to work and forgot his "dad book". He says it in the same matter of fact way that he calls a cup of coffee "mom cup." 

"Dat for you," he says, pointing at my mug.

Well yes, but someone has to caffeinated enough to stay up listening for those peepers, tucking them in with an old nostalgic book, and a prayer for protection over all of us who declare our fragility as we make a joyful noise.

Do you have a special book from your childhood that has never left your heart? I'd love to hear about it.

Rosemary & Olive Oil Focaccia 


This is a recipe that I adapted from a homemaking magazine. In some ways, it's my winter swan song since the cold killed my small rosemary bush. The good news is, in another month or so I'll be able to buy a new one and try again. It's well worth it if you enjoy rosemary as much as we like it.

1 Tablespoon yeast
1 1/4 cups warm water

1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp. sugar

Mix and let sit until foamy.

3 1/4 cups bread flour
1 tsp. salt
Rosemary, as needed

Mix and combine the yeast mixture with salt, flour, and and some finely chopped rosemary. Knead until it forms a ball. Cover with plastic wrap or a towel, and let it rest for an hour. After one hour, place the dough on a floured surface and flatten with your hand to remove air pockets. Grease a 9x13 pan with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and press the dough to fit the pan. (Note: I actually used parchment paper on top of the pan, with a light spray of olive oil.) Brush the bread with olive oil and sprinkle with coarse salt and rosemary. Let rise for 1 hour. 

Preheat oven to 400 and bake for 15 minutes.

This is an easy bread that goes great with a bowl of soup. I combined some olive oil with more rosemary for dipping. Also, I tested several flours and like occident (white bread flour) the best. 


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