Healthy Habits Wednesday

     Quarry work has kept me busy as I prepared a patch of Rough and Ready soil for our raspberry patch.  I used my compost screen to sift out rocks from the native soil.  I wheelbarrowed the rocks to wet spots on our driveways and other areas where soil had washed away.  On this project I am certain I moved a ton of rock.  I felt the benefit of using my body as a machine, sure it gets a bit sore, but it thrives enjoying good physical labor.  And to see the product of my hands in my patch that will continue to sprout more rocks is a just reward.  I have begun to look at my afternoon exercise as necessary therapy for my health and well being.  So many tasks of modern life are sedentary.

Fresh Food Tuesday

     Miner's Lettuce is growing in patches on our five acres and in our neighborhood.  Just picked, it's lovely added to a tossed green salad.  It also steams up nicely like spinach.  I chopped up some and added it to potato cakes the other night, and that was a nice spot of color.  It doesn't have a strong taste, but with its dark rich color, I'm sure it's vitamin packed.  It's like the shamrocks of the Sierra foothills, except they are round and like a lily pad.  It will come and it will go, I'm always finding new patches about.  The season is six to eight weeks.

GrandMuMMinG Monday

     Sleepovers.  What precious memories.  Grampa is impressed how my ear catches each sound and I bolt to attention ready to assure the cries of a precious one.  It's that "mom" hard wiring that is still present.  I love singing sweet songs like "Hush Little Baby" and rocking in the rocker like I did for so many hours as a mom and as a child.  An overstuffed rocker with a padded arm is essential.  My leg or my arm still drapes across that generous padding, my head cranes back.  A tiny tipping of my toe keeps our rhythm as we relax totally in the chair, bundled in a comforter or two.  When we rock now, I smile and remember what it felt like as my mom rocked me for countless hours, assuring me of her watch care and love.  I feel it, those moments over fifty years ago.  Judging that moment to rise and lay you down in your bed here at Grampa's and GrandMuM's is tricky.  A few trips back to the rocker may be in order, but that comfort of restful peace will come.  Then, I love the exuberance of morning.  I love sharing precious moments, usually over Grampa's pancakes, just us three.  

Zesty Friday

     Zesty conjures citrus today.  I remember making one of my very first lemon meringue pies over 30 years ago.  My grampa stopped by just as I was stirring on the stove and said, "My mom always added extra lemon juice."  The idea of "a little more" was born.  I'm still a pretty much "follow the recipe" kind of cook, but anytime orange juice, lemon or lime juice is listed, I add more and the zest too.  Last year's batch of homemade Gran Marnier relied on that essential orange zest.  Oh my, that was good stuff.  Zesty.  The tang of citrus keeps me from being totally committed to "local," Portlandia fans will have a chuckle here.  We've had hard frost the last two mornings, and snow in town.  When I think of citrus, I think Florida or Simi Valley or Fallbrook.  I don't even think I'd want to try a citrus tree in a pot here in Rough and Ready.