A Wonderful Time . . .

Greetings Everyone!

We arrived home, safe and sound, from our Austrian Holiday last evening, after almost 24 hour trip! Boy are we zonked! We had a truly wonderful time in this stunningly beautiful country. Clean, gorgeous and very friendly. I took some 300 + pictures, that I still have to vet and categorize, and the holiday is not over yet, as we are off to Broadstairs tomorrow to visit some friends for a few days! But fear not, I will have a complete travelogue for you at the end of it all.

In the meantime, here is a little teaser of some of what we experienced!




A really COMFY hotel room, which became our home away from home for the week that we were there. Lovely shower, much better than the one we have at home and beautiful views from the window of the gorgeous Austrian countryside!




A wonderful coach crew, that were helpful, very informative and wonderfully entertaining. This was Steve. (Note the cheeky grin! This fella was a real character!)




Gorgeous mountains and flowers . . . everywhere we looked!




Beautiful Baroque churches, filled with stained glass, gold, stunning statuary, gilt and gorgeous painted murals.




Gorgeous wooden chalet type houses, draped with stunning window boxes, just filled to the brim with beautifully coloured flowers.




Ardent admirers that dogged my every step . . . (It wouldn't have been so bad if I had the type of allure that attracted Bad Pitt look alikes, but . . . as you can clearly see . . . I'm not quite that alluring . . . )




Life sized Pinocchio's . . . . wait . . . . I think that's Todd getting all Austrian on me. (Note the hat!) Apparently the size of the feather on the hat has something to do with a Male's prowess with the females. Todd removed his before he was told that little bit of information and then promptly had to go out and buy another one to replace it, lest he be found as lacking in that department!



Wonderful new friends made on the coach. This lovely couple, (the two Phil's, Philomena and Philip) are Irish and hail from Blackpool. We really enjoyed their company and will be popping up to visit them and see the Blackpool Illuminations later this year!




Fantastic food . . . Bratwurst, Schnitzel . . .

And these totally delicious fruit dumplings, which I was fortunate enough to get the recipe for!




*Germknodel/Yeast Dumplings*
Serves 4
Printable Recipe

Todd had this one day for his lunch. It is a typical Austrian fruit filled dumpling, which they served nestled in a delicious pool of vanilla custard.

9 oz ( 1 cup and 1 TBS) flour
1/4 cup (2 oz) milk
1 oz fresh years or 1 TBS dried yeast, plus 1 tsp sugar
pinch salt
1 egg yolk
1 oz butter, softened
4 oz plum jam, 1 tsp rum
pinch cinnamon
2 oz ground poppy seeds
2 1/2 oz icing sugar, sifted
2 1/2 oz browned butter

Sift the flour into a large bowl. In separate bowl, blend lukewarm milk, yeast and sugar; add to flour. Add salt, egg yolk and soft butter. Beat with dough hooks until smooth. Cover and let rise in a warm place for about 45 minutes.

Mix plum jam with rum and cinnamon. Divide dough into 4 to 6 equal pieces. Put one teaspoon of prune filling in the middle of each piece, fold dough over filling and roll in floured hands to form dumplings. Let rise for 20 minutes. Simmer dumplings in salted water over low heat, turning after about 6 to 8 minutes. (total time 12 - 16 minutes) Drain gently, serve and place in bowls. Sprinkle with ground poppy seeds, and powdered sugar. Drizzle with browned butter.



Now, that, folks . . . is a really happy face!
(I'll be re-posting some of my inspirational thoughts from my old blog to fill in the time whilst we are away.)

Psst . . . and I did it all without gaining an ounce!!

The Concert

“The Concert”

“When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that the child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive

Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing."

Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience.

The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't recall what else the great master played. Only the classic, " Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

Perhaps that's the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't always graceful flowing music. However, with the hand of the Master, our life's work can truly be beautiful.

The next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You may hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit." "Keep playing."“

I found this story yesterday amongst the many bits and pieces I like to collect, thinking that they may come in handy one day. I don’t know how true it is really. I mean, how many mothers, in this day and age, would leave a child unattended anywhere?? Not many! However, I did love the sentiments it expressed about the voice of the “Master.”

It reminds me that, no matter what problems I may be facing in this life, or challenges . . . the Master is always with me, encouraging me, prodding me on, helping me to face the things I don’t have the courage or the strength to face all on my own.

With Him, “All things are possible,” and through Him “I can do all things.”

When I used to work at the Care Home I often went about my duties humming hymns beneath my breath and when nobody was about I often sang them out loud. They helped me to pass the time and reminded me constantly that, even if the job was not something that I wanted to be doing for the rest of my life, for the time being it was what I had to do, and I could do it to the Glory of God, and to please Him. It gave me the extra strength I needed to clean countless bathrooms and toilets and bedrooms in a place where it was not always the nicest place to have to do that sort of thing, and it helped me to be able to do it with a cheery disposition and a song in my heart. I think that was really important, as those people that lived in that home really needed people that were uplifting around them, not people who really wanted to be someplace else.

I can look back on quite a few times in my life where I can clearly see, in retrospect, the Master’s hands at work in my life and I can hear His voice clearly whispering in my ear. It is only when I ceased to listen that I ran in to trouble and my ship ran aground. Thankfully, He is the forgiving sort and has always been there to pick me up, no matter how many times I may have fallen!!!

What do you make for dinner when you’re totally lacking in time, inspiration and it’s getting near to the end of the month and your wallet is looking a bit slim??? Why . . . Tomato Dumplings of course! These are great as a side dish to almost anything or even great on their own, which is how we often have them. They’re totally delicious!

*Tomato Dumplings*

Serves 4-6 Printable Recipe

Lightly and fluffy and wonderfully savoury dumplings floating on a delicious sea of a robust and tasty tomato sauce. What’s not to like about these lovely taste tempting babies?

½ cup peeled and finely chopped onion

¼ cup finely chopped green pepper

¼ cup finely chopped celery

¼ cup butter

1 bay leaf, broken in half

28 ounces of tinned chopped tomatoes, in their juices, undrained

1 TBS soft light brown sugar, packed

½ tsp dried basil

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

For the Dumplings:

1 cup plain flour

1 ½ tsp baking powder

½ tsp of Italian garlic seasoning

1 TBS cold butter

1 TBS snipped fresh parsley

2/3 cup of milk

Melt the butter in a large skillet (with a lid) over medium high heat. Whenit begins to sizzle add the onion, pepper and celery. Cook, stirring, until they are tender. Add the bay leaf, tomatoes, brown sugar, basil, salt and pepper. Cover, reduce the heat, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes.

Make the dumplings as follows.

Whisk the flour, baking powder and garlic seasoning together in a bowl. Rub in the butter with your fingertips until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Stir in the parsley and then finally stir in the milk, mixing it only until mixed together and all the dry ingredients are uniformly moist.

Remove the lid from the simmering tomato mixture and drop the dumpling batter onto the top of the simmer liquid by tablespoonfuls. Cover tightly with a lid and simmer for another 10 to 15 minutes without peeking, until a toothpick inserted into one of the dumplings comes out clean and they look set and somewhat dry on top. Serve immediately, spooned out onto warm plates.

Mother's Maintenance Manual . . .

Many of us take better care of our cars then we do our mothers and yet we only expect our cars to last 5 or 6 years, but we expect our mothers to last for a lifetime. Maybe we need a maintenance manual for mothers so we would know how to take care of them at least as well as we do our automobiles. Here are some items that might be included in such a manual.

•Engine: A mother's engine is one of the most dependable kinds you can find. She can reach top speed from a prone position at a single cry from a sleeping child. But regular breaks are needed to keep up that peak performance. Mothers need a hot bath and a nap every 100 miles, a baby-sitter and a night out every 1,000 miles, and a live in baby-sitter with a one week vacation every 10,000 miles.

•Battery: Mother's batteries should be recharged regularly. Handmade items, notes, unexpected hugs and kisses, and frequent "I love you's" will do very well for a recharge.

•Carburetor: When a mother's carburetor floods it should be treated immediately with Kleenex and a soft shoulder.

•Brakes: See that she uses her brakes to slow down often and come to a full stop occasionally. (A squeaking sound indicates a need for a rest.)

•Fuel: Most mothers can run indefinitely on coffee, leftovers and salads, but an occasional dinner for two at a nice restaurant will really add to her efficiency.

•Chassis: Mothers run best when their bodies are properly maintained. Regular exercise should be encouraged and provided for as necessary. A change in hairdo or makeup in spring and fall are also helpful. If you notice the chassis begins to sag, immediately start a program of walking, jogging, swimming, or bike riding. These are most effective when done with fathers.

•Tune-ups: Mother need regular tune-ups. Compliments are both the cheapest and most effective way to keep a mother purring contentedly. If these instructions are followed consistently, this fantastic creation and gift from God, that we call MOTHER should last a lifetime and give good service and constant love to those who need her most.

My friend Elly, from Canada. makes the most delicious parsnips in the world. I love parsnips. It’s one of my favourite vegetables. I always add them to my stews and soups. They give a lovely flavour. And, to be honest, a roast dinner just wouldn’t be complete without some lovely roasted parsnips on the side. These, though, just have to be the most delicious version of parsnips a person could ever want to eat! Elly gave me permission to share them with you here. They go beautifully with Roast Pork!

*Parsnips With Gorgonzola*

Serves 4 - 6 Printable Recipe

This lovely recipe showcases perfectly the wonderful flavour of this lovely vegetable. The first time I made them, I was a bit afraid that the gorgonzola might be somewhat overpowering, but my fears were for naught, as the wonderful flavour of the cheese perfectly enhanced their delicious sweetness. This is the perfect combination.

6 parsnips, peeled (top and tail them as well)

2 TBS butter

2 spring onions, finely chopped (both green and white parts)

7 ounces of Gorgonzola cheese

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Pre-heat your oven to 230*C/500*F. Lightly grease a shallow casserole dish and set aside.

Put the prepared parsnips into a pot of lightly salted boiling water and cook them for 15 to 20 minutes until they are just knife tender. (Leave them whole for now)

When they are tender, drain them well and then cut them in half lengthwise down the middle with a sharp knife.

Melt the butter in a large skillet. Once it is hot and foaming (be careful not to burn it) lay the parsnips in, cut side down and lightly brown them, turning them over once they are browned sufficiently and browning the other side. Remove to the casserole dish as they are browned, placing them in top to tail so as to fit them snugly together, cut sides up.

Once you have all the parsnips browned and in the dish, tear up the gorgonzola cheese and scatter it evenly over the top of the parsnips and then finally sprinkle with the chopped onions. Grind fresh black pepper over the top to taste.

Place the dish into the heated oven and bake for about 1o to 12 minutes until the cheese is bubbly and lightly browned. Serve and enjoy!

Romancing The Present . . .

“There is only the moment. The now. Only what you are experiencing at this second is real. This does not mean you live for the moment. It means you live the moment.” ~Leo Buscaglia

“We all cling to the past or long for the future, making us unavailable to the present.” ~Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

How many of us do that . . . spend our days thinking about what we are going to do when our ship comes in or dreaming about the summer holiday that is awaiting us several months ahead, or worse yet . . . worrying about what is going to happen in the future if this or that takes place??? When we spend all our days worrying about or worshipping what may or may not be tomorrow, or in regret of the past or what has already been, we risk losing our today.

I may look like a dawdler when I walk to and home from work each day. I walk rather slowly, and I try to take in each moment of the journey, each step of the way. My eyes and ears are ever alert to all that is happening around me. Nothing escapes my watchfulness and my life has been blessed tenfold by the observation of something even as minute as a small feather caught up in a branch of the hedgerow which borders the small lane that leads down to our cottage. If I listen very carefully I often can hear a woodpecker off in the distance hammering away and indeed, it will not be long now before I hear the distant tell tale sound of the cuckoo, which really heralds the arrival of spring.

I breathe in the air about me. Some days it smells fresh and clean, especially after a rain . . . other’s there is the tell tale smell of wood smoke in the air, especially if it has been a cold night . . . then I know that they have had a fire burning in one of the many fireplaces up at the big house, and I think to myself . . . how wonderful.

As I walk home in the dusk at the end of a day, I can hear the birds twittering away as they get ready to bed down for the night. I can almost hear the mother birds cajoling the wee ones into the nest, nagging and making sure that they have brushed their teeth and taken their baths before they settle in. Oh, I know that is a fanciful thought, and that birds really don’t have teeth, but I do like to imagine it so. Sometimes on a summer night the air is filled with the whoosh of bats as they come out in the dusk, playing out their magical aerial ballet over my head . . . their day is only beginning as ours is starting to wane. I love to look up at the darkening sky and see the branches of the trees in relief against it. It is a pattern that changes with the seasons . . . right now it is all bare branches and the odd errant dry leaf . . . leftover from the autumn, dry and wrinkled and stubborn. Soon it will be unfurling buds and then a cacophony of leaf. They make such pretty patterns against the dusky sky. The colours of the sky are magical ranging from deep purple to reds and golds, all depending on the day we have had.

I guess it is age that has taught me to relish every moment and squeeze it for all the delight that it holds . . . even the tears. Although I am not a really old woman yet, I am old enough to know the sting of regret and the pain of should have’s and did not’s. You cannot change the past, nor can you predict the future. All we have is the here and the now . . . and if you make the here and the now the very best that you can . . . if you be the very best person that you can be right now . . . if you make the very wisest choices and decisions that you can make today . . . if you cherish every moment for what it is and who it is and where it is . . . then the future will take care of itself.

Let it be. . . Live now.

"Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” ~Matthew 6:25-26

Here’s a tasty dish that is not only delicious but very low in fat and calories. This is for all you people out there who are watching their weight!

*Barbeque Pork With Mop Sauce*

Serves 6 Printable Recipe

Wonderfully lean pork filet covered in a deliciously spicy rub and then roasted in the oven just until done, so that it is moist and flavourful, this dish is a real winner. I love the tangy spiciness of the sauce which accompanies it. Any leftovers make a delicious hot sandwich when shredded and heated in any leftover sauce.

2 TBS dark soft brown sugar

1 TBS paprika

1 TBS mild chili powder

1 ½ tsp ground cumin

1 tsp salt

¼ tsp cayenne pepper

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 pork tenderloin fillets (1 ½ pounds), trimmed of all visible fat

For the Sauce:

1/3 cup tomato ketchup

¼ cup cider vinegar

2 TBS molasses

2 tsp Worcestershire sauce

Pre-heat your oven to 230*C/450*F. Line a baking tray with foil and spray it with cooking spray. Set aside.

Combine the brown sugar, paprika, chili powder, cumin, salt, cayenne and pepper in a bowl. Mix well. Rub half of the mixture into and all over the pieces of pork. Let stand for 15 minutes.

At the end of the 15 minutes rub the pork with the remaining spice mixture. Place on the baking tray and bake it in the oven for about 30-35 minutes, until just done. (this all depends on the thickness of your pork. It may take longer or shorter time) The end result will be beautifully moist pork, just pink in the middle, which is perfectly acceptable. ( Any more done than that and it is too dry. Most people overcook their pork) A meat thermometer will register an internal temperature of 71*C/160*F.

Make the sauce while the pork is roasting. Combine the sauce ingredients in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat, then turn the heat down to very low and keep it warm while the meat cooks.

Remove the meat from the oven and let it rest for about 10 minutes before cutting into 12 thickesh slices. Serve with the sauce.

I am a Child of God

“There is something about spirituality that is central to the life of a woman. Not the kind of spirituality that only takes you to church on Sunday. I am talking about the kind of spirituality that makes you behave like a child of God.” ~Marjorie Pay Hinckley

I think most people would concede that we have a spirit, even if some might say that there is no God. I wonder then, where do they think our spirits come from, if not from God, but then again, that’s a whole different question and topic.

I can remember, as a small child, sitting in a chair and looking at my hand. Around the outside of it I could see a glow, an aura . . . and I can remember thinking to myself, that’s my spirit. Even today, when I look at my hand I can see the same thing. My spirit still looks the same to me now as it did to me back then. It’s the very essence of my being, the part of me that makes me, well . . . Me! It’s the part of me that comes from God. My parents here on earth gave me my body, that part of me which will one day die and be no more, but it’s God, my Heavenly Father who gave me my spirit, the part of me that was with him before I came to earth, the part of me that he breathed into my body at my earthly conception and the part of me that will leave my body when my body is no more. My spirit is that part of me that is eternal and will go on forever in one place or another. I knew that even as a child. It was not something anyone had to ever tell me.

Knowing that you are a literal child of God makes a big difference in how you think of yourself and how you behave in and of yourself and towards others, because, let’s face it . . . if I am a child of God, then so are you and so is everyone else here on this earth. We don’t just happen to all know it. I think if we did, we’d all be behaving in a much different way, and earth would be a completely different place . . .

This is a precious knowledge to me. When I look in the mirror every morning yes . . . I see the me that is getting older, a few more wrinkles around the eyes, those extra pounds that I have to lose, grey hairs appearing at my temples . . . I also see the me that shines out from behind my eyes and that me is not any older than I was when I came here to earth. I still feel the same way inside that I did when I was sixteen or six, except I like to think I am a whole lot wiser now. All my experiences here have taught me things I did not know before and I continue to learn and experience new things every day.

I hope that most of the time I behave like a daughter of God, a daughter he would not be ashamed to call his own. I know that once in a while I fall down and I must disappoint him, and probably at some times more than others, but I like to think that as I get older and experience more, learn more, those moments become far and fewer between. I hope that when people look at me and watch the things that I do they see a difference and that they see a good person, that they see a reflection of my Heavenly Father and all that is good about people, and the good things they can do.

I am far from perfect, and I still have a long ways to go to be the person that I truly want to be. But with each day that passes I get closer and that’s a good thing. I see so many people around me struggling with the problems of life, and in the struggle to find their place in it, and I’m so glad that I have this knowledge of who I am and why I’m here. It makes things so much easier, and it helps me to feel so much better about myself. How can you not love someone you know is a daughter of God? How can you not respect them? That is how I feel about me, and how I feel about each of you. When I see a young girl struggling to find herself in this crazy world, someone like Britney Spears for instance, my heart breaks and I think to myself, if she only knew who she was, what a difference that might make in her life, in the way she behaves and the things that she does. Instead they have bought into the hype of the world, which tells them who they ought to be and they measure their worth on a scale of unrealistic proportions and distorted opinion, instead of trusting on that quite still voice inside which will tell them who they really are and what they're really worth. . . if they would only be still enough to listen and wise enough to hear.

We are not here by accident. There is a purpose to all of this and to these lives that we live. I am so blessed to know that. I wish everyone did.

I was so tired yesterday when we got home from church. I could have slept for England. I expect it was that “all-nighter” catching up on me. I often struggle several days later and find myself so bone tired I can hardly move and so it was with me yesterday. All my plans for cooking Todd a full Sunday lunch went out the window and all I could manage was this, which was quick to put together. Not the best picture in the world, but . . . it is mighty delicious, all the same!

*Chili Dog Pizza*

Makes 1 12-inch pizza Printable Recipe

All kids love this, both big and small. It’s very easy and quick to put together, and oh so very delicious! All you need is a tossed salad on the side to make your meal complete.

1 ½ cups plain flour

2 TBS caster sugar

2 tsp baking powder

¼ tsp cream of tartar

¼ tsp salt

¼ cup vegetable shortening (such as Crisco, Trex or White Flora)

½ of a beaten egg

¾ cup of milk

1 (410g) tin of chili with beans (as spicy as you like)

½ of a package of frankfurters, thinly sliced

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

To serve:

½ medium onion, peeled and finely chopped

Mustard

Pre-heat the oven to 205*C/425*F. Lightly grease a large baking sheet or a 12 inch pizza pan and set aside.

Place the flour, sugar, baking powder, cream of tart and salt in a bowl and mix well together. Cut the shortening in with two knifes or a pastry blender until it resembles bread crumbs. Mix the egg and the milk together with a fork and then stir it into the dry mixture, mixing with the fork until a soft dough forms. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead it a few times.

Pat the dough into a 12 inch circle with a slightly raised edge on the prepared baking sheet. Alternatively pat it into the pizza pan to fit. It’s important that you make a raised edge on it so that the filling doesn’t spill out over the edge of the pizza.

Spread the chili evenly over the crust. Sprinkle the cheese over top and then scatter the hot dog slices over top.

Bake in the heated oven for 20 to 25 minutes until the crust is nicely browned and done on the bottom and the chili is hot and the cheese is melted and bubbly and the hotdogs are starting to brown a bit.

Remove from the oven and let sit for about 5 minutes before cutting into slices to serve. I like to scatter the chopped onion over top and drizzle my piece with some mustard for that real chili dog experience!

Dreams . . .

Dream . . . . Dream often . . . . Dream Big . . . .

I don’t think there’s a person alive who hasn’t had one, doesn’t have one and won’t have one . . . a dream that is! Something wished for, hoped for, some aspiration. We’ve all got ‘em.

I’ve always been a dreamer. As a child, my daylight hours were filled with imaginations of things I wanted to do, see, have . . . some of them quite realistic, other’s so far out of my reach that I could never have possibly achieved them. But dreams are dreams, and dreams are hope, and hope springs eternal.

What little girl does not dream of becoming a ballerina, nurse, teacher . . . very few I would think, although today, it’s more likely that they dream of becoming a pop star, film star, model . . . I don’t think very many young people today have realistic ideals, and we can largely blame the media and shows on the telly like Pop Idol for that. Still . . . They have a dream and who can blame them for that.

When I was a child, all I seriously ever wanted to do was to grow up and become a wife, mother and homemaker. I didn’t really aspire to much beyond that, except that I also wanted to be a writer, and you could do that at home, so it really fitted in with the life I wanted to live. I didn’t want to become famous. I only wanted to write words that people wanted to read, words that drew people to them, words that wove a spell in people’s hearts like the words I so loved to read myself.

I started to write my first novel when I was nine. I borrowed a friend’s typewriter. It was the type of children’s typewriter that had a plastic dial in the centre with all the letters on it and you had to turn the dial to whatever letter you wanted and then press down on it for the letter to go onto the paper. Very laborious indeed. It did not take me very long to lose interest in that exercise. Writing in long hand was a lot quicker and more satisfying.

I wrote anything and everything, poems, short stories, plays . . . anything that came to my fertile and very active mind. I wish that I still had some of those writings. They’ve all been lost through the years. About all I still have are some prayer journals that I have kept through the years, and a paper I wrote at university on poetry, which includes several pieces of my own poetry. They are almost embarrassingnow, or maybe that’s just naturally the way it is for people when they read their own writing. I can never read something I’ve written, without wanting to change it in some way . . . improve it, enhance it. I finally just have to walk away from it or the fiddling would go on forever, and I think that sometimes if you mess with something too much, you can ruin it in the end. Most of the time, I just leave things as they are after a few read through’s, and it takes a real effort to leave it at that. (for instance I’ve gone back and changed this paragraph about six times now, just now adding this last sentence! Make that seven. )

I carry a pen, notepad and my camera with me just about everywhere I go. I am always jostling down notes to myself, ideas for future stories, little poems, stories to share with what were once my children and now my grandchildren, titles of books and stories I would love to write . . . Inspiration comes to me in many shapes and forms. It could be a lone feather caught up on a leaf of the holly bush outside our gate, or a round smooth pebble that suddenly appears on the pathway, that I just know was not there before, a hole in the trunk of a tree that invites a story being told about who might live there and what happened next . . . I’m the same way with my camera. I am always seeing a picture that needs to be taken, each picture holding a story of it’s own. You don’t know how many times I have seen something wonderful and regretted not having my camera with me, as without capturing it in the lens of my camera’s eye, the sight is then gone forever. The other evening when I was at work, as I was dusting in the conservatory, I looked out the window to see the most beautiful sunset I have seen in a long time, and in the next moment I was disappointed for I had forgotten to bring my camera with me when I came to work that day. Lesson learned, for I’ll not forget it again. (Todd calls me Mrs. Canitakeaphoto. )

I do think that I’ve achieved my childhood dreams and aspirations for the most part. I have been a wife, no less than three times, and am hoping that this time I’ve finally gotten it right! I raised a family of lovely children, who have grown up to become pretty special adults, and are now becoming parents themselves. I took care of a home for many years and still do, although, now that I work full time, Todd mostly bears the responsibility of the “making” in our home. (and he thought he was retired!!) I may notbe published, but I am a writer and people do read my words and hopefully gain some measure of joy and pleasure from doing so, however small. Words just fall out day after day, and I could no more prevent that from happening than I could stop my breath from coming in and out of my chest. It’s as natural to me as that.

I still have dreams though. I’d love to go to Tuscany and sit under a tree, amidst poppies in the setting Tuscany sun, and allow it’s fading warmth to bathe my face in it’s glory. I’d one day like to have a small place that I could call my own, that doesn’t belong to anyone else, with climbing roses on either side of the doorway and a stone garden path to the front gate. I’d love to see my words in print . . . on paper . . . In a book, written and tangible proof that I am what I feel I am, and to be able to run my fingers across my name on the dust jacket, slightly raised like Braille beneath my fingertips. I want my parents and children to be proud of me and what I’ve achieved, and to know that I have pleased them, and that I do please them. When I move on from this plane of existence, I want to leave something of worth behind for future generations, some mark on the world that tells people that I was here, that I was real and that I counted for something. Something that they can treasure and that will still be making a difference in someone’s life long after I have gone. I guess that is any writer’s dream . . . and so, I dream . . .

This is a tasty soup that is so easy to make and so delicious once it’s done. I made it Saturday night for our lunch on Sunday when we came home from church. With a toasted cheese sandwich on the side, it was absolutely lovely and very satisfying.

*Roasted Root Vegetable Soup*

Serves 4 Printable Recipe

With a few vegetables from your vegetable drawer and a little bit of stock you can have a delicious meal on your table in no time at all. It will taste as if you have slaved over a stove all day, but really all you’ve done is peel a few veg . . . who knew?

1 pounds carrot, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 pound parsnips, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

2 TBS olive oil

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 ½ litres of hot vegetable stock (approximately)

Olive oil to drizzle on top

Pre-heat your oven to 205*C/425*F. Put all of your prepared vegetables onto a large shallow baking tray. Drizzle the olive oil over all and season with some salt and black pepper. Using your hands, stir them around a bit to make sure that they are all coated and seasoned. Put the tray into the oven and roast the vegetables for about 45 minutes, until tender, and starting to brown in a few places. Give them a stir about half way through. Remove them from the oven and put them into a large saucepan. Add the vegetable stock and then give it all a good blitz with your stick blender until the mixture is smooth. You may need more or less. You don't want it to be just a vegetable puree, you want it to be a soup. (Alternatively put them into a blender or food processor and carefully blitz them until smooth.) Place over medium heat until well heated through. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed. Serve in heated bowls with a drizzle of olive oil on the top if desired.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star . . .

“If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and adore.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Are you the type of person that marvels at the stars? Or are you the type that takes them for granted? Myself, I am a star marveler, but it seems to me that they are not as many or as bright as they were when I was a child.

Mind you, that could be because of where I live. Down here in the South East of England, although my particular area is quite rural, there is a vast population, so there is probably too much light pollution to be able to see a lot of the stars with any clarity.

I can remember though, when I was a young girl in Southern Manitoba, being able to look at the night time sky and it being literally peppered with stars and constellations. As first a Brownie, and then a Girl Guide, I studied the stars and earned merit badges. I could have told you one constellation from the other at that time, and I would have also been able to guide myself home just by looking at them, so well were they known to me. Now I think I can just manage to pick out the big dipper and the small dipper, and maybe even the Milky Way, but I cannot remember what the others are.

Stars are magical things. Throughout the history of mankind they have both mystified and mesmerized. At one time they were the only instruments available to use for navigating the seas and the land. On a clear night, when I look up at the night time sky I often think to myself, these stars have been here forever. These are the same stars that Magellan looked at when sailed his ship around the world, and they are the same stars that were hanging in the sky when Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 and discovered the Americas. That same milky way that I studied as a girl is the same milky way that I marvel at as an adult.

When someone has done a particularly good job or pleased us in an astonishing way we call them a “Star” and who hasn’t wanted to be the “Star Pupil” of the school. What little girl has not dreamed of one day becoming a “Movie Star” or “Pop Star”. Indeed, the walkway down Hollywood Boulevard is filled with hundreds of bronze stars commemorating the rich and famous elite of Hollywood set down into the pavement, and mere mortals can walk where “Stars“ have walked before them.

There is a measure of comfort to be found from the stars when you are separated from loved ones, for you can look up to the heavens and think to yourself that hundreds or even thousands of miles away your loved ones can be looking up at the same night time sky and seeing the very same stars, at the very same time. Its magical.

It was a star that announced his birth and led the Wise Men to the foot of the Saviour over two thousand years ago, and I would imagine it was by the light of the stars that Joseph and Mary escaped into Egypt with him a short time later.

Poems and stories and songs have been written about stars, too countless to list, and many a wish has been voiced and set upon the first star of the evening by many a hopeful soul, perhaps since the beginning of time.

When I lived in Southern Ontario for a number of years, right at the base of the Georgian Bay, we used to sit out in our back garden on late summer evenings and watch the stars over head. They were so clear there and the sky was literally peppered with them. You could see millions of them up there twinkling down and every so often you could even see a satellite moving overhead on it’s silent trip through the night sky.

It’s amazing to me that something that is millions and billions of miles away can still be seen by me here on earth, and I have often marvelled at the sight of a falling star streaking across the sky. Each year in August I tell myself I am going to stay awake until very late at night and watch the meteor showers, but each night I am too tired to do so. I know that technically these are not stars, but I marvel at the thoughts of seeing them just the same.

I hope that I am never the kind of person that cannot stop to hope and marvel at the sight of the stars or find the magic there. To me, they are just another proof that we have a God who cares, and they help me to wonder at his wisdom and majesty . . .

Today, I leave you with this delicious recipe. I made this for our supper one night this week. Todd had never had it before but thought it to be quite delicious and I found myself wondering why I don’t make it more often . . .

*Beef Stroganoff*

Serves 6 Printable Recipe

Who wouldn’t love tender strips of beef in a light and tangy mushroom sauce? Named after a nineteenth century Russian count, this dish was very popular in the 1960’s and 1970’s. I really think it should have a revival because it is really very, very good, and quite easy to make. Impressive enough for company! I like to serve this with steamed white rice or buttered noodles.

2 pounds beef round steak trimmed of all fat and cut into 2 by ½ inch strips (across the grain)

Salt and black pepper to taste

Garlic powder to taste

2 TBS vegetable oil

2 large onions, peeled and chopped

¾ pound of fresh mushrooms, wiped clean and sliced

2 cups beef broth

1 ½ cups sour cream

Season the steak strips with some salt and pepper and a sprinkle of garlic powder. Heat a large skillet over medium high heat and add the oil. When it is hot add the steak strips and cook for a minute or two, just until they are no longer pink. Reduce the heat and add the onions. Cook, stirring often, over low heat for four or five minutes. Stir in the mushrooms and cook for a few minutes, and then stir in the beef broth just to barely cover the meat. You may not need to use it all. Pop a cover on the pan and simmer over low heat for 35 to 45 minutes until the meat is very tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning if required.

Whisk in the sour cream and allow to heat through without boiling. Serve at once with some hot steamed white rice or buttered noodles, and a green vegetable on the side.

Note - This is a repost of one of my muses from my old page on AOL, Marie's Muses. I will be posting some of my better ones in the coming week while I am away on holidays.

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