Snowed in

Last night the wind howled around our little cabin and sent showers of icy snow to cover road. Oliver got up in the middle of the night to save the big sled we use to transport groceries when the road is out. It had blown way down the lane, but he was able to tie it down and come back to bed.

We woke up to an overload of white, coating the walls of the house and covering the alder. The wind was still blowing, but not as fiercely and some ravens were making use of the updrafts to play. One had a stick, and Oliver and I joined the two cats at the window to watch in fascination as it repeatedly dropped and retrieved it midair. The other birds joined in, swooping and diving, moving the stick from claw to beak to claw. They were so obviously playing for the fun of it. I find ravens so interesting; they can mimic human speech and have such a huge capacity for learning.  Being the dork that I am, I spent a good part of the morning looking up info on ravens and other corvids online. Later we will brave the elements and try to bust out and make our way to town. I haven’t left the cabin for going on four days now! Time to remedy that.

To the left you can see the wall made last time (yesterday!) that Oliver cleared the snow. To the right, the obliterated road.

Beginning of the beginning

This blog is new. This blog is just beginning. I would like it to be fully formed and complete, to pop online with its message clear and purposeful, crisp mission statement in hand. 

But, alas, it is not. It is a muddled, mostly broken changeling of a blog. Broken isn’t the right word, because something must be whole first before it can be broken. So it is… in the process of being born. And being born is a very difficult and tumultuous endeavor. And let’s not even get started on the difficulties of growing, which is a process we all must go about after being born. Life is so difficult, even before it has fully begun. It is a wonder we get started at all. 

So let’s just sit back and watch a little movie. And please do try to stick with me here, in the beginning. Because of course (as the NeverEnding Story tells us) “In the beginning, it is always dark.”

Milk Toast

Milk toast is something I grew up with, a comfort food I thought most people would have had at some point or another. It wasn't until I went away for college that I realized no one else had any earthly idea what I was talking about when I mentioned milk toast. Really, how can you go wrong with toasted buttered homemade bread, hot milk, salt and pepper?

I have been craving some milk toast for awhile now, but was lacking the homemade bread to make it right. With a fresh loaf out of the oven this morning, my moment of bliss had arrived. I emailed my mom for some advice on how to make it perfect, as a google search for milk toast will get you nowhere fast. Her thoughts,

"For milk toast, I use milk and some canned milk and a little cream if I have it.  Really need real butter on the toast and salt and pepper.  That sounds so good.  I haven't had milk toast in years."

Milk Toast

Simply toast a thick slice or two of homemade bread. It also needs a nice slather of butter. While toasting and buttering, simmer your milk on the stove. I chose a good dose of canned milk and some cream that was handy. I also gave the milk/cream mix a generous amount of salt and pepper. Lay your toast on a plate, and pour the hot milk mixture over. Settle into the couch with some Downton Abbey on the TV, a cat on your lap, and enjoy!

 Crunchy yeasty crust, yielding to a hot melty milky middle. Perfection.