Since It's Still Snowing- A Look Back At WinterFest 2013

Bayfield is in far northern Wisconsin and it snows, a lot, here. This year has been particularly snowy and as I sit here, on April 18th, it's still snowing. I was going through my pictures this week and realized I completely missed all these great shots from WinterFest in the beginning of March. It's a weekend full of running, scrambling and plunging outside, in the cold. Since we are expecting another 10 or so inches in the next couple of days, I thought a look back at when winter was still young and impish might be fun.

Will and Sadie polar plunged this year— Will with the ski team and Sadie with the volleyball team.

After the plunge, we headed up to Ashwabay for the WinterDash, a 5K obstacle course. I participated in the inaugural Dash but after having my hind-end handed to me on a platter, I volunteered this year (and make pumpkin bread for the hearty souls who stopped by my obstacle). Julie has a great blog post about 2012 festivities, read all about it here.

Gnomes were a theme (not too sure of the significance, ask Pete) and Will made a new friend.

I rode the chair lift to the top without incidence, I forgot how beautiful it is looking down from a chair suspended on a cable without seat belts.

Meg and her friends spent the day skiing while the Dashers were dashing. What's better than a gang of smiling girls on skis?

Pure joy.

The Drop was the obstacle that brought me to my knees last year— you walk straight up a very steep hill in deep snow. At least it's a killer view when you get to the top (assuming you're not flat on your back and still standing).

One of the many reasons I love Mt Ashwabay, little kids skiing by themselves. I know the term 'family friendly' is tired but it's true at the hill. It's a great place to learn a lifelong skill and memories of a sweet little ski hill with breath taking views of Lake Superior will stay with all those little ones who learned to ski at Ashwabay forever.

The view from the top.

Julie and Will were my companions for the Winter Dash adventure.

Some shots of the Dashing action and Dasher attire (and wigs).

And there was pumpkin bread, a little snack for the Dashers as they came by for some water.

Pumpkin and Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus more for the pan
1 ¾  cups all-purpose flour
½ tsp fine salt
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
¼ tsp ground allspice
¼ tsp ground cloves
½ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 ½ cups sugar
1 ¼ cup vegetable oil
Scant 1 cup canned pumpkin purée
2 large eggs

Preparation
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 9-inch loaf pan. Whisk together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and cloves in a small bowl. Beat the butter, sugar, and oil on high-speed in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl a few times, until light and fluffy, about 1 minute. Add the pumpkin purée and mix until combined. Add the eggs, one at a time, and mix until just incorporated. Mixing on low-speed, slowly add the flour mixture and 2/3 cup water and mix until just combined. Spread the batter into the prepared pan and bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes. Let cool in the pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Remove from the pan and let cool completely

Snow Storms & Roasted Chickens

It's snowing again, the second snow storm this week. I think it's changing to sleet because I hear a tap, tap, tap on the windows and about an hour ago, there was a green flash outside and our lights flickered— thunder snow. April has a bag of tricks up her sleeve and I can only hope sunshine and something green is on the itinerary. While it seems this is the winter without end, I still get excited (even in April) when I hear the term 'winter weather advisory' or better yet, 'winter storm warning'. It feels like Christmas Eve— checking for the first snowflakes, listening to the wind whistle through the pines, checking the radar online and discussing the chances of a snow day with Charlie and Meghan. I plan on enjoying every bit of this last (hopefully) snowstorm. It never snows in June, right?

Like most things in my life, everything eventually ends up in the kitchen and once the snow starts falling, I start planning what to make for dinner. A snow storm meal needs to meet a few criteria: butter or duck fat is crucial, preferably roasted in the oven and must make the house smell divine. When I was in Minneapolis, I went grocery shopping at Byerly's— I love a good grocery store like Carrie Bradshaw loved Manolo Blahniks. Walking into Byerly's (or Lund's or Kowalski's) makes me so happy. It feels a little like a treasure hunt— I never know what I'm looking for but I know it's going to be just what I need to find. I wander around aimlessly (driving every sane person with a list, a plan and a restless two-year old strapped in the cart completely nuts) until BAM, inspiration strikes and I know what I'm making for dinner.

When I saw the Smart Chicken roasters in the cooler, I almost did a little dance. It was my favorite chicken when we lived in Woodbury and I'm telling you, air chilled chicken really does taste better than chicken chilled with water. It is the juiciest, most tender chicken available commercially. I've been on a preserved lemon kick lately (I'm craving something yellow and sunny looking since the sun is on hiatus) and I'd just been to Bill's Imports so I had capers, lemon thyme and Moroccan olives in the fridge, waiting for a chance to be useful. I mixed up a batch of Moroccan compound butter, put the chickens in the oven and met all three criteria of my snowstorm dinner criteria in one fell swoop. It was perfect.

Moroccan Roasted Chicken

1 whole chicken, preferably organic
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup preserved lemons, rinsed and chopped
1/4 cup Moroccan olives, pits removed and chopped
1/8 cup salted capers. rinsed and chopped
2 tbsp harissa 1 tbsp fresh rosemary, chopped
2 tbsp lemon thyme, chopped
Kosher salt and pepper

Preparation
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Combine the butter, lemon, olives, capers, rosemary, thyme and harissa and set aside. Loosen the skin around the breasts, legs and thighs and spread the compound butter under the skin. Spread any remaining butter on the outside of the skin, season with salt and pepper and place in a roasting pan. Put the chicken in the oven and roast at 450 degrees for 15 minutes, reduce the temperature to 350 degrees and continue to roast until the breast reaches 165 degrees (about 45 - 60 minutes). Let the chicken rest, uncovered, for 10 minutes then carve and serve.

Three Days In April

You wouldn't know it if you looked out the window but it's April 14th today. We had a good, old-fashioned winter storm this week (10 inches of snow and howling wind) and I took these pictures over the course of three days to document our crazy April weather. We have another winter weather advisory posted for 3 - 5 additional inches of snow tonight— I can't believe the 4th of July is less than 3 months away!

April 9th and the storm is coming.

April 10th and the storm is here.

April 11th and the ice is gone and open water (and Canadian Geese) are back.

A Snowy Walk To The Sugarbush

Spring officially starts on Wednesday but you wouldn't know it by looking outside, there is a lot of snow on the ground (and more on the way tomorrow).  Last year, the kids were at the beach in their swimsuits (check it out here). What a difference a year makes.

The Bayfield Regional Conservancy hosted a Full Moon Luminary cross-country ski out the Nourse Sugarbush at the end of January and the kids and I signed up for a little night skiing adventure. We skied the Sugarbush Trail, lit with luminaries, in a light snowfall— I remember thinking I needed to imprint that night in my brain, it was absolutely magical. When Will, Sadie and I were looking for a photo safari destination, I knew just the spot. A hike out to the sugarbush while there was still snow on the ground was just as magical in the daylight.

According to the Bayfield Regional Conservancy website, 'For hundreds of years, the sugarbush was a spring destination for Ojibwe people, who were the first to tap those maple trees for producing maple syrup. Slash marks from those days are still evident on the oldest trees.  The Nourse family has continued the tradition since the 1920’s.  A small cabin (c. 1920) and tin storage shed used for maple syrup production still exist on the property and are used for annual sugaring operations by the Nourse Family who retained lifetime rights to harvest syrup'. Walking among the old growth maples, before they were tapped, was the perfect way to recognize the passing of winter into spring. Although, I bet we have a couple more snowfalls in our future before 'real' spring settles in for good— this is Northern Wisconsin, after all.

A Sassy Nanny Birthing Day

'Two goats working on it. Come when you can if you want to witness a birth!'. It's not every day I get a text like that and I wasn't about to miss my chance to experience the miracle of birth as a spectator, not an active participant. I have eaten pounds of Michael's goat cheese and even taken pictures at his farm (read about it here) but I've never attended the birth of baby goats (or anything else for that matter). I grabbed a bottle of champagne (to celebrate the little ones), Tom Kha Gai soup for lunch and bones for Zuzu and Rex, jumped in the car and went off to my very first goat midwifery experience.

You'd think a woman who delivered five 10 pound babies would be an old hand at the birth game, not true. I took one look at the two girls, Lena and Donatella, getting ready to usher their little ones into the world and felt like Prissy in Gone With The Wind when she said, 'Lawdy, Miss Scarlett, I'se don't know nothin' 'bout birthin babies'. Thank God, Michael knows a whole lot about birthing babies and he delivered each one with a sense of hard-won, calm competence. Watching the babies enter this world and literally come to life in front of my eyes filled me with a sense of wonder I haven't felt since I met my own babies for the first time all those years ago.

As we were waiting for Donatella's second boy to arrive, her first decided to stretch his legs and stand up. Michael said he was one of the biggest babies he's seen and he was easily double the size of Lena's boy. He was only about 45 minutes old when he took his first unsteady steps towards Mama— a Herculean feat and so incredibly tender at the same time. It was nothing short of miraculous, witnessing the beginning of four new lives in Michael's barn.

Lena's last baby, a girl, entered this world with a nearly showstopping manuever; she had her head tucked under her back leg which caused a tremendous amount of chaos. Michael tried to grab ahold of her legs but she was good and stuck. I started to get a little panicked but he kept his cool, methodically working to free her head. Time seemed to stand still while Michael tried to get her straightened out (it probably was no more than 3 or 4 minutes) and we all breathed a sigh of relief when the little Miss lifted her head and looked around.

I walked outside to gather myself after the last baby was born. It was an intense afternoon for a woman who up to this point had a) fainted at the sight of blood and b) hated the smell of amniotic fluid— not the most logical choice for a birthing day companion. I stood outside in the sunlight and looked around at all the life Michael has ushered into the world and the lyrics from a 10,000 Maniacs song popped in my head. It was the perfect theme song for a beautiful afternoon spent with a good friend and his goats.

These Are Days10,000 Maniacs

These are the days These are days you’ll remember Never before and never since, I promise Will the whole world be warm as this And as you feel it, You’ll know it’s true That you are blessed and lucky It’s true that you Are touched by something That will grow and bloom in you

These are days that you’ll remember When May is rushing over you With desire to be part of the miracles You see in every hour You’ll know it’s true That you are blessed and lucky It’s true that you are touched By something that will grow and bloom in you

These are days These are the days you might fill With laughter until you break These days you might feel A shaft of light Make its way across your face And when you do Then you’ll know how it was meant to be See the signs and know their meaning It's true Then you’ll know how it was meant to be Hear the signs and know they’re speaking To you, to you

We Booked It Across The Bay

I can add another event with a 'K' in it to my résumé— this time it was a 10K ski 'race' across the bay between Ashland and Washburn. We were new to the whole 'booking it across the bay' event and I was excited for all of it (I had a bottle of champagne and a container of gorgonzola crackers cued up for a mid-ski snack) until I heard there was a bus ride involved. To say I'm not a fan of small spaces filled with people would be an enormous understatement and the added component of skis everywhere in the small space was enough to send me skiing back to Bayfield. I tried to suck it up and keep my claustrophobia in check but as we got closer to Washburn, doubt started to creep in my anxious little brain (it didn't help I managed to get the car stuck in a snow bank trying to park...I'm not the best driver).

As luck would have it, we were walking down the street to queue up for the dreaded bus ride and the most spectacular thing happened— an empty bus pulls up alongside of us and the bus driver asked if we wanted to get on (before the other 200 or so people in line). We answered with a resounding 'hell yeah', Jack and I grabbed the front seat (near the door) and away we went, not a hint of claustrophobia to be found. It was shaping up to be the best night of skiing across the lake, ever.

Of course, there were puppets at the start— a wolf and a polar bear. A little bit of whimsy before we set off on our epic night ski across the lake.

There were a lot of people at the start and we made sure to stay in the back. I think the fastest person finished in 23 minutes, our crew finished somewhere around the 3 hour mark. Not too shabby for a group of inexperienced Dougherty skiers and a 6-year-old Jackson. We were so far in the back, I'm not sure how the start of the race was announced but we made our way to the lake about 6:05 and started our trek towards the first rest stop.

There were quite a few people in the back with us. In fact, there were quite a few people everywhere— 3500 skiers, snowshoers and walkers signed up to book across the bay. It was a beautiful start— the sky was lit up with the remnants of sunlight, the moon and stars were just starting to reveal themselves and the seemingly unending line of twinkling luminaries spread out in front of us.

There were rest stops every kilometer with water, cookies, apple cider (adult and kid flavored) and bonfires to warm our getting colder by the minute fingers, faces and bodies. It was really cold out— about zero degree by the time we crossed the finish line.

One of the rest stops had a bonfire and a fire breathing dragon— it was seriously impressive.

We finished with smiles on our faces, frost in our hair and lots of good memories of our first book across the bay.

The Many Faces At The Sled Dog Races

Julie and Caroline raced in the Apostle Islands Sled Dog Race this year and I was the official dog petter/photographer of the Buckles/Ray team (read all about it here). Talk about an expressive bunch of dogs— it was a brilliant way to spend a few hours on a beautiful winter afternoon.

This guy was resting up before the race— talk about calm, cool and collected.

Bisoux was the picture of composure (until she got her harness on).

I wish I knew this guy's name— he stole my heart.

Pronce— striking a pose.

Holstein in a very, very rare moment of quiet contemplation.

Bisoux is one loving girl with a serious side of bad ass— don't cross her.

Juliette, the one eyed, geriatric husky, kept up with the young-uns with a smile on her face— pure Husky bliss.

Fragile

If I ever had questions about the fragility of life, the past couple weeks put them to rest, for good. The first little 'ping' came two weeks ago when Will and I went for our Sunday photo safari. I woke up that morning with the phrase, 'the last places are worth saving'  in my head and we set out to find a few photos of those last places. It's not difficult to find showstopping photos up here and within an hour, we were cold and headed home. On our way towards Bayfield, we saw two eagles being chased by a single crow right after we left the beach. One of the eagles had 'dinner' in his talons and Will and I were amazed at the chutzpah of that single crow. He was one wrong move away from becoming dinner himself. I couldn't stop wondering why a crow would be going up against two large eagles— was he too lazy to find his own dinner or was there a bigger message in the tableau Will and I were witnessing?

Of course, I thought it was symbolic of the David and Goliath mining battle playing out in the Penokees. Talk about fragile, the mine would pollute the Bad River watershed and subsequently Lake Superior.  That kind of cause and effect is easy to understand— the bad guys pollute the water and the good guys lose everything. But what happens when it's not as clear and bad things happen anyway?

Within the past week, two eagles have died from lead poisoning (I'm not sure if they were the two eagles I saw with Will). The eagles, and other animals, eat gutpiles from deer carcasses and if the deer are killed with lead bullets, the gut piles are contaminated. To be fair, I'm not entirely sure the eagles died from scavenging lead contaminated deer carcasses but it drives home the message that everything is connected and something as benign, and even seemingly responsible, as leaving the gutpile from a harvested deer to feed eagles, coyotes, and whatever else is hungry can lead to unintended but deadly consequences.

I used to see an eagle in a tree at the mouth of the Sioux River and every time I drove over the bridge, I looked towards the lake to see if he was perched on the top branch. I haven't seen him since the news of the lead poisoning came out and I'm afraid he's gone. The sight of that eagle in the tree became a touchstone for me and I felt blessed every time I saw him. It's heavy when you realize every step, decision and movement you make has consequences, seen or unseen, and to plow blindly forward is not only selfish but irresponsible. It can feel immobilizing, the awareness of our woven destiny with everything that surrounds us. But what happens when the weave supports and sustains us?

Jim Hudson died last week and we are still reeling. Losing a man as loved and respected as Jim sent shock waves through every corner of our little town and I was reminded, again, of how we are all woven into the same tapestry. As I watched the horrible story unfold, I started to notice the support that was swelling to help Hannah, Jim's wife, after his passing. I also noticed the stories and testimonies about Jim and the legacy he left behind. He was tremendously loved, in Bayfield and beyond.

I think the first time I met Jim, he had George in the back of his police car (George had a fierce wanderlust in his early years) and with his characteristic smile, he dropped George off, swapped some fishing tips with Ted and went on his way. Over the years, I've gotten to know Jim and Hannah better and their generosity of spirit was remarkable. I remember the first time Hannah complimented Will on his photography, he was thrilled and I doubt he'll ever forget his first compliment from a professional photographer. That's just one example of how she fostered an environment where a 13-year-old boy could feel like a giant, I know there are many, many more. Talk about paying it forward, she has an overflowing account of good will, love and support coming her way.

All life is fragile and the delicate balance of our choices and their consequences can be overwhelming. From taking a stand for the Lake, eagles and other wildlife, to living your life in alignment with your deepest and most dearly held convictions, these are the threads that bind us together. There are bound to be losses that bring us to our knees but the tapestry we've built with our words, actions and lives will support us until we can walk on, towards what's next.

A bit of advice Given to a young Native American At the time of his initiation: As you go the way of life, You will see a great chasm.  Jump. It is not as wide as you think.

Joseph Campbell

What Happens When The Moon Doesn't Cooperate?

You get a decent shot of a windswept fishing boat in the harbor. I was on my way to feed Gen's horses when the full yellow moon caught my eye. I turned around to get my camera and headed to the lake to get a picture (I figured the horses wouldn't mind a dinner delay if it was for a good cause). I was feeling a little cocky about my moon picture-taking prowess and thought, f/11 and 1/250 was the magic ticket. Wrong-o. Maybe it was too windy, the moon was rising too fast or that it was 30 degrees below zero and I didn't have a hat or gloves on but I ended up with this less than stellar lunar image on the right. I captured the image on the left about 20 minutes later, as I was headed home after apologizing to the herd and promising to only take pictures after they've eaten. Room for growth is a good thing, right?

Jupiter And The Waxing Moon

On my way to light the sauna last night, I glanced up and stopped in my tracks to take in the luminous beauty of the last nearly full moon of 2012 and Jupiter shining in the night sky. I went in the house (after I lit the sauna), grabbed my camera, made sure I had the right camera settings (f/11 and 1/250) and captured this image. In case you're wondering where the largest planet in the solar system is in my picture, it's that tiny spot above the moon (it's really, really far away).

A picture of the waxing moon and Jupiter (who symbolizes abundance, warmth and good fortune) was the perfect way to mark our Christmas of 2012. Next year, Jack will be 'coming home' for Christmas, I'll have two high-schoolers, one middle-schooler and Meg will be in fifth grade.  Our family is growing up and as much as I want to stop time, I'm happy to have this image and everything it symbolizes. I sincerely hope your holiday was full of the warm companionship of family and friends, a table heavy with food and wine and at least one glance towards the night sky.

A Dougherty Snow Day

It turned out to be a splendid day. We were all looking forward to a snowy Sunday but as the hours marched on towards Monday, I started to lose hope. The weather people had been downgrading the storm all day and by 8:30, I d resigned myself to a measly dusting of snow (while my family in Minneapolis was literally rolling in it).

An hour later, we were celebrating. Jack came downstairs with the most marvelous news— a new winter storm warning had been issued and there were 5 to 9 inches of snow on the way.  I love a snow day like a George loves his Chuck-it and judging from Charlie's happy dance, I think he does as well. I couldn't wait to wake up on Monday morning to a world of white.

The kids technically had school but we live 12 miles away, the roads were bad and it was still snowing when we woke up; I decided a Dougherty Day was in order (a Dougherty day is an unplanned day off to lounge around the house and play hooky). Last week was a blur— between ski team, volleyball and Christmas Carol, we were running around constantly. Today was a much-needed break from the treadmill of commitments the kids have each week. We played with the dogs outside, went for a walk downtown, baked cookies, played cards and assembled Christmas treats. It was a perfect Dougherty snow day.

Bayfield loves a fresh coat of snow, it looked like a Norman Rockwell painting today.

My two girls in the snow. We went for our walk before we spent the afternoon in the kitchen. I'm not much of a baker but we decided to tackle some Christmas cookies and treats. Overall, it went well. We have about 2 million mints, I misread the directions and ended up quadrupling the recipe. Thank God the kids like butter mints.

George was acting horridly on the way down to the dock so I decided to let him loose rather than fall flat on my face because he refused to stop tugging me along. He took off and didn't look back, that dog knows how to have a good time.

George prefers to handle the leash himself.

This may be kind of a lame Christmas treat but it's totally within my skill set and it's a big hit around here. Who doesn't like pretzels dipped in almond bark and rolled in crushed candy canes?

Butter mints are going to be the name of the game around here for a while, we have a lot of them. The combination of my utter disregard for reading recipes and lack of reading glasses resulted in a miscalculation with the powdered sugar.  We have a lot of mints to eat, give away, vacuum pack, pave the driveway with...you get the idea. The good news is that it's a super easy recipe and they remind me of the mints my Grandmas Duffy always had at her house.

Butter Mints(From Williams Sonoma Holiday Cooking With Kids)

2 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
2 tbsp butter, softened
1 1/2 tbsp warm water
1/2 tsp peppermint extract, plus extra as needed
red and green food coloring

Preparation
Put one cup of the sugar, butter and 1 tbsp of water in the bowl of a mixer. Beat on medium speed until the mixture is smooth and well blended. Slowly add the remaining 1 1/2 cups sugar and 1/2 tsp water, continuing to beat at medium speed until the mixture is smooth. The sugar mixture should be soft and not sticky. Add more water if it's crumbly and if it's too sticky, add more sugar. It should have the consistency of pie crust dough.

Remove dough from the mixer, separate it into 1 to 4 smaller balls, and add one ball back into the mixer. Add the food coloring of your choice to the ball by squirting the droplets on top of the dough (careful when you turn on the mixer), and paddle on low-speed until coloring is well-blended. Coloring will not blend completely into each and every speck of dough if examined extremely closely, but overall, mix until color is uniform.

Wash the mixing bowl and the paddle in between each color change and repeat until all the balls are colored. After the dough has been colored, either wrap it with plastic wrap and place it in an airtight container in the refrigerator to be rolled out later or roll it immediately.

Place a golf-ball sized amount of dough in your hands and roll dough into long thin cylinders about 1 centimeter wide. Place cylinders on countertop and with a pizza cutter slice cylinder into bite size pieces. You can make any size or shape of mint that strikes your fancy— go crazy! Store mints in an airtight container in the refrigerator where they will keep for many weeks.

God Bless You, Everyone

As I sat in the theater last night and listened to Noah, Liesl and Tom speak to the kids before the dress rehearsal, I was reminded once again of why I love living in this little town. The message from the adults on stage to a theater full of excited young actors was perfect: have fun, keep growing and developing your character and we are so proud of you. What a gift they gave to the kids— the opportunity to stretch their wings and take chances in a nurturing and supportive environment. What more could I ask for?

Charlie and Will scored the good dressing room this year, they're in the basement with 6 or 7 other boys complete with a recliner, internet and power for their iPods, Kindles and Nintendos. Meg is up in the kitchen area with me and that is a whole different scene— lots of girls with lots of things to say and not a recliner in sight. Quiet is the name of the game backstage after the curtain goes up— kind of tough with 8 girls in a dressing room. They are tremendously enthusiastic about everything— the costumes, hairdo's, snacks, Minecraft, homework and Christmas Carol. It's fun to get know the kids outside of schoool— they are a tremendously funny and interesting troupe of characters.

If I had to try to capture the essence of Charlie, this photo pretty much sums it all up— happy, happy, joy, joy.

Meghan is Man A (and she gets to say, is it an ass? in a party scene...she's pretty pumped about that), Will is Father and Charlie is Mr Fezziwig (Julie's daughter, Caroline, is Mrs Fezziwig and for the next three weeks we get to be Mother-In-Laws).

I love these pictures of the boys, they are growing into such handsome young men.

Meg's soon to be famous 'is it an ass' scene.

Will's Dark & Foggy Photo Safari

Will captured some beautiful images of the harbor last night during his solo photo safari.

He's such a gifted photographer and I love seeing the world through his eyes.

A Carnival, Parade & Pie

Every year, I have the same conversation with the kids. It goes something like this, 'can we go on the rides, play the carnie games, ride the Zipper?' My answer is always the same— 'absolutely not' but then I crumble like a shortbread cookie, hand over 50.00 to the ticket taker and the kids have a blast. At least I am consistent with my inconsistencies.

Applefest happens the first weekend in October and this little town of 400 people swells to what seems like 4 million. There are all sorts of delicious and unhealthy food choices (hand dipped corn dogs are a personal favorite), booths lining the streets selling everything from bed sheets to cranberries to handmade soap, an apple peeling contest (the winning peel was over 200 inches long) and there is a big parade. Bayfield is particularly well suited for a parade— Rittenhouse gently slopes towards the lake and is lined with picturesque storefronts. There is something about a high school marching band that makes me smile, especially when Will is marching along playing his saxophone.

What do you need the night before a big parade? Pie, of course. After all the nutritious cotton candy, mini doughnuts and corn dogs, we needed a pie with at least one redeeming nutritional component. We settled on banoffee pie— basically a banana cream pie with a few twists. Sadie and her friends assembled the pie while I was making dinner— too many cooks didn't spoil this pie, it was delicious. I made the dulce de leche earlier in the day (recipe here) and it was as easy at the recipe stated (in a crock pot, nonetheless).

Banoffee Pie (Adapted from Melskitchencafe.com)

Crust 36 chocolate sandwich cookies (like Oreos) 7 tbsp butter, melted

Pie 2 3/8 cups of dulce de leche 3 bananas 1 1/2 cup chocolate covered toffee bits (I used Heath) Bits) 1 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 1/2 cup powdered sugar 12 ounces regular cream cheese, softened 1/2 cup brown sugar

Prepare Crust Add the cookies to a food processor and process until it resembles coarse meal. Put the Oreos in a bowl, add the melted butter and combine thoroughly. Press the mixture into the bottom and up the sides of a buttered 10 inch springform pan. Refrigerate or freeze until set.

Prepare Pie Spread the dulce de leche over the bottom and up the sides of the crust. In a medium bowl, combine the powdered sugar, brown sugar and cream cheese. Whip with a handheld or stand mixer until smooth and fluffy. Add heavy whipping cream on low-speed and mix until combined. Increase the mixer speed to medium and mix until the mixture is light and creamy and is the consistency of thick frosting.

Slice the bananas about 1/4 inch think and layer the slices over the dulce de leche. Sprinkle about 1/2 cup of the toffee bits over the bananas. Spread the whipped cream filling over the bananas and toffee, making sure to spread all the way to the edges of the pie. Sprinkle the top with the remaining toffee bits and chill for at least 2 hours and up to 8 hours before serving. This pie is best eaten the day its made, the bananas start to get mushy if it sits too long.

Will's Birthday Lost Creek Walkabout

Will celebrated his fifteenth birthday on October 3rd and we headed out to Lost Creek Falls for a mid-week photo safari to mark his big day. I can't think of a better place to spend an afternoon, I was so excited to hit the road with the kids and hike out to the falls. It was a perfect fall afternoon— sunny, warm and the leaves were brilliant shades of red and yellow. Again, I was humbled by the mind-blowing beauty that surrounds us every day.

Meg was making chains with the leaves that were scattered everywhere you looked, she is a remarkably creative girl. We brought that particular specimen home. I saved it and will give it to her someday far in the future, when this walk is just a beautiful memory.

I had an incredibly hard time choosing pictures for this post, it was absolutely stunning that afternoon. Albert Camus said, 'autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower' and that certainly holds true up here. Autumn has always been my favorite season— I love the cooler temperatures, the viscous evening light, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and the smell of wood smoke. I like the autumnal energy of endings— a bittersweet turning away and heading towards the quiet of winter.

I will never tire of walking in running water (in rain boots, of course). The feeling of the water rushing by reminds me that we all are on a journey towards our own big water and to savor the vistas and experiences along the way.

The leaves were strewn everywhere, the remnants of Nature's ticker tape parade.

I brought three maple leaves from my yard as an offering of gratitude for Will and the afternoon we spent exploring the forest, creek and falls. Spending a couple of hours taking pictures, building cairns and celebrating our lives among the pines, maples, oaks and waters of this area does more good for my spirit than anything I can imagine.

Charlie is learning how to use his camera and I love looking them over when we return home. It's clear after looking at his photos, he appreciates the nuance and small details of the natural world. I wonder if he knows when Nature reveals herself to us— in the light reflecting off a rock ledge, a lone red leaf in the stream or the dappled light through golden branches, we are in a state of grace. When I feel my spirit becoming ragged, I travel back to these afternoons at Lost Creek and feel my rough edges start to soften and my spirit restore itself.

Will, Charlie and Meghan built cairns in the basin, I think they were looking for a way to leave their mark and celebrate Will's birthday. I'd like to think the cairns were their way of making an offering of gratitude to the spectacular and nurturing energy that resides at Lost Creek. We all walked out of the forest feeling happy and sated by the dazzling light, water and leaves that enveloped us on Will's birthday.

Photo Safari With Gen's Horses

I think I could turn and live with the animals,  they are so placid and self contained; I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition; They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins; They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God; Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things; Not one kneels to another, nor his kind that lived thousands of years ago; Not one is responsible or unhappy over the whole earth.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Morning In The Garden

It's been a marvelously rainy and foggy day. As I was walking outside, I noticed the colors were muted and much more monochromatic— winter is coming with her shades of white and gray. The garden still has a few stalwart and vibrant holdouts but it won't be long before I cut everything down and put the garden to bed.

I took these pictures in the beginning of October at sunrise. Between the kids and dogs, I've honed my 'early bird gets the worm' skills and catch my fair share of glorious sunrises (a decent consolation prize for leaving my warm bed). The garden looked so lovely on that October morning, lush and colorful in spite of the fact that in a few short weeks it would be a pale imitation of its summer splendor.

'Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.' Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Gorgonzola Cheesecake & Dried Cranberry Flatbread

I've been thinking about savory cheesecake for a few years but never put thought into action. It seemed like a lot of really good ingredients to waste if it was a horrid disaster. Last month, I finally decided to quit dithering, research different recipes, grab some gorgonzola, a spring-form pan and get cooking. During my search for the perfect cheesecake, a recipe for dried pear and walnut flatbread from Christina's Cookbook caught my eye. Gorgonzola cheesecake and dried pear flatbread?? I don't know why I waited so long.

Dried Pear Flatbread (from Christina's Table by Christina Orchid)

1 tsp yeast 1 cup warm water 1 tsp salt 2 tbsp good quality olive oil 1/4 cup walnuts, chopped and toasted 1/2 cup dried pear, chopped 1/4 cup dried cranberries, chopped 1 1/2 cup unbleached white flour

In a medium bowl, add the yeast to the water and salt and let sit for a few minutes. Add the olive oil, walnuts, pear and cranberries and stir to blend. Stir in the flour and then knead for 1 minutes. Let rest for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Oil a baking sheet. Divide the dough into 4 pieces. Roll each piece 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick on the baking sheet and bake for 7 minutes. The flatbreads can be any shape that fits your pan.

Gorgonzola Cheesecake (from The New England Table by Lora Brody)

1/4 cup fine dried bread crumbs 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese 3 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 shallots, peeled and finely diced 1/2 pound (8 ounces) gorgonzola or other blue-veined cheese, crumbled 1 3/4 pounds (28 ounces) regular cream cheese (not reduced fat), at room temperature 4 extra-large eggs 1/2 cup heavy cream A few drops of Frank's Hot Sauce or other hot-pepper sauce 1/2 pound thick-cut bacon, cut into small dice and cooked until very crisp 1/2 cup oven roasted tomatoes, chopped

Preheat the oven to 300°F with the rack in the center position. Generously butter the bottom and sides of an 8 inch springform pan with 3 inch sides. Line the bottom with a circle of parchment paper; butter the parchment. Mix the bread crumbs together with 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese. Dust the interior of the pan with the breadcrumb mixture, allowing the excess to stay evenly distributed on the bottom of the pan. This cheesecake cooks in a water bath; to prevent water from leaking into the pan while the cheesecake bakes, place it on a 16-inch length of heavy-duty aluminum foil, gather the edges up, and wrap them around the outside of the springform, securing if necessary with a length of kitchen string tied around the outside of the pan.

Have ready a roasting pan large enough to hold the prepared springform pan. Bring a large pot of water to a boil.

Melt the 3 tablespoons butter in a small skillet set over medium heat Add the shallots and cook, stirring frequently, for about 10 minutes, or until the shallots are wilted and translucent. Set aside.

Combine the Stilton cheese, cream cheese, eggs, heavy cream, and Frank's Hot Sauce to taste in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade and process until the mixture is completely smooth, stopping to scrape down the sides of the work bowl once or twice. Add the cooked shallots, roasted tomatoes and bacon and pulse to blend, but avoid overprocessing, as you want the bacon to create some texture in the batter.

Pour and scrape the mixture into the prepared pan. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese on top. Place the springform pan in the larger roasting pan and set both in the oven. Add enough boiling water to come halfway up the sides of the springform pan. Bake the cheesecake for 1 hour and 40 minutes, checking the water bath halfway through the cooking time; add more, if necessary. At the end of the cooking time, turn off the oven and leave the door closed with the cheesecake inside. After 1 hour remove both pans, remove the foil wrapping, dry the bottom of the springform pan, and place it on a wire rack to cool completely. Do not refrigerate the cheesecake to speed the cooling process.

When the cheesecake is cool, release the sides of the pan and slide a wide metal spatula under the cake to transfer it to a serving platter. (You may opt to serve it right on the springform pan bottom. If you do, don't use a metal knife to cut the cheesecake, or you'll ruin the pan bottom and the knife.) Cut the cheesecake by slicing it with a long, thin knife that has been run under hot water and dried before slicing. (The cheesecake is best served without refrigerating it. Refrigeration makes it dense and a bit heavy. You can make it up to 1 day ahead of time and keep it at room temperature, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap.)

Harvest Moon

Photographing the moon has been a super irritating adventure for me. See the above photo? I have 34 other ones exactly like it, a blindingly bright orb and not much else. Since the harvest moon is the full moon nearest the autumnal equinox, I desperately wanted to capture a decent picture of it. The main problem was Will (my in-house photographic expert) was at the homecoming football game and I had to rely on my google search of 'how to shoot the moon' to point me in the right direction. This guy (link here) had the magic formula— f/11 and 1/250. The picture of the bloody vampire initially turned me off but I'm glad I kept reading. It's amazing what following the directions will do for a girl.

Blue Vista Blueberries & Blueberry Orange Jam

Judging from the bushes at Blue Vista Farm, it was a good year for blueberries. We picked over 40 pounds, brought them home and realized 40 pounds is A LOT of blueberries. We froze some, ate some and decided to make jam. Sounds easy, right? Boil some berries, add sugar and pectin and call me Mrs Smucker with jars of jam in a row. We had a few detours on the road to jam perfection. After a few phone calls, a chance meeting at the IGA with the local jam guru and internet searches, we did end up with pretty little jars of jam in a row.

My Mom has been making jams and jellies for years, one of the benefits of owning a raspberry farm. My kids refer to it as, "Nana's jelly' and since we moved away, we can't stock up whenever we run out. It was time we learned to make our own jam. Sadie went on the internet and researched a few recipes (she settled on this recipe from Paula Deen) and I found a recipe for blueberry jam with orange and ginger. We went down to the IGA, bought some pectin, jars and sugar and armed with our recipes, started to make our first batch of jam.

Road block number one soon presented itself. Sadie's recipe called for liquid pectin and my recipe called for low sugar pectin. I had no idea there were choices in pectin land and I bought the powdered Sure-Jell in the yellow box because that was what my Mom used. Sadie tried to find a conversion for liquid to powdered pectin on Google but didn't have much luck so we decided to 'wing it'. Which led to road block number two— there is no 'winging it' with jam making. We thought Deen's recipe had too much sugar and I decided to substitute half the sugar in my recipe with honey. Little did I know there is an important relationship between pectin and sugar— too little sugar or pectin results in a sauce for ice cream or pancakes, not jam for toast.

At this point, Sadie called Nana. The jam was super runny and we weren't sure if we should put it in the water bath and hope for the best or start over. Nana suggested adding more pectin and sugar, putting it in the jars and at the very least, blueberry sauce is good on ice cream. The next morning, we flipped the jars over, hoping for a solid mass of blueberry jam. No such luck, it was a little thicker but still runny. I decided to crack open all the jars, add more pectin and 'fix it'. Road block number three— it's tough to fix syrupy jam.

I went back to the IGA to buy more pectin. This time, I bought the liquid kind, thinking maybe it was the missing link. I ran into Nancy, the jam guru, and shared my tale of woe with her. Her first questions was, 'did you follow the directions?'. Remember the second road block, the 'winging it' one? I sheepishly admitted not only did we not follow the directions, we even made a few alterations. Her parting words were something like— honey, always follow the directions when making jam and I headed up the hill to try and get the jam to gel.

It worked, kind of. I opened all the jars, added more pectin until it looked more jelly like and gave it another bath in boiling water. Sadie's jam didn't completely gel and my jam eventually did set up (I think liquid pectin was the missing link). It all tastes good and looks beautiful. I love seeing all our jam lined up on the shelf. They are the result of a warm August afternoon picking blueberries at a friend's farm and an evening in the kitchen with the girls canning our first batch of jam. Another chapter in our family story, that's always a good thing.

Blueberry Orange Ginger Jam (Adapted from Serious Eats)

8 cups fresh blueberries 2 1/2 cups white sugar 2 cups honey 2 packages of Sure-Jell regular pectin Grated zest of one large orange 1/2 cup orange juice, freshly sueezed 1 tbsp ginger, grated 2 tbsp crystallized ginger, minced 1/2 tsp butter

If you are going to preserve jam, prepare jars and lids: place 8 half-pint jars on rack in large pot. Add enough water to cover jars, and bring to boil over high heat. Boil for 10 minutes, then turn off heat and allow jars to rest in the hot water. Meanwhile, put bands and lids in small saucepan and cover with water. Heat over medium heat until the water is simmering, then remove pan from heat and allow bands and lids to rest in hot water until ready to use.

Working in batches if necessary, pulse blueberries in blender until coarsely crushed. You should have about 6 cups.

Measure 2 1/4 cups of sugar and 2 cups of honey in one bowl. In another bowl, combine remaining 1/4 cup sugar and pectin.

Zest and juice orange. You should have 1/2 cup juice.

Combine blueberries, orange zest and juice, granted ginger, and crystallized ginger in large, heavy saucepan or stockpot. Stir in sugar-pectin mixture. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly.

Add remaining sugar all at once. Stir in butter and return to a full rolling boil. Boil for one minute. Remove jam from heat and skim off any foam from surface.

Ladle hot jam into hot sterilized jars, leaving 1/4-inch headspace. Wipe rims of the jars, cover with lids, and screw bands on until just barely tight. Place jars on rack in pot and cover completely with water. Cover pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Boil for 10 minutes. Turn off heat, uncover pot, and allow jars to rest in water for five minutes. Remove jars from pot and allow them to rest undisturbed on countertop for six hours or overnight.