Bring On Lemons

We had company for dinner last night (we often do) and I really enjoy making big meals. I should clarify: I like cooking, baking, and cleaning - AS LONG AS it's appreciated. I suppose we are all wired that way, right? No one likes to feel taken for granted. A little work seems like a small effort as long as it's enjoyed and appreciated. I was all smiles last night and for good reason. I didn't have to run to the store to provide my family and our guest with healthy food. We have been blessed with meat from our own animals and last evening was no exception to that rule. Even though we are getting to the bottom of the freezer I was able to find nine absolutely lovely pork steaks. The weather was warm all day yesterday so the garden had an abundance of tender asparagus, and I had made a fresh loaf of banana bread early in the morning before the heat set in. Of course, I couldn't forget the potatoes. I don't do anything special with the potatoes, but my husband loves ...

My mom complains about the language in some books. Then again, I'm sure she would complain about my language if we spent more time together. This post isn't actually about language at all - it just seemed like a catchy way to start things. Today's post is about real dirt ... the kind that lodges itself under your finger nails, the kind you have to dig out of your nose, and the kind that comes with all sorts of nasty smells. I could go on and on. If you've been tuned-in for quite some time, you'll know that I went from a very clean profession to a farmer/writer/mother/wife. Instead of wearing stockings and Manolo Blanhnik's to the office, I typically wear patched jeans and a pair of rubbery boots that make my feet sweat. My hands are dry and cracked and instead of finding a few bobby pins in my hair at the end of the day, I find things I can't identify that were possibly at one time part of a plant. I am not in any way complaining, but I do get asked a lo...