about pie and people

I baked this strawberry pie today.

The littlest of the kids helped pick the berries from our generous neighbor's garden.  The corn starch needed for the recipe was borrowed from the neighbor across the street.  Each of the kids helped bake it in some way -- cutting strawberries, making the crust, mixing the filling, whipping the cream.

We enjoyed it for snack tonight, piled high with that fresh whipped-up cream.  And I felt grateful for the many hands that contributed to its goodness.  Amazing even.

Yet I couldn't pick the berries, or make the pie, or even eat it without thinking about the last strawberry pie I made.

It was June 25, 2013.

The day had started with this...

Strawberry picking with all four kids.

By the time we were done picking and loaded back in the van, I was done.  With a capital D.O.N.E.  It was maybe 10:00 in the morning.  It wasn't what had happened at the strawberry farm, but everything surrounding it.  We were in the second week of being out of our old house, but not yet in our new one.  I had spent many days apart from my husband, solely responsible for the kids in an environment without any routine.  I was exhausted.  I was emotional.  I was anxious about getting to our new home. 

And all I wanted to do -- to feel some sense of normalcy -- was to pick strawberries and bake a pie.  (I had somewhat reluctantly come to terms with the fact that there was no way, no how, I was going to get to make any jam.)

But a pie.  I was determined for a pie.

I called my sister Michele from right there in the parking lot of the strawberry farm, and tried explaining all of this through my sobbing.

Her response: "Bring the kids here.  Drive here right now.  We will figure it out."

I came to find out later that she couldn't understand a word I was saying.  Yet she took on her blubbering sister, with my four over-tired, out-of-routine, no sense of home, been in the van for hours and hours children.

She amended her afternoon plans to include me.  She rallied her kids - my dear nieces and nephew - to be in charge of their cousins for the day.

I borrowed a sun dress and shoes, and off we went for several hours.  A lunch with our sister Danielle.  Followed by a behind the scenes tour of a nearby theater at which Danielle was performing.

We laughed.  I cried.  It was wonderful.

That night, I made a strawberry pie.  I used the berries my littles had picked that morning.  I borrowed a pan and all of the other ingredients from my sister.  She wrote down the recipe for me.  It baked in the oven of a house that other friends generously opened to us for several weeks as we were in between homes.

That pie I made on June 25 of last year, and we ate for breakfast on June 26, tasted amazing.

Amazing with generosity.  Amazing with gratitude.  Amazing with humility.

I thought of all of this as I ate today's pie.  The pie many hands contributed to on June 12, 2014.  And I cried.  Even a year later, I feel very deeply how hard that time had been.  And how important it was that people were there.  And still are, in so many ways.

I've tried to be like that - to be there - in this new house, in this new community.

Maybe that's what it's all about.  Being good to each other.  Not always understanding the words being blubbered, but knowing what is being said.  Inviting them over, without their having to ask.  Being very good, when it is most needed.

With extra whipped cream on top, thank you.

in my kitchen

:: Double batch of double chocolate chip cookies.  Packaged up for my sweet, talented niece who came to visit while on fall break from college.  (Yes, she is studying art.  And women's and gender studies.  She's cool like that.  Watch her in action here, amazing.)

:: A fresh stock of flour in the cupboard.  Eleven 5 pound bags in all.  I've settled into a pretty steady rhythm of baking bread once a week.  Eight loaves usually gets us through the week, with a couple to send out into the world with good wishes.

:: Art supplies have migrated from other spots in the house to the kitchen.  They've been here for days and seem to be multiplying.  Funny that our daily living in this space has determined where things belong, even more than were I unpacked and placed items.  Seems art supplies go in the kitchen.  So I'm thinking about ways to at least corral them a bit.

:: Enough chill is in the air that our chili season has begun.  After the long summer of not even thinking of the savory dish, it is when we cook our first batch of chili in the fall that I realize I've missed it so.

:: Some entrepreneurial spirit coming to life around the large kitchen table.  This craze has taken hold of the kiddos.  Creating is creating I say!

:: Some creating of my own.  My gladsome file is growing, and details are coming along so well.  The weekend is going to be simply amazing!  If you live in or near the Great Lakes Region you should be considering this gathering with other cool women.  Create a little, reflect a little, and connect a lot.

:: Been looking out the kitchen window trying to pick the perfect spot for my new Peace Pole.  Soon, it will be installed and we are holding a special gathering and ceremony.  Details soon on how you too can be involved!

:: Dancing.  There is always room for some music and dancing in our kitchen.

What about you?  I hope that you are having some warm, yummy, fragrant life in your kitchen too.

dispatch from my day {iPhone}

I'm settling in.  Sloooowly.  We've found a bit of rhythm, and have unfound it, and look for it again. 


I am getting used to the amazing view out of my kitchen window.  I have to remind myself daily that this in now where we live.

I've been listening to Kat Edmonson.  Really, what isn't beautiful about her voice?

I've begun baking bread again.  That is a rhythm I can get my head around, for sure.

I've been reminded that it is tricky to take three (not even four!) kids to the doctor's office at the same time. Thankfully I simply have the best (and cutest, ahem) doctor on the planet.

Visiting old chums has brought comfort and a respite from making new friends.

I am now on Twitter.  I kept reading Honey's Twitter stream.  So he signed me up for my own.  I enjoy its bits and pieces of life and laughter throughout the day.  Please let me know if you tweet too, I would love to follow you.  (I'm @bcomingclaudine)

Squirmy is everywhere.  E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E.  Which means I am everywhere too.

So, I'm off.  Squirmy is on the kitchen counter.  See ya.

warm, with butter

For quite some time I've wanted to bake my own bread.  And not just any bread, but bread that could be baked often and eaten every day, with the hope that we would no longer need store-bought bread.

However, I never quite had the courage to try my hands at such a large-scale bread-baking enterprise.

That is until I had in those hands a no-knead recipe from a friend of mine, coupled with her encouragment and assurances that it was so very easy!

And wouldn't you know, I can bake my own bread.  To eat.  Everyday.  Plus lots of bread to share with others.

My friend was right, oh so easy, and oh so delicious. 

You mix a big batch of dough that is refrigerated and then bake as you need.  I've now made the bread so many times I don't even need the written recipe, and I double the batch.  I've even tweaked the amount of flour to include more whole wheat, and have made copies of the copy of the recipe to share with others.  Any good baker would.

Wait!  Did I just call myself a baker?  I guess so.  Hmm, what seemed impossible to me a few months ago, is now happening.  So deliciously happening.

missing

I've been missing writing, and certainly missing you, dear readers. 

However, my week has been filled with the snuggling of sick kids.  Oh, and the important healing of a sick Mama.

What? 

A sick Mama. 

I thought I had mastered willing that not to be. 

Seriously, I think for the most part I have mastered it, but did give in to a slight sickness this week.  And luckily knew enough to just keep sleeping, drink lots of tea, and most importantly, spend an entire day snuggled on the couch with a little boy who was also sick.

We filled our day with watching videos.  We never do that!  So being sick felt a bit like a special day spent with Winnie the Pooh, and The Little People, and Pete's Dragon.

Mercifully I am feeling better now.

And have caught up a bit on laundry and some house cleaning.

Oh, and some cookie baking.

No better medicine I know of than cookies.

Giant.  Chocolate.  Sugar.  Cookies.

Baby sister wasn't sick.  But sneaking bites sure had her feeling good!