A New Olympic Sport or Not . . .

It all started with Murray going thru three nut crackers, yes, actually breaking them in half, trying to open the elusive first fruit. I actually think I know why shelling Black walnuts is not an Olympic sport, but after spending two more hours removing their shoe staining outer fruit, I think it should be considered. Although I have never had such a great color on my crocs, and from experience when training for this event, wear your winter croc, starting with no holes and the darkest color you own. After dumping the lot on the concrete floor of the old bunk house, I began rolling the fruit under foot until the wet, walnut stained inner nut was exposed, with gloved hands you then place them, back into their basket home for drying. When I originally picked up the fruit from under the very large old tree at the top of the meadow in the mountains of North Carolina, on a beautifully cool afternoon in October, I could already taste the persimmon bread with walnuts I was going to bake, day dreaming will get me in trouble every time. I am a step closer, however, don't sniff the screen just yet. My walnuts, still in their inner super nut shell are drying in the hot Florida sun as I write. A very wise old school Aunt asked me just this weekend, with her nose a little wrinkled, did you let them dry? Noooo I didn't, so informed with my new information, there they sit in all their nutty glory. I am thinking persimmon bread would be wonderful on Thanksgiving Morning, with a hot cup of coffee, starring at the murky water of the inter coastal in St. Augustine. I guess their are not too many Olympic sports needing so much time waiting in the sun on vacation.

Where has October gone . . .

With October 2009 almost gone, I am not sure where the time disappeared. I keep hoping I can find just an hour or so, maybe with the time change . . .

It has been a busy month, Bedknobs & Broomstiks, is finishing up a couple of teenage girls rooms, and will have the pictures of Savannah's Style Safari and Sidney's Mango Madness posted soon on theoldstarkeyhouse.com website some of my favorite projects to date.

The main chick was able to get away for some much needed creative rejuvenation, stick collecting, and mushroom hunting. The leaves had not all changed, however, the mountains of western North Carolina were beautiful, full of color, and there was a reprieve in the relentless heat of Florida's long hot summer.

On my first ever mushroom hunt in the woods surrounding Nancy Mountain, the morning was cool, and our excitement spilled into the field like school children on the first day. We had been briefed by our expert, Grey Carter, of Deep Woods Mushrooms, we had our baskets ready, the craziest multi tools most of us had seen, and our very limited knowledge, away we went. After several hours of hunting, we did not produce the great abundance we had hoped for, however, our group (actually my brother Chip, with advice from his sister) did manage to dig up a few oyster shrooms located on some old dead logs. They were delicious sauteed simply in olive oil and sea salt. We spotted quite a few puff balls, all too far gone for the fry pan, however, our guide provided a beautiful specimen that we cooked up upon arrival back at the base camp, they are nothing to look at, but oh how delicious. . . what happens to the Ink caps in the mountains, stays in the mountains. We concluded our day with enough information to make us dangerous, or at least sick, a Shitake mushroom log to take home, and a few more stories to tell.

The following morning after another loaf of Braken brown, from the bakery, and another cup of the Brown Bean's Morning Glory we headed off to Hendersonville and Flat Rock. We always feel the need to visit Mast General Store, and this trip was no different, always a nostalgic stop. Then it was on the the Flat Rock Bakery for the best brick oven pizza, I have ever tasted, ooh goat cheese, artichoke, and sun dried tomato, is my drug of choice this day, and I think I ate the entire thing. A little shopping in the Wrinkled Egg and off to the Flat Rock Theatre for a little Marty Robbins, where oh where did I leave my 8-track, it concluded a fabulous day in Hendersonville.

The next morning the boys headed for the Davidson River for a little talk with some beautiful Rainbow Trout, I think the trout did most of the talking. There are pictures to prove at least one beauty, good job Chip. The girls and Woody headed into Asheville for the Annual Great Shoe Shop and Apple Pick, I know, I can't believe there is such an event either, but there we were right in the middle of prime time. There were Gala, Cameo, Arkansas Black, Ariac, and Born, we were in our glory . . .

I hated to end our trip, it seemed so short, and I am already planning the next, perhaps the Spring, I am drawn to the mountains, like horses to water, I love the local food, the cool mornings, and the forest thick with mountain laurel, it sounds like the perfect vacation, and helps to keep me going until the next time.

The arrival of Fall and the Bees

The arrival of Fall . . . I hardly think so. The humidity feels more like the middle of summer, with late afternoon thunder storms. The rain barrels fill with ease, and the drought of the spring is only a distant memory. The only thing absent from this summer is the word hurricane, some how I don't think any of us miss that word in Florida. I was so happy to hear of snow in the Rockies, which always mean Fall cannot be too far away, I am looking so forward to it this year, we have had a long hot summer. I am looking forward to opening the windows, and airing out the old house, sleeping in the cool nights, with the crickets chirping in the background, only to be out done by Beauregard, Captain Jack and George, crowing a melody that I am sure only Goldilocks can appreciate.
The arrival of the bees . . . We have come to expect the arrival of the bees in the old dead Malaleucas right outside the coop, and they are here in full force this year, buzzing high above our heads, carrying pollen from the Passion flower, Zinnia, and Chickweed. They hover above the bird baths, dart from the orchids, aloe and squash blossoms. They are enjoying the yard this year as are we. Every time I get close to having the old trees cut down, someone else is using them for a home. The woodpeckers have been here all summer, including the two Pileated, always good to see them. . .

Zippy's on the loose . . .

The grass is always greener on the other side, or so Zippy thinks. On what can only be called a Florida Fall morning, the humidity as high as it gets, and the temperature already at 83 when the sun came up, Zippy dug her way to freedom. Chester was quite alarmed by his furry friend wandering on the outside of her playpen eating every blade of green grass she encountered, however with a little coaxing he settled right down to stand guard as she continued on her journey. George herded his hens in the opposite direction, knowing full well that kind of trouble he did not need. All the while Beauregard and Captain Jack sounded alarms from both sides of chicken yard, and Ruthie and Frenchie peered disapprovingly from their laying buckets inside the coop. Zippy when on about her business, blissfully unaware of all the concern she had gathered on this Florida Fall morning.

A Rainy Day

A rainy day in the coop, although all are well. The main rooster Beaureguard stands watch, hawks have visited daily this week. George's hens are feeding the recent moth hatch near the jasmine arch, and Captain Jack Sparrow is still looking for attention from Mrs. Butterworth. All of the hens are finishing up thier molt, and thier feathers are coming in beautifully, egg production should increase shortly.

Zippy, the lopped eared bunny is in her playpen for the first time in days due to the rain over the weekend and is happily munching on grass.

Ms. Brinkley, the calico cat, is busy welcoming Ms. Marley, who is visiting from Wellington, oh what fun they will have. . .

Chester, the English bull dog, is watching over all with a smile, hoping the sun returns soon.