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I have this pergola; a beautiful, open-yet-shaded place that I designed and the Farmer built.  At each corner is a big raised planter where I put my vegetable and flower mess.  (Try as I may, I cannot plant vegetables without flowers. And vice-versa.) There's a fire pit on the northeast corner and a picnic table under the center, and though my plans were to eat there, we generally end up sitting there with beverages, not food, dogs panting underneath, and talking about really important things such as whether hummingbirds really hum with their beaks or whether the carrots are ready.  (It's designed, you see, to be able to graze as we visit....plucking a pea in mid-sentence or deadheading with a glass of wine in hand.) 

Last year, I saw in a catalog that there was such a thing as solar powered white lights.  You know, the little white Christmas lights one drapes on a Christmas tree?  Immediately I thought of the pergola!  She needed those.  She HAD to HAVE those!  So I ordered some.  Three sets, to be exact; two strings for the pergola, one string for my garden gate/seat....I wanted the pretty sparkles, the little stars in the night.  And they did not disappoint!

Tonight, after the whole family was in bed, sleeping sweetly and deeply, I wandered out with my glass of  chardonney and strawberries to sit in the pergola at the picnic table. It's so incredibly serene here when the wind isn't blowing, and the stars were brilliant.  The moon was nearly to the mouse's whisker stage...slivered and white.  Earlier in the day, the prairie was LOUD with birds and wind, but now....soft and quiet!

The bluish-white lights that I had strung on the pergola were softly dancing in the darkness with the slight breeze, casting j-u-s-t enough light for me to set my wine glass down and see the little coat that had been left on the picnic table when it got too hot for a cowboy (or Indian) to wear denim.  I hadn't thought it would be cold wearing just my pajamas, but it was, a little, so I draped the coat on my shoulders to break the breeze, blessing and admonishing at the same time the child who had dropped it there. 

The cats found me.
And they were mystified..
It was the time for people-bodies to be in bed and for CATS to be ruling the yard! 
I had no food (curses!) and I had no blanket (drat!) so they gave me a very quick "we-know-you're-crazy-but-we-understand" rub on the ankle and bounced off into the night to do their cat jobs. (Which I hope consists of slaying mice and laying waste to meadow moles; sworn enemies of mine.)

The dark covers up all the warts and wrinkles of my yard and garden and leaves just the form, the scent and the...feeling.  In the light of day, all I see is what I'm not getting done and what is lacking, but at night it's so serene and lovely!  I sit there with my child's coat on my shoulders and see the Big Dipper, which was the first constellation I ever recognized when I was a child, and think about how teensy I really am, how amazingly miraculous it is that I'm allowed to spend even 15 minutes in this world, how incredibly blessed I was to be born and live in Montana, and how my wine is getting bugs in it because of the solar lights. 

There's no such thing as Better Homes and Gardens moments, here; no matter how great the build up.  :)

So, I wave good night to the moon and promise her I'll be back another night, accidentally wander back through the 15 inch tall maple twigs, and toast the cats' efforts with the soggy strawberries in the bottom of my wine glass...

Summer is coming...

It's different!

*Warning!  If you're not an adventurous food person, you may want to just scroll quickly to the next post.*

I've had this idea for a long time, but have never actually tried it out, mostly because breakfast at our house is not a good place to present surprises.  My kids are great about trying new offerings, but they'd really rather start the day with familiar dishes like....pancakes.  Angus would have pancakes DAILY.  And if we could work them in at supper, that would be nice, too.  Maggie's more of a sausage gravy and biscuits girl.  And the Farmer just lurches to the table and eats whatever lands in front of him.

I've been wanting to do a savory French toast.
*gulp*
I know.
You have to think outside the box for a minute.
Work with me....and let me give you more details.

I wanted to slice a cheddar jalapeno artisan bread, soak it in the egg custard with salt and pepper, cook it just like regular French toast, except sprinkling it with chili powder.  And serving with cheddar cheese, salsa and sour cream.

My mother-in-law gave me part of a loaf of garlic cheddar bread, so last week, I just made it.
Exactly like I just described to you, except in a stroke of genius (it never happens, so it's remarkable), I put the shredded cheddar on the toast and melted it (by putting a lid over, so the egg-iness wouldn't burn).

The Farmer was the first recipient/victim.
And he said it was (and I quote) "Alright."
He says that about EVERYTHING I cook.

Maggie was next.
"Is this an omelet?"
"No, it's sort of a...cheesy French toast.  Try it!  Dad likes it..."
Yeah.  Right.
She cautiously cut off a piece and chewed it for a minute.
"It's GOOD!  Like cheese pizza!  For breakfast!  I really like it!!!"
Bless your heart, child.

Angus ate about half of his and wondered if maybe we could have pancakes tomorrow.
Again.

I was the last to try it and was very happy with the results!  It's almost like a Mexican omelet, but starchy, obviously.  If it was just me, I'd make it with the jalapeno cheddar bread because I like the kick.  All I could think (as I ate my second piece) was, "Why doesn't anyone do this?"  I've never seen it on any of the internet recipe sites.  But now you, my faithful readers, have the recipe.  Of sorts.

Try it, if you like something a little different for breakfast, and let me know how yours turns out!
(I'm sorry there are no pictures.  Maybe next time, if I make it on a weekend when we don't have to meet the school bus at a specific time!)