Flaming Sugar Bombs

*The following pictures were taken the SAME DAY as the brownie-fest you read about in the previous post; within about an hour, actually. There will be grandmothers reading this that are trying to calculate exactly how many grams of  sugar the children consumed in a 3 hour window…..don’t. It’s appalling.

A couple of notes about the setting:

1. It was snowing heavily, which is why so many of the pictures are “flaky”.

2. Yes, we are just outside the parking/cow shed. I have no idea if the children touched anything and I don’t want to think about it.

3. The reason all the marshmallows are blackened is because they had a rock-like consistency to start with. (It’s sort of dangerous to have to pound marshmallows on the roasting sticks with brute force.) And apparently, fossilized marshmallows don’t soften with heat, they just burn.

4. Yes, I do occasionally wash their jackets, snowpants, hats and gloves. I just didn’t do it that day.

5. There are 21 pictures here. Scroll fast.

They can't believe their good fortune.

Fire AND sugar!

The next three photos are "Quick! Blow it out!" poses.

Ooooo, hot!  Ooooo, hot!

If the whole marshmallow doesn't fit on it's own, you can always force the issue with a dirty mitten.

Acute disappointment at the lack of hotdogs....

Molly and Twilla, frisking in the snow. 

They were both so tickled that we all came out to play.

She loves him best, you know!

Thinking of a big story....

"Shhhhhh! There's MONSTERS in the shed!"

"Did I scare you, Daddy?!"

"Snork, snork....you're so easy, Dad!"

I told him to smile like he meant it.

More saccharine, reduced to carbon....

She wanted to have a camp out in the parking/cow shed that night. Since we had a fire and all....

This is the most joyous picture! I love it.

Thanks, Dad! That was SO much fun!!!

Brownie Time!

I went from having absolutely nothing to blog about, to absolutely everything to blog about. What a delightful state to be in!  And my blogs are going to be in a weird order, just by token of how I get images to load. 

In my "Winter morning..." post, I mentioned my friend Shelly, who thought our sheltered life was interesting, bless her heart!  I've been wanting to write more about her for months, but didn't want to embarrass her by going on and on.....

Well, now I'm ready to embarrass her, and I'm going to go on and on. (That's really the only way I write, anyway, as you well know.) Incidently, Shelly was the one who sent me the tiara that I wear when I load the dishwasher. 

Shelly and her husband Don came to visit us in October, when they brought Twilla B. from Missouri.  We loved them immediately, and made them stay a couple extra nights....and to ensure that they wouldn't leave in the middle of the night, Maggie stayed in their camper with them.  Don and Wayland went bird hunting and hiking, and Shelly gracefully endured the kids and I, and our overwhelming urge to bond with any person who lights on our doorstep.  We had a lot to talk about, because Don and Shelly were expecting their first baby in February (no, hasn't been born yet) and I had a lot of cautionary tales. 

I'm certainly not going to do Shelly justice in trying to describe her here, but I'll try to give you an idea of what a beautiful person she is, inside and out.  She's very genuine, gracious and tender, and funny, but it's the dry, smart funny that tickles me so.  Shelly loves homey, warm touches because she is that way herself.  I love her quiet appreciation of beauty, and her inquisitive mind that looks beyond the surface.  She thinks of others continuously, and thinks the best of them which is a trait I wish I had more of.  And she's gloriously creative and artistic. (Here's where she's goiing to start getting embarrassed....but because she's in Missouri and 9 months pregnant, I feel pretty secure that she's not going to be able to do anything about it....)

Shelly is an artist by trade. (Is that the right way to say it?)

Among many, many other projects, she has illustrated four (soon to be five) really wonderful cookbooks.  She and her friend Roxie put them together and they are stunning in their usefulness, beauty and charm. I sit and look at them like picture books, but the recipes are practical and fun, as you will see later in this post.

She's also in a bluegrass band, Lonesome Road, and sent us one of their albums for Valentine's day, along with the "Just a Matter of Thyme" cookbook, and bags of treasures for the kids. (Maggie and Angus were over the moon with suckers, GUM that is generally prohibited but allowed occasionally and other treasures. I hid some of the gum and suckers, because their little eyes were glazing over. But that's another post.)

We set out, yesterday, to try out the cookbook. Angus and Maggie decided on Jan's Brownies, and we put Roll With the Changes on to cook by.  (We've nearly worn it out already.  I'm endorsing this not because Shelly is a friend, but because we really, really, really love it. Really.  Go to www.lrband.com/listen.htm   and see for yourself!)

Here's an example from one of the cookbooks. Isn't it LOVELY? The whole cookbook is illustrated in that manner!

You can see how I just sit and drool over it, and not just because of the recipes....

So Angus and I mixed up the brownies from Just a Matter of Thyme.  I hope she doesn't mind me listing the recipe here....it's JUST LIKE a box mix in consistency, only tastes better because it's homemade.

Jan's Brownies

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease 9 x 13 pan.

Mix together: 1 cup melted butter and 2 cups of sugar until light.

Add: 4 eggs and 2 tsp vanilla and mix well.

Add and mix well: 2/3 cup cocoa powder, 1 cup flour, 1/2 teaspoon each baking powder and salt.

Pour into the prepared pan and bake 25-ish minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean.

*Angus wasn't wearing clothes, but he had been sanitized prior to helping.  I encourage anyone else who makes the recipe to at least wear an apron.

Maggie was drawing, very busily, and consented to licking off the spatula.  But first, she had to put the details on the picture.

Angus only helps bake, because he gets to help with the clean-up.

He's really enthusiastic about this responsibility...

Maggie finally realized what all the slurping and groans of happiness were about!

I don't want to hear any lectures about salmonella and other ucky dread diseases...

We lived through it, as kids, and I'm pretty sure my kids are just as tough.

Tougher, truth be told....

Besides, the majority of the raw dough ends up on the skin, not in the tummy.

(I always get chocolate on my nose, too!)

THANKS SHELLY!!!

I'd take a picture of the brownies, but they have been worked over pretty good and are no longer as picturesque as they were when they first came out of the oven. 

(They are exceptionally good with coffee, in the dark of the early morning, when you're trying to read your Bible quietly.)

If you want a copy of the cookbooks, you can find them on most booksellers websites.  Look for Shelly Reeves Smith and Roxie Kelly. 

* We're anxiously awaiting the word this week and next on the Smith baby's arrival! Stay tuned for updates.

** The kids will be dressed in the next post. I promise.

Winter morning on the ranch...

*Warning!

This post contains 18…yes! 18!... pictures of cows and cow related activities. If you are reading the Chronicles to see pictures of half-clothed, savage country kids or for the helpful household hints or seeking societal information about native Montanans recreating in their natural habitat….this post will bore you to bits. Check my sidebar for talented bloggers who cover those topics in better fashion than I do.



**And you can thank my friend Shelly for this post, because this afternoon she told me it’s not boring to read about our cows or the multitude of minute details of our rural eastern Montana life. (She’ll be more careful with her encouragement in the future, I’m sure.)



You remember Millie? She’s this next photo. That’s her before she got all important and told the other cows about our yard. (She’s had serious regrets, since, because now she has to stand on the other side of the fence, gazing wistfully at her little patch of grass…Loose lips sink ships, or grazing opportunities in this case.)

The rest of the pictures were taken on Valentine’s Day, when the kids and I GOT to go feeding with Daddy. It was so exciting! We had been in a steamy, mentholated house for three days and this was a giddy reprieve for all of us. (Okay, more for me than the kids, but when I’m happy, they’re happy-er.)



Here’s a picture of the countryside, all around us. (I’m putting this up for Dykstras, who can’t imagine, in their wildest dreams, how tree-less it is here!) We are the capital of Out In The Middle Of Nowhere.

Now….on to the cows! Did you pour a cup of coffee? It’s going to take awhile.

These are the cows just south of our house (Millie and friends), trailing in for breakfast.  They are the first ones to get fed in the morning, so they haven't had a lot of time to warm up and they are a little grouchy.

Check out the frost on these old girls! It was about -15 that morning, and they were NOT impressed.

We're not feeding them fast enough.

See the one directly behind the bale, trying to figure out how to loosen the bale, before anyone else gets it?

The feed pickup and cow hands...

A whole new meaning to "frosted flakes"! Frosted flakes of hay, that is...

Windmills are beautiful and lonesome, all at the same time. 

This is a new bunch, and they are very suspicious of me, with my camera!

Can you see her thoughts?

"This is HIGHLY irregular, girls.  I don't trust her."

The Farmer, pulling net wrap off the bale so he can unroll it, like a big old cinnamon bun.

These are cake pellets; sort of like breakfast cereal for cows.  It's made up of ground grains, minerals, fillers like corn gluten, molasses, urea sometimes to boost protien, bentonite sometimes to bind, and steamed to soften it.  Then it's pressed through a die, and voila! cake pellets. 

After we roll out the bales, we sprinkle the pellets on the hay, and the cows are crazy for it. 

STILL suspicious, but unwilling to leave the vicinity of the chuckwagon....

Here he goes! Those arms that are holding the bales are hydraulic, and as the bale unrolls it can be lowered to maintain pressure and keep the bale turning. 

Hustling in for the haul....

MMMMMM!

(This picture is from Millie's bunch.)

They are always so pleased, to have hay to wallow around in and chew on.

Some of you wonder how the cows water, when it's so incredibly cold here.  We have wells with fiberglass tanks, and have to break the ice on top, then scoop it out with a shovel.

I remember my Dad and Gramps chopping ice with an axe, on the Big Dry Creek, then scooping. That was HARD work, and I thought they were the strongest men alive.

Marauders in the haystack.  There were probably 30 head of deer in this haystack.  You can't see them all, because most of them were jumping the fence in the back and heading out for the hills.  Deer can consume and destroy SO much precious hay! It wouldn't be so bad if they'd just eat what was left on the ground around the stack, but they paw and tear into bales, and waste a lot.  These deer aren't too worried about us, and act as though we are the intruders.

There you have it: a little sample of the ranch, first thing every morning.  I don't have pictures of Vern, feeding with the tractor, sadly.  While Wayland feeds his cows, Vern feeds four other bunches closer to the house.

Love it!

Since we are required to write about love this weekend, and since I can't seem to follow any requirements in a straight line, here are some things I love.  (Besides the given husband/kids/home/health/family/freedom stuff...)

• I love it when the waffle fills all the squares, but doesn't overflow into a starchy puddle all over the counter.
• I love reaching for the last two socks in the laundry basket and finding they are exact matches, eliminating that pesky "two orphans to float around the drawer" situation.
• I love the chocolate bliss faces when kids lick off the beaters from the cake that was just mixed.
• I love watching calves that are 20 minutes old, wobbly-trotting behind their mothers on the way to the gate, all slurped on and a tummy with a teeny bit of milk warming them.
• I love Doris Day's wardrobe, in every movie she made.
• I love finishing a really, really good book. It's almost like coming home from a long journey to my own bed....big sigh of happy relief. 
• I love soft summer evenings, when the day sort of eases into night almost apologetically.
• I love it when my husband holds my hand when he drives.  (And when he opens the door on the car for me to get in!)
• I love looking at photographs...anyone's photos.  Old, stiff dagerrotype grandma pictures and brand new proud parent hundred of the same pose pictures;  corny travel pictures and silly home pictures.
• I love laughing so hard I'm crying, and not being able to tell the baffled on-lookers what it was about. That makes it even funnier, and I laugh more.  I know. That's lame. But I love it.
• I love finding real, live, true letters in the mail....sandwiched between bills and the Farm and Ranch Weekly.  Better than a pot of gold, to me.

It's the little things, isn't it? This is a teensy little list, but you really couldn't handle any more of my weirdness after a long break from it.  You have to build back up.