scout.

A precious kind of ordinary.

You see, I was all prepared to cozy up and write a little something to you last night, but then To Siberia happened to be sitting there, all quiet on the table, newly released in the States, making eyes at me, and the next thing I knew I was lost in rural Denmark and it was 1:30 in the morning. Mister Petterson, once again you have thwarted all my plans. But I forgive you, because of the way you always make me dream of snow. Which is not unusual, because I am very impressionable when it comes to snow. One mention or image of it, and I sometimes have snowy dreams for weeks. I have stopped trying to figure out why. 

Mainly, I had plans to write to you of my Mama's brief visit. We hadn't seen each other since before we left California, and it was so so good, just sitting, and talking over milk and scones and listening to the rain. She is radiant. And her stories. Oh, her stories. I have missed her so much. And I had plans to write to you about the amazing boxes full of my grandmother's things that she and my aunts thought I would like. It will take me weeks to photograph it all properly. What was special to Grandma was often a mystery to all of us. The precious tossed in a box with the ordinary. In addition to her watch (seen in the photo above), sewing and embroidery notions (oh. my. heck.), valuable coin collection, letters from my grandfather, a handmade eyelet dress belonging to my great-grandmother, jewlery and other special things, I also found random flyers, coasters, scissor covers, and a small shaker hand-broom.

I have put it to good use. And think it is all, in a way, special.

So it has been a book day. A book week. Blue books mainly. And ones about candy-covered houses. And also a week for family. And for curling up in front of the fireplace with my boy. And for seeing the Swifts. And for figuring out how the heater works in this house. And for colorful leaf watching (I am being patient). And for trying to rein things in a bit. And slow things down. And for designing a new winter dress pattern (halfway there) that will end the 4 month sewing hiatus. Faraway friends are coming into town this weekend as well, so I apologize ahead of time for my sporadic visits to this space. I am thinking of all of you, wondering what your experience of the new season is like. Is it spring or fall? What do you see when you look out the window? And if you had to toss one ordinary thing in a box with your most prized possessions, what would it be?

All love,

*Andrea

An open letter to Autumn.

Flickrfavorites:

1. christy berry for wiksten hand-woven scarf, 2. arbre blanc, 3. kindling, 4. Backyard

Dear Fall,

It's okay. I understand. 

You are all about suspense. And as seasons go, you have a flair for the dramatic. You understand the power of an entrance. You're fond of whispers. You know to leave when the applause is high. You leave the cold silences to winter. You are the Greta Garbo of seasons. And back in August, back when you tiptoed in, bringing the chilly mornings and the smell of woodsmoke, the urge to bake and sort tights by color, to buy number two pencils, and walk through the park, it was just a way of saying See you soon.

It's hot again. My garden is dying. I am sweaty. And I just want you to know. It's okay. I get it. The whole making an entrance thing.  

So. Um. Please come back now.

Affectionately yours,

*Andrea

Weekend Reads.

I'm still not entirely sure how many of you will be interested, but I've had enough requests lately that I decided to put together a little Scout Recommends, kid's list for weekend reading. The list started out longer than the circumference of the earth, so I removed a few genres completely, including some beloved fantasy titles.  It's for the best. You would be here until next Tuesday. Instead, these are simply the books I have read or re-read over the last few weeks, and they all seem to meet the same criteria: for or about girls ages 7-11, featuring precocious heroines with emotional depth and their seemingly impossible adventures.  My apologies to the small (or nonexistent) crowd of male readers out there. I will include books for boys next time. I just can't help having a big soft-spot for books and girls of this age. Without boys or romance in the picture, they're free to be exactly who they are, to pursue whatever they want, and there's something magical (not to mention powerful) about that. It makes for a pretty cathartic reading experience as an adult. You can click the links for descriptions of each book, but I will try to keep it short and sweet. So for you, your daughters, or maybe both...

Scout Recommends!, Kids Reading List Number One:  

- The Penderwicks, by Jeanne Birdsall. Top of the list, because if you haven't yet read it, you should immediately do so. (check out the sequel too) It's rare when a modern book about modern girls  reads like a complete classic. Fans of Little Women rejoice.

- Shakespeare's Secret, by Elise Broach. A recent award winner and favorite of mine. Part mystery, part history, part coming of age, and the Shakespeare geek in me kind adores the erudite father for naming his girls Hero and Beatrice, as much as they loathe it.

- Ballet Shoes, (and every other 'Shoes' book) by Noel Streatfield. Once again. Get thee to the library and check these out immediately. Even if you have no interest in dance or theatre or anything to do with performing. There is something here for everyone. Trust me.

- A Little Princess, andThe Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Yes, I know you've read them, and maybe they were even your favorites as a child. But when was the last time you re-read them? I promise, they are still amazing.

- Up and Down the Scratchy Mountain, by Laurel Snyder. Okay, so I cheated a little here. This one does take place in a rather magical kingdom complete with castles and countryside. But the storyline is just plausible enough, and charming enough, that it deserves to be included.

- The Willoughby's, by Lois Lowry. Ever wonder why children in old fashioned books are usually orphans? So did the Willoughby children. This one is somewhat macabre (have to love Lowry for that), but still pretty irresistible.

- Ida B, by Katherine Hannigan. Despite the heavy (if not tragic) plot-lines that pervade this book, hope abounds, and Ida B's relationship to the natural world is stunning. Oh how I wish this book had been around when I was a kid...

- Cornelia and the Audacious Escapades of the Somerset Sisters, by Lesley M Blume. All of the above books rolled into one. An only child living in New York finds comfort in her friendship with a glamorous, elderly woman, who recounts the incredible story of the wild and once famous Somerset Sisters.

- The Star of Kazan, by Eva Ibbotson. An orphaned servant girl discovers her aristocratic heritage in pre-World War I Vienna. This is Ibbotson at her best, so full of life and longing and history that you may just read it in one sitting. 

- Listening for Lions, by Gloria Whelan. If, like me, you read The Secret Garden over and over again as a child, I highly recommend this little gem. The exposition is somewhat complicated, so just click the link for a synopsis. Makes me want to hop a plane to Africa. Or England. Or both.

There are so many more that I'd love to include, but since I'm trying to stick to what I've read in the last three or four weeks, it will have to end here. You are wondering if I spend ALL of my free-time geeking out over orphans? No, not all. Just most. Yep. That's a way of putting it.

Oh and I almost forgot,  Happy Friday, friends.

All love,

*Andrea

By Jove.

I wish I had more to show for this weekend. (Wait. Have I ever told you that my weekend is Sunday to Monday and not Saturday to Sunday? Probably not. Because I am forgetful like that.) Unless of course you count getting take out, hanging out with friends to celebrate new jobs, passed exams, life in general, and then drinking too much. I cleaned the house until the baseboards shone in an effort to compensate for that. It still hardly qualifies me as a weekend warrior. More like a weekend couch potato with sporadic fits of energy. 

Aside from a truly great produce haul, the highlight of this weekend centered around three ripe bananas (thanks Eunice and KT!) and one miracle recipe. A recipe so surprising and mouth-wateringly delicious that I cannot stop talking about it. To anyone. Who will listen. That includes dogs. And inanimate objects.. Thank you, Molly. I'm not much of a cookbook girl. They make me nervous, with their high price tags and unpredictability. I do, however troll the internet for new (free!) ideas, pretty much all the time. And everyone's favorite girl, Orangette is always the winner.

In addition to foolproof recipes, charm, and general aesthetic loveliness, I think the thing I appreciate most about Molly is that she is a thinker. You can just tell. I am very much in my head when it comes to baking. Time spent in the kitchen is as much an exercise in thought and emotion for me, as it is a series of actions. This is in stark contrast to my chef husband, for whom cooking is entirely instinctual. Seriously people. You could blindfold him and the results would always be the same. 

Her approach is one I can relate to, and when she uses words like exceptionally delicate, tender, dainty, and crumbly bits of cinnamon sugar, to describe banana bread (something I am usually very picky about and as a rule is usually NONE of those things) I do a double take. This is no ordinary quickbread, my friends. Its simplicity almost had me worried. Where was the dairy? Why was it mixing so easily? With a fork? What's with the crazy generous cinnamon sugar topping? But, it was perfect. More perfect than perfect. You should probably just drop everything and go make it. Like. Right now. Don't worry, I won't be mad. 

It is the perfect combination of airy cake and hearty loaf. Of banana-yness and cinnamon-yness (?), fluffiness and density. I felt positively lady-like nibbling slice after slice yesterday with a few pats of butter. Did I mention the crumbly cinnamon and brown sugar topping? The recipe is here. And in a day or two, or a week, or a month, you just might make it and then you will come back here and think, 'By Jove, she ISN'T just a crazy girl rambling on about banana bread.' Okay, maybe you don't really use phrases like, 'By Jove.' But still. You're welcome. I hope your Wednesday is marvelous.

All love,

*Andrea 

 

Feeling it.

There are a dozen bananas in a brown bag on the greenhouse windowsill in the kitchen. It seems my local market and their perpetually green bananas are conspiring against me and one very important Autumn ritual involving new banana bread recipes. This one, is the new favorite. Waiting for the green things to ripen is a little like watching grass grow, and not entirely different than waiting for your favorite season to arrive in full. And surprisingly similar to the last few weeks, which despite being busy, were as exciting as all of the above.

I have been channeling the squirrels as usual. Crossing things off both the long and the short list. Worrying that we won't finish what needs to be done out of doors before the rains come. Plants have been planted in planters. But new lights must be installed. And house numbers you don't need bifocals to see. Gutters to clean. Crazy out of control bushes to be cut back. Mulch and fertilizer and all the while, wishing it was done, and I was still under the covers with a book. But I am frantic to make progress on the house, hoping to be done with the painting of screen-doors and the hanging of blinds by the time my beloved October rolls around. 

I have a habit of revisiting favorite childhood books this time of year. Spending my free time with precocious, usually British, children and their nonsensical, but nevertheless charming adventures. After the sixth such book in five days, Aaron suggested that I finally finish the Cormac McCarthy and Annie Proulx sitting on the nightstand.  I balked. (I do this. Start multiple books and finish them a year later.) And couldn't exactly explain why, at the moment, I only want to read books about eight year olds that positively sparkle, and have you seen my copy of Theatre Shoes?

Because I am feeling it. When I lift my head up from this or that project, or walk down the street to purchase more green bananas, it is everywhere. Subtle. But I'm like a basset hound for Autumn. And I guess there's no other reason for the impossibly good mood I've been in these days. I'm sure it isn't the two hundred Halloween titles (each multiplied by twenty) I've been lugging around for displays at work, or the projects waiting to be completed at home, or the very long hours Aaron has been putting in at his new job. Everyone has something that makes their heart swell just a little bit more, and this is mine, I think. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to desperately search Wikipedia for Magical Banana Ripening Spells. 

All love,

*Andrea