by Krista | Jun 18, 2010 | Fabulous Friday
Good morning, dear ones! Another week has passed and I’m a happy girl today. It was a rough week being wretchedly sick, but the worst is done and each day finds me stronger and quite amazed at the ability of life to bring so much pain and happiness all mixed up together.
I loved my weekend up in Canada with my rellies seeing so much beauty, having grand adventures, making more good memories. On our way home, Mums and I stopped by this river, entranced by the sun glistening on the water while a humdinger of a storm brewed in the background.
I arrived back at my beloved little apartment to find this sight welcoming me home.
The next three days were dreadful, with much pain and a few tears, but there were bright spots even there. I got to work from home with my windows open, listening to the birds and the creek. I had lots of homemade soup and various teas to warm me up. I watched a wonderful movie, The Visitor. I started reading a novel that was an unexpected reflection of my dark years as a teenager trapped in a religious cult. The story was gutting and healing for me. As I cried through the memories that gushed to the surface, it helped me see how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown, and later I smiled so big.
I am not afraid like I used to be.
I am secure in my faith and lifestyle.
I can forgive my abusers.
I hardly ever have nightmares now.
I know what real love is.
So this morning I’m celebrating those precious gifts with a delicious breakfast. 🙂 I’m not even sure what it will be yet because I’m staying at a bed and breakfast on a business trip, but I know it will be something marvelous like French Toast with peanut butter and syrup, or…
…scrambled eggs with salmon and goat cheese.
Wherever you are today, I want you to know how grateful I am you are part of my life. Your comments and support and friendship are such a treasure to me, and I wish you a truly beautiful weekend knowing you matter, you are loved, and you are worth fighting for.
by Krista | Jun 17, 2010 | Literary Nibbles
While the Beavers, Peter, Susan and Lucy were having a most splendid tea, Edmund was utterly miserable.
He had slipped away while the others were merrily feasting, crept behind a curtain, then scooted out the dam door before anyone noticed he was gone. In his haste to leave he had forgotten his coat, his cozy, long, fur coat that would have kept him snugly warm in spite of the rapidly falling snow and deep darkness. Instead he was in his shirt sleeves and short pants as he hunkered down and forged ahead through the swirling snow, heading for the home of the White Witch.
His way was slow and treacherous as he slipped down snowy banks, bashed his shins against hidden rocks, and fell into drifts. Soon he was battered, sopping wet and cold to the bone. He would’ve turned back if his selfish little heart wasn’t clinging fast to the image of himself as King of Narnia, lording it over his brother and sisters, paying them back for every perceived slight. His dreams of grandeur and power gave him renewed strength and he pressed on until he came to the massive iron gates of the White Witch’s castle.
How I shivered at the thought of that bleak, imposing place, all spiky turrets, ice, and menacing silence. My eyes widened as Edmund came upon the courtyard filled with lions, dwarfs, and centaurs all turned to stone. I could feel the dread that must have been in his heart, the first inklings of fear, the sure knowledge that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. And my heart leapt in fright as he stepped over a stone wolf that suddenly rose, very much alive and absolutely terrifying.
He was a massive grey beast, Fenris Ulf, Chief of the White Witch’s Secret Police, and within moments he was leading Edmund into the presence of the White Witch.
The meeting was nothing like Edmund had expected. There was no warm greeting, no thanks for the vital news he had risked his neck to bring, and not a single piece of Turkish Delight. Instead a dwarf brought him an iron bowl of water…
…and an iron plate with a dry hunk of bread.
Before he could finish he was commanded to sit beside the White Witch in her sleigh, joining her on a nightmarish journey to find Aslan. They rode swiftly at first, the snow cold and slick beneath the sleigh, but after a few hours they were unable to move, all the snow melted into great puddles. Spring had come to Narnia. The White Witch was livid! Anyone standing in her way was turned to stone and Edmund was bound and driven like a prisoner, cursed and whipped by a malicious dwarf. He stumbled and slipped and kept walking, tripped and fell and kept walking, until at last they stopped and he collapsed face down on the ground, not caring what happened to him in his relief to be resting at last.
I was so scared for him as he lay there. I wanted to warn him that they were going to kill him, that he must summon a last bit of strength to run away and save himself. But there was nothing I could do. I simply listened in anguish as they hauled him up roughly, bound him to a tree, bared his throat, and sharpened a knife, whir, whir, whirrrr.
Suddenly there were shouts and shrieks all around them! Hooves beating, wings flapping, the White Witch screaming.
Then it was over.
Edmund felt his bonds loosen as strong arms held him close, and kind, strong voices murmured comforting words as a glass of wine was pressed to his lips.
Around him figures bustled and called out and just as things got interesting, Edmund fainted. Moments later he was carried off to Aslan by a jostling party of unicorns, centaurs, birds and deer. He was safe at last.
Bread and Water
Ingredients:
one hunk stale bread
8 oz none-too-clean water
Directions:
- Toss bread on plate.
- Splash water in bowl.
- Drop on floor and serve with a snarl.
by Krista | Jun 16, 2010 | Compatriot Wednesday
Sunday morning dawned brilliantly sunny in British Columbia at my Aunt and Uncle’s lakehouse. I awoke from a deep sleep and wandered groggily into the kitchen to hearty greetings from my kinfolk and the heavenly scent of my Aunt’s Cranberry Orange Scones. My Uncle poured me a steaming mug of coffee and we all visited while my Aunt dusted the scones with powdered sugar, whipped up honey butter and mixed fruit salad. Then with arms laden we trooped out to the sunshiny deck for breakfast. Delicious! 🙂
After such a lovely repast, Mums, my Aunt and I headed out into the warm summer air for a stroll through the hills. The sun hid behind the clouds but left its warmth behind. What a gorgeous day! The air smelled of wild Alberta roses and new leaves and tree sap, the wind sighed through the waving grasses and fields of wild flowers, and rustled the silvery leaves of the poplar trees.
Poplars and birches are my favorite trees in the whole wide world. They remind me of Canada and Russia and a childhood spent climbing them and imagining grand adventures running away from bad guys and rescuing those in distress. Isn’t this grove of poplars even more magical with those sunny Brown-eyed Susans blooming at their roots?
I love Canada. 🙂 Where is your homeland, dear ones? What bit of nature always makes you think of home?
This is my contribution to Wanderfood Wednesday hosted by the lovely Wanderlust and Lipstick. Pay them a visit to see all sorts of splendid travelicious foods.
Auntie Janet’s Cranberry Orange Scones
(From The Best of Bridge)
Ingredients:
3/4 cup buttermilk or plain yogurt
1 egg
2 3/4 cups flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 cup coarsely chopped cranberries (fresh or frozen)
1/2 cup sugar
rind of 1 orange
1 Tbsp. butter, melted
1/4 cup icing sugar
Directions:
- Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
- Beat buttermilk and egg in small bowl and set aside.
- In large bowl, measure flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
- Cut in butter until mixture resembles small peas.
- Mix in cranberries, sugar and orange rind.
- Add buttermilk mixture and stir until soft dough forms. Using your hands, form dough into a large ball and place on floured surface. Pat out to 1″ thickness. Cut in 4″ rounds.
- Place on ungreased cookie sheet and bake scones for 15 – 20 minutes.
- While still warm, brush with butter and sprinkle with icing sugar.
- Makes 8 large scones.
by Krista | Jun 15, 2010 | Spring
The sun was still shining after we finished our delectable Bosnian feast in old town Mostar, Bosnia. Our whistles wet and tummies filled we joined the lovely man we’d met on our way in and he lead us around town with a steady stream of stories and history of his beloved Bosnia.
I was charmed by this stream, bricked in serpentine fashion as it splashed and gurgled its way down to the Neretva river.
Sunbeams warmed us on our side of the Neretva but storm clouds were brewing in the distance, looming closer and closer with ominous darkness.
At last we clambered down large concrete steps to the pebbled beach of the Neretva and gazed up at Stari Most, the Old Bridge. Built in the 16th century, it stood for 427 years until it was destroyed in 1993 during the Bosnian conflict. A massive restoration project funded by Spain, Turkey, Italy, the Netherlands, Croatia, and the United States allowed for the restoration of the bridge and surrounding historic buildings and neighborhoods. They did a splendid job.
It is a beautiful part of the city now, children race over the slippery stones of Stari Most, Muslims and Christians pass each other without incident. It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago the citizens of Mostar suffered mass executions, ethnic cleansing, and rape as their city was demolished by heavy artillery.
Now it’s the sort of place where you want to linger, visiting with locals in a cafe, sipping demitasse cups of Bosnian coffee, strong and black, sweetened with lumps of sugar.
(For more information on the lovely Bosnian coffee tradition, I found this post to be fascinating)
Bosanska kafa (Bosnian coffee)
(Inspired by Bosnian Recipes)
Serves Two
*traditional Bosnian coffee is made in a dzezva, but I do not have one so I used a small pot.
Ingredients:
3/4 cup water
3 Tbsp coffee, ground to fine powder
Sugar to taste
Directions:
- Fill pot with water and heat until it just begins to boil then remove from heat.
- Add coffee powder and stir until well mixed.
- Return pot to heat until foam rises, but doesn’t boil, and remove from heat.
- Spoon a teaspoon of foam into two demitasse cups, add coffee and sugar to taste.
- Let coffee sit a minute or two after stirring to allow coffee grounds to settle.
by Krista | Jun 14, 2010 | Bootstrap Monday
It was an idyllic summer morning when we arrived at my Aunt and Uncle’s lakeside home after a gorgeous drive through the mountains of Southern British Columbia. After a flurry of hugs we chatted up a storm while soaking up sunshine on the deck, then sat down to bowls of steaming soup and warm, grainy bread spread with butter and strawberry jam. Bliss.
After lunch my uncle came in and asked if I wanted to go four-wheeling up in the mountains with him. Did I?!! You bet!! I hustled to get ready, joined him in the truck and off we went down some back roads until we found the perfect ditch to unload the four-wheeler. I clambered on behind my uncle and we were off!! The sun was blazing down on us as cool mountain breezes fanned our faces and whipped my hair into an astonishing set of knots. I loved it! We tore along wooded trails, splashed through massive puddles, groaned our way up super high inclines and plunged down others so steep my heart was in my throat. A grouse flew up from the undergrowth right onto my head, batting me with her wings before she landed a short ways away and started running down the trail after us. We chuckled heartily and continued on our merry way.
Then, oh THEN we emerged from the woods into the most glorious alpine meadows.
Sunlight danced off waving grasses and illumined millions of wildflowers in vivid pinks, purples, and creamy whites. My uncle stopped the four-wheeler and we gazed in awe around us, listening to the wind in the grass and birds singing their hearts out. My uncle said it best: “It doesn’t get any better than this.” Grudgingly we got back on the four-wheeler and headed down the other side of the mountain, back into the sun-dappled forest, getting wetter and muddier with each gigantic puddle we forded, and not minding a bit.
As we turned a corner we were momentarily stymied by the sight of two large poplar trees fallen right across the trail. My uncle scoped it out and figured that with me alternately jumping on then steering while he pulled and lifted the tree trunk with his shoulder, we could, perhaps, shimmy it under both trees. So, with much grunting and groaning and hollers of “jump now! steer right! push hard!” we made it.
Feeling quite pleased with ourselves we motored down the trail only to be startled when a huge mother black bear came bolting across the trail while her cubs went darting up a tree on the other side of us. Hmm. You know that saying about never separating a mother bear from her cubs? Well, we had just done that. As we stared in shock the mother bear skidded to a halt and came barreling back looking for her cubs. As soon as he saw her, my uncle put the four-wheeler into reverse and we torqued back up the way we had come while I kept my eyes glued to the cubs and tried to catch a glimpse of the mother bear. Suddenly my uncle braked and decided that if the bear was going to come after us, he’d rather go straight down the mountain where we at least had a chance of getting away than get stuck back at those wretched trees trying to maneuver ourselves back under them.
Heavens.
So, with pulses racing (and every scary story I’ve heard about bear mauling rushing through my mind) I held on while my uncle whooped and hollered to warn the mother bear of our location, gunned the engine and sped right back down the trail. I saw the cubs slide down the tree and scamper off into the woods, but I couldn’t see the mother bear anywhere. While my uncle floored it, I kept watch all around us, ready to holler a warning if a large black bear suddenly bore down upon us. A minute or two down the trail and we came to ANOTHER fallen tree! GAH!! This one we couldn’t get under so I hopped off and climbed over it while my uncle drove into the woods, found a way around it and picked me up on the other side. Then we zoomed off again, bouncing over ruts, flying through puddles, whipping past low-hanging branches, not stopping until we were safely back at the truck. Lordy, lordy!! I tell you I was never so glad to see civilization.
Twas a grand adventure, though! I was super proud of my uncle’s quick thinking and my utter lack of hysterics.
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