Pumpkin Please!

Last year, much to my surprise, there was not a single can of pumpkin in any store anywhere to make my favorite pumpkin soup.  Thinking perhaps they were just out after Christmas, I asked the store manager to order some.  He looked surprised and said, "I am sorry, but haven't you heard about the canned pumpkin shortages?"

How had I not heard about this crisis?  Well, we don't watch television in our house except for things like the Olympics, and national presidential campaign debates (and I don't mind sharing how disappointed I was in the first one of those!)  Also my closest friends will not be surprised that it took me four years of shortages to run out of canned pumpkin in my pantry...since I am frequently accused of being closely related to squirrels!

Late this summer, I was delighted to be on hand when Trader Jo's was stocking their shelves with...canned pumpkin.  Grabbing two cases, I made it the check out stand without being stopped by other customers.  Phew.  Not even glancing up, much less accusing me of hoarding, the checker rang me up.  My cases of pumpkin are safely stored, and a culinary crisis has been avoided for at least another two years.

I am feeling a little adventurous (now that I have secured an adequate stock) and may branch out from my three favorite pumpkin recipes:

1. plain old pie from the recipe on the back of a Libbey's can...not pralined, not cream cheesed, definitely not moussed! With some very good homemade whipped cream.

2. Pumpkin soup with cream cheese, exotically spiced and served with roasted pumpkin seeds.

3.  Pumpkin Streusel Muffins

So, if you have a favorite pumpkin recipe, please share it!  If I get three or more recipes, I will publish yours and share mine as well.

Part of a miniature Honeduke's Sweet Shop I am creating.   The two little ones with stems in the foreground are the one I made.  The ones in the tin tub are from a package of Halloween potpourri that I picked up at Hobby Lobby.  The darling little shopping bag is from a package of Jolene's Stickers which I purchased at Michael's Crafts Store.  The skeleton is one of several on a garland I purchased several years ago for Harry Potter Camp, and are still available at the Dollar Store.  The cat and the copper pot holding suckers were part of a gift from my daughter Brittany's partner, Colin.  They belonged to Colin's grandmother, Cleo.

And just for fun, I made a couple of Sculpey pumpkins for the house elves at Hogwarts to use for pumpkins pasties.  However the pumpkin shortage has affected the magical world of Harry Potter too.  Honeydukes borrowed them for their Halloween display since the transfiguration spells did not seem to work on any of their zucchinis (of which they had an endless supply.) Over at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the early attack of squash bugs was effectively thwarted by Professor Sprout when the captured Cornish pixies were released into the gardens.  It appears that not even squash bugs like Cornish pixies!  Behind the skeleton, you can see the tiny little ice mice which are sitting on a tub of candy corn.  Lots and lots of cutting necessary to make those...

Here is a close up of the Ice Mice and candy corn in a tub.

Sculpey Ice Mice and candy corn.  The little tea cart was made from a miniature washstand to which I added wheels and painted pink and green.  It is only temporarily being used as part of the seasonal Halloween display in Honedukes...so I propped the orange shopping bag in front of it to partially hide the pink.  I made a screen with foam core and the spider web wallpaper made with scrap book paper to separate this vignette from the rest of the shop which is pink and green. (Photo styling in miniature!)

 Please come by again if you want to see the rest of Honeydukes.  It is almost completed.

Pastel Show

Thought I would show you a few snapshots of some of the art work currently showing at St. Mark's Sacred Arts Gallery...

Fall in Brazos County - Robert Blagg

Afternoon Sun - Audrey Mindard

In the Wave - Laura Crew

Gwendolyn Wilemon

Sorry, don't have the artist's name in any of my notes!

Morning Shimmer - Gwen Wilemon

Add caption

Grand Canyon Desert View - Barbara Garrett

Sweet Carrots - Constance Gehring

Aspens in the Fall - Constance Gehring

Waiting for the Cranes - Gwen Wilemon

Fawn Lakes - Gwendolyn Wilemon

 Please excuse the poor quality of the photos which I took.  I need to take some lessons from my daughter over at the Vintique Object.  I am sure there are some tricks to taking photographs of artwork that is framed with glass.  I always photograph my work before framing so that I don't get reflections...especially from the flash.  There was not enough natural light today to avoid either using the spotlights or my flash, hence all those annoying white spots!  My apologies to those artists whose work is not shown here.  It is not that I did not love your pieces, but my lack of photography skills...those photos were too terrible to post!

Here is a list of the artists and some contact information is you would like to see more of their work.
Donna Aldrich - aldrichgalleries@gmail.com
Robert W. Blag - bobjean028@aol.com
Susan Cooper - sscooper@msn.com
Laura Crew - 
Barbara Garrett - garrett45@hotmail.com
Constance Gerhing
Audery Minard - 
Gwendolyn Wilemon - wilemong@aol.com

Thrills and Chills in Northeastern Utah- not on a raft, but a Sportsmobile on a bridge.

You would imagine that rafting would provide enough thrills and chills for my risk loving husband, but he has experienced another sort of thrill when he drove our very large and heavy Sportsmobile through a "shortcut" recommended by the local shuttle firm.  Said shortcut was breathtaking in more ways then one.  We started out from Vernal, Utah, a very pretty small town after shopping to resupply Norm and the folks who were going down the river again.  Who knew that petunias would lead to almost horror...

 Leaving Vernal with its picturesque petunias and T-Rex and Pterodactyl statues, we traveled by dirt road following obscure landmarks through this canyon...

Edging carefully to the crumbling edge of the single track to let another vehicle pass...
we began to wonder at the wisdom of taking the shortcut as we passed a sign that said..."warning!  bridge ahead limited to two ton vehicles."  Ours weighs considerably more than that!  Deciding we would go take a look since we had already come fifty miles, we were relieved when we got to the bridge that the new sign said 6 ton limit!  Okay, we are a lot closer to that limit, although still a little over.  However the bridge looked pretty sketchy.  Norm, usually making fun of my over-active caution, agreed that our passengers should walk over first, which we did very cautiously as the bridge swung in the winds.  

Norm eased the van onto the bridge very slowly as it bucked and swayed...

And we cheered as he eased off the bridge back onto solid pavement.  We agreed that next time, we would skip the shortcut.  Thirty minutes of driving might be preferable to three minutes of terror!

Pick a Peck of Prickly Pears

Harvested prickly pear fruits are a magenta color...careful, they prick!

There will be no pinion nuts this year around our house as they only produce a crop every three years and last year was a big one!  In the fall, something genetic makes me want to harvest and store up for the winter, so I have spent some time picking (very carefully) prickly pear fruits.  A peck is about 1/4 a bushel..or in this case a brown paper grocery sack. There are various things you can make with the fruit, but I chose to just extract the juice and freeze it for a little taste of summer sometime this winter. We have an abundance of prickly pear cactus on our property and in the surrounding National Forest lands, so I am sure the bears and coyotes won't miss the few I harvested.

Holding the fruit with tongs, cut off both ends.

Cut a slit from stem end to flower end.

Roll the fruit towards you as you cut away the skin.

Put skinned fruits into a mesh strainer over a larger bowl to catch the juice and smash them with a spoon.  With the back of the spoon, press the fruit through the mesh.  Left behind will be a large amount of seeds which can be planted if you want more prickly pears on your property.  Which I do not.

Pour juice directly into freezer containers and freeze for later, or mix it with sugar, water (vodka or tequila works as well if you prefer an adult beverage), and lemons to taste for a lovely pink lemonade.  

True Confession: I drank all the lemonade before I remembered to take a photo, so here is one from another blog, A Fanciful Twist.  If you think you want to make some prickly pear lemonade yourself, head on over there for much more detailed instructions.  Wish I had found this blog before I started in on my project.  I phoned a friend for advice and did pretty well, but one thing I did not learn was that you can take a lighter or propane torch and burn off the fine stickers before peeling so it is not so hazardous.  Next time!

Rafting the Gates of Ladore

The entrance to the Ladore Canyon

"The Cataract of Ladore" by Robert Southey

"How does the water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus, once on a time;
And moreover he tasked me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon, at the word,
There first came one daughter,
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store;
And 'twas in my vocation
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King.

From its sources which well
In the tarn on the fell;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-skurry.
Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till, in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.

The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound:
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.

Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning;

And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;

Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering;

Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, -
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 

John Wesley Powell named the entrance to the Canyon on the Green river in what is now Dinosaur National Park after the above poem when the Powell Geographic Expedition rafted this canyon.  John Wesley Powell (March 24, 1834 – September 23, 1902) was a U.S. soldier, geologist, explorer of the American West, professor at Illinois State University, and director of major scientific and cultural institutions. He is famous for the 1869 Powell Geographic Expedition, a three-month river trip down the Green and Colorado rivers that included the first known passage through the Grand Canyon. (source Wikipedia)

Getting the rafts ready

How does a snake get to the other side of the river?...by swimming of course.

This mother and baby big horn sheep came to the river's edge to watch us float by and obligingly posed for a photograph.