Monday, August 17, 2009

title? I don't need no stinkin' title! Baking, thrifting, quilting

Hottest day of the year, and I'm baking cookies! I'm going to a quilt day tomorrow, and thought I might take a batch of these along to share. One must keep up one's strength to sew, mustn't one?

These are a particular favourite of ours. The recipe was invented by a family friend, and were her late husband's favourite as well.

Bob's Cookies

2 c flour
2 c oats
2 c coconut
2 c brown sugar
1 c oil
2 eggs
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
handful of raisins
2-3 Tbsp of water - - add only if the ingredients don't seem to be combining together very well, because it's too dry

Drop by spoonfuls onto cookie sheets, and bake at 350 for about 10 min. They are soft, and chewy, and full of wholesome nostalgia. Makes about four dozen.

I stopped into a thrift store this afternoon, just for a peek. I found this adorable cross-stitch on linen, with a line from the poem by Sam Walter Foss. I've tossed the frame, and found the linen whip stitched to the cardboard backing. I've cut it away from the backing cardboard, and zig-zag stitched around the raw edges. I'll give it a bath, and perhaps turn this into a patchwork cushion.

The House by the Side of the Road
by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I also got a couple of "My First Little House" books, to put away for a future grand daughter. (Much, much into the future, please children?) I was a big Laura Ingalls Wilder fan when I was a little girl.

Speaking of books, I just started a new book this afternoon: "Winding Ways" by Jennifer Chiaverini. If it wasn't so darned hot and humid outside, I'd be on the front porch reading right now.

Still working away at my Jelly Roll Diamonds. Four more seams!

1 comment:

  1. You never let me down.

    MMMM... I can taste them already!!!!

    ReplyDelete