Sneak Surprises

I wasn't going to introduce my new Etsy shop until April 15, when I roll out my new spring apron and... vintage slip dresses! collections. :) But today The Handmade Movement noticed that I've been quietly adding sweet things to the shop and picked me for their infamous Sneak Attack. Then one of my favorite new shop items was featured in the Etsy Treasury Set "For Book Lovers". Wow!

That was surprising and thrilling!

So... today, Friday, my birthday, I pre-introduce you to my brand new shop, Balm and Honey. The phrase Balm and Honey is from the Biblical Old Testament- Genesis 43:11- and thrills my heart each time I read it. What you see in my shop, then, is a just a few of the little things that add a little balm and a little honey to my life and home. I'm honored to share them with you.

April 15 is still the official opening day of the shop- the cat got out of that handmade bag a little too soon!- and I look forward to the handmade aprons, slip dresses, organic soaps, and wunderful goodies you'll find there.
Welcome to my new little place online! -Brin

Spring Morning

It's one of those mornings: cloudy, windy, heavy. Through the waving grass and knocking branches, bird songs come, carried on the wind. Moss creeps down stone steps. Hydrangeas, awake after their long sleep, yawn and stretch out leaves. Herbs sway. And in the strawberry patch, the first berry ripens- a perfect, storybook kind of berry, almost too perfect to be real.

Welcome, spring. It's good to see you at last.

I celebrate and shout because You are kind.

You saw all my suffering, and You cared for me.

-Psalm 31:7 CEV

God sees what you're going through and He cares for you. Take heart.

Party Puffery, A Tutorial

With my birthday this week, I'm in hit-and-miss party planning mode. I know it's... unconventional... throwing your own party, but I love baking, unusual themes, seeing smiles, and knowing loved ones are there, stress-free, having a good time. To me, that's a gift.

But this year my budget is really tight. As in, virtually nonexistent. But it's okay, the challenge has forced me to get creative and transform things around the house.

For instance, would you believe the handmade puffs above were made from these humble offerings? Here, look:

Old packing paper from moving. Coffee filters. Straight sewing pins. Styrofoam balls.

I have tons of crinkled-up paper and tissue from moving. I had a trash bag full of paper that had been wound around glasses and crumbled in corners of boxes and wrapped around breakables. As I was about to toss it in the car last week, headed for the recycling drop, I scolded myself: find a way to use it for the party, then recycle it.

And a puffery craze was born. Here's what I did:

 Find paper or tissue around the house. It can be anything: newpaper, old paperback books, magazines, catalogues, packing paper, grocery/fast food paper sacks, old lists, term papers, drawings... anything so long as it's clean. Cut the pieces into uniform circles in any size you like. I traced around a flattened out coffee filter (8-12 cup size) for my puffs.

Grab your paper or coffee filter- just one now- and pinch together in the middle as in the picture above. Give it a good little twist at the base of your pinch.

Pin it on your styrofoam ball. Just jab the pin right in. (The size of your balls will determine the overall dimension of your puffs, of course. I used grapefruit-sized balls for these, but am on the lookout for a few bowling ball-sized ones, too. Your preference.)

 Continue pinching and pinning your circles. The closer you can get them, the fuller- and better!- the puff.  Here's my packing paper puff with the top completed:

 I estimated that I could pinch and pin a puff (say that fast five times) in ten minutes. Or a bit longer, if you were horsing around with your sister and jamming out to that song from the Subaru commercial during the process.

And certainly, you could spray paint these. Or use colored tissue. Or dye your coffee filters. Or use colorful scrap paper. Your imagination's the limit! I think I'm going to try a few with water-logged, vintage book pages and old Anthropologie catalogues.

Once they're done, secure a hanging ribbon using a touch of hot glue. Then hang to your heart's delight!

Truth be told, I think this will be my most favorite party yet. :)  -Brin

Photos, Blogger, and Chick Flick Auctions

It seems as though I awoke from my picture-taking slumber. I've been snapping photos of everything again: apple blossoms, pressure canners, raspberry breakfasts, creeping thyme, knitting projects. But alas, blogger isn't letting me upload photos! A red flag's been waved and I've no doubt made them crazy with my questions.

As they resolve this issue, here's a quick note to say that I'm selling a Chick Flick collection of DVDs and other snazzy things on eBay this week. (You know I'm just now unpacking Freeman House boxes? It's been fun and puzzling. Fun to rediscover "lost" belongings. Puzzling to realize I had some of this stuff in the first place! Ha.) Anyhow, click here if you've been looking to treat yourself for cheap, run on over and take a gander at what I've got up for grabs.

Can you believe it's Monday already? I think we're in for a good week. -Brin

A Woman Like Elizabeth

A whole stack of memories

never equal one little hope.

-Charles M. Schulz

When my Great Grandmother Elizabeth's things were doled out after she left for heaven, I was in the height of my reporting career. As I remember it, the Iraq war was at a fever pitch; it was the week Saddam's statue toppled in Baghdad. CBS wasn't letting anyone off for anything. Participating in the packing of Elizabeth's things was not an option.

It's not as if I was the only, or even a remarkable, great-grandchild anyway. I wasn't local, or a namesake, or the oldest or the baby. So my parents carted home a few odds and ends for me that no one wanted: handsewn table cloths, meticulously cared for and worn with use. Linen napkins, mismatched, in odd numbers, and handmade. And odd sets of flatware, tarnished and incomplete.

I love them.

It's such a shame, isn't it, that we only know our grand and great-grandparents when we're young. If then. There are a million questions I'd like to ask Elizabeth now. There are a thousand things I'd like to learn from her. Things such as, How do you make your caramel pie? How'd you get your garden tomatoes so big? How do you sew on a treadle machine? What's the secret to your chicken and dumplings? How'd you keep such an unwavering faith through loss and war? Will you teach me to quilt?

Is it strange that I feel her absence more today than I did a decade ago?

Today, I flip through my stack of memories and momentos from her honest and handmade life, and hold onto my one little hope: that oneday I grow up to be a woman like Elizabeth.

Uses For Leftover Cornbread

I had a post planned for today about uses for leftover cornbread. (While this may not be an issue for you, it is for this single, Southern gal.) I mean, what to do with all the sweet, cake-like hunks from yesterday's pan? I had no idea, so I began researching.

Then... a snafu. An emergency errand left the little brown dog home alone. Alone and unhappy. So what did Millie do? She plopped her paws on the counter and scarfed down the leftover cornbread straight from the cast iron pan. I knew something was amiss the moment she greeted me at the door with yellow crumbs under her mouth and on her fur. Bad dog. BAD DOG!

Fortunately I had backup leftover cornbread in baggies in the freezer. But Millie's bad binge set me back. My photos to accompany this post were not going to happen today.

Sigh.

Ah well. Without further ado, here are my new top uses for leftover cornbread, in no particular order:

1. Cornbread Croutons. Cube leftover cornbread into 1 inch cubes. Tumble onto parchment lined or nonstick baking pan and drizzle with 4-5 Tablespoons butter. Stir or turn lightly to coat. Toast at 450 degrees for 5-7 minutes, turning once halfway through baking, or until croutons are your favorite shade of browned. Serve in salads, or over soup or chili.

2. Chicken and Cornbread Dressing. This is my favorite use for leftover cornbread. Crumble approximately 4-5 cups of stale cornbread into a large bowl. Add in 4-5 cups of stale bread, pinched or cut to 1 inch cubes. (I save the ends of french bread, all leftover bread, biscuits, rolls, crackers, etc., for this purpose.) Toss the cornbread and bread together. To this mixture, add: 2 stalks celery, chopped; 1 small onion, chopped and sauted in 4 T. butter; 2 hardboiled eggs, chopped; 2 eggs, lightly beaten; 1 can cream of celery soup, 1 can cream of chicken soup; 2 T. dried sage; 2 T. dried parsley; salt and pepper; 4 cups shredded chicken.  Mix together, adding chicken broth or water to thin, if desired. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour or until done and lightly browned. Serve with mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce.

3. Cornbread Salad. I've made this a time or two using variations of this recipe and have gotten rave reviews each time. Easy!

4. Squash Casserole. Crumble leftover cornbread into casserole dish. In a pan over medium high heat, cook 3 sliced yellow squash and 1 small onion, finely chopped, until tender. Drain and add to cornbread. Stir in 2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded; 1 egg; salt, pepper, and sage to taste. Stir to combine. Turn into lightly greased baking dish. Dot with 1/2 stick butter. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until set and lightly browned. Yum.

5. Cornbread Pudding. This recipe is very similar to one my Grandmother has. It's a keeper.

6. Cornbread and Milk. My Great Grandfather, Henry, had the same dinner most every night: cornbread and milk. As a girl, I always thought it looked gross. Now I'm a fan. Crumble 1 cup or a large hunk of cornbread into a tall glass. Pour 1 1/2 cups cold milk over. Sprinkle with sugar. Eat with spoon. A poor, country farmer's dinner for sure.

7. Cornbread Crumbs. Butter cornbread and lightly toast in 450 degree oven. Cool and pulse in food processor (or crumble up) until you have a fine crumb. Use in casseroles and recipes in place of bread crumbs.

If all else fails, feed cornbread to the birds. Birds, not dogs. wink

Do you have any other suggestions for leftover cornbread? I'd be happy to hear them! -Brin

Beautiful, Awe Inspiring Things

There's a tomato shortage right now. Had you heard? Down here in Texas, only folks who request tomatoes on their sandwiches or burgers get them. If then. A friend in the restaurant business tells me their kitchen usually pays $27 for a crate of tomatoes. Right now, they're $51. Ouch.

I have been babying, babying, babying my tomato seedlings the past few weeks. When the light is dim inside, I rush them outdoors. When the wind gusts or the temperature falls or it begins to pound rain, I rush them inside. Back and forth. In and out. This morning, while watering the 'lings, as I've come to call them, I decided: enough of this. They're going in the ground TODAY.

I have seven varities started: Amish Paste and Roma for sauces, Early Girl, Mule Team and Brandywine for slicing, Mortgage Lifters because I love their squatty shape and back story, and the ones shown here. These are San Marzano, the famous Italian tomato that people pay $5 (or more, now) per can. These are superb tomatoes.

There's a soft place in my heart, though, for the Amish Paste 'lings. They grew from seed I saved from my last garden at Freeman House. Three-year old seed, and they germinated. I think I actually teared up when they began hesitantly poking through the soil. Life goes on, they seemed to declare, and beautiful, awe inspiring things continue to happen.

Funny how a tomato can say such things.

Have a beautiful, awe inspiring weekend. -Brin

By the way, folks invariably ask me for gardening help and resource recommendations whenever I post on gardening. Do yourself a favor and grab these books: Grow Great Grub: Organic Food from Small Spaces, and Vegetable Gardening: From Planting to Picking. I've learned so much from them and you will, too.

Dinner From My Memories

My visit to Istanbul back in March 2008 has been on my mind this week. Maybe it's the time of year, but that trip's bobbed to the surface of my memories lately: the salty, cool spray while boating across the Bosphorus Strait, the Greek Oregano spilling from crevices of stone, the ancient streets, the spices, the palaces. 

In an effort to recreate one of my favorite meals ever, I started searching the internet. What Turkish menus called Stuffed Lamb, apparently other recipes call Lamb and Rice. Hmm. Nothing seemed close... seemed right... until I hit upon a Rice Pilaf dish in the stupendous Bake Until Bubbly, the bible of casserole cooking. (You have to get that book.) Could this be it- my version of a favorite meal half the world away?

It is. If you're looking for something a little different to add to your chicken/rice/vegetable repertoire, may I present:

Brin's Turkish Palace Stuffed Chicken

Loosely adapted from Bake Until Bubbly, and my memory

3 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded or diced

(Leftover chicken is great here, but you could use turkey or lamb, too.)

5 T. butter, divided

1 1/2 cups long grain rice

1 t. turmeric

1/2 t. pumpkin pie spice (Really. Just go with it.)

1/2 t. ground cloves

1 bay leaf

1 t. coarsely ground black pepper

2 t. kosher salt, divided

2 carrots, peeled and chopped

3 green onions, white and green parts, chopped

2 1/2 cups hot chicken stock (or water)

1 cup baby lima beans (butter beans), fresh or frozen

Okay. Preheat your oven to 350.

Measure out rice into small bowl. Cover with cool water and leave to soak for 30 minutes. (Or, rinse in cool water for several minutes and set aside.)

Step 1- In a small skillet with heat off, mix chicken with spices, 1 t. kosher salt, and pepper. Add 2 T. butter to skillet and turn heat on medium high, stirring often until butter melts and chicken heats through, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat.

Step 2- In a dutch oven, melt remaining (3 T.) butter. Add carrots, drained rice, and the white parts of the green onion, reserving the green part for garnish. Stir for 3-4 minutes or until rice absorbs butter. Add spiced chicken mixture and cook for 30 seconds. Pour in chicken stock (or water) and baby lima beans. Add bay leaf and reserved 1 t. kosher salt to pot. Stir well.

Step 3- Cover and bake for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, place a paper towel or flour sack towel over pot, and cover again. Leave covered for 20 minutes or until rice has absorbed all the liquid.

Stir to fluff rice, garnish with reserved green onion, and serve immediately.

You can make this without a dutch oven if you'd like. Finish Steps 1 and 2 on the stove, then pour into a large casserole dish, cover tightly with foil, and bake as directed. Leave foil in place until ready to serve.

While Turkish dishes and memories might not be haunting you, I hope you'll try this exotic take on chicken and rice. Who knows... it may have you feeling like an Ottoman princess in no time, too.  -Brin

What Waters Cannot Quench

My brother, a student at a respected Bible college, and I got to talking over the weekend about God and Japan. God and disaster. God and bad things happening. We debated: "does God cause disaster or allow disaster?" The age old question. I quoted Nahum 1 and emphasized God's righteousness and zeal; he argued Job and God's love.

But for a year... or even longer, now... this one phrase from Song of Solomon  won't let me go: that many waters cannot quench love.

Over the weekend I pulled out pictures I took took sailing the Gulf of Mexico three years ago, thought about that verse, and listened to this song. I love this song.

And the words are still with me this morning...

Thoughts of Jelly (Resources Included)

Jellies and jams, it appears, were the delight of country homestead kitchens a hundred years ago. After all, what brown bread, hot biscuit, or simple dessert isn't improved with a dollop of glittering fruit? But today, jellies, jams and fruit spreads are missing from cabinets in many households. Too much sugar, we say. Too expensive when the cost of groceries we have to buy is skyrocketing.

As I continue to stock up on extras of things family members and I (do or will) need, I've been encouraged to consider jelly again. As I pour over old homesteading books and turn-of-the-century cookbooks, I'm reminded: jelly and jam is important. It's variety in an otherwise boring diet of breads and grains. It's a great calorie source. It's turning foraged or carelessly cultivated finds into substance for a family. Really, the more I read, and the more I make, the more I'm convinced:

Jelly is wonderful.

If you're one of the many who's contacted me for food storage tips, or if you're one of the many looking to preserve locally grown produce and get a handle on what's actually in your food, don't forget about jelly, jam, preserves, fruit spreads, and fruit butters. I echo the urging of farm wives and daughters from bygone eras.

Here are some resources I've found that, in my humble jam opinion, can't be beat. Want to learn to make your own jarred jewels? Start here. Looking for old favorites? They have you covered. Looking for something cool and exotic? Done. Whether you're stocking up, eating creatively, or looking to broaden your culinary horizon, I'd start here. (There are superb gift ideas here, too!) It's great to have paper copies of these on hand in case internet access becomes... troublesome, but you can certainly buy electronic copies or borrow them from folks or libraries, too:

Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving

Put 'Em Up: A Comprehensive Home Preserving Guide for the Creative Cook

The Blue Chair Jam Cookbook

The Encyclopedia of Country Living

The Joy of Jam, Jellies, and Other Sweet Preserves

There. I promise you won't be disappointed.

I'd like to share recipes and tips this summer as jelly and jam season gets underway, but I thought now may be a good time to start considering things and throwing some thoughts toward getting prepared.

Getting prepared. My new middle names. :) Happy jamming. -Brin

They Draw & Cook

Recipe Photo Credit: They Draw & Cook

I've been on such a veggie kick lately. Legumes, carrots, spinach, avocado. Today I even planted a second variety of radishes in the garden. Hmm. My body must be telling me something.

But I know what my "this is super amazing" instinct is telling me: They Draw & Cook is one of the coolest cooking websites. Ever. I'd go on about it, but you can head over there and see for yourself.

Besides, I have Chick Pea Dip to make. (And serve with carrots? Woohoo!)

Happy Monday.  -Brin

Faith is a living, daring confidence in God's grace,

so sure and certain that a man could stake

 his life on it a thousand times.

-Martin Luther

Feed Store Day

The garden is going in. The garden is going in! After months of dog-earing seed catalogues, sending away for heirloom and organic seeds, and studying seed charts and soil pH mumbo jumbo, the actual planting has begun. So far I have onions, garlic, radishes, spinach, lettuces, broccoli and green peas planted. Everything looks good. (But I don't want to start bragging yet. A garden is nothing if not humbling.)

Yesterday I ventured to the town's Feed Store in search of more seed potatoes. Purple potatoes, baking potatoes, and regular potatoes weren't enough. Actually, my Dad, second generation gardener and Knower Of All Things Gardening, gave me ten dollars and told me to run and buy red potatoes. I did.

The Feed Store here is something from a story book. First off, it's ancient. Its rusty tin roof and creaking wooden steps bid you to an era you only see in movies. I get the feeling sometimes, as I'm climbing the worn steps, that I'll push open the door and, instead of finding old men in overalls cursing Obama and the Economy, I'll find men in coats and tall hats, arguing about President Lincoln and the War.

Once inside the long, slanting building, these are the things you notice first: an enormous black wood stove with a tin pan of peanuts roasting on top. Always. Since I was a girl. The men stand around the stove, shelling peanuts and tossing the shells on the knotted wooden floor. Near the stove, kittens tumble and mew from a basket. I've always wanted one. Since I was a girl.

Horse tack, field corn, chicken feed, dog collars and cattle medicine fill every nook. But along the wall by the door, steps away from the kittens, is what gets me teary eyed: Every Kind of Seed Imaginable. There's pre-packaged seed for (sniff) "town" people and bins of bulk seed for the country folk. The scale by the tower of brown paper sacks groans whenever you weigh your bags. Even if you only have two pounds. Even if it seems the old thing should have accepted her lot in life by now.

I walk the wall, slowly, reading the names of seeds and dreaming. Candy Corn. Louisiana Pink Purple Hulls. Christmas Limas. Big Boy Tomatoes. Red Heart Peppers. Zipper Cream Peas. (Those are my favorite. I bought 4 dollars of "Zippers" as we all call them here. They go for 30 dollars a bushel at market.) And when I get to the seed potatoes, I'm relieved to see nearly 20 potatoes left. RED PONDEROSA is scrawled on the box in pencil. 50 CENTS/POUND. I fill my brown paper sack, weigh it on the groaner, and take my five-plus pounds of good eating and assorted seeds to the counter.

There's a corgi in a dog bed to the left of the register. She's always in the same spot. I have no idea how she gets up there and never ask. She watches you without raising her nose. It used to be appreciated when you'd buy her a Milkbone, but not these days. She doesn't even chase the kittens anymore, I'm told. I shake my head and offer a "bless her heart" as if on cue. The cashier, with her Too Much Lipstick, nods approval.

You pay with cash. Or checks. I can't believe people still write checks, but they do in here. Oh, the Feed Store has a credit card machine, but you get a withering stare whenever you pull out your Bank of America card. Cash is king. Pay, get your change, and pet the kittens on your way out, nodding to the men who nod at you on your way down the stairs.

I got my seed potatoes cut and quartered like you're supposed to do before planting. They're withering now, fanned out on brown paper on the table. But you know, I got to thinking last night: I don't have any good mashing potatoes. Think I'll go back this morning and get the YUKON GOLD- 75 CENTS/POUND.

That and pet the kittens one more time.

Contrite to Consumed

I'm driving to my storage building some 30 miles away and emptying it, load by load, day by day. Saturday the "movers" (my brother and his friends) officially deliver the final load to the house. I can't wait!

In one of the first loads, I found my sculpture. My Women of the Way sculpture. She's called Contrite. I'll never forget the day I got it... it was the time I realized I'd probably lose Freeman House. It just felt like too much, you know? I remember praying, "God, the Bible promises that a broken and contrite spirit You won't despise. You say that you're near to the brokenhearted. Remind me." And He did. He did! And this sculpture helped.

So, almost two years later, I unwrapped the sculpture, stood her up on the table, and looked at her. It choked me up to realize that she's more a symbol - a testimony of overcoming victory and God's faithfulness - than a reminder. That Contrite season is over.

You know, so many Christians are spouting health, wealth, and safety nowdays. It's crap. God isn't glorified by what we have, He's glorified by who we are. When we can go through struggles and loss proclaiming that God is enough, that God is our gift and our giver, that God will satisfy when nothing else does, then He is honored.

"Whom have I in heaven but You? and there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You." God, I'll lose it all for that testimony. ...

Now I guess I'd appreciate the sculpture Consumed.

It's the second day. Again. The dove is back.

Getting Settled in Denial

I'm still painting. Still tearing open cardboard boxes, gasping or squealing when I find what's inside. Still washing and wiping dishes, studying cabinets, arranging each clean bowl and sparkling glass.

I should be in a hurry. With oil prices climbing everyday, folks in my line of work are in demand. I need to get back to work. I have to get back to work. But the idea of leaving home, once again, and driving to some far off state and sitting on a hotel bed and flipping on a fastened-down TV makes me cry. Right now the booming wells are in Colorado, Wyoming, the Carolinas. I don't want to travel. I want to be home.

(But how blessed am I to have a career? Thank you, God, for blessing me.)

I'm planting my garden, buying bananas, setting up my sewing machine, and plunking buds in vases as if I never have to leave. Silly me.

Silly, in denial, me.

The Hesed House

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

my hope comes from him.

-Psalm 62:5

I decided not to rush things; not to let my spontaneity gallop wildly through my world again, kicking up dust and making me nervous. I'll go slow and steady with the cabin and land, I promised myself. So this month I found a small, old house to rent down the road from the church I attended as a girl. At noon everyday, I hear the church bells and feel ten years old again.

The house has been empty for some time. It needs updating... it needs another chance. This last week I painted a bedroom, set up my bed, and hung curtains. For the first time in almost 16 months, I slept between my own sheets- not in a hotel suite, guest lodgings, my sister's floor. I woke up this morning and saw familiar things, my things, and thanked God for the rest and hope He's given. It's beautiful.

In deciding what I'd call the place (because houses need names, you know) I felt like Hesed House fit. Hesed is Hebrew for "mercy", but the meaning goes much deeper than that. It's a word that describes the reciprocal relationship between God and man. When it's used in the context of humans, it's talking about extending kindness. Doing favors for the benefit of others. Affection for God. Being lovely. But when Hesed is used in God's context, it refers to His loyalty. How He redeems. Preserves. Keeps promises. And how He created that empty space in us... making us aware of spirituality and His grace.

Last night I was thinking again about Hesed and was interrupted by an email from someone needing a place to stay for several weeks this spring. And suddenly I decided: the name and its meaning is perfect.

This morning I'm making the bed, making coffee, and getting reacquainted with things long packed and a house long awaited.

Happy weekend. -Brin

Cheesemaking, Or, How to Turn Milk Into Magic

Cheese -
milk's leap toward immortality.

Clifton Paul Fadiman

I'm learning to make cheese. It was on my list of 30 things I wanted to do in my 30s. And so here I go, becoming quite the curds and whey girl.

(Actually, the whey girl is Millie. Did you know that dogs LOVE whey? I mean, they love it. Millie jumps in the air for it. Anyone know why this is- that dogs love whey?)

All cheese experts advise starting with "beginner cheeses" like mozarella or cream cheese. Cheese you don't have to load in a cheese press. Cheese you don't have to know advanced chemistry to make. Me? Ha. I flipped to Home Cheese Making's recipe for Farmhouse Cheddar and dragged out the milk.

My first stab at making homemade cheddar cheese was a success. Now I'm addicted. Farmhouse Cheddar is a crumbly white cheddar cheese- kinda along the same texture as feta- that you only have to age for a month. The ingredients are easily had and so's the equipment. I found the hardest part of the cheese making process to be regulating my electric stove to keep the heat just right; too hot and the curds break, too cool and the curds don't set. But with a little (okay, a cheese truck load) of patience, I made, aged, and waxed my first round of cheese.

If you're interested in giving cheesemaking a go, start here: cheesemaking.com. And by all means, find a copy of the book I linked above and decide what you'd like to try your stove at first.

Anyone have cheesemaking tips or advice for beginners? I'd love to hear from folks who do or want to make homemade cheese. Thanks! -Brin

Love and Orchids

I love that God created strawberries. I love that God thought of music. I really love that God made orchids.

I mean, it isn't hard to fall for and follow after a God who makes us orchids.

So today I'm sharing my beautiful petals with you. (You don't mind sharing a bloom, do you?) Happy Valentine's Day, lovely one. Hope you know how deeply loved you are.

And God, we love You because You first loved us. Thanks for the orchid. -Brin