we found a winner

Not that we ever make biscuits, but we have obtained the BEST biscuit recipe. It's so nice having a husband that loves to cook.

Oh, and we have apple butter in the crockpot. Calorie overload! tomorrow we will be good...

we have honey!

Our first harvest. Bees are doing well and we have six more supers to extract. Tomorrow morning is biscuit time at Boat House Honey Farm!

my country and I share a birthday!

sometimes I feel like we are the same age..

my sweet daughter is always thoughtful ( note the bee on the bag ).

more beauty..in our wee ones

children make us feel things- good parts of our inner child that we bury with our daily routines.

what a sweet world it is

we just have to look. I mean really look...we recently did, on our mountain trip. Our maker is quite artistic with his planet.

Beehive growth

So happy to report that our bees are multiplying to the point that we had to get more supers to start another hive. Michael is building another bee box and this will make three!

Hive 1 is not flourishing as well as we would like. While we see larvae, we have yet located the actual queen. Hive 2 is full of honey, so extraction is soon.

Alex (age 10) got a full class on beekeeping while visiting Poppa and Mimi over the weekend. Alex is so much like her Poppa. She loves gardening, cooking, making things and now loves the bees. I think it is so wonderful that he has passed along those amazingly wonderful traits about him to his precious granddaughter.

Happy Birthday to my Dad

A special man turned 73 yesterday. Our walks around the lake when I was growing up saved my sanity. Thanks, Dad.

There was an article in the local newspaper not long ago about sentimental kitchen items. Everyone one of us has something in our kitchen that is close to our hearts. Our first mixing bowl, an old whisk that came from a distant aunt, a cookie recipe that has been passed down. The kitchen is not only the heart of our homes, but the heart of our being. When you throw a gathering, most people end up congregating in the kitchen at some point.

When the paper posed the question "what kitchen item do you own that is near and dear to your heart?" I had to share mine. I have a black iron skillet that has been passed down from my Grandmother. She bought it back in the late 30's from a housewares salesman. (Saying that conjures up visions of a door to door salesman - not so) There was a wooden horse drawn wagon that visited all the farms in our rural southern county. My grandmother was an eighteen year old newlywed when she decided she needed that 10" cast iron frying pan.

Through the years it has been a part of meal preparation a family of nine and then later seventeen grandchildren, of which I am the oldest. Maybe that is why I was lucky enough to inherit this very special item. When I married my husband, he also brought with an iron skillet. It was about half the weight of mine, without the rough, black, bumpy exterior. The iron made today is obviously greatly inferior to earlier cookware.

My iron skillet means so much to me, not because it makes the best cornbread, but because it symbolizes the woman it belonged to. My Grandmother was strong, to the point of withstanding more then anyone should in a lifetime. She had a purpose, to lead and guide so many, which she did. She was seasoned. Because of her wisdom and experience, she was able to sprinkle words of wisdom when needed (some of those words were spicy and had quite a kick, but it's what we needed to hear).

Whenever I use this wonderful pan, I get a warm feeling inside, one that convinces me that I can be that strong, that I can pass down advice and lessons through the generations that will have a lasting effect on those that I love.

So there was I was, picture and all, proudly holding my Nanny's iron skillet. I don't cook as much as I once did, and all our kids and family are strown all over the world. There is a part of me that wonders if I start using that old skillet once again, would that somehow summon the family to gather as it once did?

Chances are it will be passed down from me to my daughter. I hope at that time she knows that not just cornbread comes from that pan, but that strength and encouragement does as well and that seems to come from the most unexpected places.

Pensacola Garden Show

We were fortunate enough to get to see some of Pensacola's loveliest gardens over the weekend. It was a full weekend with gardens, art, wonderful shrimp dishes and sweet Mother's Day cards.

Yesterday I played hooky. Ok, work knew where I was, the family knew where I was..but..the world wasn't notified. I slipped away and left the grown up me behind.

Halfway through the afternoon I took my book, a bottle of water and found a hammock near the beach. Being a Thursday afternoon, this wasn't hard to find. The crowds were light (to none) and the weather was beach perfect.

Between naps in the hammock, I read, drank some frozen concoctions and contemplated life. It is short. Don't miss a minute. Color with every crayon in the box. I would love to say that I can wait until I retire to enjoy the moment, but I can't. My mind won't allow it.

Our choice isn't always up to us. I must work to make ends meet, which means 1/3 of my life is spent behind a desk in an office building.

I must follow lifes rules (physical exams, pay taxes, keep up with bills, be a part of the daily world and all that involves). But yesterday, I stuck my toes in the sand during a weekday and played in the sprinkler instead of filing paperwork.

Take a walk, look at an earthworm, feel the sun. Listen close to what your soul is telling you and follow that lead...make today count and find a hammock as soon as you can.

my day..

seasons

Funny how our lives are seasonal. They say every 7 years we reinvent ourselves. This really seems to be the case.
Look around or look at your own life. Are you the same person that you were 7 years ago? I would have to say no. And that is a good thing. It's good to "molt" and shed the old skin and grow new, fresh perspectives and interests. Oh, I think we basically are the same people in the general sense. Shy people will most always be shy somewhat, usually people who never have liked liver will never like it. But maturity and life's lessons keep a cycle of refreshment in our lives going that is necessary for dealing with all our natural cycles. We all deal with deaths, births, people leaving, change of locations, disappointments. Sometimes the emotion takes over and we have little control on how we
handle things. In the big picture, we do have a choice in how we "handle" things. I am an adult child of an alcoholic, and one of the skills we learn as children of "out of control people" is how to handle large things as if they are small things. During my life I have dealt with massive problems while those alongside me had no idea. Is this healthy? Probably not.
Children in turbulent homes learn to mask the worry, concern and fear and put on a smiling face for others. I have seen this working with children who are in those situations. As an adult, I would say I have learned to share feelings and emotions in a healthy way, it took me a long, long time to realize this was the best way to go about things, but overall I am now happier sharing than not (maybe those around me wish I didn't share quite so much!) Now, when I see people get bent out of shape over small things, my first thoughts are..this person never had a real problem to deal with such as death, addiction, divorce, etc.
Those who have been in the lap of chaos know that locking your keys in your car, etc. isn't the end of the world. These daily problems are part of walking on the earth. How you handle the large things in life is what tells how you have matured, how you process life itself, how you chose to live your life.
My zest for life has always been there. It has changed over time, as it should

At one time it was going as fast as the boat would go across the water. Today it's morning sun across my little yard with flowers and squash plants and bees and holding hands with my sweet husband. Tomorrow it might be painting, learning piano, international travel (that last one especially). I welcome the seasons and the changes and the consistencies. I choose to be good to those around me and love those who aren't always deserving and not judge others. I resolve to handle it as gracefully and honestly as this life has taught me. Live and let live and be glad the seasons are still rolling around.

bee happy

more bee love. did I mention we are enjoying these little miracles with wings?

these are your kids

Source: exp.lore.com via Norzian on Pinterest

Best Chocolate Chip Cookie ever

Chocolate Chip Cookies (modified slightly from the New York Times) 2 cups minus 2 tablespoons (8 1/2 ounces) cake flour 1 2/3 cups (8 1/2 ounces) bread flour 1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt (I used kosher salt) 2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter 1 1/4 cups (10 ounces) light brown sugar 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (8 ounces) granulated sugar 2 large eggs 2 teaspoons natural vanilla extract 8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, chopped into chunks 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, grated 8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips sea salt

1. Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside.

2. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Stir all chocolate into dough using a wooden spoon. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.

3. When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside.

4. Drop the dough by tablespoonfuls on to the prepared cookie sheet, then sprinkled lightly with sea salt and baked until golden brown, but still soft, 10-12 minutes. Transfer sheet to a wire rack for 3-4 minutes, then slip cookies onto another rack to cool a bit more. Repeat with remaining dough, or reserve dough, refrigerated, for baking remaining batches the next day.

Bee Day for Escarosa Beekeepers Association

And anyone interested in beekeeping!
http://escarosa.beeinfo.org/

Finally! Something to brag about!

Let me get this straight..something that we Pensacolians can brag about besides 1. beach 2. history 3. seafood 4. amazing athletes from this town 5. bringing up the FCAT scores a tad The Pensacola Community Maritime Park is a jewel in the crown of this little town. My first experience there was beyond great. The park is beautiful, with the water and port views and breezes and green grass. The staff was professional, helpful, courteous and smiling. The parking is within walking distance of almost every parking spot in this town (ok, we might have to walk a few block..so what?). I am impressed beyond words and looking forward to more positive changes like this in Pensacola.

Quiet little hive

It's been 8 days since we became beekeepers (or should I say they are "keeping" us?) When I checked on the bees this morning, there was little to no activity outside the hive. Not really alarming since it was cooler temps this morning and it was early. Should we all keep to ourselves and go about our business like the bees? Maybe we would get more done, waste less time, take care of ourselves better? Maybe we would work together as a team and let the natural order of things take place? After one week these two little hives have quite a bit of honey and propolis in the brood chamber (a brood chamber is the part of the hive in which the brood is reared)(propolis-plant resins collected and modifiged by bees; used to fill small spaces in the hive). In the future I pledge to have more honey bee like behavior and behave in a more orderly manner. Maybe.

what makes me

“My life - my personality, my habits, even my speech - is a combination of the books I choose to read, the people I choose to listen to, and the thoughts I choose to tolerate in my mind” ― Andy Andrews

our bee journey

This is day 4 of our life with the girls (bees). So far, so good! They are making honeycomb in the frames already. The bees amazingly calm down when they get smoke from the smoker blown across them. We have so much to learn from them!

The smallest things can make a big difference

I am happy to announce the newest members of the household. Well, so to speak. We picked up our two hives of honey bees on Saturday and we are pretty smitten with "the girls". Out of about 9,000 bees in a hive, only a few hundred are males (drones) the remainder are girls and they are the true workers. They clean the hive, gather the pollen that makes the honey, and tend to the queen. The females are busy and productive while the males wait around to mate (the female worker bees also take care of them). The male purpose to the hive is to reproduce with the queen. If, after a few weeks, the male doesn't do his "duty" the girls pick him apart and kick him out of the hive. I mean, literally...they take off his legs and his wings and toss him out the bottom of the hive. I think we could all learn a few lessons from the lady bees! Did you know without bees that we would all be eating rice in about 3 years? no more veggies, no more fruits, the pollination would stop and the growth of blooms would stop that results in most of the foods we know. There are some problems with the honey bee these days. Colony Collapse Disorder is wiping out whole honey farms. The bees are disappearing and without them..so will mankind. Support your local honey farmer. Read up on bees, watch "The Vanishing of the Bees" to become more informed, or better yet become a beekeeper. Let's do all we can to protect this "sweet" life that we owe to the mother nature and tiniest honey bee.

Seven Principles by Andy Andrews #1

The 7 Principles by Andy Andrews is one of the best reading yet. Below is the first principle.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From this moment forward, I will accept responsibility for my past. I understand that the begin- ning of wisdom is to accept the responsibility for my own problems and that by accepting respon- sibility for my past, I free myself to move into a bigger, brighter future of my own choosing. Never again will I blame my parents, my spouse, my boss, or employees for my present situation. Neither my education or lack of one, my genetics, or the circumstantial ebb and flow of everyday life will affect my future in a negative way. If I allow myself to blame these uncontrollable forces for my lack of success, I will be forever caught in a web of the past. I will look forward. I will not let my history control my destiny. The buck stops here. I accept responsibility for my past. I am responsible for my success. I am where I am today—mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, and financially—because of decisions I have made. My decisions have always been governed by my thinking. Therefore, I am where I am today—mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, and financially—because of how I think. Today I will begin the process of changing where I am—mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, and financially—by changing the way I think. My thoughts will be constructive, never destructive. My mind will live in the solutions of the future. It will not dwell in the problems of the past. I will seek the association of those who are working and striving to bring about positive changes in the world. I will never seek comfort by associating with those who have decided to be comfortable. When faced with the opportunity to make a decision, I will make one. I understand that God did not put in me the ability to always make right decisions. He did, however, put in me the ability to make a decision and then make it right. The rise and fall of my emotional tide will not deter me from my course. When I make a decision, I will stand behind it. My energy will go into making the decision. I will waste none on second thoughts. My life will not be an apology. It will be a statement. The buck stops here. I control my thoughts. I control my emotions. In the future, when I am tempted to ask the question “Why me?”, I will immediately counter with the answer: “Why not me?” Challenges are a gift, an opportunity to learn. Problems are the com- mon thread running through the lives of great men and women. In times of adversity, I will not have a problem to deal with, I will have a choice to make. My thoughts will be clear. I will make the right choice. Adversity is preparation for greatness. I will accept the preparation. Why me? Why not me? I will be prepared for something great! I accept responsibility for my past. I control my thoughts. I control my emotions. I am responsible for my success. The buck stops here.

Bloom or a weed?

Ever heard the old quote "work with what you have, where you are with you've got"? We all the misfortune sometimes of falling into places or situations that are not our ideal setting or situation. First thing I try to remember is nothing is forever. Everything changes every 7 years. And usually these are life changing (have kids, see kids grow and leave, lose a loved one, change a job, sell a house, lose weight, start school again) These are all things that we usually don't make it through a decade without witnessing and it changes our life.

Our every waking moment is spent getting through the day, the week, til the next vacation, the next payday, through the next test. Those moments will come without question. We can't be a part of this planet without these changes.

What we have immediate control over is how we spend moments. Moments are the things that you will pull out of your memory bank at 80. Not decades, but MOMENTS. That is why it's important to have lunch with that old friend, or tell your parents you love them, or thank our maker for providing such a pretty stage for us to play on. Those fragments of your day is what sews together your life - each day is a stitch.

It's important to handle the day, don't let it handle you. I start mine with prayer and meditation, I listen to old gospel hymns that my Grandmother so loved. It sets my brain for going to the office and dealing with what comes there. At lunch it's always rejuvenating to go to the port, the beach, the park (yesterday the cemetery), but focus on what we have been given. We should all move forward at all times, but we should all be careful about what we chase. If we get caught up in getting that promotion, buying new cars, houses, etc. then we lose so much..and we don't see that until it's too late.

Sew your day up with sweet moments. This is something that has to be consciously done, it doesn't usually just happen. But if you stop and look up at the sky or at a honeybee performing miracles, that is what makes the bloom on you.

Road Trippin' Ya Ya Style

It's not secret that I have crazy friends. It's half expected because I am a little quirky. Yes, I said a little.

Combine spring fever, a little hormonal fluctuation, more than a little wine, and several women in the same room and there is bound to be a story in the making. To prove that theory, one spring a few years ago, my friend Tina and I decided we would go see Jimmy Buffett at Jazz Fest in New Orleans. Being from the Gulf Coast, we feel almost related to JB and it's only natural that we should seek him out when he is visiting "down home".

The first stage of plans for our little road trip started almost a year in advance of the event. When we started the plan, we still had to get through holidays, tax time and my daughter's college graduation. And who have thought it? Commencement services fell on the same day Jimmy Buffett was to play in concert. Since the date for graduation had not been set when the reservations were made, I had no idea it would all come about on the same day. WHO plans a graduation in MAY? The same month as JazzFest?? Obviously people who don't put the lime in the coconut, nor identify one another with shark fin symbols. Who were these academics and what DO they do for entertainment?

Ok, maybe I could pat my only daughter on the back and assure her that I would watch the video of the graduation
upon my return from Louisiana. After all...with LED or LCD or HD or whatever they are putting on the tv's these days ,watching it a week later would be almost like being there, right? Obviously such events are expected to be attended by said parents..and it had been a few years and a lot of hard work in the making, and my little girl has always been a source of great pride for me..so..the delicate planning of the day's events began. The time of graduation vs. the time of entrance from the Senior Parrothead himself was going to take a master plan of scheduling finesse. I wasn't going to miss a thing, I could pull it ALL off.

Synchronizing our watches, Tina decided to go forth to the Big Easy the day before me. I would attend graduation, at 10:00 AM on Saturday, have lunch with the family, takes pics, yada, yada and then haul butt to I-10 for a dash west. The goal was to be in New Orleans by 3:30, Tina was already at the festival, so I would meet her in time for the big performance at 5:30. Sounds simple enough, right?

We must note, all joking aside, I would never, ever miss such a life changing event and I cried my eyes out at the graduation, beamed with pride, stood in awe as my sweet daughter graduated from college with honors and a dual major. She is amazing and not sure where she got her brains or her dedication to accomplishing tasks. Meanwhile, her Mama had a hat shaped like a parrot, a purse full of mini Captain Morgans and a plan to go stand ankle deep in mud while watching an aging hippy sing about boats. Yeah, my sweet girl is amazing. Thank you God for good brains. My offspring got them somehow.

Well, At that time I had drove an aging Mercedes (named Agnes) that I had tried to kill by spilling a cup of sugary coffee accidentally in the electrical panel on the dash. Since that fateful day, Agnes had been holding a grudge by flashing lights at me from the dash while sitting in traffic, etc. I was so hoping that the incident was behind us and "she" would get me across 3 states in lightning fast time. Leaving home at 1:00 it seemed to be clear. It was a nice day, Agnes humming down I-10, drying tears from graduation, calling Tina to let her know that should Agnes stay in good spirits, I should be there by 3:30. Whew..it's going to happen after all..

Upon my approach to lake Ponchatrain, traffic was very, very slow, but steady and I managed to make it into New Orleans and park Agnes in a parking garage at 4:35. Cooler in hand, bag chair and large backpack (of survival gear for concerts) on my back, (and a smirky smile of great accomplishment), I proceeded to find transportation to the New Orleans Fairground, which was the venue of JazzFest. The only mode of transportation to the concert would be the bus shuttles from Canal Street (I was on Canal Street-yay! This was a piece of cake. Looking around I found only one. I must have looked bedraggled because the bus driver announced in heavy cajun accent to me that the shuttles have stopped running..what?..stopped for the day? Verge of tears (again), so the driver feels a bit of pity and offers to drive me anyway. Wow, what luck. So..I sit down in the air conditioned front seat of the bus (man, was it humid in New Orleans in May) and the driver realizes...she cannot get out into the street, there is a car parked beside the bus in the street with flashers on and NO driver to be seen. I was panic stricken! an abandoned car was going to trip me up? By this time it was 5:00 and it was T minus 30 minutes to Buffett. "no, no, no" I start to mutter as the bus driver explains that a taxi might be my only way of completing my journey. Ok, ok..calming breath..I exit the bus and start up Canal Street (still laden with chairs, cooler, backpack, heavy heart, sweaty parrot head hat) and not a cab in site. It was about that time I see the bus that I was just got off start to pull away from the curb! (I was about 2 blocks away), so I begin to run, well, ok, not so much a run as a fast struggled waddle. "my bus! wait! HEY!" I can hear chair clinking on my shoulder, cooler clomping heavily, backpack hitting my back, labored breathing, (is that sweat? ) am I defeated..no!...I can't get left! But with a puff of diesel smoke the bus heads north. North, to Jazzfest. Without me.

Tears (again) could not longer be held back. It was 5:15 I was tired, I was emotional, I was angry..and I was..determined. My cell phone buzzed and Tina is frantically telling me that JB is starting his concert early? Really? has there ever been a concert that started early?? This one. I must get a taxi NOW.

There isn't one on Canal? Not one taxi-there are always herds of taxis on Canal. A hotel, I must find a hotel. There are cabs at all hotels. This is not how this trip will play out! I don't give up, not easily anyway.

South on Canal is a large hotel and as I round the corner I see a taxi. OK-stay calm, this is going to happen. Hailing the cab, the driver gets out, opens the door and I plop down in the back seat. He closes my door and goes around to the drivers side. It was then I look around and see that I am in an old police car-and it smelled. The police colors have been spray painted off, a magnetic taxi sign on the dirty door, and inside there are piles of papers, trash, a marijuana leaf deodorizer hanging from the rear view mirror. Oh, Lord have mercy on me..reciting the Lord's Prayer, thanking Him for at least letting me see Brooke graduate college) Also in the rear view mirror are two eyes, of the driver, who, with small round shades, dreadlocks and knitted cap, smiles a gold grin and says in a heavy Haitian accent "where ya goin' today bro?" Nope, never once been called a Bro.

As our eyes locked through the rear view mirror, I am most certain he sees the terror in my eyes and the fact that I was immobilized by shock and..fear..for there were no door handles on the inside of the car in the back seat. I knew this because my hand was reaching for it as I stared him down in the mirror..no handles there and then I realized..ohhh...old police car. Ok, I am captured like a bird in a dirty cab in the bowels of New Orleans at a time when crime rate had skyrocketed there and the whole city was at JazzFest listening to Jimmy Buffett except for Polo. The drivers name was actually Polo, it was on a photo ID on the backside of the seat. Well, at least he had a name and a (legitimate?) Taxi permit. "To the fairground to Jazzfest" I finally found my voice. "yah", he said and threw the gear shift into drive and we sputtered off, my chair and cooler clonking together in my lap. At this point, I was pretty certain that I was going to die, that the NOLA police were too busy with Katrina crime to care about some wandering housewife that willingly got into a cab with an illegal Haitian and thinking to myself that my children might have to identify my body with parrot head beads on and a backpack full of mixers and Tums. Not exactly the way I wanted to go.

I finally found the wits about me to text my husband from the back seat of the taxi mid-route and tell him that I was in White Cab #12 traveling north on Canal street, and that if he never hears from me again to at least finish the laundry before letting mourners in the house. And to tell the kids that I was really doing a research paper on middle aged women who act college spring breakers.

But alas, in about 15 minutes of traffic, I see a crowd that seemed to be at the entrance to the Fairgrounds, we made it! to the concert, to the hoard of real police cars outside the gates. At least here there would be witnesses. Ok, I am sure Polo was a hardworking, perfectly legal immigrant who came to this country to make his way. Today he is probably running the taxi business in a large city and makes more money than God. But on that day, I was almost certain he was psychotic rapist/killer who had a kill suit, duct tape and 1988 video camera in his trunk. Luckily, the door opened from the outside about that time and practically fell out, handed him the cash-not even sure how much..how much do you compensate one for letting you live?

Oh, the concert...

The concert was amazing, it was loud, it was a field of black mud, bare feet, Miller Lite cans and people of all ages who came together to hear all kinds of music, and we sang along and made "fins" out of our hands and fools of ourselves, and as we walked along the deserted French Quarter streets at 5:00 AM the next morning ( I never said we were smart) Tina and I burst into giggles and called our grown kids to tell them were too drunk to find our hotel. It was a lie, but ahhh...revenge is sweet when you have survived parenthood, you are a menopausal mother of grown children (and a road trippin' Parrot Head) and you lived to be 45 without killing a husband or a Haitian taxi driver.