Homemade Gluten Free Recipes and Whimsical Writings.
Well…did you figure it out? Why is the first mow of the season so sweet smelling, while subsequent cuts not so much?
Here it is, the answer: When the first cut of the lawn mowing season is done there aren’t any dandelions! The dandelions are what give subsequent cuts that bitter scent!
So, there you have it! Dandelions are bitter! Didn’t know that, didja?!!!
Have a great day!
Have you ever noticed that the first cut of grass has the sweetest smell? Subsequent cuts never quite have that same sweet, green smell. Any guesses as to why?
Answer to be posted on Saturday, but please put your guesses in the comments! Have a great day!
So, for those of you who don’t know….I love to bake. Yeah. Ever wonder why my blog is called GF Recipes and Writings? First, because I love to bake (and cook, if I’m being totally honest!) and also because I love to write and have yet to run out of things to say! Big mouth, anyone? 😉. And apparently, you all like what I have to say (or maybe you just like my recipes!!!) and you stick around. Thank you for that!
I was at the food pantry. No shame there. Times are tough and we would be hard pressed to eat every day without it and the wonderful volunteers. Shout out to all the marvelous food pantries who feed us!
Anyway, I digress. The food pantry had many, many overripe bananas when we went and I got a craving for banana bread. They were the perfect, speckled, ripeness for it! Yum!
A while back I figured out my own recipe for this most delectable treat. It makes two whole loaves which should last you for a while since you don’t have a banana bread eating monster like I do!!! It lasts two days tops here!
You will need:
Preheat your oven to 350°F
2 bread pans sprayed with gf nonstick cooking spray
10 very ripe bananas, peeled
2 cups of millet or your favorite GF flour
2 cups tapioca starch
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
4 eggs
1 1/2 cups natural sugar (turbinado, coconut, etc.)
2 tsp. vanilla (bourbon vanilla if you have it!)
Mix all of your ingredients together and pour into your prepared bread pans.
Bake for approximately 70 minutes, or until your toothpick comes out clean. Enjoy alone or with butter. I like mine with nuts and butter. Perfect.
Hello! I thought I’d post my plans for Holy Week. It has been many years since I attended all of the Masses of Holy week. I’m not sure exactly why that is. Perhaps it’s that it’s not required, and really, aren’t we all just super busy?!!! Maybe it’s that I didn’t want to go alone. I no longer have a problem with that. I want to go. I long to go. To spend time with my Lord and Savior. Yes! I need to go.
So, where to go? I know that my tiny parish does not offer all of the Triduum of Easter. So, I will be checking out other area Churches to see what they have. Maybe St. Pat’s or St. Andrew’s. No idea, but I’ll find one and go.
I want to be there through the last supper, the washing of the feet, the agony in the garden, the walk to Golgotha and the crucifixion. I want to feel my part in His condemnation and death so as to rejoice fully in His resurrection!
What are your plans for this Holy Week? Are you a follower of Christ? Is Easter just another Sunday for you? Leave me your answers in the comments and have a most blessed week!
Springtime in the Midwest! Welcome, spring!
Today is a special day.
Some of you, who like pie will say it’s pi(e) day.
While that is true, before Pi day, it was something else.
It was the day I became a mother.
That’s right. Twenty-five years ago.
On this date, I gave birth to Child #1.
Of course, we did not call her that!
She had a name and ten pink fingers and ten pink toes!
My father, who balked at the idea of being a grandfather, was enchanted by this tiny infant.
He thought he was too young to be a grandpa!
As she grew, I gave all of myself to her.
I tutored her viola lessons in between her lessons with my teacher.
I homeschooled her, teaching her the wonders of the written word.
She was a hard child to teach to read, but once I did, she took off!
It is a skill she will use all of her life.
I wasn’t perfect and the time was far from idyllic, but there was love.
Much, much love.
Things have changed, as things are wont to do.
It saddens me that she no longer lives near.
Her heart is far from mine.
But I still love her.
I will always love her.
And I will always pray for her.
Happy birthday, sweetheart!
I’ve known people who cannot for the life of them understand why I want to live in the Midwest.
To those people, I say, I don’t like big bugs, hurricanes, earthquakes, or poisonous snakes.
Maybe it’s in where I grew up. I grew up on a small farm in Illinois. Yes, there is a place in Illinois called “tornado alley.” We didn’t live near there. We lived on a charming, older farmstead with geese, cows, chickens, a few pigs, dogs, and cats. Many, many cats.
I loved growing up on a farm! It taught me many things, especially the importance of solitude. I did my best work amid the trees, bundled in my winter coat, studying.
My children have not had that luxury. In fact, they grew up in a small, nosey village, surrounded by people who were either suspicious of them or patently unkind. It’s sad. I did the best I could, but it wasn’t enough.
But I digress, Yes, we have many many cold days here. However, these ensure that all of the nasty bug population dies off every year. It is too cold for poisonous snakes and we only have one poisonous spider – the brown recluse, which I’ll admit I have never seen in my nearly half century in this locale.
When autumn comes, with its magical changing leaves, I rejoice in the crisp air and the rattling leaves as they bluster down the drive!
The bare branches of the oak trees are like hands reaching for the sky in November and lend a stark beauty to the land.
The first frosts of winter paint the trees as glistening lights. When there is ice on every vestige, it is a lovely, silent retreat.
The long days of winter finally break free into spring and then to summer, flowering over the landscape. This is my land, my home. I wouldn’t want to live elsewhere.
So, as the weather warms and the flowers burst forth in their yearly dance with the warm breezes, I urge you to look for the things that are special where you live.
Please share them with me!
I know it’s been a while since I posted, and I promise, I was getting ready to do just that when I got walloped again. Fr. Hugh, our beloved priest who joins us every Sunday for Mass passed away.
I know he was older. I know. And I get that he wasn’t in the greatest of health, but really? Another confessor? Another friend? Another priest? Sheesh!
I’m reeling. My brain is spinning round and round. When will it end? The reality is that it won’t, until I rest with my heavenly Father. People will fulfill their journeys. I will fulfill mine. It’s sad, but that’s just how life is. Babies are born. Older people cross over. Life.
So that is what I’ve been bearing this week. It’s sad. I wasn’t prepared. But then, when are any of us ready?
On the upside, Father Hugh, Monsignor Schwartz, our lovely shelter guest, our former shelter worker, and all the others will get to spend Easter with Jesus this year. Lucky them!
Other than that, we are chugging along. Child #3 is getting ready for graduation. Child #4 has finished her middle term of school ahead of time! Yay! Child #2 had her evaluation and we are waiting for the results to be sent to the company that will help her figure out what she needs to do next. I got a raise at work (woohoo!) and spring is on its way!
Happy spring everyone! Hope you are doing well.
The dragon devoured yet another today.
Another senseless death.
It indescrimately devours mothers fathers
Sisters brothers.
It leaves orphans behind
It doesn’t care.
We feed it more everyday.
Eating, gorging itself on our loved ones.
Will it ever stop?
Is there ever to be an end?
Can anyone resist?
Rarely, though we seem to canonize those who fall.
How can it be their fault?
How can they be guilty?
They are dead.
Gone.
We don’t even know them.
We don’t even say goodbye.
We don’t care.
Put on the facade.
Mourn a bit.
Move on.
Away.
Until it happens again.
Plant a tree and forget.
In memory of Ivan.
This morning at Mass we learned that our beloved Monsignor Schwartz passed away on Wednesday afternoon. I’m so beside myself with grief.
Monsignor served our tiny parish for almost a decade. He was generous and kind with his time and wisdom. He taught all four of my kids how to serve Mass. He heard and forgave all of our sins.
But most of all, he was the one who told me I had to leave David. That even though I was holding up my end of the marriage promises, he was not. That hurting us was not part of the bargain.
He was my hero and now he has gone to his heavenly reward. Please pray with me for the repose of his soul.
GF Recipes and Writings
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