Posted in Muffins, tagged agave syrup, blueberries, blueberry muffin, coffee cake, crock pot meals, grandma's recipes, military wife, oat bran, Oatmeal, slow cooker on March 6, 2013| 4 Comments »
Posted in Grandma's recipes, Muffins, tagged crock pot, Flax, grandma's recipes, military wife, multi-grain muffins, slow cooker, Whole wheat flour on March 3, 2012| 9 Comments »
Okay. I’ll admit it. Little Miss Can’t-Follow-Directions (that would be me) changed grandma’s recipe a bit while trying to “healthify” it. Grandma got it from Kellogg’s, but I didn’t even use anything Kellogg’s. Maybe next time, grandma…
Posted in Growing the food, tagged Compost, crock pot, Garden, gardening, grandma's recipes, military spouse, Organic matter, peat moss, prepping seeds, slow cooker on March 1, 2012| 2 Comments »
Here we go again!
I tried not to start everything all at once this time. I started week one’s seeds, then week two’s and finished up yesterday with week three’s. Hopefully I won’t have to harvest all at once this season. But even if we must, freezing and canning are options we didn’t consider before. It seemed something my grandmother would do. Well HELLO! Guess who is turning into her grandmother at 36? Um…me.
Making a mess.
Posted in Grandma's recipes, tagged Cook, cook books, crock pot, grandma's recipes, military spouse, newspaper clippings, recipe, slow cooker, Sweet potato on February 22, 2012| 7 Comments »
This particular manilla envelope I grabbed addressed to my grandmother from Florida’s Department of Natural Resources was stuffed full of newspaper clippings. I had no idea what was in it, but if someone took the time to cut them out and keep them all these years, they might be important. I needed to peek.
Posted in Grandma's recipes, tagged Bird feeder, Cook, crock pot, grandma's recipes, Grandparent, military wife, recipe, slow cooking on February 15, 2012| 35 Comments »
I visited my dad this weekend on the farm where I grew up. My grandmother’s house droops in shambles, full of mouse poop, a former shadow of itself on the now deserted farm. Empty and haunting, I remembered movement and the smell of constant meals wafting from her stove, served on the grey table at precisely noon and 6:00 p.m. as she stood against the counter and watched us eat. The most disheartening scene– the bird feeder she’d had installed with a flat wood table right outside her window so she could watch the colorful birds gobble the breadcrumbs she spread out two times each day. Empty, without one bread crumb, the bird feeder shown an eerie bright white. Even the wind chimes that blew consistently throughout the day beneath that same tree played music no more. I searched for them, but they were gone.
You can spot the bird feeder through the window on the left.
Jennifer
G.I. Crockpot 