With the start of school this week and the onset of a cooler spell of weather I've been feeling the fall crafting bug. I LOVE the fall season. It means that the holidays are coming along with cooler weather and however slight the chances are I always hope this year will bring a white Christmas.
Some friends and I get together once a month and try and learn a new craft or skill. In August we decided to make fall wreaths. They all turned out incredible and we had so much fun making them together! Our next project will be making flannel pajama pants.
Last summer I began learning how to knit. Since then I've completed a few simple projects. My newest attempt is a "denim blue" beanie. I was surprised how simple it was to knit in-the-round. I hope to finish it this week and begin learning how to knit mittens.
Rhubarb was on sale this week so I decided to make a strawberry-rhubarb pie (my dad's favorite). Rhubarb pie is sweet and tart - one of my nieces said it tastes like a Sour Patch Candy pie :)
Pie crust for a two crust pie
4 cups of washed and sliced rhubarb
1 pint of strawberries, washed and sliced
1/3 C flour
3/4 C sugar
Combine above ingredients and allow to sit for 15 minutes until juices begin to flow.
Fill pie shell and cover with top crust. Crimp edges and slit top to allow steam to escape.
Bake at 375 for 45 to 50 minutes. Allow to completely cool before slicing
I also did some random canning this week, finishing up the last of our pickles, carrots and green beans. I decided on spicy dill spears, spicy dilly beans utilizing the Thai Chilies Michael has been cultivating and sweet and sour pickled carrots.
As much as I love Autumn and wait in anticipation for the holiday season to be enjoyed with family and friends, I am trying this year to savor the last few drops of summer, to let it's warmth fill me up and tide me over until next year when it will begin all over again.
Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes