LAZY HOT CROSS BUNS

 Stormy days. Wind. Rain .Dirt being delivered. Not just any dirt. Sea Soil Smells of the ocean. Smells of crunchy sea things. Smells of the sea. My favourite dirt .

 In all the excitement of the monumental moment of  dirt, I decided to be lazy and not actually make Hot Cross Buns right now. Found another way. And THEY just might eat them.

 I've made my mother's old fashioned hot cross buns, stuffed with with peel and raisins, with sugary crosses slathered on top........hmmm, Makes me nostalgic.

 When I was a kid, I would lick off the frosting on the buns, and then put them back in the pan. Then there would be more hot cross buns to make  to make up for it. Usually with no frosting crosses......can't imagine why.

 Today I decided it was time  to make lazy hot cross buns. I picked up a package of frozen white bread dough rolls.You can also get whole wheat ones. Cause , after all, there's dirt to play in. Can't be slaving over a hot stove.

 I let them rise on a warm oven at 350 degrees for about an hour. They poofed up quite lovely.

 Meanwhile, I played with my dirt, and arranged pots. I will need more dirt for my pots.

 I watched  Ravens steal peanuts  from the Stellar Jays, and vice versa.

 To make the crosses, I  made  a mixture of plain flour, tsp of sugar, and water.  Simple as that: just flour, with a bit of water to mix. I think I used a cup of flour.

 Watched it pour outside. All over my dirt.

 Watched  the worms squiggle forth, all around the hyacinths.

 Then it was time to stir the flour and water to a good consistency. I think I did it a bit too thin...should be thicker. Should be so that it makes a good flat paste. Next time I'll get it thicker. It's whatever you want. Thin works great as well. Just looks different in the end result.

 Most hot cross buns would have raisins or peel added to frozen  dough. I've actually done before. Then set it back out to rise again.

 "Hot cross buns, Hot cross buns, one a penny, two a penny, Hot cross buns."

 When the flour mix is ready, pour into a ziploc bag, and snip off one corner. It should come out in an even stream. Like I said, mine is a bit too thin here, and should be a tad stiffer.

 "Hot cross buns, if you have no daughters, give them to your sons. One a penny, two a penny, Hot Cross Buns!"

 Drape the risen bread dough with strips of the flour mixture. THEN SPRINKLE SUGAR OVER the TOPS of the BUNS. This will give the crust a nice  top and a tiny bit of sweetness to the dough.

 Bake 350 till golden brown. About half an hour. Just keep an eye on them.  If you have neater flour mix for the crosses, they will look more even. But I kind of like the uneven look.

 Enjoy. Maybe closer to Easter I will make traditional hot cross buns. The ones with frosting crosses. The kind you lick off , then devour the bun, or place back in the pan. Just because.  Because you still remember the first time you tasted one.

I Dream of Dirt.....

I want to stuff seeds into the dirt. I want to see beans  flourish. Flowers tumble. I want to stuff seeds into dirt, till I can stuff no more. I want to plant my greenhouse with things that grow.

 I want to weed the dirt. Then plant the seeds, that turn into beans, that turn into flowers. First  I must  cut up liners for wire baskets.And dream of the seeds that will turn into beans.......I just want to stuff seeds into dirt.

 It's a little too cold for Cordelia, who hides behind the fence on the hill. She sniffs the chilly wind.

But not too cold for fog  on the ocean.

I want to stuff seeds into  dirt, that will grow.....

 Instead I join Spencer outside on a cool, sunny day. He always finds sun. He's not interested in seeds.

 Smokey's paws twitch in the  sun. He dreams of flying with the birds. I dream of dirt.

 And the mountain is foggy and misty and runny with snow. I miss the dirt. And the worms that wibble and wobble.

  Spencer dreams of being king . I still dream of stuffing things into pots of dirt.

  All I can do is  be patient. I'm not good at that.

 My  baskets are done. Hung  in the greenhouse.  I can sense the dirt underfoot. This time of year it smells wonderful. Crisp. Fresh. Wormy . Loamy. Bugs are starting to squoosh out of holes.

 Dale's old truck, broken and heat scorched , lies in the mud and rain.

 Gets me motivated to repurpose and reuse and renew. Time to redecorate. The toilet gets a makeover. ( Don't worry, that's just mud.......I think.)

 Spencer wakes from his nap. Peers into the greenhouse. He likes the greenhouse.

 He sees the toilet. Stuffed with a pot of dirt. Finally. I get to play in the dirt.

 Cordelia emerges, at last, from the fence. Sits on her Moai , once again, like she does when the season changes.

 And the mountain rumbles and grumbles overhead.

 Lion Mane  appears, after five months absence. Bigger and poofier than ever.She's more interested in watching the chickens next door peck in the dirt. Ahhhhhh, dirt.

 The sky  clouds over. The light recedes.

 The rocks in the ocean thrash  and rattle as the tides pull in.

 And the sun goes down again. Spencer drapes himself hopefully over the bench. He waves his paws elegantly. He is cute. And he knows it.     I dream of dirt.........

 "I hope a couple of birds will nest around the house. I'll do my best to make them happy, so every years they'll raise their brood of fledglings here...While I follow the sun, while I drift and roam to the ends of the earth like a chip on the stream. " ( Don Blanding 1894-1957 "Vagabond's House")

MARCH in Like a Lion.....

(Bleeding Heart Hands)

  At Campbell River.  In like a Lion.  Here is March.

               Probably not out like a lamb.                                                                  

                   Cat paws on the gate.

The estuary. Like glass most days. Except for the geese that puddle back and forth.

                                            Mythical realms...

                                                   Dragonsblood popping up.

          Quadra Island and Coast Mountains. The ever present eagles. Watching. Sizing you up .

"Like an army defeated the snow has retreated, and now does fare ill on the top of the bare hill. " (March by William Wordsworth)

                                                    Shorelines recede .

                                      The Passage  seems  surreal in the leftover fog.

                                                         Bunny wistfully views the world.

                                                  While  Smokey  tries to avoid rain.

        First Crocus.         First  bit of sunshine for Cordelia, finally venturing down from the hill.

           First Rose leaves.

                                             Seymour Narrows view almost overrun with brush.

                                  Spencer. Rolls with delight.  Basking in the first weak sun.

                                             Discovery passage mirrored in fog and mist.

                                                 Float planes rise tentatively.

                               Empty benches at the water's edge. No one to see.

      "There's joy in the mountains, there's life in the fountains, small clouds are sailing, blue sky                        prevailing. The rain is over and gone!" ( March by William Wordsworth)

                         Waiting for March to go out like a lamb. Well, one can hope.
                                                        But I wouldn't count on it.......