Cheese Bread and Bowling with Ice.....

 "Winter hung in there, like an invalid waiting to die.Day after grey day the ice stayed hard. The world remained unfriendly and cold."
                   -Neil Gaiman (1960-) (From "Odd and the Frost Giants")

 Well, if winter's going to hang in  there, better haul out the bread pans and make some  bread. But not just any bread. No-yeast. No fuss. No muss. A good bread substitute. Especially on these dark days of winter. Serve with homemade soup or chili. Yum.

 Gives you time to pour hot water over the birdbath....

 And  play Ice Bowling in the yard.  This year, the water buckets froze solid, making bowling balls of ice.  So  while the bread bakes, you can crash, rattle and roll with icy bowling balls.....start a whole new winter sport.

 CHEESE BREAD ( no yeast)  (yields 2 loaves)

 Mix: 6 cups flour, 8 tsp. baking powder, pinch salt,  3 cups grated cheese

 Wet ingredients:3 cups milk or water, 4 tbsp butter, melted.

 Line two loaf pans with foil and spray with veggie spray. This will ensure the bread does not stick to the pan. Otherwise you will get   a mess to clean up on the pans. Yuck.

Combine Wet with Dry ingredients.

 Plop into foil lined pans. I don't recommend sprinkling cheese on top of batter, because I've found that it tends to burn.Then you spend way too much time peeling off the burned bits and pretending that you did it on purpose.

 "Poets have been mysteriously silent about the subject of Cheese..." G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936_)

 Bake at 400 oven for about 40 minutes.

 Be sure to add time , if a sharp knife inserted in centre comes out doughy. Nothing yukkier than doughy bread. 

 Then you would WISH for burnt cheese on top to cover up the fact that the bread is not baked.  

 Let the bread cool somewhat.  If you can wait that long.

 Tear apart and serve with butter or more cheese or alone or with soup or anything else that is equally yummy...

 Meanwhile, head out in into the yard and throw around a few bowling balls of ice.  It's a new sport. Must be a Canadian thing. I hope it gets into the winter Olympics. Part curling. Part bowling.

 "Winter is the time for comfort,for good food and warmth,for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk around the fire. It is the time for home. " -Edith Stillwell (1887-1964)(British poet and critic)

 Photography: M . McConachie Woods 2017
Outdoor nature shots taken at Tyee Spit Estuary, Campbell River, B.C. Canada

1942 January winter (from Housekeeping Journal)...

 "May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome,dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains  rise into and above the clouds." -Edward Abbey (1927-1989)

 NEW YEAR, January WINTER, 1942
                                         (from my mother's housekeeping journal)

 I guess I will write off 1941 as something I am glad is gone. A New Year,and better things  I hope. We have  made it through, with a few dollars left and that is something.

 Davie came thru one major operation on June 6th for perforated ulcer.Was 16 days in Powell River Hospital until Sept 9th when  he was operated on again. 21 days, after that , in the Jubilee.It was a long summer for me. And a long summer for us.

 In Oct, on the 26th, he took yellow jaundice and was all better by Christmas 1941. He was happily well again. 

 We spent all of December on the farm. So good to be Home again. There was snow. So much snow the cutter got stuck going along the ruts.  There was  plenty of good days.

By the end of the year we had $350 cash, which is something. Wages I earned  at Wilcuns amounted to about $200 or so.

 I paid the rent, storage and insurance on Sunday.  All clear for now, notwithstanding.

 The doctor bill has been paid off quite a bit.   $488 to date. another $300 to go.

 Finally made a tally for what we spent in 1939. Has taken me a while to write it down. I compared it to 1941.  I am afraid that I will have to be more careful this year.

 1939 Spent $32.00 for the month of February.    
Rent: $15                               Stockings: 76 cents              Sweepstake Ticket: $1.25
Wood: $2.50                            Dance: 40 cents                  Groceries: 75 cents
New Dress: $2.50                   Show: 20 cents                    Honey and Eggs: $1.80

 1941 Spent  $34.75 in February
Hudson's Bay: $4.54             Light Bill: $2.00            Dr. Lyons was paid $23.00
Socks: $1.00                          Girdle: $1.00                 Hair cut: 35 cents.
Groceries: $1.50   (Comes to about $10.00)                Davie's tobacco: $1.00

 The doctor bill is the most  difficult. But can't be helped.

 I only  hope Davie can stay well this year. It is a lot to ask of us.He has not worked since last spring.But things will change. 

 This year I hope we can get  ahead. Rather than behind. I have work , which is good. Davie  has found work, at last,  on the Princess Louise. In the boilers. Steady work maybe. Hoping 1942 is brighter.

 "In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds." -Robert Green Ingersoll (1833-1899) (Civil War Vet, Lawyer)

Mt Washington Photography: M. McConachie Woods 2017
Reference: Personal journal 1938-1940 Nessie McConachie

Year New

 "I hope that in this new year you make mistakes. Whatever it is you're scared of doing, do it. Make your mistakes.Next year and forever." - Neil Gaiman (1960-) (Author)

 May you get squashed by the snow.

 And frost. Oh , the frost!

 May every morning be like  none you've ever seen.

 All eyes be on you.

 Contentment and peace.

 Cognisant of cheer not forgotten.

 Light in the dark of winter day.

 And in the dark of sunset bleak.

Snowbound isolation dreams.

When  the Lion comes forth to roar.

  Varied Thrush  thrills all. First of those who come for spring.

 Leaves crunch like Crispy Crunch bars.

 And there. Far. Mountains loom. With great blank eyes.

 And She. Princess of her realm. White as  snow; treads carefully.

 Christmas is all but distant.

 Sun finds Spencer . Or is it, Spencer finds Sun.....

 Snow  havens reach long and low.

Fire burns. Solemn friend. 

 Quiet folds the night. As the Year New journeys on.....

 "For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice. And to make an END is to make a BEGINNING." - T.S.Eliot (1888-1965)

Photography: M. McConachie Woods 2017