caleb’s most favorite pancakes

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The boys found me writing in my journal, still in bed, when they woke up.  They also found our big beautiful (but very shy) black cat and to our surprise, he allowed himself to be loved……..

…..while petting the cat, Caleb cleared his throat and asked, “Mom could you make pancakes this morning?  The ones with cinnamon?”  

“You mean your favorite ones that you always ask me to make?”

“Yeah.”

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Spiced Pancakes

1 1/4 cups flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 large egg
1/1/4 cups buttermilk (I keep dry in the pantry and add it to milk)
2 tablespoons oil

Mix dry ingredients and in a separate bowl mix the wet, then pour wet into dry to combine.  Fry on griddle alongside sausage or bacon.  Serve with warmed maple syrup and, in my case, a sliced banana.  Yum!  Maybe they will be your favorites, now, too!

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*******

“The Swedish artist Carl Larsson made the everyday life of his wife Karin and their seven children the subject of his most famous watercolors.  Instead of idealizing everything in its place, he painted what he saw; the dog asleep on the parlor floor, cast-off slippers, a rumpled sofa scattered with newspapers.  These are the frames of a home movie shot by a doting father and an artist who focused his lens on the comforts of the real and unadorned home.”  a perfectly kept house is the sign of a misspent life by mary randolph carter

 

raspberry pancakes

 

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Today I saw a strange little bird,
and I said to the strange little bird,

“Would you like some berries?”
and she said yes.

“Where did you find these yummy berries?” she chirped.  “I want some more!”
“I know right where they are,” I said, “Can I show you?”

so off we flew.

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She flapped her wings and sang a song for me.

But mostly she just picked berries.

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little birds love wild berries of all kinds

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“I know where some more are, do you want me to show you?”
And she said, “Yes” again.
We walked this time.
We walked up the road together.

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Birds like berries.
Cats like birds.
She ate all the berries, lickety split, making a “yum yum” sound.
I saved mine in my shirt.
Do you know how to do that?
You fold up the bottom of your shirt, and it makes a pocket!

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Back home we went.

She saw the garden.

“Okay. I’m going to pick some peas now,” said my sweet bird.
(she had blue feathers, with silver stars)

“I’m going to do something that starts with a P, too!” I replied.  “I am going to make Pancakes.”

“Raspberry ones!, with the berries we picked.”

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I watched the little bird all alone in the garden, picking peas.
I watched her through the window, briefly.
Then I set to work.
“What’s in your shirt, acorns?” her brother asked.
“No, it’s berries.”

I made raspberry pancakes for a snack.

She ate one, her brother ate two.

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They ate them with lots of butter and syrup on top.

I think we might dream of berries and pancakes tonight.