leaves, pigs, castles

Autumn leaf biscuit making with the little chef. Actually there were far more autumn pigs, but the leaf ones were prettily arranged on top. This recipe is easy and tasty (I am told).

Best roll out biscuits

2 cups of whole spelt flour
1.5 cups of ground almonds (or rice flour)
1/2 cup of maple syrup
1/2 cup of melted butter (we use goat)

~Combine to form a dough and then chill for 30 mins in the fridge before rolling.



The Beauty found that wait quite hard going (so of course we didn't actually wait all that long). Luckily the cat waited with her.



~Roll out and cut with your shape cutters (add a bit of water if you need it to bind better, or more flour if it's tacky). Lay on greased tray and bake for ten mins or so in a medium over until they just start to get golden.



The pigs tasted better everyone said, but I think because they were twice the size of the humble little leaves. The cutters were probably all from Ikea.



It's a lovely time of year. The evenings smell of woodsmoke and chill. The days are scented with leaves, turned fields and dying green. The winds whip and dry the clothes on my line. The days are short, but long enough for spontaneous trips to castles nearby. I don't want to stray from home. I feel the nesting urge. To clean windowsill's of leaves and cobwebs, to wipe a summer of dust from neglected skirting boards. It's like the beginning of a new year, rather than the beginnings of the end of this one. I think the change is just energy filled, from any season to another. It's exciting the changes. Maybe the lack of excitement comes when one isn't outdoors much and immersed in experiencing it? I worry that my dh is indoors too much at work, he doesn't get the same stretching of spirit that we all do at home, outdoors. Being outdoors is a challenge for some, I see that, and not even in their direct control often enough. Especially for my dh who works so that we can all live as we do. My gratefulness is boundless. I should let him know more often than I do. The outdoor role is one he slips into with relish at the weekends.









The boys are keen to make fires again, esp in their secret bit of land. To get to it you must cross a fallen tree.

















I made rose hip syrup. Dithering over whether to use my tiny supply of expensive raw honey (thick and granulated) potentially risk loosing the delicate flavour of the hips... I opted for just less sugar. I dared myself to lick the spoon. It was perfect. Used on french toast, rice pudding and breakfast porridge so far and 'medicinally' straight from the spoon. Not sure how much the sugar negates from the vitamin C in the hips... hmmmm. Still, it's well liked and for my lot it's enough of a treat.







Visited a tiny castle the other evening in a village nearby. The English built it to protect themselves from the Welsh; no doubt they needed to, bet they were a savage bunch (judging here from Isaac's rugby practice...).

From this...



To this....