We finally got around to torching our burn pile. It’s been an eyesore for a good long while. Of course, having a burn pile in the back field isn’t without perks—it furnished a fort or two and provided lots of scavenging fun. But it was time it went.

The kids were stoked. They helped haul junk (and more junk) to the pile. They hovered. The fire got lit and then they hooked up the line of hoses.

(I’m not sure why that wasn’t done ahead of time. I’ll have to ask my husband.)

Sweetsie packed up a bag, grabbed her coat, and took off for the pasture down yonder where she plunked herself in the very middle of the field.

Which made me nervous because what if the fire suddenly spread and here we all were and there she was and—? and—?

Well, I just didn’t like the idea of a wall of fire separating me from any of my babies. If we’re going to have a wall of fire, I like for all of us to be on the same side of it.

Not that we had a wall of fire. But even with a puny fire, I still get a wee bit nervous.

Here one of my chairs is going up in flames.

I like to buy chairs that I think will be really nice once my husband glues, screws, or nails such-and-such. Then my husband, who does not like to fix up pieces of junk, gives me and my chairs the passive aggressive treatment—in other words, nothing happens—and all my not-quite-junk chairs end up tossed into the barn loft, otherwise known as the Chair Graveyard.

Somehow—how?—one of my chairs ended up on the burn pile. Perhaps I’ll have to upgrade from a chair graveyard to a chair urn.

My husband walked around the fire scooping up the debris around the edges and tossing it back onto the center of the pile.

Or at least he tried to.

Youch! Geez, that’s hot!

He had to inspect his arm to see if he had any arm hairs left.

Silly man.

The fire was burning happily when my husband happened upon a dead chicken in the field.

Hey, look at this! A dead chicken!

Is it really dead?

Perhaps a little CPR…

JOHN! DON’T!

Just kidding. Let’s roast it instead.

A little later a chicken head was discovered.

What in the world? Somebody is killing my chickens! my husband roared.

Honey dear, I chided. Why do you say someBODY? Why not someTHING or some ANIMAL? Nobody cares enough about your chickens to bother sneaking onto our property to kill them. It’s so uncivilized to talk that way.

My husband was peeved. Something must be done. He turned his attention away from the raging fire, jumped on the Dixie Chopper, and set about cleaning up around the chicken pen. No more little chicken-killing rodents were going to get his little biddies if he could help it!

My daughter stopped him mid-mow.

Papa, there’s another dead chicken!

My son, hands on hips, came to investigate.

He poked it with his toe.

Sure enough. This one was dead in the pen. My son carried it off by the foot…

And launched it into the inferno.

It’s a flying chicken! Wheeeee!

(Thanks to a freshly mowed chicken yard and a once-again electrified chicken fence, it’s been over 48 hours since the last reported dead chicken. Things are looking up.)

My husband and son stayed outside later than the rest of us to tend to the fire.

The next afternoon, despite the rain, the two older kids stirred up the coals and got the fire going again.

They tried to burn a tree trunk. It kept them occupied for hours.

Which makes me think we should always have a burning burn pile on hand—you know, like a sandbox or a kiddy pool, but a bit more exciting.

This same time, years previous: strawberry cheesecake ice cream

It took two tries to get to church this morning.

The first time around was an utter disaster.

Without getting into all the details, let’s just say that one of the two adults in the house busted her buns to prepare the food for the potluck and get everyone out the door while the other adult slept in and then READ A MAGAZINE while he ate his cereal. By the time everyone was buckled into car seats and the van had its nose pointed towards the road, we had five minutes for the twenty minute drive to church. Emotions skyrocketed, the car lurched back into home position, and the two adults (yes, that would be me and my Honey Love) stormed into the house to duke it out, after which I split for the bedroom, kicked off my shoes, and stuck my nose in a book.

A little later, my husband slunk his sorry self into my chambers, his hands poking up on either side of his hanging head like antlers.

“What are you, a dear?” I asked scornfully.

He ducked his head lower and waved his hands.

“A dog?”

He dropped to all fours and waved his hands harder.

“I have no idea,” I snapped.

Then he brayed “Hee-haw,” and Sweetsie, who was rolling around on the bed, yelled, “A donkey!”

“Yeah,” I said, unable to keep a straight face, “one dumb donkey, that’s for sure.”

Half an hour later, we all walked out to the car and buckled up for the second time that morning. It went so smoothly that even the kids commented how nice it was.

As he drove down the road, my husband assumed his dumb donkey position. “Hey kids! What am I?”

“You’re driving with your knees!” Nickel cheered.

“A donkey!” Sweetsie yelled.

“An ass!” her older brother shouted.

“Hee-haw!” my husband brayed.

This same time, years previous: green smoothies

I’ve been on the lookout for a good baked bean recipe. The main requirement? That it not be sweet. I’ve tried several recipes, some sweetened with just a touch of molasses or a couple glugs of maple syrup, but they were always too bland, too blah.

I love sweet baked beans, really I do, so I was starting to give up hope. Maybe I was destined to be a sweet baked bean eater only? Perhaps my taste buds were conditioned to expect lots of brown sugar and ketchup with my white beans and I would never be able to do better?

But then I tried this recipe and my baked bean lot was revolutionized. A tomato-based baked bean dish with a bit of bacon and onions and garlic, these beans only use a couple tablespoons of honey to sweeten them up. And that’s all they need! They’re rich and flavorful, and absolutely delicious. Now I have a baked bean dish I can serve without feeling guilty.

A side note: my kids didn’t go for them—but then, they don’t go for any baked beans—and they did eat up their no-thank-you serving easily enough so I have hope. And my husband said, “These could really grow on me. Regular baked beans are way too sweet.” That reserved statement, my friends, was as good as any royal stamp of approval. These beans will be our summer staple. Amen.

Baked Beans
Adapted from Simply Recipes

I used my roasted tomato sauce—it was, of course, divine (you really must can some for yourself this summer)—but you can use a standard tomato sauce, or extra tomato paste and more broth. Play around with what you have on hand.

The bacon adds good flavor—so good, in fact, that I think a quarter pound of ground sausage would be a lovely addition. I love pork.

I did not have fresh parsley on hand so I used a couple teaspoons of dried. It was fine, but I think the fresh would add a delightful kick, so if you have it, use it.

1 pound dried white beans (I used Great Northern)
1/4 pound bacon, cut in half lengthwise and then chopped into smallish pieces
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh sage (or rosemary), minced
½ teaspoon chili flakes
2 tablespoons honey
2-4 tablespoons tomato paste
1 pint roasted tomato sauce
2 cups chicken (or beef) stock
½ cup chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Soak the beans overnight. In the morning, rinse them and then simmer till soft. (Don’t forget to salt them while they’re cooking—it adds much more flavor to the final dish.)

Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven (or other heavy cooking pot) and add the chopped bacon. Once it has browned, add the onion and saute till golden brown. Add the garlic, sage, and chili and cook for one minute. Add the honey and tomato paste and cook for another minute. Add the tomato sauce and stock and stir well. Bring the beans to a simmer and check for salt.

Put a lid on the pot and slip it into a 325 degree oven. Bake for an ample hour—if the beans are still too soupy, take the lid off and let the moisture evaporate while it bakes a bit more.

Immediately before serving, stir in the fresh parsley and vinegar.

These beans can be made ahead of time, stored in the refrigerator or freezer, and then reheated in a crock pot. So stock up now—it’s summer time!

This same time, years previous: meet the gang, shredded wheat bread, rhubarb jam (this jam is best eaten fresh)