I’m reading Jane Eyre to the older two kids. They drag their feet when it comes time to read—the book is filled with highfalutin language—but they follow the story well enough and seem to mostly enjoy it once I get going. And now that we’re getting deeper into the book, the spooky stuff is starting up, hehehehe.

The other night, here’s how it went down. (Jane is the one talking.)

…I started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious, which sounded, I thought, just above me.

I slowed my reading and my voice dropped a couple notches.

I wished I had kept my candle burning: the night was drearily dark; my spirits were depressed. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was hushed.

A weighty pause, and then:

I tried again to sleep; but my heart beat anxiously: my inward tranquillity was broken. The clock, far down the hall, struck two.

Miss Beccaboo shot up from her spot on the hearth, dived onto the sofa next to me, and burrowed her head into my rib cage. I roared with laughter and had to take several deep breaths to steady my voice before I could continue.

Just then it seemed my chamber-door was touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery outside. I said, “Who is there?” Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear.

Then, in the next paragraph, Jane remembered that the dog sometimes comes upstairs. This new thought much relieved her and she relaxed. But,

A dream had scarcely approached my ear, when it fled affrighted, scared by a marrow-freezing incident enough.

This was a demoniac laugh—low, suppressed, and deep—

And here I laughed as low and demoniac as possible—

Uttered, as it seemed, at the very key-hole of my chamber-door. The head of my bed was near the door, and I thought at first the goblin-laughter stood at my bedside—or rather, crouched by my pillow—

Yo-Yo grabbed the skin under his eyes and pulled down on it while simultaneously rolling his eyeballs back in his head. “Look at this, guys! Like this? Mwah-ha-ha!” Miss Beccaboo plunged deeper into the cushions and I burst out laughing all over again. “Cut that out!” I scolded, and then tried, unsuccessfully, to rout Miss Beccaboo out of my underarm.

But I rose, looked round, and could see nothing: while as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next again, to cry out, “Who is there?”

Something gurgled and moaned.

Later, when I read this to my husband, his eyes got all big. “Good grief! You’re reading that to the kids? It’s a wonder they can sleep at all!”

So now I’m wondering: am I the only one who takes a perverse delight in scaring the pants off my kids?

It really is glorious fun. Maybe you’d like to break out the Jane Eyre and try it sometime? Give them some toast and milk, curl up by the fire for a little beddy-bye story, and then kiss them sweetly and send them, teeth chattering, off to bed. (Mwah-ha-ha-ha.)

*Pictures taken during a movie, not when I was reading Jane Eyre, but you get the idea.

This same time, years previous: a religious education and butterscotch pudding

This is the pie I made for Pi Day.

It rocked some serious deliciousness. We ate all but one piece, and my husband took that last piece in his lunch today.

So I was left with no other recourse but to make a cherry cobbler for our lunch. We ate all but this much (after finishing off the last of the chicken curry):

Those of you who have Cherry Envy? You should! It might be cruel to say it, but these cherries are so fabulous that if you aren’t firmly mired in the camp of We Sure Would Like Some Cherries, then something is seriously wrong with you.

I’m just kidding.

(Kind of.)

My kids didn’t used to like sour cherries. In fact, only one of them was a fan, and even my husband didn’t think they were all that hot. But someone, over the years, they’ve all turned into cherry fanatics. Which is good, because that’s all we’ll be eating for the next several months.

Neat thing is, nobody’s complaining.

Cherry Pie
Adapted from a Gourmet recipe I found on the web somewhere

This method of using tapioca to thicken a fruit pie? I dig it. It’s so easy to do, and it gives the pie filling a pleasing texture.

I think a cream cheese pastry might go well with this pie. Next time…

1 recipe rich butter pastry (2 disks, chilled)
6 cups pitted sour cherries
3 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca
2 tablespoons cornstarch
½ teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla
milk and sugar, for brushing on crust

Mix together the tapioca, cornstarch, cinnamon, salt, and sugar. Toss with the cherries. Sprinkle with the vanilla and toss again. Allow the fruit to rest at room temperature for 1-4 hours, stirring occasionally.

Line a 9-inch pie plate with one of the rolled-out disks of dough. Fill with the fruit. Top with the second rolled-out disk of dough (cut a decorative design into it before laying it atop the pie). Crimp to seal the edges. Brush the top crust with milk and sprinkle liberally with sugar.

Set the pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (cherries are notorious for bubbling over) and set the pan on a lower oven rack in a 425 degree oven. After 20 minutes, reduce the temperature to 375 degrees and bake for another 40-60 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown and the juices are bubbling happily. (Line the edges of the pie crust with a foil shield, if necessary.)

Allow the pie to cool for 3 or 4 hours before serving with vanilla ice cream.

Mini Bite #1: today’s lunch
Leftover lovelies: mashed potatoes, corn, peas, macaroni and cheese, applesauce, sour cherries, meatloaf, and salad. Sometimes I am in awe of my children’s appetites.

Mini Bite #2: foreclosed cherries
Someone didn’t pay the rent on their freezer locker so the contents (sour cherries) were going to be emptied into the landfill. Some other people, smart ones, salvaged them. We got 70 pounds for 20 bucks.

Mini Bite #3: Pi Day
It’s Pi Day, you know: March 14 equals 3.14.

I’m making a—you guessed it—sour cherry pie. And perhaps a cherry cobbler, too.

I have no idea what we’ll have for supper.

Mini Bite #4: camera happy
I’ve been reading through PW’s photography tutorials and then spending a lot of time sitting in the yard puzzling over the buttons on my camera. I let my daughters take some pictures. There’s this one.

And this one.

They’re overexposed, I know, but I really am learning new things.

And then, in exchange for letting me take pictures of him, I let Nickel take a picture of me.

Mini Bite #5: glorious poop
Our neighbor brought us a truckload of poop.

It made me really, really happy, especially considering that just that morning my husband and I had had a mild argument over the lack of garden fertilizer and how the said lack of fertilizer ought to be remedied. But then the neighbor showed up with the poop and all was well.

Mini Bite #6: airborn
After surgery, the nurse told Nickel that he wasn’t allowed to run around the house for the rest of the day. He grinned at her cheerfully and then, once he was de-IVed, said he had to go to the bathroom and took off at a fast trot. There is no stopping this kid. Here are a few pictures of him in action, all taken within 36 hours of his surgery. In fact, he’s still wearing the clothes he wore to the hospital.

Mini Bite #7: curry
I made a chicken curry that my whole family likes! This is a classic curry—one that’s perfect for adorning with all sorts of yummy condiments.

Golden Chicken Curry
Adapted from a hand-me-down cookbook: The Flavors of Bon Appétit 2000

the meat from one cooked chicken, chopped
1 hearty glug of oil
2 or 3 large onions, chopped
1/4 cup minced, peeled fresh ginger
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons curry powder
1 teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup plain yogurt
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 cups chicken broth
1 cup applesauce
1 10-ounce (2-3 cups) packaged frozen peas
½ cup sour cream
½ cup coconut milk
salt, to taste

Toppings: cilantro, green onions, chutney, chopped bananas, raisins, chopped peanuts or cashews, coconut, etc.

Sauté the onions in the oil till they’re translucent and tender. Add the ginger and garlic and sauté one minute. Add the curry, cumin, cinnamon, and flour and sauté one minute more. Add the yogurt and tomato paste, stir until thick, and simmer for one minute. Add the broth and applesauce, bring to a boil, and then simmer for a few minutes. Add the chopped chicken and peas and heat through. Remove the kettle from the heat and stir in the sour cream and coconut milk (you may continue to heat, as needed, but do not boil). Taste to adjust seasonings.

Serve the curry over rice, with a smattering of condiments.

This same time, years previous: relief and pride, plus memories, breakfast pizza, a child’s blessing, warm sourdough chocolate cakes