When in doubt, bake chocolate cake

Sometimes, when you feel like you just aren't getting things done, the best thing you could do is bake your favorite thing. In my case, this would be unfrosted chocolate cake.

When I last visited Mom, she made me a gift of some of the old baking tools we had when we were kids, and even another generation before that. When she pulled out the pan, it seemed to me I DISTINCTLY recalled making brownies in that pan in the house in Earlville. Perhaps it was a made-up memory. Perhaps it was some other pan.

Nonetheless, it made me happy, and I was glad to take it home with me. She also gave me a family measuring cup that I was sure I would never use due to the many chips around the rim. But all my measuring cups were dirty because I had made this decadent soup yesterday, and it was carefully pressed into service for water and oil. (A note on the soup, follow the recipe, but add 3/4 cup of mild/medium salsa. Oh, and no rotisserie chicken. I just bought two big chicken breasts and roasted them with salt, pepper, and a little hot sauce. OK, so don't follow the recipe!).

In taking these photos I realized I had photos on my camera that I had not posted yet, so I may as well play clean-up. Gretchen and I hiked up the hill the weekend she came up and helped with the back rooms.

Molly loves a good walk, but her brain cells get a little unhinged on the trip back down the hill, and she did indeed run off into the woods for a good four or five minutes. I finally started to blaze my way into the woods to find her tracks, and asked Gretchen to call her (because Molly loves the attention of other people) when the little monster came zooming back. She got carried the rest of the way down the hill, and from now on, the flexi-leash comes along and she'll be leashed the whole way back home.

Anyone who has ridden a horse knows the syndrome. The horse listens to you while headed away from the house, but once his nose is turned back toward the barn, you'd better know how to ride, because if not, that horse is going where he wants to, not where you want to.

I've decided that there will be no more hunting on my property. I believe in meat-hunting, but frankly, I have yet to find a meat hunter. So far everyone who has hunted here has said they would shoot doe, but they always seem to come down the hill with bucks. The only reason I permit hunting is to reduce the number of doe, and therefore reduce the spring population by three (the doe, and her spring fawns). I don't want my bucks dead. I don't need dead bucks. So--no more. If I find them dead in the snow in the spring, I guess I'll just accept it. The herd seems to be stabilizing anyway, likely due to coyote predation on fawns and sick or starving deer.

The cabin is, therefore, no longer a hunting cabin. I'll have to decide if I'm brave enough to camp up there alone with the bears and other snufflers.

So winter is here. It has been cold. I've watched my wood pile slowly dwindle, and I'll have to give in and order a cord off of somebody before spring.

Enough delaying. It's time to tuck the cats in, and write some thank-you notes. The chocolate cake has served its purpose.