Happy Go Stuckey

Tethering Grace & Togetherness

Peaches & Cream Scones

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Every scorching summer, I buy a ton of ripe but not yet soft peaches and bring them home gingerly as though they are made of blown glass. They cover our wooden table like a polka-dot pattern of pink and orange and we wait a few days until they begin to soften.

Also with annual regularity, I plan to make these peaches into jam but nearly every year we end up eating them just as they are, chasing sweet juice down our chins with a paper towel.

There are many great recipes that highlight peaches, this one being one of my favorites. I also love to add sliced peaches and grilled chicken to arugula or spinach for a smashing summer salad. My friend Kristin Schell shared a fabulous Bacon, Peach, & Arugula Sandwich recently and I confess I made it twice. Two days. In a row. (It’s that good. And yes, I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. Because Summer comes but once a year.)

When peaches are at their peachiest peak, the best way to eat them is fresh and not baked into something. I only tend to bake with them if they are softening faster than we can eat them. But last week I noticed I had several peaches ripe and ready at once, so I toyed around with my basic scone recipe to make Peaches & Cream Scones. These were both flaky and dense like true scones should be.

This is my fourth scone recipe published here and it likely won’t be the last. Scones are definitely my thing; both from the love of my English Grandmother and my kindred spirit friend who taught me the joy of chocolate chip scones. You don’t mind more scone recipes, do you?

They are the single most requested weekend breakfast treat in the Blue House, and I’m pretty happy being the scone girl. I hope you not only love them, but love how easy they are– and how much they cause you to realize what a baking rockstar you are.

 

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Peaches & Cream Scones
Author: 
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 
Serves: 8 or 16
 
Delicate Flaky Scones studded with tiny pieces of summer peaches. Note: if your peaches are very ripe and juicy, toss them in flour before adding to the scone dough, and don't over-mix.  These, being cream scones are made with heavy cream instead of egg, butter, and half and half.
Ingredients
  • 2 cups All Purpose Flour
  • ⅔ cup of Rolled Oats
  • 1 tbsp. Baking Powder
  • ½ tsp. Salt
  • ¼ tsp. Ground Cinnamon
  • ⅓ cup of Sugar, my preference is raw sugar.
  • 1 large peach, diced (peeled or unpeeled.)
  • 1½ cups Heavy Cream
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
Method
  1. In the large bowl of a food processor, blend together the dry ingredients (flour through sugar.)
  2. Pulse until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
  3. Add peaches and then pulse quickly once or twice or mix with a fork.
  4. Add the heavy cream and then pulse 2-4 times.
  5. Take care not to over-mix. You can do this step by hand with a fork or spatula.
  6. Invert the food processor bowl onto a lightly floured surface.
  7. Work dough lightly into a rough circle. It may be slightly shaggy, but just lightly pull it together with your hands.
  8. Once the circle is formed, cut into 8 large or 16 small wedges.
  9. Place wedges onto a sheet of parchment paper on a cookie sheet.
  10. Just before baking, brush the tops with a smidge more cream and a sprinkling of raw sugar.
  11. Bake at 425' for 12-14 minutes. They should be light brown on the bottom, and even lighter on top. These scones freeze very well, but freeze them the same day for best results.

A Summer of Rhythm & Absence

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The sun is rising higher, earlier, every day and the birdsong is drowning in the noise of a hundred frogs. We’ve plowed through dozens of sticky popsicles and my library card is practically glowing from being swiped and handed back to me.

The peaches are in, the tomatoes are ripe— we are building meals around both. Because in our southern corner, July is a lot like visiting a farmer’s market… which happens to be located on the surface of the sun. The upside is all the amazing produce. The downside is the way your legs, in shorts, meld to the front seat of your car.

Hot, steamy weather aside, I know the seasonal gifts are among the best.

This is what it is to truly summer. To delight in what we hold, knowing we won’t hold it for much longer. To embrace long mornings and loose schedules. These brief months have a pace all their own— more laissez-faire, less get it done. Summer is rest.

For the second summer in a row, I took an accidental writing break. I didn’t mean to do it. What I *meant to do was have a summer full of words written. Sentences strung together into paragraphs for you. But maybe you needed to hear less from me this summer. I needed to write less, and listen more.

Often even as we savor summer, a break can feel like an indulgence– especially when all our roles are mashed up together. I like to choose my absence, but welcoming the effect of it is often harder. Maybe it’s hard for you too?

Maybe you’ve spent your whole summer feeling torn between what you thought your summer should be and what it is. Maybe you thought you would spend these months playing catch up, but instead you’re playing UNO and monopoly and camp director.

Maybe you had an amazing week away or day with your people only to scroll through your phone at ten pm and feel completely defeated— as though you failed miserably at a to-do list that wasn’t even yours to begin with.

Maybe you feel completely at peace with where you have been placed– until you notice the dreamers and doers all around you who seem to have excess time for both dreaming and doing. The internet isn’t much help in this one I’m afraid– even in summertime.

But if the internet in summer is the ocean— I’d choose to be the beach at sunset rather than the cruise ship port. It is okay for us to choose to be where everyone is not for a season. 
Because if I’m not out there, it is because my place is in here. When less is what I’m called to, less is better. Less is the quiet path of more.

As I’ve been praying and considering what this season means for me, I’ve written a short manifesto for last few melting days of summer.
Perhaps you need it too?

A Summer Manifesto of Rhythm & Absence

I will breathe in summer and not hold it up against seasons of greater productivity.
I will not scrunch up my nose when I think of all that August will bring; I will open my hands to July and enjoy its’ slower gifts.
I will seek to integrate. I will create when I can, and be happily content with it.
I will smile and not sneer at these days of fluidity and fun.
I will not roll my eyes at the audacity of myself, thinking I could do it all.
I will not stop trying to balance both the good rest and the good work.
I will see the beauty in a period of less and embrace the knowledge that if rest is offered me, rest is where I am most needed.
I will eat popsicles with my children, not always hand them one and use that ten minutes to get something done.
I will stop thinking about what I haven’t accomplished to focus my whole face on their whole face.
I will remember that cultivating an atmosphere of simple fun and joy, means as much as creating a masterpiece.
I will take this break with my whole heart & see it as a gift wrapped in beach towels and tied with a jump rope bow.
I will choose wave skipping and seashell searches over chasing someone else’s goal.
I will stay in my own lane and swim happily in it.
I will remember that though summer is a gift, it is brief– and August is already on its’ way.

 

 

Rainshine. (Why hope & grief are not adversaries.)

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Our Georgia summer is hot and steamy but often includes ample rain storms.
Some days they chase us from the pool with thunder and quilted skies. Other days the clouds pour buckets while the sun shines brightly. Yellow light beams down. Drops Fall.
Sun and Rain. Rain and Sun.
This is my favorite variety of storm; the unexpected.

The air is heavy and humid and standing in the rainshine seems completely ridiculous. But for me, it’s an exercise in remembrance. A happy reminder that the sun and rain don’t always step aside for one another. As if the sun missed the part about the rain’s solo— and refuses to wait in the wings.

I need to be reminded of this very thing the rainshine teaches me. Because there was a time not so long ago, that I realized the truth of the “and.” It was some months after I lost a baby. And then again three years later I lost another. In between the two griefs I became someone with a lap completely full. We danced around filling sippy cups and dodging cheerio landmines and there was nothing lacking from our joy.
Nothing at all.
But. There was a tiny piece of pain. Toddler fingers held out weed bouquets and soothed things I couldn’t touch. Still the ache took time to fade into a soft memory. For a long time there was both laughter, and pangs of remembering.

Do you know how it feels to hold both?
Maybe you are now holding both joy and grief in your two uncertain hands.
Or perhaps you swallow lumps of grief— but joy is still on the way.
We know that they often take up residence on the same block. Pain does not always overshadow joy; neither can joy completely squash pain.

The hope that “it will not always be so” is a great one. But even that bright glittering hope, does not remove the ache.
And we can often forget that joy and grief are not enemies.
We expect that if we are strong enough, Christian enough, brave enough— we can elect to feel only the joy and not the pain.
But the essence of our true hope is not that. It is a both/ and hope.
The joy that hopes in what will be — but feels the sting of what is still on the way.

It is a gift. This joy of the both/and. Both hardness and blessing. Both fear and courage. Both happiness that bubbles over in belly-laughs and sobriety that sees evil. Evil that threatens to choke the hope out of us all.

We may be incandescent in our joy. Light may spill from every corner of our day. Or we may have to stand in the pouring rain to look up and find the light. Rarely is it one or the other.
We know so great a hope in Christ and still we will feel the cares of the world. They wind up around our feet as we walk. They snatch and grab at us, like the Devil’s Snare plant in Harry Potter. Devil’s Snare hated the light too, remember? Keeping pain in dark places of shame feeds it.

Friend, might we walk with one another in this?
When we hide our grief, we buy the lie that pain is greater than joy.
We cannot expect ourselves to fully feel one, without some shards of the other.
There is a fulfillment of hope which is still waiting in the wings.

You can grieve. You can grieve right alongside glory.
Acknowledging pain will not remove the joy of what is, and what is to come.
But it has not come fully yet.
And so we wait in the weight of waiting.
And we love greatly and keep our eyes open for hope.
We tip our chins up to the light, even if it means a few raindrops on our cheeks.
We can bravely hold what is too much for us to hold alone.

Because it will not always be both. Someday we will only know the hope that did not disappoint. Not the hope that we got exactly what we wanted; the reality of the hope that was worth waiting well.

The hope that we are promised— we will know He only gave us truth.
And that when we waited, we never waited alone.

What I Learned in the Spring

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“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?”…

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…”

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Here we are, already buying sunscreen en masse and shuffling the pool towels from the dryer to the pool bag and then back to the dryer again. I love the splashy, drippy, days of summer.

But before we dive in, let’s pay homage to our spring lessons, both the fun and the semi-serious. I absolutely feel as though we just shared our Winter lessons yesterday. Here’s that list if you missed it.

So here are four things I learned in the Spring–

I have become a plant lady. 

I’m not sure why I waited so long to welcome house plants into our life. One day, the Nester had an instagram post about how she waters her plants. It was completely un-fancy and un-complicated and she convinced me I could do it. I finally did and I love my little plant friends. Fingers crossed for continued growth and life. (Bonus tip: HomeGoods is the place for pretty planters.)

 

Tomato plants should be watered at the soil level and not as much on the leaves. 

I definitely did not know this. I always watered from overhead because it makes the leaves look pretty and apparently– the least amount of time the leaves can be wet, the better. Rain water is different, and is preferable to hose water. Who knew? We do enjoy summer tomatoes around here– especially in Caprese Salad. (Bonus Tip: grab a bottle of balsamic glaze for the top of your salad. yum.)

I also learned the magic bullet for keeping cut hydrangeas alive for at least a week!

 

An Audible narrator can make or break a listening experience, especially for a classic. 

Audible is one of our favorite things, both for homeschool and for myself personally. I recently listened to Anne of Green Gables with Rachel McAdams narrating and it was simply fabulous. Then I wanted to continue with Anne of Avonlea but had to do my first ever audible return because the new narration was ruining it for me. The Anne of Avonlea narrator was not my favorite because she made Anne sound petty and whiny.

I also learned this month that I’m a bit sensitive about certain childhood heroines— like, ahem, Anne.

Other examples of great audible narrators: Shauna Niequist (Cold Tangerines,) Lauren Graham (Talking as Fast as I Can,) and of course, the entire Harry Potter audiobook series with Jim Dale (A-Mazing.)

 

An “I Can Try” mindset is often a good place to begin. 

This spring I did two things I have never done before. Both of which, scared me a tiny bit. The first was simple, my friend Cherie asked me to bake an apple pie to highlight her floral design. Sure, I said. I can do that. Then I saw the inspiration pie and freaked out a little. Braided crust, I had never done. I even struggle with braided hair every now and then– but braided crust was completely new to me. But guess what? It turned out just fine. And, her gorgeous blooms covered a multitude of first time evidence.

The second thing was starting my own side-hustle of helping other writers with bits of social media design. I truly enjoy making gorgeous graphics to highlight beautiful words. And bonus, it helps me pay for occasional childcare so I might find a few more fringe hours to write my own words. Introducing, Happy Designs.

So, that’s fun. (And, I have space for a couple more clients this summer. If you need an image refresh on your blog, or have particular posts you would like to highlight better, send me a quick email and we can chat. )

Aren’t new things like that sometimes? A crazy potpourri of “Well, this is fun!” and “I have absolutely no business thinking I can do this.”

I’m starting to think that’s the edge of the good stuff when it comes to art and creativity. We should be slightly scared while chasing the fun. Like those first few rickety bumps up a roller coaster.

What is making you slightly scared in a fun way right now? I’d love to know.

This quarterly chance to share What We Learned with Emily Freeman is high on my list of favorite things. I would truly enjoy hearing what you learned these past few months. Feel free to comment below– or, let’s connect on Instagram.

Weekend Favorites

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“Cozy + smell of pancakes – alarm clock = weekend”  — Amy Krouse Rosenthal

Well we made it again.
Another weekend, hopefully one with a little less of whatever your week needed less of. For me it was the nagging cold that followed me around all week. I’m always thankful for the margin the weekend affords us. Margin to just be a little bit more.

But before we head off to whatever awaits, here are a few weekend favorites I compiled for us. I hope you enjoy them as much as donuts on Saturday morning.

My Favorite Places on the Web this Week: 

The Long Myth of Growing Up by Hilary Yancey  Hilary is telling her story of course, but in some small way, I felt as though she was telling my own. I truly LOVED this piece about being our parent’s children and growing up.

Little Known Ways to Build a Platform and Protect Your Soul by Margaret Feinberg. I especially valued this lens with which to view the world of working on the internet: “Focus on the abundance and your life will fill with gratitude.”

I have really enjoyed Instagram from the larger screen of my laptop. The pictures are huge and even more vibrant. I may not write here each day, but I’m over there nearly every day. If you’re on Instagram, I’d love to connect with you.

Currently Loving: 

This quote from my daughter, Lucy (7)
“You should never criticize your own creation. It’s not cool, Mom.”  (My own creation that night was spaghetti, but I think she has a point.)

Himalayan Pink Salt Lamps. Our family has made several years of memories in Blue Ridge, Georgia and the first cabin we ever stayed in had these in the bedrooms. I’ve always wanted to add a few to our own Blue House, but just recently took the plunge. And, apparently– they could have health benefits too– I just thought they were cozy and reminiscent of our Mountain time.

Homemade Bone Broth. I may not be sure about the health benefits of the chunk of pink salt on my dresser, but I do know the benefits of bone broth. This week I made some overnight in the slow cooker and um, wow. The flavor and color is fabulous. We’ve all been a bit sniffly around here lately, so I’m putting this on the repeat list.

On my bedside table: 

Notes From a Blue Bike by Tsh Oxenreider
(I have Tsh’s new book, At Home in the World: Reflections on Belonging While Wandering the Globe, which just released last week– and I’m trying so hard to wait until I finish Blue Bike before jumping in. Her writing style is one of lyrical story-telling– which I enjoy.)

Well those are my favorites this week! And, I just realized this is my 500th Blog post. (Gasp.) FIVE HUNDRED?!?!? Granted, the first few, ahem, hundred posts were Wordless Wednesdays and posts filled with pictures of my children and very few words. But still, 500!

However long you’ve been here, I’m so happy you keep coming back. My hope is that you always leave refreshed with a little more hope for your journey, and with an armful of leftovers. XX, Cynthia

You may also enjoy: To the Dads Who Carry Plenty.

To the Dads Who Carry Plenty.

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Being a mother is a heavy load– we know this like we know flaked salt belongs on dark chocolate.
In the push and pull of the glorious every day-ness, we can be bone-tired before the day even begins, and it’s nice when someone notices.

In a few more weeks the foyer of Publix will be packed with potted plants, I’ll cry at the baby soap commercial at least once, and a corner of Target will explode with lavender and pink.

Because Mother’s Day is coming.

I love the homemade cards with my head drawn almost to scale and my eyes bearing exactly three eyelashes each. I even love the subtle, sweet suggestions of their own favorite restaurant.

But in all honesty, I cannot help but steel myself for the other part of Mother’s Day. The part with all the snark. The part that says, “My ankles swelled to twice the normal size THREE different times and all I got was this lousy Begonia.”
The shouty screams about the hardness of life as mom. And my own least -favorite, the attack on Dad. The sidling up of every father against the Ray Barones of the world. The guy who never remembers anything, and wins several eye-rolls a day.

Because, yeah. It’s tough to be a mother sometimes.
But if I stop long enough to peer into the living room at that man that I live with, I see it. He’s no Ray.

The tall one with the grey converse and the ability to recall song lyrics from the 80’s. He’s only been home ten minutes and already he is kicking the soccer ball with one daughter while holding the other high in his arms. Somehow he managed to make us all feel better just by being here. He’s unloading dishes and helping with dinner and mediating a lego dispute. He helps lighten the load. ALOT.

The truth is, even on a difficult day the load is lighter because he helps carry it. Joyfully, seriously, selflessly. He doesn’t walk through the door expecting to be waited on hand and foot, He walks through the door immediately giving a hand.

He loves us like it’s his job, because he knows it is.

Even now, I pause and wince. I know it is not like this for every mom. Many feel alone. Many are alone. You might feel alone, and for you I want more than a potted plant for Mothers Day. I want a housekeeper and a masseuse and take out dinner delivered to your doorstep. I want to tell you how much you matter. Because you do. 

But for those of us who always have another set of shoulders to lean on when the day is longer than the Summer Solstice–
WE need to express our thanks and we need to say it now before June rolls around.

Because these men that keep us going so we can keep everything else going? They need to hear our thanks. They need to see it lived out. They need to be respected and appreciated for carrying so much of what we’re holding in our full hands.

These thoughtful guys who keep us in plenty of coffee and don’t mind folding towels at the end of the day are doing thousands of little things that add up to a lot.

So Thank You–

to the guys who drive just so we don’t have to–
to the high shelf reachers–
to the dark chocolate bringers–
to the take-out menu embracers–
to the wildlife catchers–
to the egg scramblers–
to the Saturday pancake flippers–
to the plant watering rememberers–
and the drive home because we locked ourselves out of the house (again) – guys.

Thank you to the better ironers who don’t mind that title–
and the ones who don’t laugh when we forget to switch the clothes over for the third time.
Thank you for deciding you didn’t want to wear that shirt anyway.

Thank you, bath givers– the gentle hairbrush wielding dads not overwhelmed by all these women they live with and the amount of irrational tears that accompany them.

To the ones who encourage us to take time for ourselves, and not for a Costco run.

Thank you for cherishing us as treasures and pushing us to be unbelievably strong.
Thank you for convincing us that we can do hard things. And then nudging us to do them.
To you who save money in unseen ways to filter it into helping dreams materialize, we notice. Thank you.

Thank you–
to the ones who help us balance plates of passions and interests and help us say no thank you when we can’t find the words.
For being both the stable rock and the soft place to lean. Thank you for looking like Christ in your servant leadership.

Thank you for seeing us.  You remember who we were all those years ago– you remind us who that girl is and help her find her place here in this beautiful new reality. One of being both who we were then and who we are now.

To the imperfect men who love the imperfect women they share a house and love and a family with– we could not do it without you.

And we wouldn’t even want to try.

Our load might be heavy, but you make it lighter.

 

A Tradition Unlike Any Other: Green Jacket Salad

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Just before the last frost of winter leaves us, this city of Augusta, Georgia begins blossoming with life.

The Masters Tournament seems to affect nearly every aspect of our beautiful azalea dotted city. Businesses and Homeowners alike begin their yearly spring spruce early in January and seem to finish just days before the magical week of the Masters.

In our family, it usually means de-cluttering every single nook and cranny and deep-cleaning the hidden corners of our house. For the past five years, we have left town in order to rent our home to visitors of the Masters. But this year, we get to stay in town and enjoy the hubbub for ourselves.

So we’re celebrating here at the Blue House Kitchen with our favorite Master’s Inspired Recipes.

First up, The Green Jacket Salad.

I know it is ridiculous to emote about salads, but this one is life-changing. Crisp, green, and simple– it is the perfect last minute dinner addition. There are no fancy-pants ingredients and the dressing is made from pantry ingredients in about 3 minutes. (Oh, and don’t leave out the pita chip pieces, they make the salad!)

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Green Jacket Salad
Author: 
Cuisine: Salad
Serves: 8-10
 
A light vinaigrette tossed with crisp greens, tomatoes and green onions. This is my slightly amended version, sometimes I will substitute olive oil for the vegetable oil-- for health reasons. Traditionally, the parmesan is the grated or powdered variety. Also, the original recipe calls for toasted pita bread, but using pita chips makes this recipe a weeknight staple.
Ingredients
  • ½ cup olive oil
  • ⅓ cup red wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon Lawry’s seasoned salt
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 3 Romaine Hearts, Cleaned and Chopped
  • ½ cup of diced tomato
  • ½ cup chopped green onion, about 4 green onions
  • ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
  • ¼ cup of grated Parmesan cheese, add more to taste
  • 2-3 handfuls of Stacy's Naked Pita Chips, broken into rough pieces
  • Cracked black pepper to taste
Method
  1. Mix Oil, Vinegar, Seasoned Salt, and Oregano together in a jar with a tight-fitting lid. Shake until emulsified.
  2. Chop remaining ingredients except pita chips and mix in a large bowl.
  3. Toss with Dressing just before serving. (You may have dressing left over.)

You may also be interested in: Green Onions and Quiet Growth

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