by Sara Barry | Aug 25, 2014 | finding time, garden, summer, what I love, writing
- My early morning quiet time with coffee and my writing notebook
- This post about another writer’s mornings
- The height and color in my garden
- The canning cupboard shelves filling up
- Space I’ve cleared (bye-bye clutter—it’s a slow process)
- An abundance of hot peppers—stuff them with a mixture of cream cheese, cheddar, and a spicy sausage and bake until the cheese is good and melty.
- Notes and writing from friends with details about moments they will remember and the texture of their days.
What are you loving in these last days of August?
by Sara Barry | Aug 22, 2014 | kids in the garden, summer, writing
When I flip through my pictures from the summer, I’ll remember picking blueberries, but I might forget how the five-year-old took charge of the three-year-old and two-year-old and how much easier it was in 2014 than it was in 2013. I’ll see it was sunny, but I might not remember how foggy and cool it was that morning when we set out through the hills and back roads. I might forget the singing of rounds that paced our work as we sorted and how I sang the songs over and over, teaching the girls and making up my own verses to “Hey Ho, Nobody Home” in the car until they begged me to stop. One of the reasons I write is to remember.
This is my picture, my story. What’s yours?
Ready to start telling your story? Download your quick guide to summer stories now.
by Sara Barry | Aug 20, 2014 | parenting, summer, writing
It is not a great photo. I snapped it a few seconds too late, I see the tops of heads, red hair and blond flowing toward the lush, green grass as they bend at the waist. It’s not a great picture, but I know that they are mid-bow.
“We’re doing a show! Come watch! Are you coming? The show’s starting.”
This summer was the summer of shows. There have been music shows and dancing shows, hula hoop shows and acrobatic shows (like the one they’ve just wrapped up in the picture that involved the crocodile see saw). The dancing shows usually have costumes: the purple and teal fairy costume or the polka dot tulle dress or the shell pink ballerina skirt leotard from the dress up box. The music shows feature instruments—always a drum—and self-written songs. I’ve watched them march and arabesque, twirl and leap, inside and out, morning or night.
They announce each other—“And now the most amazing dancer ever”—in deep, dramatic stage voices, and tell each other what to do in not so quiet stage whispers, “Now you come in. Now. Dance!”
And before I’m invited to watch the show, I hear the rehearsals, which sometimes turn into squabbles as they each fight for their own vision.
I remember watching our neighbors do shows just a couple of years ago. They’d want my girls to be in the them, and sometimes my girls were up for it. Even when they were, at one or two or three didn’t take direction so well. They crawled off stage or wouldn’t say lines or wanted to play instead. Now, this summer, my girls are directing. This summer, they’re the stars.
Your Turn
Write with Me:
Choose a picture and tell your story. Draw from your memory or your imagination.
Share It:
Share your writing in the comments, add a link to your blog, or email me at sarabarrywrites@gmail.com.
Get more ideas for using your photos for writing—Summer Stories in 5 Minutes.
by Sara Barry | Aug 2, 2014 | cooking, kids in the kitchen, summer
I grew up with wild blueberries in our yard and the woods behind it. For years, though I’ve picked large, cultivate berries at PYO places. I love those too, but the tiny, flavorful wild berries still had a place in my heart. Now they have a place in my freezer too, thanks to the Benson Place.
I went last year for the first time, turning off Route 2 into an upward maze of paved and dirt roads. As we were led to our picking spot, I thought, “It’s Blueberries for Sal.” The hilltop landscape covered with the low scrubby bushes certainly fit, but instead of tin pails we had wooden boxes, and instead of picking by hand, we used rakes to comb through the bushes and collect the berries.
This year, the bushes were heavily laden and we quickly picked two boxes (usually about 20 lbs each, but we were ambitious and piled on a few extra pounds). After picking, you bring your boxes of berries back to the sorting shed where the sorter gets out leaves, weeds, and other debris that got scooped up in your rake. The berries roll out on a conveyor belt so you can pick out any green berries, mushy berries, or stems.
My big box yielded 9 frozen quarts of berries, a batch each of raspberry-blueberry jam, blueberry jam (favorite of my dad and my big girl), and blueberry-maple sauce (for pancakes or ice cream). I’ve got quart containers set aside for more jamming, a blueberry pie, and just snacking.
This morning, I used three cups in a big batch of butterfly pancakes. Like wild blueberries, butterfly pancakes are linked to my childhood.. My mom used to make them for us. She used bacon for the antennae. I would have too, but I was out of bacon.
Butterfly Pancakes
pancake batter
blueberries
sausage
bacon or sliced fruit
- Start cooking your sausage or bacon (if using it).
- Mix up a batch of your favorite pancake batter. (I use the griddle cake recipe in the Fanny Farmer cookbook).
- Heat your griddle or skillet and skate some butter over it to grease. Pour or ladle pancake batter, keeping the pancake diameter about the size of a sausage (or a little smaller).
- When the batter is dimpled with holes, sprinkle berries across the pancake. Flip.
- Cook until the bottom is browned.
- To assemble, place a sausage in the middle of the plate. Put one pancake, blueberry side up, on either side of the sausage. Add bacon or sliced fruit for antennae.
What’s your favorite thing to do with blueberries?
by Sara Barry | Jul 30, 2014 | canning, garden, summer, writing
It’s the time of year when fruit flies are destined to take over the universe—or at least your kitchen. It’s the time of year when you keep cooking and canning and freezing trying to stay ahead of those fruit flies. It’s the time of year when your compost bucket fills up every day, more than once.
It’s the time of year when long green veggies pile up in your kitchen. You Google “zucchini recipes” and that poem by Marge Piercy. You’re not handing them out to anybody who walks by. Not quite yet.
It’s the time of year when peach juice drips down your chin and blueberries stain your fingers purple. Your arms are crisscrossed with scratches from raspberry brambles, but you don’t care.
It’s the time of year when lawn mowers rumble through dinner time and the evening insects are quieter as darkness settles. It’s the time of year when you should be cursing the heat and humidity, but tonight it feels like fall. Not yet. Not yet.
It’s the time of year when you want to sit outside and do nothing, but the garden calls and the squash and the beans and the cucumbers on the counter call. It’s the time of year when you stir pots in steamy kitchens (and love it) and wait for that tiny ping that makes you smile each time.
It’s the time of year when years ago you were waiting for your baby’s surgery, waiting to start the life you expected (almost), and you wonder now if that old anxiety is in you still. You know it’s there still in December, but in July, when you were scared but still hopeful? You don’t know. So you do what you did that year. You chop the summer fruit and cook it down and put it in jars. You did it that year because you needed something “normal” to hold on to. You do it now because it’s that time of year.
Your Turn
Write with Me:
It’s the time of year when . . . How does that sentence end for you? What are the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of this time of year? What’s happening in this season, in your life right now? Let it be loose and rough, but keep writing and see what comes up.
Share It:
Share your writing in the comments, add a link to your blog where you write about this time of year, or email me at sarabarrywrites@gmail.com. I’d love to hear this time of year is like for you.
Ready to keep writing? Try Summer Stories in 5 Minutes.
by Sara Barry | Jul 29, 2014 | cooking, summer, use what you have
My weekend canning sessions were inspired by using what we had on hand. Cucumbers weren’t part 
of the plan, nor were jalapenos, but we had lots so we canned them.
This ice cream was inspired by raspberries I picked last week. I froze three quarts of berries, but I kept some in the fridge to eat fresh. We did eat some, but the rest were sitting there getting mushy and juicy and begging to be used.
When I started making this ice cream, I remembered why I rarely make chocolate ice cream. You need to melt the chocolate and then let it cool completely before making the ice cream. It takes and extra half hour to an hour, but it’s worth it. Plan on starting about 4 hours before you want to eat ice cream (though if you eat it right out of the ice cream maker before it really “sets” it’s really good that way too). When it comes to bowl or spoon licking, I usually let me kids do a lot of the licking, but I made sure I got my fair share on this one.
Chocolate Raspberry Ice Cream
(makes about 5 cups)
½ cup 1% milk + ½ cup half and half (or 1 cup whole milk)
8 oz bittersweet chocolate, roughly chopped
½ cup sugar (scant)
2 cups heavy cream
½ cup mushy or mashed raspberries sprinkled lightly with sugar
- Pulse the chocolate and sugar in a food processor until chocolate is very small.
- Heat the milk and half and half in a small heavy bottomed sauce pan until it just starts to bubble at the edges.
- Remove from heat and add chocolate. Stir until chocolate melts and mixture is smooth. Pour into a 2-quart or larger mixing bowl. (An 8-cup liquid measure or a large batter bowl work well). Chill.
- Stir the heavy cream into the chocolate mixture. Pour into your ice cream maker, following instructions.
- About 5 minutes before the ice cream is done (about 25 minutes in my machine), add the raspberries. Let the machine run for 5 minutes more. Transfer the ice cream to a covered container and let set for about 2 hours.
Go make some ice cream—or at least eat some!
