Grandma Mabel's feather rolls & welcoming winter

our first snowfall of the winter arrived yesterday and it meant business.  the sky flurried all day long here, and i got swept up in the beauty of it-  the light in the house, the feeling of warmth, and my desire naturally this time of year to bake something.   white glory, look at those frosty windows!

also, this is my sink.  this means good things are happening in a snowstorm.  

namely,  my Grandma Mabel's feather rolls.   they're rising on the farm table, ready for the oven.

my mom makes these rolls every year for our Thanksgiving meal, and this year I'm making a batch of my own for a down home dinner we're hosting today.

these little buttons of dough will forever give you incentive to whip up a fresh batch instead of buying those perfectly uniform little squares called “buns” at the grocery store.  light & feathery, hence the name feather rolls, these rolls are so delightful straight from the oven, warm with a smidge of butter.   they’re delicate & airy but still perfect for those turkey leftovers sandwiches.  simple & plain goodness.  did i mention fresh out of the oven into your face with a dab of butter? let's explore this.

if you're like me the thought of baking bread feels intimidating.  all your friends are doing it.  food blogs are doing it.  kinfolk is doing it (plus it looks perfect). they all make it sound so easy but somewhere along the line you tried making bread and it turned out like a cement bowling ball.  or is that just me?  well,  this recipe my Grandma & mom have baked for forever made bread seem possible, so i decided i would give it a go.  it worked and it works every time.  bread phobia relinquished!   next maybe we'll bake real big loaves or something fancy like sourdough.  

happy thanksgiving-ing!

Grandma Mabel's Feather Rolls

1 cup of milk ( i use almond milk, but feel free to use whatever milk you prefer )
1/3 cup melted butter
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp. salt
1  1/2 TBSP active dry yeast
1 cup of water
2 cups of flour
3 eggs
3 more cups of flour

In a medium saucepan on the stovetop warm the milk.

*here's the only part you need to give a little special attention.  be sure not to get the milk too hot because you're going to be adding yeast and high temperatures can damage the yeast. ideally the milk should be in the 120-130 degree range, and never over 140 degrees. i use a little kitchen thermometer to tell me this helpful info, like a scientist. 
you have your warmed milk in the saucepan.  now add to it: the butter, sugar, salt & give it a stir. then add the yeast, the water & 2 cups of flour.  

beat smooth with a hand mixer or an antique hand-held egg beater, which is how i roll.

add 3 eggs- beat again until smooth.

stir in BY HAND the additional 3 cups of flour.

the dough will be very soft & gooey.  cover the pan with its lid and let the dough rise to top of pan like magic!   then scoop out your dough, place it on a floured surface because it's really sticky, get your hands floured and start folding the dough into itself to make a nicely workable ball of dough.  use your intuition for this part!  you'll press & shape & press & shape & work in more flour as needed.  make your mound, then roll out the dough with a rolling pin.  don't worry about making it super thin; these rustic rolls can be whatever thickness you'd like them to be.  i make mine about an inch thick. 

cut out your rolls into circle shapes.  i use the top of a wide mouth mason jar as my dough cutter, it works great.

butter a cookie sheet and place your raw dough buns onto the cookie sheet where they will rise for a good while.  i let mine rise for about 2 hours, or until they seem like a nice size.  

finally, bake at 400 degrees for 12 minutes or until the buns are lightly browned.  if desired, brush a little butter on the tops for that extra buttery love.   & voila!  feather rolls for your table and your keeping-cozy-in-winter spirit.  

November Reading Frenzy

this november reading frenzy is brought to you by october, who ushered in the beginning of the cold months here in montana, the shorter days and wool blankets.  these are the perfect backdrop to devouring books by lamps & candlelight.  my to-read list is an ever-evolving pile i stack up in my mind - or on goodreads - and thanks to the library, i keep finding more gems. there's a heap of books on our farm table constantly for admiring and perusing. & i've been enjoying so many lately i just had to share them with you so you can welcome your winter months with some books-worth-reading in your hands.

first out of the gates is my current obsession:  Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic.  have you read this yet?  i'd love to hear your thoughts.  this is a book i kept hearing about so i skipped this bestseller's lengthy-hold-time-wait at the library & just bought it outright so i could devour it with underlining and some occasional coffee spills.  i've stuck with Elizabeth through all the hype & criticism of her earlier works ( Eat, Pray, Love, namely ) & this book feels like she's busted out, ripped down the curtains & is speaking boldly & with experience earned clarity about being a creative.  this is a must read.  the end. 

i just read Sasha Martin's Life from Scratch, wildly, in 3 sittings.  i cried.  it is a deeply moving recounting of her childhood and life story which leads her to the present:  her successful cooking & food blog & being a wife & a mom.  i hadn't heard of her blog before reading the book, so i had no preconception of what the book should be talking about : ie.  cooking.  it's more of a memoir,  and one of the best i've encountered.   a lovely, lovely read. 

any essays or non-fiction by Barbara Kingsolver these days is on my reading list, and now on my bookshelf thanks to a crazy library fundraising book sale at the local mall here.   i detour for a short story:   

we have one mall, it's on main street, and we go there hardly ever. i'd rather be at the library.   however, however, on a particular Sunday when we were looking for something like a pair of jeans or a sweater -  i can't even recall - we stumbled upon the library's annual fundraising book sale. i did not know this existed, as we've only lived in Kalispell for 5 months now.  but there we were, embarking unexpectedly on a sea of long tables drowning in books and people gathered around them hovering like expectant book vultures.   the signs said "book sale at 11".  it was 10:55. we had struck a literary gold mine.  at precisely 11 the invisible gates were unhinged and folks were digging through books swiftly and wild-eyed, yet all the while cordial, of course, because we're dignified readers.  but i grabbed a brown paper grocery bag & started digging along with them.  the price of books?:  fill your big paper grocery bag for $2.00.  TWO DOLLARS. forget the mall & the potential of jeans, this was epic!  best use of the mall, ever.  i dug & dug & found wendell berry, ruth reichl, michael pollan and six of barbara kingsolver's books. this was one of my favorite days ever.   all that to say: Barabara's writing stops me in my tracks and makes me think, really think.  the way her mind works keeps me flabbergasted at the intricacy and beauty of language and story. Small Wonder is a favorite books of essays, right alongside with High Tide in Tuscon.  

also,  a humble opinion ---  essays are the new blog posts.    something to think about.

my friend ashley gifted me the book What It Is by Lynda Barry for my birthday a few months ago, something unexpected & nothing i had ever heard of.   ashley is one of the most vibrant, creative souls i've ever known and when she told me this book opened her up and blew her mind, i paid attention.   made of full-page collages Barry has crafted with photographs, handwritten notes, sketches, text... it's a book you sit with for a long while, taking your time, page by page,  with a cup or four of coffee.  i'm currently about a third of the way through and when i read/look at the pages i keep a notebook closeby.  there are moments of revelation that come to mind about creating, about determination, and for me, even a thread of creating midst depression.  this book is an avenue to places inside untapped,  or hidden away with cobwebs.  

the book Stir: My Broken Brain and the Meals that Brought Me Home  caught my eye because of the cover, which, let's be honest,  is true for a lot of books and bottles of wine.  & then i read the title and knew i had to get my hands on this book.  the library here is a revolutionary place and i simply asked them to order it for me and they did.  i want to hug them.  i read Stir... on the heels of Life from Scratch, and although i felt it lacked the depth and raw expression of Life from Scratch had, it was still a very good read and again, a food memoir about healing, which might be my favorite genre at the moment.

when my friend alicia told me about Marie Kondo's book, she said something about "tidying up" and "magic" and my ears perked up because those words generally aren't used in the same sentence. the premise is this:  only keep in your home things that spark joy.  i'm reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up right now and happy to say it's not the usual "get your shit together" kind of self-help book i've seen so often. Kondo's writing about the tangible clutter we keep in our homes is intelligent and entirely insightful - also, bold and honest.  i think this book has something to offer everyone, which is why it's a best seller.  

what are you reading these days/ this colder month?  i've found most of my favorite books have come to me via friends and their personal recommendings, which is why i wanted to share these books with you this morning. valso, to promote the heck out of the library.  seriously.  do you have a library card?  if not you should acquire one immediately and then gather up a stack of books that strike something curious in you, take them home and dive in.  the joy & discovery is infinite.  words and new ideas, blankets, firewood and snow.  bring on the goodness of the colder months.




Montana has a mysterious appeal about her, one i always sensed and now have immersed myself back into.  i was born here in a small town,  left this place when i was 17, bound for adventure & travels & bigger cities & better things, only to find in my mid-thirties i wanted to return -  and to never leave.   there are moments when being back in Montana feels the same to me,  like when i smell wood-burning stove smoke in the air in winter or when i feel the distinct chill in the air when fall is turning.  but in some ways i know i'm seeing & experiencing Montana with new eyes, my grown-up eyes, my i've-been-through-a lot-eyes,  with a deeper appreciation than i've ever held before.    


i wish you all could experience the place of Montana, too.    if you haven't before, or you want to,   i am inviting you. 

Chris & i have been dreaming & praying &  planning our next geographical and house move in this great state, in hopes of hosting people - artists & married couples & retreat groups & the likes of whoever wants to get away, witness the grand expanse of Creation, eat delicious food, listen to & see wildlife, and collect their thoughts next to a river.   we are looking ahead to great things. 

in the spirit of Montana's wealth of beauty,  i'm sharing a day trip Chris & i did two weeks ago north to the Flathead Valley, one of our favorite places to go.  the valley is home to the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi and to Glacier National Park,  just such beautiful territory to meander and take pictures.    And a sidenote worth mentioning - we ate at Hops in Kalispell, our favorite place to converse & sip a beer after a day of exploring.   

so from our home & backroads to yours, from my eyes to yours,  here is Montana for a day. 

postscript :   this first photo Chris took, and it's the fiercest attempt to look fierce you'll ever see me make. 

& post postscript :   you can see more of our photography work on Archer Messenger .  


definitions of MARCH

welcome to March, defined as “the third month of the year, in the northern hemisphere usually considered the first month of spring". 

also known as the noun, “forward movement“,  or the verb: “to move in a direct purposeful manner.” 

or in French, " avancée, "  which means progress.  everything sounds better spoken in French, that's my vote.  ce est mon vote.  

i was reading the Psalms this morning, which many days i turn to because they find me where i am.   i arrived at Psalm 3 where i saw my handwriting scribbled next to verse 5.   i had written, “You awake me for another day” along with the date:  March 3, 2014.   i  remember that morning, which i then eventually shared with y'all  in the shape of this blog post.  

i can’t believe it’s been a year since then. as we all know, [as we get older] the months fly by.  but in other ways it feels like the course of three years has been crammed into the months leading to now.  

last week i wrote about this season of waiting,  where it has been easy for me to fall into the lie of believing that “nothing” has really changed or is changing, or giving way or transpiring.  but when i saw Psalm 3 this morning it reminded me, it triggered my memory of the mighty amazing things that’ve come this year.

this year has been one of healing…
many of you have written me emails & notes of encouragement as i’ve shared about bouts of depression that sink down heavy. you resonate because you face these too.  many of us women are facing them.

we’re brought to places of struggle that give way to wanting help, like a dam finally breaking and a flood pouring out.  these are places of very distinct Grace.  isn't realizing you need help one of the most beautiful things?


and God uses many different means to draw us to a place of surrender.  

in november my fight with depression came to a head.   for me it came quietly but swiftly one morning as i sat in front of our fireplace, staring & thinking like i often do. and i realized two things - “i need help”.  and secondly - “i’m putting chris through hell by not asking for help. it’s selfish of me to stand my ground”.  

i asked some close friends their recommendation for a medical doctor and like a little, nervous bird i walked gingerly into the clinic and told the kind doctor about my brain. he listened well, and his listening was a comfort.  in the end i left with a prescription for a very low dose of an anti-depressant, still skeptical if it would work - or do more harm? i didn’t know. but i did know my capacity to be stubborn had disintegrated and i prayed God would use this step as a means towards mending.

when chris & i left the pharmacy with pills in hand i jokingly told him for his anniversary gift  i got myself anti-depressants.  we both laughed out loud. at that point we had both cried & fought enough to be able to make light of things. 

and from clinic to pharmacy to parking lot to front door to kitchen table, i began something new with hesitation and also hopefulness.

i will not write here that pills are the answer for all our problems. they are not. but i will say that there are times in our earthly life when medical means of help is a God-send.  

every day i take my little half-of-a-pill, and i also eat well.  i cannot stress this avenue for body & brain wellness enough.   vegetables are what will win you energy and commit less stress on your internal workings.   arugula is the new kale.   and going for a walk is paramount my dear friends.   these are all good things that promote wellness.  

i can write to you today, one year from my last post about depression, and say freely i'm discovering amy again.  i can think clearly.  i’m not scared to leave the house. i have ideas. my brain doesn’t feel like it’s screaming at me, or like a fright train that won’t slow down.  it's cause for celebration.

i know very well there isn't a perfect, pretty bow to tie on top of this post or this subject or your intimate circumstance, but i share all this in detail to encourage you, surely to those of you sisters who are fighting deeply with darkness this morning.  depression isn't easy, nor is it simple or formulaic.  

i will say this assuredly to you:   i've learned that your hope and my hope is not in a pill or a diet or our husbands or our besties but in God who gives us all these things for our goodness.

it was the Psalms that convinced me of this, and have continued to be a place i go to almost every day.  if you can only read one thing when you wake in the morning, the Psalms are heart cries from dark places to the One who is our Hope.  He hears you, and wants to be your Refuge.

can i pray for you somehow? you can write me a note & tell me so.  i hope we can encourage each other in this month of March,   in the places we we want to move forward, in the circumstances we want know progress.  in the darknesses we want to find Light again.  in brokenness, healing.  


waiting isn't just about what you are hoping for at the end of the wait 
         but also about what you will become as you wait. 

--- Paul David Tripp
'Shelter in the Time of Storm'


this season is pressing in and turning me inside out... not the calendar season, or Montana's faux-spring-in-winter, but this life & soul season of waiting.   

six months ago we put our house on the market, feeling led to another place geographically & also relationally, closer to friends in the city, and with intentionality of having a family. our conversations over the last several months have turned to what we desire for 'our family home' & talking about pregnancy & adoption, starting our own family, the beauty and hope of it all drawing us so deeply.

it's now february,  our house still for sale and so far pregnancy feels like it's a thousand miles away. 

my heart feels wrenched some days,  in moments especially when i see instagrams of pregnancy announcements,   lovely nurseries new moms have made,  families growing and expanding while we seem to be in this one place, still.  just waiting & asking & waiting some more.

i've been thinking about what i'll remember when i look back at this season....  

the word longing is what comes to mind.   it's stamped on these weeks & months:  longing in the waiting.  for change, for movement forward, for a new home, for a family, for something to give way, for the next chapter.

i think a year or two from now i'll remember my own junk - how i panicked a hundred times, how the 'if only's'  & the 'why's' have swallowed me.  how doubt & discouragement won too often.  how even anger took hold of my heart & my thoughts & attitude, made me negative & harsh & weary.   this is not my finest season...  my waywardness is instant, so quick to toss me off a Purposed course.   

i wonder how many of you are experiencing your own painful season of waiting...  maybe you're longing to be a mom & it's just not happening.   or you're waiting to make that geographic move you've been aching for.   or you hate your job & nothing else is showing up.    or you're dying to find reconciliation in a relationship that feels hopeless. 

how can i know Jesus in this place of waiting and the in-between discomfort?   what does my relentless pining give way to?   doubts & fears,  disheartenment,  anger at God,  for starters.   & i'm pretty sure every nuance of those has manifested itself in me in the last few months.    

this morning christopher & i read this together: 

"He is committed to using every tool at His disposal to rescue you from yourself
and to shape you into the likeness of His Son...    

waiting is one of His primary shaping tools".    


"waiting isn't just about what you are hoping for at the end of the wait 
         but also about what you will become as you wait."

--- Paul David Tripp
'Shelter in the Time of Storm'

those words confront so much in me today.  
what will i become as i wait?  
how is He changing me to be more like Him in this season when i wonder if change will ever get here?  because it's not so much about me getting what i desire, but about taking note of where my heart goes in these tough places.  when i don't get what i want, even if it is good & seems right & the best thing, oh it brings out the ugly.   i am witness to this, emphatically.  

even though this season has been kicking my butt,  i'm returning to this -  
that i want to know Jesus, deeply, deeply.  

& i want to know the movement of my heart towards Him, 
even if everything around me seems to be standing still.


today He is beckoning me to look at Him,  not at circumstance, longing, heartache, envy, or striving.  

even in the waiting,  even in the not yet.   may we take courage,  may we look to Him as our only Hope.   may we be the ones who are changed through it all as seekers of the One who is our Constant and All.   

Wait for the Lord; Be strong, and let your heart take courage;  Wait for the Lord!   Psalm 27:14   //    Let Your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in You.    Psalm 33:22  .


(photograph of us above taken by Cluney Photo) .