Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

Okay, the photo does not do this justice.  It was a-maz-ing!  But, I am not a photographer, so you will sadly have to endure my horrible lack of proper focus, and make your own.
Recipe (It is the result of a few different ones I found, and logistics.  I only had so much rhubarb.)
Ingredients:
3/4 lb  Rhubarb, chopped
1 1/2 pints Strawberries (approximately) cut into quarters
2/3 cup Sugar
Zest and Juice of One Orange
1/2 cup Brown Sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 cube butter, unsalted (8 tablespoons) cut into small pieces
1/2 cup rolled instant oats

Grease 9x9 baking dish.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine the rhubarb, strawberries, orange juice and zest, and sugar.  Put into 9x9 baking dish.  Add enough strawberries to make the dish a little more than 3/4 full.  In another bowl, combine brown sugar, cinnamon, oats and butter, until it makes a crumbly topping.  I used a fork, got impatient and finished with my fingers.  It doesn't have to be all perfectly combined, just mostly.  Spread as evenly as possible over the fruit.  Put in the oven for more or less 40-45 minutes, or until golden and bubbly.  Serve warm with ice cream.  And then again for breakfast.  Brilliant for breakfast.    

Another Thing about Apricot Jam

A little over a year ago, I had the privilege of going on a sabbatical through Hades.  Thrilling.  The River Styx is not to be missed.  All cynicism aside, it was a dark time.  At the worst moments, I used to dream of living in a cabin, far from anyone else making jam.  I used to hold images of steaming sweet preserves and clean, vintage jars, and the cute labels I would make for them in my head.  It was my sanity.  Why jam?  I don't really know how to explain why jam.  Perhaps because it is so opposite from what I was doing.  Perhaps because to me it was the quintessential homemaker-ish thing to do.  Probably because I just like jam.  (And cute labels)

Apricots?  My grandparents used to have two apricot trees right next to their driveway.  Some of my literally sweetest memories from childhood involve sitting up in those trees, eating the juicy sun-warmed fruit.  They would be so ripe that they were nearly falling off the pit inside.  Apricots like that taste quite truly like sunshine should.  Interestingly we never made jam with them that I can remember.  We would can them in syrup to enjoy over cottage cheese in the winter. 

So perhaps the best explanation of Apricot Jam comes from the idea of escaping away and having the time to make homey, handmade-ness from blissful, sunshine fruit. 

Quiet

It is quiet. 

So quiet that I can hear someone laughing next door, and a door shutting, and the heater clicking on and off. 

The chaos of the day is put away (This is only because I exercised a very large amount of will power and didn't immediately sit down with my laptop the instant the kids were in bed.  Instead I set the timer and cleaned things up for 15 minutes.  I really deserve very shiny gold stars for this.)  And it almost looks like nice, neat people live here.  Almost.

And I know if I open their bedroom door it will smell like sleep, and I will hear the soft sounds of their breathing, and they will be curled up in their little blanket nests.  My kids have never been fans of sleeping straight in blankets, curled into messy nests is much more cozy. 

I love this quiet, this peace.  I love sitting here deciding which project to play with next (probably making three of these for Easter).  I love how beautiful my kids are, how much my boys look like their dad.  It is so easy to imagine that being a mommy is blissful right now.

Actually right now, it is.