Slovinian Walnut Potica

Today at the request of a family member I rolled up my baker-sleeves and adventured into a new arena: Slovinian Potica.

At the outset I didn’t know where Slovinia was located geographically, so I hurried over to Wickipedia.  Here’s what I found in case you’re in the same boat:

Slovenia (i /sloʊˈviːniə/ sloh-VEE-nee-ə), officially the Republic of Slovenia (Slovene: Republika Slovenija, [reˈpublika sloˈveːnija]( listen)), is a country in Central Europe touching the Alps and bordering the Mediterranean. Slovenia borders Italy on the west, the Adriatic Sea on the southwest, Croatia on the south and east, Hungary on the northeast, and Austria on the north. The capital and largest city of Slovenia is Ljubljana. For nearly 1,000 years, Slovenia has been influenced by its neighbouring countries, particularly Austria, Italy and Croatia as its geographic position lies at the crossroads of Germanic, Latin and Slavic cultures.

After today I know all about Slovania’s festive yeasted coffeecake with unique filling.  To quote the author of the online recipe I used (excerpted from a cookbook published by the Slovene Women’s Union of America), “Even today potica remains the pride of each Slovinian housewife.”

Baking started at 1:00 this afternoon and ended at 6:00, so the project was time-intensive.  Each of 5 loaves was made of many layers of rich yeast dough interspersed with a cooked nut meringue studded with raisins (2 lbs. each of walnuts and raisins).  Hmmmmmm. Those Slovenes (Slovinians?) know what they’re doing!   Unfortunately those in the Slovene Women’s Union of America DON’T – they totally blew the baking time on the recipe.  An hour is much too long, and alas, my cakes are overbaked as a result.  I’ll know better next time.

Serene Moment

I sit quietly beside the window as the day wanes.  Several mammoth white swans gracefully fly just above the frozen lake with powerful wings pounding out an intentional rhythm.  The furnace hums its dependable song behind the wall, and then abruptly stops.  I relish the solitude of the moment.

There’s a fine line between investing in others’ lives (and expending the effort and output required) and refilling the heart and soul in quiet, alone.  I value the alone-times more than I ever used to – those times when I am still, focused on God, and receptive to His filling.  Without such times I fear the rigors of age might seem overwhelming.

I hold tight to moments like this, and am grateful for wisdom to savor them and expect more.  They provide more than rest and recuperation - they also prepare me for new opportunities lurking right around the corner to love and influence others.  I want to be ready!

Indian Flute Update

I’ve been faithfully practicing the Native American Indiana Flute I received for Christmas, and tonight dubbed myself “Water Lily.” It fits, don’t you think, because of my inherent identity as a lakie?  I do.

Anyway, I can now play simple but soulful songs like Koko’s Lament, Medicine Song, Kiowa Love Song, Sioux Chant, Lakota Courting Song, Zuni Sunrise….and of course the usual little ditties for newbies learning any instrument: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Blow the Man Down, Happy Birthday, Here Comes the Bride, and Oh Susanna.  Just as with the piano so many years ago, counting continues to be my nemesis – it’s always the math (shudder) that gets me.  However, after Fritz plays a song on the piano a couple of times and I HEAR it I’m good to go.

Now I’m off to practice something called Child’s Play – a cute, playful little tune with jumpy rhythm and just a hint of Indian-ness!  Can’t imagine that?  Well, I’ll have to play it for you sometime.  Maybe.

Personality Plus Snowman

Here’s the most winsome snowman EVER, built by our grandson Troy and his Mom.  Note the pop-out eyes (seed pods from weeds), pointy nose (skinny icicle), terse-lipped mouth (straight-as-a-stick) and general demeanor (head back with a touch of arrogance).  He dressed up nicely in a fur-trimmed Nordic-looking hat and plaid scarf, but fell to ruins at the hands of Troy who ended up knocking his head off and eating him alive – literally!

Boughs

I was inspired today by the snow-dressed oak branches in our yard – apt companions for this poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins.  Granted, you have to put on your creative, outside-the-box cap when reading it.  But if we let them, the words (even the unfamiliar ones) seem significant beyond their definitions – perhaps especially when illustrated with these pictures.

Ash Boughs

Not of all my eyes see, wandering on the world,

Is anything a milk to the mind so, so sighs deep

Poetry to it, as a tree whose boughs break in the sky.

Say it is ash boughs: whether on a December day and furled

Fast r they in clammyish lashtender combs creep

Apart wide and new-nestle at heaven most high.

They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep

The smouldering enormous winter welkin! May

Mells blue and snowwhite through them, a fringe and fray

Of greenery: it is old earth’s groping towards the steep

        Heaven whom she childs us by.

Blowing Off (Snow)

I’d just about decided to “blow off” my blog entry when I remembered a picture taken earlier today that was worthy of being posted.  Here’s our new toy, a rip-snortin’ snow blower as it literally blew snow from around our mailbox so the postal carrier could do her thing.

Dust with a Tongue

“No one is saved without the extraordinary grace of God…The miracle is that God should have created us in the first place, and having created us, should allow us, mere dust, to petition him for a bliss which we cannot merit, but which he wishes above all to give us.  The miracle is that God made beings whose lives have eternal meaning – beings capable of love…What could be more unusual than that God could provide dust with a tongue and then hear it crying out to him?”

-Anthony Esolen, Ironies of Faith