Sunday, August 31, 2008

Saturday, 8/30/08

Overcast most of the day-temps in the 70s. A woman from Glasgow, Scotland told me that the proper pronunciation of the things I call "scones" is "scuns". So I looked it up on Wickipedia-turns out both ways are correct across the puddle. My scones are selling rather well lately. People frequently ask for the recipe. Here it is:

Mix together a cup and a half sugar, five and a half cups flour, two tablespoons baking powder, and one cut up stick butter, till mixture is coarse.
Mix three large eggs with one half cup milk (or cream, buttermilk, orange juice. You get the idea). Add one cup raisins to the mixture. Slowly add in the liquid till dough is workable but not sticky.
Use an ice cream scoop to plop (plop?) the scones onto a greased baking sheet. Brush the scones with melted butter, and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.
Bake in an oven set at 375 degrees, 10 minutes on the center rack and 10 minutes on the top rack. The size of the scones varies with the size of your ice cream scoop.
That's it.

Here's some pics from Market.

This week's cute kid.

Amidons rock the joint.

Recycle. This means YOU!!!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Dwight Miller

Dwight Miller died Saturday in an accident at his farm. Read the Reformer article here.
I had the honor of knowing Dwight since I started selling at Market 15 years ago. Millers have been my next door neighbors for all that time. Dwight and I used to arrive at Market the same time, about 8 am. Dwight always came driving up in that gargantuan station wagon with the "FRUIT" license plate. He liked my donuts, so I made sure I had them unpacked early. Sometimes he would break out into song as he set up the booth. Now, when I break out into song, it's The Stones or Springsteen. Not Dwight. He broke out into operatic arias-had a pretty good low tenor voice, too.
Everybody who came past Millers booth, if they saw that Dwight was there, would stop to talk and listen to his latest story. Dwight was a great story teller and always had time for everyone and all their kids. Just like everybody else who knew him, I will miss Dwight and remember him with great fondness.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Saturday, 8/23/08

We had a very pleasant Market day, many visitors, good music, good company. Who needs to go anywhere else for vacation?
Will post more later after rebuilding my main computer. Meanwhile, enjoy the video.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Saturday, 8/16/08

A great Market day with some fast moving thunder showers adding to the excitement. The sounds of a jazz band filled the air. We had a local television crew taping the various activities. A visitor stopped by my booth and asked for 2 "gobs", thus revealing her home of Pittsburg, PA, where whoopie pies are called gobs. Some Southerners call them moon pies. I saw someone walk by carrying a huge rack of blueberries. Tons of cute kids, all perfectly willing to pose for the camera.
There's a happy kid.

No fear.

A real two-fisted Thai food fanatic.

Susan's pottery.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Saturday, 8/9/08

Finally! A totally sunny Saturday-temps in the 70s and a slight breeze. We had many visitors at Market, I'm sure thrilled at the opportunity to spend the day outside.

Ok, in spite of popular demand, I now post my mug on the blog, wearing my Market uniform.

Anya, all grown up. I remember when she came to Market with her mother, Linda Akaogi. Anya spent the day bundled up in a babushka, in the back of the family truck.

So, he goes "What are you doing later", and I was all like "As if", and then he got all "I can turn you and your little friend into 'toons", and I'm thinking "Shurrr you can", and then.......

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Saturday, 8/2/08

Well, we finally had rain, a thunderstorm actually. It came close to the end of Market and passed quickly. The day otherwise was pleasantly warm and mostly sunny, and cool enough for people to drink hot coffee. Mid-Summer days like this remind me of one of the reasons I moved to Vermont all those years ago, namely looking forward to Fall, Winter and Spring. Seasons-ya gotta love it here.

Market goers seek shelter from the thunderstorm under a big maple tree. Uhhh, wait a minute.

"Psst, Mom. There he is again. This time he has a camera."