Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Monday, November 29, 2010

Louisa May Alcott: November 29, 1832

Happy Birthday Louisa May Alcott

Author of "Little Women" (1868)

November 29, 1832

"Little Women Series"  

Jennifer R. Bernard

Photography by Jennifer

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Louisa May Alcott's Apple Slump

Louisa May Alcott's Apple Slump

6 cups apples, pared, cored, and sliced
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup water
1 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
About 1/2 cup milk

Combine apple slices, sugar, cinnamon and water in a saucepan with a tight-fitting lid. Heat to the boiling point.

Sift together flour, salt and baking powder. Stir in enough milk to make a soft dough. Drop dough from a tablespoon onto apple mixture. Cover tightly and cook over low heat for 30 minutes.

Serve warm with New England Nutmeg Sauce or rich cream. This dessert can also be made with fresh or frozen berries. Serves 6.

New England Nutmeg Sauce:
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon flour
1 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon butter

Mix together sugar and flour. Stir in boiling water and cook, stirring constantly, until sauce bubbles and thickens slightly. Add 1 tablespoon butter and simmer gently for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in nutmeg. Serve hot.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Red Barn Garden

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the
landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show." 

    Andrew Wyeth

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

"Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others." Robert Louis Stevenson

"Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others." 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Front Door at the home of Rebecca Nurse of Old Salem Village

"Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time." Betty Smith

"Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time." Betty Smith

"Little Women" series created by photographer Jennifer R. Bernard

Re Enactment portrait of:  Elizabeth Sewall Alcott  "Beth" from "Little Women" (1868)


Saturday, November 13, 2010

Louisa May Alcott Home of "Little Women" (1868)

The Orchard House

Concord, Massachusetts

Home of Louisa May Alcott and the Alcott family from 1858 to 1877.

"Little Women" (1868) written in Louisa May Alcott's upstairs bedroom in this home.

Jennifer R. Bernard
Photography by Jennifer

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

When a Door Closes Another Door Opens

When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.

Alexander Graham Bell(1847 - 1922)

Monday, November 8, 2010

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Robert Frost - Stone House Vermont

Robert Frost's Stone House:  Shaftsbury, Vermont  (1920-1929)

A famous poem written while residing at the Stone House  in 1922.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know. 
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

Robert Frost (1922)

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Monday, November 1, 2010

My November Guest: Robert Frost "A Boys Will" (1915)

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walked the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

Robert Frost