This year was a relatively quiet Thanksgiving. We had our big family gathering last weekend when Karsten, Diana and Lucy were here. We still had guests - just not the "gathering of the clan" that we have had other years. Yesterday my good friend Ellen, her husband John and their grandson Carter came out for the day. The weather was brilliant, so we spent a good part of the afternoon kayaking/canoeing on the lake. I have to admit, it was miserably cold getting into the kayak since this involved getting my feet wet, but after the initial shock, and once we paddled out into the sunshine, I stopped whining about my frozen toes. If I go again this fall I think I will take a pair of handknit wool socks to put on my feet once I get in the kayak. After all, wool is supposed to keep you warm even if it gets wet, so I figure it's worth a try.
Kellen and Anita came out Saturday and stayed overnight. Late Saturday afternoon, just as the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, the side of the mountain looked like it was on fire. It was beautiful, and I'm afraid this picture doesn't do it justice.
We had lasagna instead of turkey for dinner, but I still made some of the other more traditional Thanksgiving foods like cranberry sauce, Brussels sprouts and a pumpkin dessert. This pumpkin pudding seemed like a good gluten-free alternative to pumpkin pie for two reasons. The first is, it is very hard to make a good gluten-free pie crust, and the second is, I don't really like pumpkin pie. It turns out that pumpkin pudding is basically pumpkin pie without the crust, but it wasn't anything that lots of whipped cream couldn't cure.
Once it got dark Kellen built a fire in the fire pit in our backyard. I wasn't impressed when I looked out the kitchen window and saw him holding a can of gasoline. Sadly, my two oldest boys have inherited fire bug genes from both sides of the family.
Now, about Brown Betty. This is a sad story. It starts with my very favourite tea mug, one I bought when I was in Scotland two years ago. It has featured in many pictures on my blog. Here it is on my back deck in Kamloops last spring.
Last week my beloved mug cracked. It was a sad moment when I had to throw it in the garbage. I had no idea how the crack happened, and decided it was just a random accident of some kind. Then, when Kellen and Anita got here, I made a pot of tea in my Brown Betty teapot. I couldn't believe it when I went to pour the tea and discovered it was also cracked and leaking all over the counter! Kellen's theory is that now that the weather has cooled the granite countertop in the kitchen is cold, and when I put the mug and the teapot on the cold granite and poured the boiling water into them they cracked. I'm sure he is right, and at least I can take measures to prevent any more breakage.
As I walked over to the garbage to throw Brown Betty away I suddenly realized something. I live by Teapot Hill. Brown Betty didn't have to go into a pauper's grave. She could be buried in style. The next morning Anita and I headed out on our mission. Remember, we have the Parks people continually on the lookout for teapots, removing any they happen to find. We searched for a spot that was well hidden, and this is what we came up with. See that log in the distance, right in the middle of the picture?
It will take a keen eye to spot her from the trail.
The thing is, Brown Betty is easily replaced. I can just order another one from Amazon and it will be here in no time. But to replace my sheep mug I need to go back to Scotland. Which, come to think of it, doesn't sound like a bad idea.
R.I.P. Brown Betty