Darlene's Digest

When he returned from releasing the snake into a friendlier environment, Rand saw Julia was still sitting up on the table, crosslegged, staring out the window. Her hair had come undone and was falling down her neck and back in ringlets that clung to her skin, and large circles darkened her blouse under the arms. “What are you doin’ up there?” “I hate this place. I hate Florida. I hate living where giant beetles fly into your hair and where snakes come into the house. I hate breathing in wet gnats, and I hate the mosquitoes, and I hate the damp that keeps my clothes sticking to me. I hate that it is autumn and it is still hot enough to raise bread. And I hate you for keeping me here,” she finished conversationally. “Come down,” he said, reaching up his arms. “No. I am going to stay up here until I die, and they will find nothing but my bones in a moldy mound on the table.” He reached up and slid his hands under her skirt, moving them against the tender flesh around her ankles and at th...

Autumn is my favorite season. I know up north people long for spring to free them from winter's ice and snow, but in North Florida we long for autumn to free us from summer's brutal heat and humidity. This week the weather finally turned, and we enjoyed crisp nights and comfortable days again. When I was at the farmers market I saw another sign of autumn, tables piled high with persimmons. That mean's it's time for me to start baking, and time to once again share a recipe from Smuggler's Bride , a book where a savvy young woman realized if you're not going to use a knife to get to a man's heart, then you might try what kidnapped heiress Julia Delarue does, cooking her way into the good graces of smuggler Rand Washburn:  “I have to hunt and fish to keep food on the table,” Rand said. “I can’t be spendin’ all day doin’ women’s work!” “If it is women’s work, it is not work  this  woman ever did. At the estate where I lived there were laundresses who did the...

“You ain’t never had watermelon?” Tom piped up. “No. It is a melon? But how do you eat it?” she said, eyeing the large chunks of fruit. “Show the lady, Tom.” Martha laughed. Tom grabbed a chunk off the middle of the plate and dived in headfirst, snapping off a sizable piece, chewing it with delight, and then spitting the seeds out the door. “You are joking,” Sophia said to Jack. “No, that’s how you eat watermelon. You learn this and soon you will be a real Floridian.” He was grinning at her and reached for his own slice of melon, and never one to resist a challenge, Sophia wiped her hand on her table linen and picked up her own slice. The juice ran down her fingers but she managed to bring it up to her lips without too much trickling down her sleeve. She took a bite and there was an explosion of sugar in her mouth, and a cooling sensation from the juicy fruit. “Oooh,” she moaned when she caught her breath, “this is wonderful!” The Reavers laughed at her response, ...

Image via Wikipedia I was at the farmers market yesterday (briefly, it started raining again) and managed to score some of the first crop of China Honey oranges and pecans. The China Honeys tend to sell out very quickly, but I got there early enough to get a 1/4 bushel. Mmmm...sweet, easy to skin, juicy China Honeys. But the real prize was the pecans. I'd been a bit nervous because Leo didn't have his pecans in at the beginning of November because of the unusually warm weather. Now I can shell them to make my pecan pies for Thanksgiving. Normally my dear husband shells the pecans, but he's having a busy month so I'm giving him a break. That custom of him doing the shelling goes back to early in our marriage. We were broke, and the packaged, shelled pecans in the supermarket were too expensive for my budget. He needed to go to Tallahassee on business and on the way back passed a roadside pecan stand. Knowing how much I love pecan pie, he bought a bag, brought the...