Darlene's Digest

I'm writing this while sitting on my back porch, watching the birds rock the feeders (today we're getting Carolina chickadees, cardinals, tufted titmouse, blue jay, brown thrasher and mourning dove visitors) along with a squirrel drinking from the birdfeeder and a huge Eastern tiger swallowtail sucking down nectar on the butterfly plants. I can enjoy this show because it's finally cool enough to sit out on the porch with my laptop again. Summer's just too darn hot and humid, and we all look forward to the first cool days of autumn to get us back outside. Autumn is also persimmon season in North Central Florida, and each year I repost my persimmon spice cake recipe from SMUGGLER'S BRIDE . I've made one already, but I may tweak the recipe next week by using some of my sourdough discard. Wish me luck! Smuggler’s Bride Persimmon Cake “…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...

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...