North by Northeast
Martha Stewart names her houses. At various times she's been the proud owner of Turkey Hill Farm in Connecticut, Cantitoe Corners in Bedford, and Lily Pond in the Hamptons. Her house in Maine is called "Skylands," and it is, to be sure, stunning.*
Seeing as how I forgot to create a multimedia lifestyle empirethen go to jail and resuscitate my career and maybe my reputation but the jury's still kind of out on that and thereby accumulate a massive fortune and a ton of real estate, I will tell myself that Skylands, pictured below, might be a little overwhelming to contemplate when I'm looking for a quiet week with the family. I mean, who wants to vacuum all that?
Skylands it ain't, but we've got TWO houses in Maine. Eat that Martha! And by houses, of course, I mean a very old farmhouse with two bedrooms and cottage that only recently got electricity and has no plumbing still and not for the foreseeable futureever. And by we of course, I mean not us at all, but our family who has foolishly told us where they leave the keys.
Although words are flimsy and feeble tools when trying to describe paradise, we went on ahead and named our houses, too. We spent our vacation at "Gravel Pit Perch" and "Daddy Long Legs Lodge."
Like Martha, we have expansive views. Behold the view from Gravel Pit Perch, you can't even see the gravel pit from hereor anywhere really, but you can sure hear it on a big-gravel-order morning! Our barns are real, and real dirty, and full of real old stuff, unlike Martha's, which I'm sure are full of real nice stuff that looks real and real old and cost her a whole bunch of real money.
Should the day's heat (or incessant five day rain) become too much for us to bear, we can always head on out to Daddy Long Legs Lodge on the Lake. Like Martha, we must contend with the hassle that accompanies the easy access the paparazzior perhaps even the WRH from a motorboat circling endlessly to get the clear shot has to lurk and photograph the property. Unlike at Martha's house, there is no indoor plumbing. In fact, there is no outdoor plumbing. Unless you consider a giant lake for bathing and a quaint and tidy and non-smelly, but, nevertheless it's ultimately just a hole in the ground outhouse, plumbing.
We even have our very own loon. Or at least, a loon that hangs around enough so that child the elder can study its call and thus ensure his courageous and spot-on loon call at the annual loon calling contest. Because the judges were old and quite deaf, he only came in 4th place. They must also be forgetful because they forgot to announce that he came in 4th place and we had to work very hard to make sure that child the elder was aware of his impressive 4th place finish. He really is a talented loon-caller.
Like Martha, we prepare elegant and sumptuous feasts appropriate for our setting.
Unlike Martha, we also prepare a special plate of all orange food for those of our guests, I'm looking at you child the younger, who will only eat orange food from time to time.
Like Martha, I will provide you with a recipe that you can try at home to try to capture the atmosphere of the place. Unlike Martha's recipes, mine will not require that you have four assistants, a coal-heated Viking Stove, and vanilla extract distilled in a yurt on a lemur reserve on the king's property in Madagascar or some other equally preposterous ingredient that nobody, save Martha Stewart and her four terrified assistants could procure.
Extra Special Ultimate Original Daddy Long Legs Lodge Blueberry Muffins
First, go out to your own blueberry bushes and pick as many blueberries as you can before your lower back and arms are tired and you have been bitten by no fewer than 37 marauding mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds.
If you don't have your own blueberry bushes then I am sad for you but will share mine this one time only. Here.
I know, I know. It doesn't look like much. But this is what you get after about five minutes (and 37) mosquito bites. I didn't even have to wait until my arms hurt. **
This is actually quite a big bowl, which you cannot tell from this photograph because I am not a photographer. Right now, I am a muffin maker, and this is a ton of blueberries. Trust me.
Mix 1 3/4 cup flour and, dear reader(s, she types, hopefully) you DON'T NEED TO SIFT! Sweet, sweet liberty. Where was I? Right.
Mix flour with 3/4 tsp. salt, 1/3 cup sugar, and 2 tsp. baking powder.
In another bowl, beat 2 eggs, add 1/4 cup melted butter and 3/4 cup milk.
Mix wet stuff into dry stuff until dry stuff is no longer dry.
First rule of muffins: You do not talk about muffins.
Second rule of muffins: You do not overmix. Lumps are OK.
Fold in blueberries. How many? Well...how many did you get before your arms hurt and the mosquitoes bled you dry? Minimum of 1 cup (wuss) up to about 1 3/4 cups if you are hardcore about your blueberries.
Bake for 20 minutes in a 400 degree oven. About five minutes before they come out, sprinkle sugar on top.
*If you need MORE Martha Stewart in your living, you can always by a KB manufactured tract house styled by Martha. Oh my.
** Those of you who spend too much time studying agriculture and/or blueberries or who live in New Jersey might recognize that these blueberry bushes are, in fact, NOT Maine blueberry bushes at all but are, instead, New Jersey blueberry bushes. I cannot explain this. It's a reasonable assumption that Martha's blueberry bushes are entirely native to the very acre of fertile soil where they have been lovingly nurtured for generations. Unlike Martha's blueberries, however, ours were here when we landed, and from time to time we chuck a net over them to keep the birds away. Other than that, they're on their own. So far so good.
Seeing as how I forgot to create a multimedia lifestyle empire
Skylands it ain't, but we've got TWO houses in Maine. Eat that Martha! And by houses, of course, I mean a very old farmhouse with two bedrooms and cottage that only recently got electricity and has no plumbing still and not for the foreseeable future
Although words are flimsy and feeble tools when trying to describe paradise, we went on ahead and named our houses, too. We spent our vacation at "Gravel Pit Perch" and "Daddy Long Legs Lodge."
Like Martha, we have expansive views. Behold the view from Gravel Pit Perch, you can't even see the gravel pit from here
Should the day's heat (or incessant five day rain) become too much for us to bear, we can always head on out to Daddy Long Legs Lodge on the Lake. Like Martha, we must contend with the hassle that accompanies the easy access the paparazzi
We even have our very own loon. Or at least, a loon that hangs around enough so that child the elder can study its call and thus ensure his courageous and spot-on loon call at the annual loon calling contest. Because the judges were old and quite deaf, he only came in 4th place. They must also be forgetful because they forgot to announce that he came in 4th place and we had to work very hard to make sure that child the elder was aware of his impressive 4th place finish. He really is a talented loon-caller.
Like Martha, we prepare elegant and sumptuous feasts appropriate for our setting.
Unlike Martha, we also prepare a special plate of all orange food for those of our guests, I'm looking at you child the younger, who will only eat orange food from time to time.
Like Martha, I will provide you with a recipe that you can try at home to try to capture the atmosphere of the place. Unlike Martha's recipes, mine will not require that you have four assistants, a coal-heated Viking Stove, and vanilla extract distilled in a yurt on a lemur reserve on the king's property in Madagascar or some other equally preposterous ingredient that nobody, save Martha Stewart and her four terrified assistants could procure.
Extra Special Ultimate Original Daddy Long Legs Lodge Blueberry Muffins
First, go out to your own blueberry bushes and pick as many blueberries as you can before your lower back and arms are tired and you have been bitten by no fewer than 37 marauding mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds.
If you don't have your own blueberry bushes then I am sad for you but will share mine this one time only. Here.
I know, I know. It doesn't look like much. But this is what you get after about five minutes (and 37) mosquito bites. I didn't even have to wait until my arms hurt. **
This is actually quite a big bowl, which you cannot tell from this photograph because I am not a photographer. Right now, I am a muffin maker, and this is a ton of blueberries. Trust me.
Mix 1 3/4 cup flour and, dear reader(s, she types, hopefully) you DON'T NEED TO SIFT! Sweet, sweet liberty. Where was I? Right.
Mix flour with 3/4 tsp. salt, 1/3 cup sugar, and 2 tsp. baking powder.
In another bowl, beat 2 eggs, add 1/4 cup melted butter and 3/4 cup milk.
Mix wet stuff into dry stuff until dry stuff is no longer dry.
First rule of muffins: You do not talk about muffins.
Second rule of muffins: You do not overmix. Lumps are OK.
Fold in blueberries. How many? Well...how many did you get before your arms hurt and the mosquitoes bled you dry? Minimum of 1 cup (wuss) up to about 1 3/4 cups if you are hardcore about your blueberries.
Bake for 20 minutes in a 400 degree oven. About five minutes before they come out, sprinkle sugar on top.
*If you need MORE Martha Stewart in your living, you can always by a KB manufactured tract house styled by Martha. Oh my.
** Those of you who spend too much time studying agriculture and/or blueberries or who live in New Jersey might recognize that these blueberry bushes are, in fact, NOT Maine blueberry bushes at all but are, instead, New Jersey blueberry bushes. I cannot explain this. It's a reasonable assumption that Martha's blueberry bushes are entirely native to the very acre of fertile soil where they have been lovingly nurtured for generations. Unlike Martha's blueberries, however, ours were here when we landed, and from time to time we chuck a net over them to keep the birds away. Other than that, they're on their own. So far so good.
You made my day with this one.
Your place in the country looks quite a bit more interesting to me than the Other's mcmansion.
The no bathroom thing could be a bit sticky after a few days.
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Wow. No bathroom. And all those blueberries. This would be a problem if TWRH's family was my family. Because if my short people had that many blueberries at their disposal, and dispose of blueberries they would, We would be having ourselves a seriously-needing-the-bathroom bunch of short people.
And Simply Martha has nothing on you.
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No plumbing...I could do the bathing in the lake but not sure about the outhouse.
Still, looks like a slice of heaven!
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I hate baking (too many rules and too much measuring), but I'm trying those blueberry muffins -- pronto. Let's hope Superfresh has somebody scouting a prolific blueberry bush.
.....babspeapod
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Mmm. Pretty too.
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