These were my try at bowl making. A little raw, a little primitive, a lot of prompting from Marilee, but a good feeling of having done something useful and worthwhile.
These are some other bowls waiting to go into the kiln and be glazed, not sure what order. I think fire, glaze and fire again, I should have asked..JPG)
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Have you got your hiking gear with you. Mine starts with my hiking stick and then includes binoculars and a camera. A water bottle would have been nice, but we forgot..JPG)
We will be following the folks you see up ahead. It is such a pretty day there are several nature lovers to be found here today..JPG)
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The rock strata is obvious here and forms a stairway up the hill..JPG)
We were struck by the width of this old tree and couldn't help wonder if it is one of the rare breed of virgin timber that was never cut down when the wily white guy moved in..JPG)
Finally we begin to near the edge and the crest of the hill we have been climbing. We have a peek of the valley across the way..JPG)
Step out of Bee Rock and discover the major outcropping of rock here at the top of the mountain. The Cumberland Plateau is a flat top mountain 100 miles long and forty miles wide (give or take a little here and there) but includes valleys and deep pockets all along the way..JPG)
Here we are doing what all tourists do. We take pictures of us taking pictures. Flutemaker has his back to the vista of the Calfkiller River Valley. It was named after a local American Indian chief, the river that flows into the city of Sparta has been gathering from little brooks and streams that start up here on the mountain and run down to join together..JPG)
I've turned around and now you can see a bit of the rock face and the folks over there getting ready to repel down the wall of stone.
This area has long been used by rock climbers and emergency rescue worker for practice for more serious work elsewhere.
I can explain here why this area is called Bee Rock. In the good old day this rock face was home to a great number of bee hives. Apparently bees used the crevasses to house their hives and the native warriors would brave the steep walls and stinging homeowners to steal the honey. It was highly prized back home by the cooks and all lovers of sweet tasting treats.
I was enthralled by the tenacious trees and their fierce hold on the rocky top we were wandering around on.
I wanted to leave you with an enduring sign that others have been here before us. Since S.P. and G.C. were not the only inscribers up here and the fact the 74 could have been1974, 1874 or possibly 1774 I think saying "I was here" must be primordial and part of our ancient genetic material. Humans have been leaving their mark as long as they have been making marks. 
I meant to show the 'puddin' still in the cake pan but five people waiting for a taste (me included) left that chance way behind as we shared the wonderful flavor of this Persimmon Pudding. So I leave you to imagine the plate filled with the whole dessert. When I say I prepared this from scratch I mean Flutemaker and I picked the fruit from cousin Robert Frank's tree.
Having washed and sorted the persimmons I started to press the very ripe and soft fruit through the sieve and decided to check the internet for alternate means to get the pulp.
I found one recommendation that I followed; place small amounts of fruit in a mesh laundry bag (the kind for protecting delicate laundry) and just squeeze the pulp into the bowl.
Here is the result. The peel and seeds are in the sieve and the sweet pulp in in the bowl, pretty isn't it? A very unripe persimmon is placed there to show you their size and to let you know that in that little package are about 5 or 6 seeds. I finished by pressing the back of the spoon through the peel and seeds to try extracting just a little more pulp.
The finished product is sweet, rich, dense and very moist. The persimmons have a unique taste that is very pleasant. Hope you get a change to try it..JPG)
Follow me down the path to our creek and I'll show you the potential for too much water in a creek. We live at the end of the road and we are downhill from most of our neighbors. That has created runoff pathways where water needs to go downhill toward the creek and then on to the lake. Home sites and streets probably diverted some water courses but here at the end of the road we see lots of water passing by.
This is the bottom of the path down to the creek and we are looking back up toward the house. I hope you can see how the water has washed away the leaves and dirt to expose the tree roots making an uneven but effective stair step for our descent..JPG)
Over a short distance from the path you can see two run offs in full cascade; water rushing to join the stream that has been filling from other run offs all along the creek bed.
This is what the water now looks like under the bridge after days of rain. Tennessee has been blessed or not depending on where you live. Many people have lost their homes to flooding. This is not a flood for us. Just a full rapid river of water finding it's place to settle.
Just last Sunday I took this picture and used it in my Sunday Stroll. Pretty peaceful looking don't you think. Usually it is a quiet contemplative place to sit and day dream.
This is today. We are looking at the same little water fall area and back up the small slow meandering waterway. What a difference a few days and a lot of rain can make. Just for fun I took a video of the sights and sounds down at our idyllic spot in the woods.
The first step of the recipe requires scoring an X on the rounded side of the nut. This will allow moisture to escape and the hull to curl back for easy removal of the nutmeat. Easy removal is not as easy as I had hoped.
The oven was preheated to 400' and I filled the bottom of a cast iron skillet with course salt, I added some scored nuts and sprinkled Fennel seeds over all and did just a few nuts as suggested in the instructions. I also wasn't sure if we would like the taste and didn't want to prepared lots if we didn't like them. Scoring the X's wasn't all that simple and I was getting a hand cramp. Following the instructions to cover the pan and roast for 30 minutes was truly easy.
Removing the pan and wrapping the nuts in a wet towel to let them begin to cool down was the next step. Then to quote from the recipe "Let the chestnuts steam under damp towel until they are barely cool enough to handle, about 2 to 3 minutes. Don't wait too long; the cooler they get, the harder they are to peel." Truer words were never written.
One very smart suggestion was to serve the nuts in a steaming towel at the middle of the table and allow the guests to 'skin' their own nuts and "they'll do all the work and sing your praises, to boot, particularly if the nuts are accompanied by a good red wine.".JPG)
The animals are starting to enjoy the fruit of the winter storehouse of nuts and berries, here are the leftovers of a squirrels enjoyment of hickory nuts..JPG)
The Hearts-abursting will supply birds and small ground feeders as the fruit falls..JPG)
The green acorns must be tasty to the squirrels because there is plenty of evidence to confirm that opinion.
The creek that slows to a trickle in the summer is being replenished by the abundant rains.
I've brought you down to the labyrinth to show you a delightful result of a full rainy season.
The lichen and mosses seem to come into flower. I guess I didn't know they would flower.
Apparently moss likes orange flowers. Fascinating..JPG)
I think these orange fingers are the beginning of sponge style mushrooms..JPG)
I just had to add our gourmand cat Kiki savoring some grass at the center of the labyrinth..JPG)
It's time to cross over the bridge and return to the house. If you need more exercise head on over at Aisling's for a stroll with someone else.
This is actually my Great great grandparents William Kenner and Polly Hawkins who I want to use to illustrate this old cowboy song. They are the parents of several children one of whom was Philander, who in turn was the parent of many children of which my grandmother Ingie was one. One of her eleven children was my mother Juanita who only had two children, my brother and myself.
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