Because of my World War II research, I’ve learned a lot about scones, and have been exploring their origins. Our daughter has recently devised a fabulous recipe for luscious, mouth-watering scones to serve fresh in her cafe. Her father and I buy them frozen to bake one at a time in the morning. Ah…the savory aroma!

Today’s flavor is white chocolate raspberry. Oh my! Compared to the ones I’ve made over the years, well, let’s just say there’s no comparison. (:

Scones are believed to have originated in Scotland, and resemble the griddle-baked flatbread known as bannock. Made with oats and shaped into a large round, scored into four to six triangles, and cooked on a griddle either over an open fire or on top of the stove. But some say this occurred in other locations besides Scotland.

Throughout the centuries, we can only imagine the hoards that scones nurtured to adulthood.

The origin of the name ‘scone’ is just as nebulous as its first locale. 

“Some say the word comes from the Stone of Destiny where the Kings of Scotland were crowned, while pthers believe the name derives from the Dutch ‘schoonbrot,’ meaning fine white bread, or the German word ‘sconbrot,’ meaning ‘fine or beautiful bread.’

“Others propose the Gaelic ‘sgonn,’ a shapeless mass — or large mouthful–as the source of the term scone. Whatever its origin, I can say without doubt that scones produce a smile for my husband after he takes a bite!

Just sharing a few photos from our blossoming world today, and letting you know what I learned about the origin of the WWII grenade box in our side yard. My friend bought the chair/box already painted red. The antiques dealer she purchased it from has no idea where she found it, so that might be the end of this research.

But it was fun while it lasted. Meanwhile, here are some great Iowa backyard pics–Lance takes so many, it’s hard to keep up.

These pictures make me think of a quote I read just this week.

“If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don’t do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.
Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”
Steven Pressfield (used by permission)

SO MUCH POTENTIAL HERE…and in each one of us. Have a great week using yours to the utmost!

Don’t you love it? You’re in need of something–you don’t how exactly what, but someone comes alone who’s experienced what you’re going through and gives you a suggestion. That happened this week when Ada, an author/visitor on my blog, suggested a liniment she’s used for years for an ailing hip.

Sure enough, my hip is ailing. I obtained some of the liniment and am noticing improvement. Networking helps us find information. And the old-fashioned word-of-mouth still works.

Last year, my good friend moved away from our town, leaving me her cute little red chair and flower box. Right now it’s full of kale and spinach, and as cute as ever near the path on the south side of our house.

In the process of planting seeds in this box, I discovered some synchronicity. On one side underneath peeling red paint, an imprint labels the wooden box as a WWII grenade box!

I had that “Wow! moment when I could barely believe my eyes. This happens to all of us, right? And these moments are the frosting on the cake of life.

Here’s to each of us having many synchronicities, especially during this time of distancing.

The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible. Winston Churchill

Many said it was impossible. The Allies had suffered devastating defeats during the past three years. It had been a slow slog to victory in North Africa against the Desert Fox.

But the Allies had kept defending and attacking until they drove the Nazis out of Tunisia. Now, this new challenge loomed: the same menacing enemy waited on the French coast.

Dug in. Invisible. Impossible to defeat.

And yet, an army of young men saw the invisible, felt the intangible, and achieved the impossible. Some of them enlisted even before they graduated from high school, and the cost was great.

Let our gratitude be great, also.

You wake to birds delighted to sing their songs, cool air beckoning you to check on those new wildflowers you saw in the ditch the other day. It’s the kind of day you can forgive all the harshness of winter and relish the beauty all around you.

I baked Lance some scones this morning–found a new recipe last time, and they turned out well again. It’s a keeper.

The sunshine, now with us through the evening, the thunderstorm the night before last, barreling through in all its power, leaving branches to pick up but also fresh blossoms in our back yard. We embrace this June morning and venture out to peek at a mama robin o her nest just outside our back door.

The rhythm of the seasons, day and night, seedtime and harvest, sunshine and shadow…these all remind us we are part of something far greater.

The life in this egg will burst forth one day. It’s good to remember this, and that the seeds we’ve planted will sprout and grow. It’s fitting to take time to sense this great gift, a closeness to nature with its irrepressible order.

Especially when evil threatens, we need to pause and reflect on the foundations of our lives, the simple beauty and truth so evident around us. I wouldn’t wonder that World War II women sought and found solace and serenity in their gardens, despite the daily news reports from battlefields far away.

The word scofflaw means “a contemptuous law violator,” although the word once carried a more precise meaning. In 1924 this would-be word won a contest organized by a man named Delcevare King, who sought to describe a lawless drinker, or one who ignored Prohibition.

After Prohibition ended in 1933, this word described various types of lawbreakers, although it often applies to those who fail to pay parking tickets. Don’t you love the English language? We borrow and alter even made-up words!

Twenty years later an contemptuous law violator threatened society. Defeating him cost hundreds of thousands of lives and required immense resources. To this end, Operation Overlord, began on June 6 of that year and continued for months across Normandy.

Only inspired determination can defeat an egomaniacal enemy intent on one’s destruction. As many Allies joined with Great Britain on this day, it’s impossible to measure how much FAITH was involved.

Image by 272447 from Pixabay

Millions of prayers ascended as families awaited word from their sons engaged in this monumental battle to free France and Belgium. Their ultimate purpose? To reach Hitler’s Motherland and bring an end to his ruthless hatred.

On the seventy-sixth anniversary of D-Day, the first day of Operation Overload, we honor those who gave their lives in this effort. Theirs was indeed a purpose true. We also recall those who stayed at home as well. They waited, watched, and prayed for victory.

Behind the lines in occupied France, Resistance fighters bent their ears to clandestine radios, longing for word from London that the operation had begun. When it did, they went into action, destroying bridges, cutting telephone wires, and causing as much misery as possible for the Waffen SS tank battalions heading north to the fight.

Through this shelter-in-place time, my husband and I have been watching a drama about a French town during these years. What a complicated and dangerous task for those who joined the Resistance! But because of the evils perpetrated on the French people, especially those of Jewish descent, many felt they must act.

At the same time. cities and small towns along the route paid a terrible price for these acts against a ruthless oppressor. A PURPOSE TRUE celebrates the vital behind-the-scenes contribution of the Resistance before, during, and after the Normany Invasion on June 6, 1944.

It’s hard to avoid feeling our yard has very little to offer in the way of beauty right now, but here in Northern Iowa, beauty comes in small doses, it seems. 

My husband found an early butterfly, for one thing. These usually don’t show up for a few more weeks,and with the forecast predicting frost and temps in the lower thirties next week, I don’t know how long this beautiful winged creature will last. But right now, we get to marvel at the intricate artwork of these wings. 

And I never can get enough of daffodils. Late last fall, I ran out and planted some miniature daffodil bulbs minutes before the first winter storm blew in. Now, we’re feasting our eyes on their cheery blossoms as some purple tulips join in. 

Then, we look over at the bluebells we transplanted from our friends’ creekside pasture a few years ago. What a shade of blue to regale us! 

The trees may be just leafing out, but there’s nothing quite like that early spring green against the sky.

And from a high branch, we hear a cardinal’s call. Takes me back to reading The Secret Garden with our daughter when she was young. Such a lovely story, where simple springtime delights mean so much.

Maybe this season would be a good time to re-read that one. It’s never too late to enjoy a good book all over again.

Sometimes we can start feeling as though we don’t have much to offer, like our garden. But when we take a closer look, we find our gifts can meet needs in ways we might not have realized.

I would love to hear how this concept has proven true for you during this shelter-in-place time.