Olive Bread from Provence

Instructions

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   boiling water Combine 1/2 cup flour, yeast and sugar in large bowl. Add warm water and stir to blend. Let stand 10 minutes. Add olives, oil, salt, and 2 cups remaining flour. Stir until well blended. Turn dough onto lightly floured surface. Knead dough adding remaining flour as needed until dough is smooth and elastic, (approximately 10 minutes). Place dough in lightly oiled mixing bowl. Cover with clean cloth. Let rise in warm place until double in size (about 1 hour). Lightly oil large baking sheet. Roll dough into 8"x12" oval. Roll edges over 1" and pinch to seal. Continue all around. Place on baking sheet. Cover with cloth and let

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   rise in warm place until double in size. (40 minutes). Preheat oven to 400F. Half fill roasting pan with water and place on bottom rack in oven. Brush top of bread with water. Bake on top rack of oven for 35 to 40 minutes or until lightly browned and bread sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on wire rack.

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   Midnight Stars Most of us these days don’t know anything about the natural world around us. Unlike our pioneer forefathers who knew all the trees and plants, all the animal tracks and could “dead reckon” by the stars, we are sadly bereft of native, natural wisdom. And we’re intimidated by it. Yet it’s easy to recapture our connection to nature. I started watching the stars long before I knew what any of the constellations were. Particularly on cold, clear Winter nights. I used to walk along a country road at midnight and listen to the different crunching noises the frozen snow would make. My footsteps echoed back from the woods until I would stop, dead still, and listen to the awesome silence. With no town lights around, I watched the deep black sky and felt overwhelmed by the millions of points of light whirling in the heavens above. More stars than grains of sand on a beach. Countless stars. Einstein said, “Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.” He could have been talking about stars, for all I know. When I finally started to study the stars and learn their names and the names of their constellations, I had a problem. I could never “see” or remember the constellations as they were outlined in the backyard astronomy books I read. But then I realized I didn’t have to. The constellations are really arbitrarily defined groups of stars that only appear to be related to each other, named thousands of years ago by Greeks and Romans who are long gone. They named them after what they knew in their lives—bears, dragons, birds, and the gods they believed were literally in the heavens. But this is the twentieth century and we have a new sky to live under. So I started my own constellation naming. When I looked at the Winter night sky years ago and saw what looked like a big bowtie, I didn’t know that it was “really” Orion. And now I don’t care because for me it is the Bowtie Constellation. And as I watched what looked like two mountain peaks circle the Pole star in the Summer sky, I didn’t know it was Cassiopiea. I called them Cleopatra’s bosom. I have a whole catalog of constellations now. And it’s wonderfully comforting to watch “my” stars whirling around the heavens with the same predictability that reassured the ancient Greeks.

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   So, come to the Inn in Winter and bundle up. On cold clear Saturday nights we brush the snow off the stone patio, set up a telescope, turn off all the lights, and rediscover the stars, again for the first time! There’s something extraordinary and magical that happens as everyone snuggles into deck chairs to stargaze. Voices drop instinctively to hushed whispers. As if we were in a hallowed space, and perhaps we are. Muffled giggles and guffaws come from under sleeping bags and quilts as people discover and share their own personal cosmology and humor. We start by rounding up all the star-pattern quilts in the Inn to keep warm in. There’s quite a few because they’ve always been one of my favorite traditional quilt themes. Next, everyone receives a pad of paper, a pocket flashlight and black felt pen. You can make your own star map if you like. Find and name your own constellations. Reclaim the night sky. Reclaim your connection to nature. All you have to do is be able to “see” a picture in the “dots” the stars outline, write it down and know its relative position to the Pole star. Your constellations will circle around the sky during the night if you stay up late enough, and around the sky as the seasons change. But you can always find it. Last year someone renamed my “Cleopatra’s Bosom” to “Madonna’s Bosom”. After all, it’s a new generation! Someone else “found” a ‘57 Chevy. A chemist found a molecular structure in Draco. A gardener thought Sagittarius looked more like a watering can than a teapot. A psychiatrist would probably have a field day with this, analyzing all the subliminal transferences and projections we make when we create our own stars. But who cares? When we name something we make it ours. The poets tell us, “It’s written in the stars.” When we write our own stars, do we not write our own destiny as well? If you want to have your own star naming party, here are some ideas. Clear the snow away from whatever area you are using. Dig out all the Summer deck chairs. Line each chair with a sleeping bag or a quilt to keep the cold from everyone’s back. It’s really important to keep warm. Sitting outside at night in Winter can be unpleasantly cold and dampen the party spirits unless you prepare well in advance. Make sure everyone has a warm hat and mitts to wear. Keep feet warm too. Provide everyone with a pad of paper to draw on, black felt pens and pocket

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   flashlight. Too much light around will obscure the stars. Turn out as many lights as possible. Have a telescope or binoculars handy if possible. The moon is extraordinary in Winter and if someone has never seen it “up close and personal” it can be a moving experience. Play theme music, such as “2001: A Space Odyssey”, “Star Wars”, “The Night Has a Thousand Eyes”, “Moonglow”, or others you can think of. Serve lots of warm food, especially if anyone is planning to watch the stars until the Morning Star appears! Make the food simple. Finger food is best, that can be eaten with mitts on, or with mitts removed briefly. Use your discretion with alcohol. Alcohol shrinks the capillaries and restricts blood flow so people will feel colder faster when they consume alcohol, even though the first feeling is of temporary warmth, which could shorten your party. If you serve alcohol, avoid cold drinks. Serve coffee, or cocoa, lightly “laced” with alcohol, for taste. Or, use artificial extracts, such as rum, for flavor. It’s up to you.