The right weather for cranberry-applesauce.

Last weekend, in contrast to this past one, was chilly and rainy. I'd picked up some apples (Granny Smith, gala and some other variety whose name I can't recall) and decided it was time to make applesauce for a dinner I planned the next day. I turned on a movie and started peeling.

I left them in the fridge overnight in a little orange juice and went out in the morning to pick up a few groceries. And they had winesaps! For my money, the very best applesauce apples. Naturally, I had to peel and chop a few of those as well.

I put the apple chunks in a crock pot without liquid and just leave them to reduce themselves to sauce. Hours later, I add a can of whole-berry cranberry sauce, a couple of tablespoons of marmalade  and a little ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. The apples were still cooking early afternoon when I got a text saying it was a good day for being indoors. It was indeed dreary out, so I texted back, "Come on over."

Salmon in roasted pepper marinade, green beans, red peppers, carrots and sweet onions slow roasted with herbs and balsamic vinegar, my famous twice-baked potato bombs and the applesauce. Cooler weather just seems to call for heartier food.

It keeps for a while in the fridge, so I've been using the sauce to make snacks like this - toasted on sunflower seed bread with slices of brie and walnuts. You can't beat that combo, I promise.

Into the semi-wild.

Yesterday my younger son and I headed up into Kentucky to the Big South Fork area of the Cumberland Mountains.

We had perfect hiking weather - mid-60's and a very light bit of cloud cover for part of the hike.

 The Blue Heron loop took us first beside the Cumberland River,

then upwards along the sandstone cliffs.

In some parts of the trail it was steep enough that the park had put in staircases.  When my son got to the top before me, he turned and put his hands on his knees, dropped his voice an octave and shouted at me like a drill instructor, "You gotta waaaant iiiiit!"

 With color like this, though, I did not mind the climbs.

We stopped on a rock overlooking the river for the lunch I'd packed into our backpacks. Someone had left a firepit, so my son built a small fire.

After dousing the fire with water before we left, making sure there was not a single ember remaining, we headed back into the forest.

The trail has a small detour to an overlook above the gorge. Devils Jump, named because the men who used to guide the logs were called raft devils, and they'd often jump off at the rapids.

 This rock looked remarkably like a cottage to me.

 Parts of the trail took us under stone overhangs

 and into caves.

I decided I liked going up the stairs a whole lot better than I liked going down them!

Eventually we left the caves behind and headed back down the mountain.

The trees again proved irresistible to my climbing son.

All told, with a detour and a short hike to the trailhead, we walked about seven miles, much of it up along switchback trails and half a dozen sets of stairs. We were hungry by the end but we were close to home before we found a place to stop. For literally two hours, my son sang an ad lib song about whether he might die of hunger before we got food. At the end of the song we were both laughing and he said, "All new and original lyrics!" Possibly the best part was my son spontaneously turning to me as we walked and saying, "Thanks for taking me hiking, Mama!"

Honestly, I have good intentions when it comes to recipes.

I saw instructions for potato bombs on G-Man's blog, and thought I might make them. Without meat, of course. But I had two problems. The first was that the recipe called for an apple corer and as part of my de-cluttering I've vowed not to bring unnecessary things into my house.  I'm actually kind of a minimalist when it comes to kitchen tools. And the other issue was that I thought I needed a bigger stuffing-to-potato ratio. I decided I'd slice them and cut out part of the potato with a knife and refit them before cooking. Then I decided they'd be easier to cut into if I nuked them first. I hated to let the potato from the ditch I'd carved go to waste so I hollowed them out entirely (with an ice cream scoop), mashed the potato with a little butter, light cream cheese, and milk. Then stirred in parmesan and cheddar cheeses, along with some chopped sauteed sweet onions, diced veggie sausage, and sage, parsley and chives from my garden. And then, what the hell, I topped them with a little more cheddar and some paprika, put a little olive oil and salt on the skins, and baked them.

So yeah, potato bombs that bear virtually no resemblance to their inspiration. But boy, were they good.

Walking with my younger son.

This is my younger son, who often walks with me barefooted because he thinks it's important to toughen the soles of your feet. He is a boy of interesting contrasts, both tough guy and sensitive soul. He came to me earlier this week and said his physics class was going on an engineering field trip and that a friend of his in the class could not afford to go and he wanted to pay his fee ($2) and lunch at Mellow Mushroom. I told him I'd pay for that and he said he wanted to do part of it with money he'd saved so suggested that if I covered lunch, he'd pay the friend's fee and the tip.  He asked me also about how much to tip and I told him to leave 20%, and commented that the wait staff work hard for that money. He told me the next day that he left a 50% tip because "we were a bunch of loud, obnoxious teenagers and she had to deal with us." I just loved that he took into account the difficulty of waiting on kids and tipped accordingly. His only disappointment was that other kids under-tipped. I could not have been more proud of him.

He often goes on walks with me, now that his brother is away, and talks about things going on in his life. Mostly, we walk by the lake.

The ground is littered with acorns right now, and the squirrels are busy collecting and burying them.

We also went out to a near-by state park Sunday to hike.

Apparently this tree proved irresistible.

It was a warm sunny day, but in the woods the light is filtered and it was pleasant.

We stopped to rest after a while, looking up at the sky. It was just one of those days where I was feeling thankful that my son wanted to spend time with me. I know that 15 is an age where your parents embarrass you just by being there.

I read in the NYT Well Blog that a study of people 70 and up showed that those "who engaged in the most physical exercise, including walking several times a week, had less shrinkage and damage in the brain’s white matter, which is considered the 'wiring' of the brain’s communication system. The relationship remained even after the researchers controlled for things like age, health status, social class and I.Q."

Correlation or causation, makes no difference to me - I plan to keep walking.

Actually, some nights I just eat like this.

It's not all coordinated meals and new recipes around here. Sometimes I just want what an old friend of mine always called a snicky-snack meal. I love to cook, especially for someone who truly appreciates it. It's almost a meditative experience and I can become fully lost in the process. But I have to admit that when I'm on my own, I really don't like to cook at all. Even scrambling an egg feels like too much effort. So generally, I don't. No stove and oven, no pots and pans, no chopping and sautéeing. Just some easy food and a movie. Best of all, there is virtually no clean up. I don't know whether this represents a needed balance in my life or utter laziness. And I'm not sure I care.

Autumn is here with a vengeance.

And even though I hate the thought of winter headed my way, this does seem like a happy time of year.

There's something about the combination of bright blue skies and vivid leaves that is so appealing.

Chlorophyll absent, this maple and oak leaf pair stand out against the still very green grass.

I probably drive my son crazy, because as we drive I say constantly, "Wow, look at that tree!"

Sweetgum leaves fall in a variety of colors, this one in a speckled yellow.

One of the best things about this part of the country is that we get spectacular color in the fall and lush green for a big part of the rest of the year.

Even the highway through town looks decorated.

But I don't have to go that far - the drive into my neighborhood is also wonderful.

When the leaves first fall, the lawns in the neighborhood have bright leaf carpets.

And this tree on the corner absolutely glows.

And then there is my own home.  The big old dogwoods in front are in the homestretch, leaves a more aged red now.

From my bedroom the sun comes in one one side through these trees,

and through these along the back yard.

Remind me of this when it's cold and barren, okay?

The morning sun in my kitchen.