Okay, it is finally time to share this recipe. I grew up eating quite a bit of yogurt, and discovered Greek yogurt sometime in highschool. This recipe has forever spoiled me for store bought yogurt! Add a little bit of homemade jam or jelly, some fresh fruit, or granola, and it makes an excellent and healthy breakfast or snack.

Ingredients:

1 gallon whole milk

1 cup plain Greek yogurt with live cultures

Instructions:

Heat milk in a crockpot on high for 3 hours. Turn off the crockpot and let it sit for 3 hours. Whisk in the cup of yogurt and wrap the crockpot in a towel to keep it warm. Let it sit for approximately 8 hours. At this point, the yogurt is edible, but will be pretty liquidy. If desired, line a collander with a cheesecloth or floursack towel, place it in something to catch the liquid, and ladel the yogurt into the collander. Let it sit until enough whey has drained out that you like the consistency of the yogurt. Spoon finished yogurt into jars and store in the fridge. Recipe yields approximately 2.5-4 quarts of yogurt, depending on how much whey you drain off.

Tips:

When I make yogurt, I prefer to cut short the fermenting time to about 6 hours instead of 8 and then put the whole thing in the fridge until I can get to the next step. Cutting short the fermenting keeps the yogurt sweeter, rather than tart or bitter. It will still thicken up a bit, but the flavor will be milder.

When I’m ready to drain the yogurt, again depending on how pressed I am for time, I’ll let the yogurt drain in the fridge or on the counter. The longer it drains, the thicker the consistency. This batch, I let drain for about an hour on the counter.

I wish I could remember where I first got this recipe, to give them credit, but it is a recipe I have enjoyed for probably close to 7 years and I don’t remember where it came from. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I do!

This old cast iron skillet has hung on the front of the Miner’s Cabin for as long as I can remember. It was an excellent choice for wasp nests, so it got left alone by human hands. It has been on my mind for a few months that it would be fun to clean it up and actually be able to use it, and today happened to be the day for that.

After scraping out the remnants of wasp nests and dead wasps, I gave it a good scrubbing with baking soda and an abrasive pad. There was less rust on it than I had initially thought and it cleaned up pretty well. A coat of oil and about 15 minutes in the oven at 250 degrees, and it is well on its way to being a serviceable and seasoned skillet. Just a fun little afternoon project.

I tend towards sentimentality, but especially practical sentiment. How many other people have cooked meals on this beautiful piece of cast iron? And what fun to get to pretty it up and put it back into service.

I love those echoes of the past that are useful and lovely today.

What a year it has been.

I have a sense of deja vu as I write this, having said something very similar the last blog post I wrote. What a year. What a time.

This whole last year has brought some of the biggest changes and challenges I’ve ever experienced, as work and study occupied most of my time, leaving me with little time or energy to refresh my heart and soul. Beneath the wash of loneliness, overwhelm, mental and physical exhaustion, my well of joy ran low. The loneliness of disappointed hopes and feelings of isolation crept in, and as I buckled down to my work and studies (both things that God graciously provided), preparing and bracing for the years to come, my heart slumbered.

But God is good, and the seasons change, in the natural world as in the life and soul. I thank God for those changing seasons.

It is just in the last month or four that my heart has been able to soak up again that which renews that well of joy. I’ve been able to savor the beauty of life, as I’ve revisited the trails I love, breathing deep of the summertime and now the autumn, relishing the resiny warmth of the ponderosas, feeling the clean sweat of a woodsy ramble or the cool kiss of a rainy day, listening to the sound of footfall in cured-out grass, pine needle duff, and rocky creekbed, enjoying in an odd way the tingle of sunkissed skin and dirt under the fingernails, and dirt all over after a day working cows. I’ve tasted chokecherries and savored their astringent tartness on my tongue, and contented myself in the work of a small apple harvest. I’ve listened to the rain on my metal roof and embraced the raindrops on a breezy bluff. I have felt joy that I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever. And my heart has woken up again.

Sometimes in life, we wait and endure and persevere, fall flat on our face, pick ourselves up and keep going, and there’s never an end, or so it seems. Sometimes life is a weight, a heaviness, and hurts and unfulfilled dreams press in and stifle the joy we know is there, somewhere. And sometimes, God in his goodness lets us see the reward of that patient endurance. He doesn’t owe that to us, but in His lavishness He gives, and gives graciously.

To my delight, I’m feeling again the joy that prompted so much of my writing in the past, the sweetness and the savor of words on the page, the excitement of finding beauty in the underbrush, the contentment of fresh air and sunlight. And to that, God has added abundantly. To that, he has added the warmth of a strong hand in mine.

The well of joy is full. And running over.

The heaviness of this year has been at times almost stifling. The threat of illness, the political disputes, the racial violence, the very real sense that we are living in a world gone mad. It has been perplexing, bewildering, and sometimes devastating. I must be very naive. The hatred and deception seem unparalleled, unprecedented. And yet, thousands of years ago the world was so evil, God saw fit to end it and begin again. And not so long after that, two particular cities were filled with such vileness that they suffered a rain of brimstone from Heaven and never were rebuilt. I guess it isn’t that new.

This year has been a weariness.

But God in His faithfulness has provided golden hours amidst the leadenness of this year. Hours with family and friends, days spent hiking and camping and exploring. Evenings and mornings snuggling my precious cats. Trail running with my dog. The challenge of work. New adventures.

I haven’t blogged much this year, and I’m not exactly sure why. Whether it was the busyness of life, or possibly just needing a break, needing to enjoy life for a time without always needing to share it afterwards, I don’t know. Maybe the heaviness of the year ate into the reserves of joy that well into my writing. Possibly a little bit of everything. But my heart has been hungering for the words on the page again, the delight of crafting sentences and the joyful sweetness of capturing beauty in word and photograph. I’ve missed the intentionality of looking for things to marvel at, and of carefully savoring the memories as I try to share it with you. And now more than ever, that intentionality is important, the reveling in joy is important, and the peace and delight of reflection is important.

In this golden time of year, with the awesome display of the changing seasons, the bittersweet fading of the year’s warmth, the strangely slanting shadows and the chill, frosty mornings, I’m reminded of God’s constancy. As everything changes, as the year moves towards winter, God doesn’t change. He is so unchanging that he can bring about change in unchanging ways.

This autumn is happening just like any other autumn. The spice of it is just like last year, only new. The sweet is just like last year, only new. And God’s mercies are just like yesterday’s mercies, and last year’s mercies, and last century’s mercies. Only they are new, each day.

And always sufficient. Always abundant. The glimmer of gold in a world of lead.