Travlin' a hot road

On Saturday morning we hit the road early going to the world's largest yard sale. It's over 500 hundred miles long going through several states. The heat was hot on the pavement but the deals were huge. I bought the girls in my home alot of their winter clothes, super cute things for a little bit of money.       

Taylor and one of her very dear friends who braved the heat with us. We built great memories along

the road as we shopped in peoples yards. We do this every year and look forward to the madness of it all.

 

Every year we seem to have a theme..Last year it was rolling pins, every girl on the trip bought one for her hope chest. This year was dutch ovens.. Taylor and I have been wanting one so bad since our trip to see the West women last year. They cooked everything in their dutch oven and the food was wonderful so we have been on the look out for one. We had also heard you could make some great bread in a dutch oven so when we met a man who restored them for a living we hung out bartering for one of these black beauties.

We ended up coming home with two for $20.00 each, he had made our day. 

We couldn't wait to try making bread and it was surprisingly easy and fast.We all hung out around

the oven and when we pulled the top off not knowing what to expect we were not disappointed

in our little black beauty..

 

The bread was crunchy and beautiful and absolutely the best bread we've ever made..

It melted in your mouth and with a little butter on, it made

our new favorite.

I made oatmeal with brown sugar and honey this morning in my dutchy girl

and everyone agreed it tasted great..

I also bought a bean pot. It's taller and deeper for soups and chili this winter..

 

I wonder where my dutch ovens have traveled.

I've heard it said that they rode under the wagons on big hooks when families made their

way west.

 I'm glad mine made it's way to my home..I plan on keeping mine around for a long long

time..

As usual, I hope to build in their memories a love for a black dutchy girl oven and Lord willing I'll buy each of them their own to ride under their wangon and build memories that will last a lifetime. 

THE OLD DUTCH OVEN

Some sigh for cooks of boyhood days, but none of them for me;

One roundup cook was best of all —

And when we heard the grub-pile call at morning, noon, and night,

The old Dutch oven never failed to cook the things just right.

‘She was covered o’er with red-hot coals, and when we fetched her out,

The biscuits there were of the sort no epicure would flout.

I ain’t so strong for boyhood grub, ’cause, summer, spring, or fall,

The old Dutch oven baked the stuff that tasted best of all.

Perhaps ‘t was ’cause our appetites were always mighty sharp —

The men who ride the cattle range ain’t apt to kick or carp;

But, anyway, I find myself a-dreaming of that bread

The old Dutch oven baked for us beneath those coals so red.