“Hey is that buttermilk biscuits I smell?”

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The day came when Mr. Spencer would begin his private lessons with Celeste.  She couldn’t sleep a wink since her nervous energy was ready to bounce off the walls.  At times she worried she wouldn’t prove to be a worthy person of letters, nor be able to handle the private tutoring from a scholar. Celeste tossed and turned on her bed until she could stand no more, and at four in the morning she pulled her curtains open to get a full range view of the stars.  Many thoughts tumbled inside her mind as she sits on her bed in silence gazing into the peaceful morning woods.  She witnesses a large barn owl fly across her window and watches the bird perch in the Buckeye tree waiting for his source of food to be discovered.  “One day Mr. Owl I hope I become wise just like you,” she whispers out and hears the owl’s Hoo Hoo and smiles.  With care she leans her forehead against the cool window and closes her eyes while taking deep breathes to enter a peaceful trance.

“I am one with you bird, let me feel your wings,” if she had opened her eyes she would have seen the owl obey her commands in the tree.  She chuckles lightly when she envision herself flying through the night skies as a Barn Owl.  Celeste’s body soars over wheat fields and corn crops looking for her evening meal.  With speed she changes direction in the evening skies and begins to scope out the terrain. She spots a tall tree and lands gently on a branch while she privets her head to and fro.  She sees her farm house and takes notice her head is leaning against the window.  As a human Celeste scares herself and jerks her head up to gaze into the Buckeye tree. The owl is gone as she immediately shakes her head in confusion, and knows what she witnessed did take place in her mind.  The light giggles of children laughter was heard outside her window.  Quickly she stands up off the edge of the bed and gazes outside and sees nothing that would create that kind of sound.  “One day you bunch of funny people will stop tricking me,” she comments in good spirits out her window.  Silence followed Celeste as she stared out her window for several long moments.  

She looks once again at her clock and notice it was six in the morning and the sun was rising for the day.  She whispers out her morning blessing to Father Sun and begins to get dress to make breakfast for her papa before he left for the day.  Like clock work Celeste brew a batch of percolating coffee on the stove, she had acquired the strong brew and loved her java black and hot.  She decided to make bacon and eggs with homemade buttermilk biscuits, and by the time Henry stirred to begin his day he entered his kitchen with a happy face.  Celeste hears his heavy footsteps and turns around ready to serve her grandfather his breakfast.  

“I love waking up to you living here granddaughter are you happy?”  Henry tells his little cowgirl with pride.  “Thanks papa I am happy here more than I can express.  So I thought to say thank ya kindly through a good breakfast for hiring Mr. Spencer, I just hope I won’t be a disappoint.”  Henry knew she was nervous, because she either cooked or baked her frustrations out.  He was happy to smell a good breakfast made by a lady’s touch. “Don’t you worry none little one, I’m sure you two will get along famously!  Hey is that buttermilk biscuits I smell?”  She smiled and nodded her head yes shyly, and turned around on her heels to get him and her a cup of Joe.  She sits the cups down on the large round table and gets her perfect biscuits out of the oven.  Henry’s face lights aglow as his mouth begins to water looking at his favorite biscuit that his wife use to bake.  The minute Celeste sits the bowl of warm heart shape bread onto the table Henry reaches for two.  

“Mmmm mmmmm good!  Celeste they taste just like you’re grandmother’s.  She would be very proud of how fantastic you bake and cook.”  Henry praises is little tyke while he shoves the rest of the biscuit into this mouth.  They have a marvelous conversation until it is time for her granddad to leave.  “See ya later papa, have a great day.  Is there something special you would like for dinner?”  Henry kisses her forehead and said, “How about taking out some Venison from the freezer with vegetables.  We can cook on an open fire tonight there is something I must give you.”   She nods with a smile on her lips and begins to clean up the table. Celeste finishes the dishes just in time when Mr. Spencer knocks on the door ready to begin her home schooling lessons.

 

picture by: http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=buttermilk+biscuits&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=fU-t__bulCmzdM&tbnid=gJInpSUMnuQd3M:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fbellasbistro.wordpress.com%2F2011%2F02%2F14%2Fhomemade-buttermilk-biscuits%2F&ei=gzKNU4zkLZCXqAbZjoCQCA&bvm=bv.68191837,d.b2k&psig=AFQjCNFu6TW70nunAKqVEECgpai3j7IGMg&ust=1401848744742641

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14 thoughts on ““Hey is that buttermilk biscuits I smell?”

      1. Oops. Well, “we Frenchies” tying to speak english we translate biscuits by “cookies” rather than biscuits. so i don’t think there’s significant difference in the recipe or cooking ! 😉

        In french we use the term “biscuits” for all … biscuits ! 😛

        1. Wow didn’t know you guys use the term loosely for a cookie and biscuit. To us a cookie is dessert, but a biscuit is for bread with dinner or breakfast. Yum with a little jam and butter 😉

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