Friday, September 27, 2013

hot cocoa

This morning we awoke to a chill. Not a nice fall chill but an official "Hello I'm Winter and I'm here to stay" kind of chill. The flakes are big and wet. Most of them have turned to water when they've hit the ground but the work of several has turned the ground pure white.
I remember when this morning would arrive when we were little. My emotions were always so mixed. They went from "Mama, is there enough to go sledding?" of course my mom would stifle my excitement in her kind way by admitting that it was just a scuff. With my heart already saddened by this news, it only got worse when we'd have to go check the livestock. It seems like that's always the case. The sheep need to be moved or calves need to be sorted just as soon as the snow flew.
Anyway, there was one thing that could turn any frigid, shivering youngin' into a warm and coddled individual. It was almost as magical as Christmas morning. We would walk in and begin shedding coveralls, scarves and other layers and the smell of homemade hot cocoa would waft, even dance, right into the mud room and strait up our nostrils. My mom always used rich, fresh cows milk as the base. Then she'd mix in a very healthy amount of sugar and baking cocoa. I think there was a dab of vanilla and other spices at times.
She didn't just give us a measly serving in a mug either. We'd take the multiple colored Tupperware glasses out of the cupboard and fill them up, almost to the top. We'd save at least a little bit for a whole handful of marshmallows.
Mustaches on the top lip, hot, sweet beverage whetting the windpipe and Mama serving it all up, just another great memory from life in the country. 

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