Father’s Day – the "sorry, Ken, no strawberry rhubarb for you" edition

As I mentioned on Wednesday, we had Alan and Beth here for the weekend. They were the featured missionaries at a summer camp in Iowa, but you can get the some of the story here. They flew in and out of Chicago, so we got the pleasure of their company for Father’s Day. They were far from their two boys, but we shared ours with Alan. Alan posted some pictures of our time together, you can see them here. Although… come to think of it, he didn’t wipe any butts while he was visiting… maybe we didn’t share enough.

For Father’s Day we packed a pic-nic and headed to Coffee Creek Watershed and relaxed. I made some rhubarb hand pies, recipe courtesy of the Angry Chicken.
All I can say is, go. Make those pies NOW. They were so good. The oven smoked like crazy from the dripping rhubarb juice – you could say our kitchen was one big smoke bomb. But it was worth it. I will be making those pies again. and again.

I also made a strawberry-rhubarb rustic tart. It’s a lazy girl’s pie. I don’t like making pies. I don’t like rolling dough, getting things exact and looking pretty. If it involves work, I just don’t want to do it. Enter the rustic tart. It sounds fancy and it’s less work. Nice.

It was as good as it looks. Sorry Ken.

We spread our blankets under the big oak and relaxed. We relaxed hard.
There was food, fishing,

and wait, reading? There was reading and laying down?
My fault, really, for finding Bethie a good book. When it needs to be returned to the library in two days, you just have to read it, right?

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