Tuesday, October first.
To-day it rained! We attended first to our fascinating chores, plying the cross-cut saw as the drizzle fell. Then we went to work as artists, Rockwell with his water colors and I with my oils. Rockwell has a number of good drawings of the country here and of the things that have thrilled him.
Pop! The cork of my jug of new made yeast has just struck the ceiling. That brew has been a part of this day’s work. Hops, potatoes, flour, sugar, raisins, and yeast; stewed and strained and bottled. To-day also was completed and served the first.
Fox Island Corn Souffle
“Take two cups of samp (whole hominy) and stew for an indefinite time in salted water (it should cook at least three or four hours). It should boil almost dry. Make of the remainder of the water and some milk two cups of cream sauce dissolving in it some cheese. Mix with the corn and pour into a baking dish. Spread cheese over the top and put into oven to brown.”
We offer this delicious discovery to the world on the condition only that “Fox Island Corn Souffle” shall be printed on the menu wherever it is used.
I made to-day a grandfather’s chair for myself. It is as comfortable as it is beautiful.
Every day I read in the “History of Irish Literature.” The Deirdre Saga I read to-day. It must be one of the most beautiful and the most perfect stories in all the world. So little do we feel ourselves related, here in this place, to any one time or to any civilization that at a thought we and our world become whom and what we please. Rockwell has been a cave dweller hunting the primeval forest with a stone hatchet and a bow of alder strung with a root. To me it is the heroic age in Ireland.