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Dried cranberries.
Cranberry sauce.
Honey. Grated orange zest. Cinnamon. Allspice. All-purpose flour. Whole-wheat flour. Baking powder. Salt. Baking soda.
More cinnamon. More allspice. Vegetable oil. Butter. Sugar. More honey. Two eggs. Milk. More orange zest. Vanilla extract. Almond extract.
And I even left out all the 1/4 teaspoons and 1/2 cups that make it SO MUCH MORE MIND-SPINNING.
My cousin sent me an email with the 22 ingredients for Cranberry-Honey Spice Pinwheel Cookies yesterday. I knew what that meant.
He was bringing me my wagon.

MY HAY WAGON! For hay rides at the Party on the Farm! (Are you coming?)
The wagon is a little wider than I expected. It will be hooked up to the tractor, the wagon piled with bales, and we’ll be driving it back and forth from the barn yard through the goat field and back. I’m going to have to take out a section of fence (temporarily) so I can get it through to the goat field because the goat field gate is too small.
But that’s okay.
That’s what fence is for, taking up and down. (Right? No? Oh, well. It’s just one section.)
I have a vision. I’m going to get some paint this weekend and I’m painting that wagon.

Because, the weekend before the retreat, I have NOTHING ELSE TO DO. If you don’t count checking my list for what list I’m supposed to check. But. The wagon looks so sad and drab. It needs paint. It needs me! It needs Sassafras Farm stenciled in white against barn-red paint. Don’t you think? It will look so right with the hay bales.
In any case, of course I got right into the kitchen and whipped up 22 ingredients and made my cousin those insane cookies.
They were delicious. If you want the recipe, I’ve got it here: Cranberry-Honey Spice Pinwheel Cookies.

I’ll be back with a wagon-painting update!
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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Gotta song,
Paint your wagon
And come along!
Where am I goin’?
I don’t know.
Where am I headin’?
I ain’t certain.
All I know
Is I am on my way…
Have you explained to the goats about hay rides? ‘Cause I have a mental picture of them trailing along behind the wagon all day, thinking all that hay is for them.
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This recipe wll go into my what to do on a winter day when we cant get out file.
“Paint Your Wagon” an old movie, which I remember well.