Summer is upon us, which means fresh peaches and fragrant flowers.
Use the juiciest peaches for my baked oatmeal recipe, perfect for breakfast or dessert, provided you add a scoop of ice cream to the latter.
Capture the essence of heady summer flowers with my recipe for small-batch perfume. An intoxicating scent I like to call: Exotic Blooms.
With summer comes summer loving! Time to read a spicy novel or two. This week I review A Court of Thorns and Roses, a sexy, dark series featuring the Fae, courtesy of Sarah J Maas.
Finish up this edition of Word Fuel with part two of my short story: The Unicorn Bounty. A harrowing tale of one man’s brush with death and unicorns. Check the last blog post for part one! 🙂
You’ll be feeling peachy-keen when you eat a portion of my baked oatmeal!
The slow-roasted peaches are tangy and tart, complemented perfectly by the sweet&savory oat topping.
Decadent enough to feel like a treat, yet nutrious&healthy. So it won’t bust the waistband. You’re welcome! 🙂
These oats will keep you full for hours while boosting your digestive health with a hefty serving of fiber.
Peaches are high in vitamin C, an antioxidant important in maintaining good health and preventing cell death or illness.
Walnuts are full of omega-3 fatty acids, a nutrient for brain function that your body can’t produce on its own; it must come from your food.
Ingredients
1/3 cup Oats
3 tbsp Maple Syrup
1 tsp Cinnamon
1/2 tsp Ginger
4 tbsp Melted Butter
1 Peach, ripened and sliced
1 tsp Vanilla Extract
Directions
Heat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix the first five ingredients in a bowl until combined and set aside.
To a ramekin, add the sliced peach and vanilla extract.
Top peach mixture with oats.
Place ramekin in the oven and bake for 30 minutes or until topping is golden brown.
You’ll be swept up in a bouquet of exotic flowers when you smell my heady perfume featuring jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, and neroli.
An essential oils based perfume containing scents that are all aphrodisiacs. The perfect way to quicken the heartbeat of your sweetheart or crush. Trust me. 😉
This recipe is perfect for beginners. The ingredients are easy to source, budget-friendly, and simple to mix. You’ll wonder why you’ve never made your own perfume after you smell it!
Ingredients
4 Squirts Almond Oil
70 Drops Rosewater
22 Drops Vanilla Essential Oil
50 Drops Jasmine Essential Oil
25 Drops Ylang Ylang Essential Oil
16 Drops Neroli Essential Oil
7 Drops Sweet Orange Essential Oil
Directions
Combine everything in a glass bowl and mix well.
Using a syringe, remove the perfume mixture from the bowl, releasing it into a rollerball container of your choice. (I purchased ten 1ml bottles from Amazon.ca for $10)
Allow your perfume to rest for at least 24hrs before use. Doing so lets the scents marry, improving the smell.
It wasn’t until one man survived that we confirmed it was a unicorn.
Bernard: hobby farmer, blacksmith, husband, and father. He was the sole survivor.
On iron wings of fate, he passed through the forest on a detour to meeting a client. That’s when he spotted the beast nosing the ground at a distance. The creature stood ten feet tall, rippled with muscle, and shook with power and rage. An ethereal angel of death with its luminous white coat, a faint dappling of purple, azure, and silver. Beautiful as cold steel and just as deadly.
Not ignorant of the growing rumors, Bernard fled like a madman. To his fortune, when he bounded off, almost flying from fear, he escaped. Just barely.
Swelling with the false pride of a coward, he relayed the story of his narrow victory, telling all who would listen he had faced a unicorn and lived.
His tale did nothing for the growing fears and mounting hysteria amongst the townsfolk.
A panic broke out, followed by a hot demand for bloody justice.
The call for justice spurned the local law enforcement. Law enforcement who had refused to admit they were ill-prepared to handle the town’s safety.
To appear in control, rather than incompetent, they posted a myriad of bounties around Eastwick. The bounties appeared in taverns where gun-toting riff-raff congregated—calling out to any marksman in the area with heart and guts to put down the unicorns. Whosoever took up the call would receive a handsome reward. The willing participants rolled in, along with a rising death toll.
The reward, as yet, stood uncollected.
That bounty landed me in this heap of trouble to begin with.
Thoughts morose, I reflected on my foolish behavior. I’d boasted over ale of my battle prowess, drunken and unaware of the onlookers. Just another coward with false pride in his breast, singing of strength and victory.
A fool. I hung my head in shame, rubbing my forehead as though I could rub away my humiliation.
God damn it, I should have skipped the ale, shut my mouth, and tottered home.
Next time, assuming there is a next time.
I gulped, looking at my dirty companions, their careful eyes watching my every move, waiting, biding their time, like hungering wolves circling a rabbit.
The carriage came to a violent and sudden halt, rocking its contents, including all of us passengers.
My head, formerly held slack in my hands, volleyed forward and glanced off sideways into the window—ending in a loud thud. Jarvis and Mikhale found this highly amusing, telling me so repeatedly as we climbed down from our cabin into the swell of muck, their deep, rumbling bellows accompanying each footfall.
Still hoarse from laughter, the pair wheezed, breath ragged, as each of them made his way to either side of me, both linking arms with me; a makeshift cage.
Trapped, I’m trapped. My heels itched to run, but I knew I wouldn’t get far. I stood no chance against their brawn and steel. Stay put and wait for your opening. Stay put, Tansley.
“Tansley, me boy, time to poach us a unicorn horn!” Jarvis said, jostling me like a rag-doll, his violent intent poorly concealed beneath a playful demeanor.
The nasty blackguard.
I shivered as the sinking feeling in my gut plunged my mind further into the depths of panic, making me feel ill, nauseated.
“I’m your man.” My words come out uneasy, my face belying my transparency.
Mikhale laughed, his glee a harsh edge to my shaky reply.
“You sure are, kid.” He said, that voice tinged with comic malice, though I couldn’t place its meaning.
Either way, the misery in my stomach, the taut nerves stretched thin from survival instinct and worry, assured me I was NOT their man.
That’s it for this week’s WordFuel, thanks for stopping by to fill the tank. :-p
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Katrina Thompson 