Fundertake

You probably don't remember this post, let alone its great import in our lives, but whenever thunder rumbles, I remember it and also remember that we have not yet made ourselves a fundertake. Last week, anticipating some glory-packed storm clouds, I splurged on strawberries. Alas, the storms consistently arrived after the girls were asleep-- a time when I could pull up the blinds and sit silent and still by the window, but not a time to rouse little girls for stirring and measuring. By the time Tuesday's surprise storm hit, only five strawberries remained, but the girls and I rushed into the kitchen, startling my good husband who was preparing supper for us, and began to whir about with bowls and spoons.


Now, in the book, the protagonist does not take a bowl outside to catch the thunder, but Mildred thought it necessary and ran outdoors lickety-split. I slipped out the back door to take this picture of them filling metal bowls brimful of boom and rumble.





We added a filling of wild strawberry jam with chocolate buttercream (to make up for the missing strawberries on top) and finished the cake after their official bedtime. I cut them each a plump slice, anyway, kind of like the one a little bear sees from atop his daddy's shoulders.




There were even leftovers for breakfast.