Zinnias

Zinnias are a blessing that keep turning up in my life. My most profound memory of them is years ago, the first time I served on a team to lead a three day retreat inside the prison. One of the guys, Ronald, reached over and gently touched the scarlet zinnia in the vase at the table. He looked at me and asked, “Are these real?” I wondered how long it had been since this man, incarcerate within high stone walls, had seen a fresh flower. We just held the retreat again a couple weeks ago, and another man seemed especially appreciative of the flowers. For years, a farmer friend of one of our team members has grown fields of zinnias and offers us all we want for the retreat. A bit of sacrificial love, shown to prisoners he’ll never meet.
Last summer, while helping to build a house in the Dominican Republic for a family, I saw some beautiful tropical flowers, but was most amazed at the zinnias growing near “our” house – along a rusting barbed wire fence. In a haunting way, they were beautiful with the shadow of barbed wire against the stucco house, .

Early this spring when I decided to start some seeds indoors for my garden – something I had never done before – among the seeds I chose were zinnias. Much to my amazement, they sprouted and I transplanted the plants near the fronts of two of the raised beds. They’ve done extraordinarily well – I’ve cut numerous bunches, which only encourages branching and more flowers. I expect to have zinnias until the frost unless the deer eat them.  Some of the plants are protected with a chicken wire cage, but the other bunch, in front of the tomatoes which have grown over my head against the back fence, are not covered.  I guess if I had a choice I'd tell the deer to eat those zinnias and leave my veggies alone!

My mother-in-law (see the “Gordon, Stop the Car!” entry on 6/21/10) has been painting flowers for weeks, in preparation for a sale at church. We made packaged sets of flower notecards, and my brother-in-law matted some of the paintings for sale. Paul helped set up a canopy tent and sat with her during the sale, which was quite successful. Apparently she’s turning in more than $200 to support her church. I bought one of her paintings – of zinnias!

Man on the Floor!

Today's blessing has been eavesdropping on the alumni of the Houghton College.  Because I acquired my degree by taking part in the college's adult degree completion program, I did not have the typical Houghton experience.  I didn't live on campus and did not attend traditional classes.  I do believe I have an equivalent degree - our courses were taught by Houghton professors, and while they were kind to us as non-traditional students, they demanded a high level of participation and learning, nonetheless.

So back to eavesdropping.  I have heard, more times than I can count, comments about men being in the dorms.  It started last night when an older man walked by the room, glanced in our open door and struck up a conversation.  After he left, Heather looked at me and said, "I half expected him to announce, 'Man on the floor!' " 

The college has always maintained separate housing for men and women, and although I don't know what the policy was when the class of 1960 was here (they are celebrating their 50th reunion!), when Heather was a student ten years ago, there were strict rules against men being in the women's dorms, except on moving in day and during scheduled "open house" hours.  (When the doors remained open, and I think I heard you had to have at least one foot on the floor at all times or some such restriction as to position with one's male guest.)  As the parent of a freshman woman, I was decidedly pleased that my daughter was not going to a place where men and women were suite mates - some separation is healthy, I believe.

I remember always being amused when our young teenage son Jason would fling open the door and announce in his pre adolescent voice, "Man on the floor!" when going to pick up his sister for breaks.  He was just a little brother!  No co-ed dashing to the shower would want to be seen, even by a little brother, I suppose.

But today, I've heard numerous comments about the propriety of men being in the women's dorm buildings from the other alumni gathered here, even if they are sharing a room with their wives! Old habits die hard, they say, and Houghton grads are enjoying their reunions, recalling life as a student and remarking on differences as returning alumni.

It Is Well With My Soul

Last night I had a little God bumps moment with my daughter and other alumni of Houghton College.  We are attending Alumni Weekend - she graduated in 2000, and I graduated in 2005 through the college's adult degree completion program.  We were at the village church at a hymn sing which was accompanied most grandly on the piano by an alumnus of the college, with selections by a brass group, which was organized by another alumnus - and many members of his family.  (I did wonder what would happen in that family if one were interested in woodwinds - they had multiple trumpets, trombones, and horns!) 

We sang along through numerous hymns - and it was lovely.  Then we got to the phrase "The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend."  Tears welled up in my eyes as I pictured the glorious time when all the saints will be reunited in heaven with our Lord. I reached over to hug Heather's shoulders, and saw that she, too, was wiping tears from her eyes.

Only at alumni weekend at a place like Houghton College could so many graduates be singing hymns and be so happy about it!  It surely wouldn't occur at many other institutions.  What a blessing Houghton was to our daughter, and then to me!

Over the years, hymns and praise songs have often prompted tears.  I remember singing "Here I Am, Lord" at church when Heather was a freshman at Houghton, and it happened to me that Sunday morning.  That was the title of her high school English class autobiography project - I had typed it for her, and each chapter was titled by a different hymn.  She had used it as an example of her best writing for application to the college's inaugural First Year Honors Program, and now she's been reunited with two of the young women with whom she studied in London during the spring of her freshman year. 

During the closing of a Walk to Emmaus weekend where my mother was serving on team, I stood beside my father, singing "Because He Lives," I cried so hard then that he had to give me his hankie to mop up.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Gordon, Stop the Car!

"Gordon, stop the car!"  I was traveling with Paul's family to their camp in the edge of the Adirondack Mountains, and was startled when Barbara demanded that his father pull over.  My future mother-in-law (though I didn't know it at the time) was so insistent that I thought someone was sick or there was some other emergency.  All she wanted was for him to pick some flowers she saw growing along the roadside so she could paint them later.  I was a little surprised that he accomodated the request!

Fast forward 35 plus years and yesterday, I asked (demanded?) Paul to steer the canoe a little closer to the edge of the waterway so  I could take pictures of some pretty iris-like flowers.  I sounded a little like my mother-in-law, only I don't paint - I scrapbook!  Nearly every time we go canoeing, I take the camera and probably spend more time than he thinks is necessary, taking pictures of wildflowers and wildlife.  I'm still trying to get a close up of a Great Blue Heron.

Yesterday's blessing was our first canoe outing of the year - we're a little late carving out the time this year to take to the water.  We travelled near Tully to Labrador Pond  - a picturesque pond nestled between two steep hillsides that create quite the wind tunnel.  Each time we go there, it seems we fight at least some breeze as we're heading north.  It's always a relief to turn south, and just drift back to the launch area. 

I like this canoe spot - it meets my two main criteria for canoeing:

• We can drive the car nearly to the water's edge so I don't need to help carry the boat very far to launch it.  At 4'10", it's about all I can manage to get it out of the garage and on top of the Subaru and get it off without dropping it, keeping in mind we need to reverse the process after canoeing.  I don't want to over do the exercise aspect of canoeing by needing to portage the thing from the car to the water!
• Labrador Pond has a defined area for canoing - I like rivers that meander or small ponds like this one.  My most dreaded canoe place is the middle of one of the Finger Lakes - not much to see (maybe it's that there's not much to photograph!) and if a wind picks up, I have to battle too hard to help move the boat.  Admitedly, Paul does most of the work on these outings, but I try to do my part. 

Partway through our trip yesterday, I leaned out over the bow, trying to capture the yellow water lilies as we drift by. I've attached the camera to a retractable cord on my life jacket so if it goes for a swim I can fish it out and hopefully save the memory card.  The lilies have a peculiar red shape inside the yellow petals - like flowers you'd see on the Wizard of Oz!  I don't quite get the centers on the camera this trip - so next time we go, Paul had better be prepared to hear me ask him to steer the canoe a little closer to them one more time. 

I sound like my mother-in-law, and he's accomodating like his father.

Smuckers, Move Over!

I made strawberry jam this week, and I don't think there are many sounds more satisfying than the "doink" of jar lids popping after you've canned something.  It didn't happen immediately - I was washing things up and finally heard one.  All the rest were sealed by bedtime except one, which did its thing by morning - so we didn't have to eat that jar right away.  The extra that wouldn't fit in the jars is in a bowl in the refrigerator - delicious on my morning toast!

I can't remember the last time we made strawberry jam - we did some blueberry a couple years ago.  I had forgotten how much effort it seems to be for 8- 8 ounce jars.  Or how much it costs!  This home cooking project is not saving money - berries seem pricey this year at 2 quarts for $4.50, pectin for $2.79, and 7 cups of sugar - I don't know how much a bag costs, so can't factor that in.  But the aroma of strawberries bubbling on the stove, like a lot of things done from scratch, is priceless. 

We enjoyed a new pizza this week using Swiss Chard from the garden - I'm studying gardening blogs and will add this recipe to the repertoire.  I'm not sure how much just plain steamed Swiss Chard I'd want to consume this summer - and the four foot long row seems prepared to keep us in greens all season. 

The Farmer's Market has started up and I've purchased scallions, asparagus, strawberries and green beans.  I quite happily walked right on by the lettuce the other day - selling for $2 a bunch.  We're eating lettuce frequently in salads and Paul puts it on his sandwich every day.  I 've lost count of the number of bags I've given away, though when I offered some to our neighbor he smiled, and said, "I'm no rabbit!"  Even so, I've saved multiple two dollars's already this summer!  It's a blessing how God can take a tiny seed, add water and sunshine and make things grow.

Who Has Time to Blog - I've Been Gardening!

Well, the lettuce is by far my greatest gardening success - ever!  I gave away three bags Tuesday morning to my breakfast friends - and that was after eating salad Monday evening and saving some leaves for Paul's sandwiches this week.  My brother dashed over this noon to get lettuce for BLT's, we ate salad for dinner, and I sent him home with a bagful after that.  There's still more - and I planted a lettuce mix in another raised bed this week, expecting the current crop to bolt any day, and leave me lettuce-less for a while.  While I don't think the lettuce has paid for the entire gardening project, it's certainly redeeming the expenditures.   And I'm already planning to grow more in the cold frame in the fall and next winter. 

We made two more raised beds, bringing my gardening space to 64 square feet.  The zinnias, collards, dill, chives and cilantro I started from seed survived the transplanting, but the sunflowers look pathetic, so I think I"ll have to buy a few of them to add to the tomato and zucchini plants I got at the nursery. 

I planted okra which sprouted quickly - but it looks kind of straggly.  Since I've never ever seen it growing I don't know quite what to expect, but I don't think this is it.  But hey, how much okra can a couple of Yankees eat, anyway!  The collards seem prolific - I'll have to figure out how Miss Idella Rawls, from the Baptist Church in Pearlington, Mississippi fixed them for the meal she served to volunteers and neighbors alike when we were there a year ago.  I probably can't even comprehend how much grease it took to make them so yummy. But we like them sauted them with a little olive oil and garlic, and I have a meatloaf recipe that uses the leaves as a wrapper like pigs in the blanket and cooks in the crockpot.  So I should be able to keep up with the collard greens. 

My brother brought over a barrel, went to the hardware store for the plumbing fixtures needed, and even drilled the hole and installed the spigot for a rain barrel by the back of our house.  A couple days later, it started to rain and I hurried home at lunch time to look in the barrel - it was nearly full!  I almost emptied it onto my plants and seeds by the time it rained again on Monday, filling it to overflowingn once again.  God is an on-time God! 

Are we saving any money?  Doubtful - but the satisfaction of digging in the dirt and even playing in the water from the rain barrel are great blessings to me these days.

The $64 Tomato, or the $138 Bowl of Lettuce

We had a small garden last year for the first time in quite a while. I had a pretty good harvest of snow peas, some leaf lettuce, tomatoes and basil, and I even managed to grow some zucchini (I seemed to be the only person I know who failed to produce zucchini in previous years)  I had a lot of trouble growing anything in one area by the driveway and attributed that to the nearby Black Walnut tree.  So I persuaded Paul to build me a few raised beds, and we got started in the fall so I'd be ready to go come spring.

I dug out a couple old books from my stash - The Victory Garden, and Square Foot Gardening, and even  borrowed a few others from the library, including a great garden read titled, The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden.  That gem tells of a man's numerous expenditures - buying loads of dirt (I did that too), fencing to keep out the rabbits (I did that too) and hiring a backhoe (I didn't do that!) to create a garden.  He calculated the cost per tomato at $64.  His conclusion was, that despite the cost, the value and satisfaction of picking a perfect tomato was incalculable. 

I can say that about the lettuce I ate for dinner tonight - surely my blessing for today.  In addition to raised beds, Paul made me a cold frame, and in the fall, I sowed lettuce seeds, eagerly anticipating harvesting lettuce all winter.  Since it was right by the driveway - I planned to shovel right over to it, lift off the glass, and pick a bowl of lettuce whenever I wanted.  Well, it sprouted slowly, and the last time I looked at it was Christmas - I was hoping to treat my daughter, home from Mississippi, to fresh lettuce for dinner.  At that point it looked like very small lettuce plants, so I was excited about that, but was fairly sure they were frozen - and would turn to green slime the minute I picked them and brought them into the house.  So I left it alone for the rest of the winter. 

In March, right after the last snow melted, I wandered over, and peeked into the cold frame - I was ecstatic - there was lettuce growing!  It hadn't frozen after all.  So I harvested a few of the lower leaves and topped off the spring greens I'd purchased at the store with my own fresh lettuce!  A week later, I did it again, and we've now had lettuce several times.  Tonight I didn't need the store greens and even had some leftover for tomorrow.  Seeds I've planted seeds in another area of the cold frame have sprouted so when these plants die off, I can continue my salad harvest.

Since the fall, I have spent $138 for boards for the raised beds, dirt and cow manure (seems I ought to be able to find that for free somewhere!) fencing to keep out rabbits and the neighbr cats, who think the nice raised beds are lovely litter boxes.  I could buy a lot of lettuce for $138 but my price per bowl will continue to decline - and I won't need to buy the boards or fence again.  (May even find a source for free manure!)

I feel like the Master Card commercial, when the tag line says, "The satisfacton of eating your own home grown lettuce in March and April - priceless!"