Dehydrated Tomatoes

I love shopping at the local Farmer’s Market and on Thursday bought a peck of Roma tomatoes with the plan to use the food dehydrator to preserve them.  We don’t have a large freezer and I don’t have a pressure canner so drying seems a good choice.  I cut out the cores and laid the quarter inch slices on the 8 trays – and still have some left so have some sauce started on the stove.  I plan to try this recipe for dried tomatoes with basil in oil.  
  
Olive Oil Packed Sun Dried Tomatoes with Basil

4 cups dried tomatoes (from about 12-16 cups fresh tomatoes)
1/4 - 1/2 cup olive oil
1 pint canning jar with air tight lid
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves
Step One:
Sterilize a pint jar by washing with soapy water and then pouring boiling water over the inside and outside of the jar.  Boil the screw band and lid in hot water. 
Step Two:
Once the jar is dry begin placing the dried tomatoes into the bottom.  Use a clean skewer or spoon to pack the tomatoes together.  Then add a couple sprigs of basil.  Continue layering tomatoes and basil until the jar is full.  Then pour olive oil slowly over the top.
Step Three: 
Insert the skewer or the handle of the spoon down along the sides of the jar five to six times to force any air pockets out.  Make sure the oil completely cover the tomatoes.  Seal with the sterilized lid and band and refrigerate up to one month.
The bonus with packing in olive oil is you get both tomatoes and olive oil flavored with the dried tomatoes. The oil is great for salad dressing, dipping bread or making pasta.

"You look like Miss Lynch!"

“You look like Miss Lynch!” Paul said as he walked in the door and saw me wearing a floral print apron over my work clothes.   “That’s just the look I was going for – vintage!” I responded with a grin.  Miss Lynch was one of several elderly school teachers we had while attending Junior High at the old Central High School in the late 1960’s.  Each one had a seemingly endless wardrobe of blue floral print dresses – some with matching jackets, hence Paul’s observation.

I had ruined one too many blouses by coming home from work and going right to the stove to cook dinner – grease on a silk blouse that didn’t come out despite serious hand washing and a trip to the dry cleaner’s was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.  I decided I needed an apron that would cover not just the skirt but also my front.

So I searched the internet and found an array of patterns – many for free, and started tracing them out on sheets of newsprint before sewing them together from  vintage-like fabric.  The one Paul admired was even trimmed in bias tape, further enhancing the retro look.  I bought a cute old pillowcase from the thrift store and made an apron from that – the decorative hem of the pillowcase became the hem of the skirt, and the waistband and ties were cut and sewn from the other end.  The one I like best is cut from just one yard of fabric, but on the bias.  It wraps around to my back, and meets the criteria my friend said an apron requires – covering the backside where she wipes her hands when cooking.  

The blessing in all of this is a return to the sewing machine.  It’s been sitting unused for some time – which is a big change from my junior high and high school years when I sewed nearly all my own clothes.  When the kids were going to Halloween parties, I sewed a number of costumes, the most memorable being Big Bird for pre schooler Heather and Cookie Monster for toddler Jason.   In more recent years I’d use the machine to make an occasional Christmas gift – like the year I made a nightshirt of wild bear printed flannel for Heather in remembrance of her encounter with bears while backpacking the previous summer. 

Heather says she and her friends lament the fact that their generation seems to have lost the art of taking care of themselves – many don’t know how to cook from scratch, sew clothing, can vegetables, or grow a garden.  I was blessed to have a mother who taught me to sew – I still laugh when I think of her teaching me to match plaids by telling of a jumper she made with matching plaids, but the zipper installed inside out so she had to pull it closed by reaching INSIDE to pull it up.  I guess it was such an ordeal that she was reluctant to take it apart for fear she’d never get those plaids to line up again!
In my current apron sewing spree, I’m discovering a renewed love for sewing - the act of taking a piece of fabric and cutting and sewing it to fit around the body to make something pretty and practical all at the same time.  Eventually I’ll lose interest in sewing yet another apron design, and move on to other creative pursuits.  In the meantime, I’m blessed by my time at the sewing machine as I put creative juices to work making aprons – that make me look like Miss Lynch!

It's Like Herding Cats

Apparently I started this - in January 2011 and never published it.  We eventually did end up reading the book and enjoyed it, as well as the snippets of videos by Patsy at the beginning of each class.  Our group of women has increased and we've continued to study books, including the most recent one, Stained Glass Hearts, also by Patsy Clairmont.  We've grown closer to one another and drawn closer to Christ as we've studied and laughed together.

Our Women's Sunday School Class is like herding cats!  And that's my blessing from yesterday.

(Google "herding cats" and watch the video of cowboys herding cats.  This was a commercial for a software company meant to reinforce their ability to pull all the pieces together and make order out of chaos. Being a cat lover, and having tried many times in the past to geta group of people all moving in the same direction, I find this hilarious!) 

Our group started with a dozen who had prepurchased the book Kaleidoscope by Patsy Clairmont and grew the first week to include several more.  We had to drag an extra table into our room.  Like little kids, we played with my friend's collection of kaleidoscopes, and laughed ourselves silly watching a video of Patsy at a Women of Faith Conference a couple years ago.  We had yet to actually STUDY a Proverb, but during the week, several more signed on and we ordered still more books.

Yesterday we had 17 ladies there, with 3 missing - due to illness and snow filled driveways (that driveway is like climbing Mount Everest - I wouldn't drive up or down it until summer if I lived there!) We talked about Proverbs 27:1 - and got a little sidetracked into diversity until one lady gathered us back - just like the cowboys herding the cats.  We spoke of the difference between bragging and boasting, and humility, and ended by talking of planning for tomorrow and what we would take with us into a new day. 

Because we had to drag in still another table to make room for everyone, we've decided to move the class upstairs to a larger space next time.  Hope everyone in the group finds us in our new location!

And the Farmers That Grew It!

We have a friend who ends each table grace with thanksgiving for "the farmers that grew it!"  He's been involved in agriculture since college - probably before that, since that's what he studied in college.  So he's especially aware of what it takes to be a farmer.  Tonight I thought of Terry as I ate my first bowl of lettuce from my garden this year.  In other years I've grown enough spring lettuce that I could hardly give it all away.  Not so the last couple years - just can't seem to get it going.  My Simpson Elite sprouts but won't grow - maybe I need to water a little more carefully?  Perhaps it's been too hot?? I have a single square foot of mixed greens and one of arugula - both are doing well, and I harvested enough tonight for two bowls.  Mmmmm!  The spicy taste of arugula and the peppery mustard greens -  Delicious!  Sorry, Wegmans - your produce department just can't compare!

So I'm saying a prayer of thanksgiving for farmers, knowing that if I relied on myself to FEED myself, I'd quickly grow hungry!  (Or more serious about gardening!) The Auburn Farmer's Market opens this Saturday and I hope to be one of the early customers.  Will there be lettuce for sale?  (My little bed of mixed greens isn't going to fully satisfy my desire for salads.) What about spinach or garlic scapes - a new culinary discovery from last year!

I thank God for the farmers that grow our food!

Warm Toes, Warm Tushie

As the fall days alternate between periods of summer like temperatures, and decidedly cooler temps, I am enjoying two recent indulgences.

The first is my heated bathroom floor.  Installed last winter, we turned it off in the spring, rather enjoying the cool tile on our feet duirng the hot summer.  Paul turned the thermostat back up in September - which seemed a little early to me (our heat hasn't even been on yet this year.)  But one morning, I stepped on the bathroom floor with my bare feet, and noticed it was warm.  Aaahh!  How nice!  My brother, who did  most of the work for us, was the one who suggestd the heated floor.  Only when I felt a sample heated tile at the home improvement store did I fully realize how nice it would be.  Caryl said that sadly, we would probably take that warmth for granted after a while.  The bathroom remodeling job was much needed, and we did it right - excellent quality cabinets, lots of new plumbing, everything matching towels and bathmats.  As I worried a bit about the cost, Paul pointed out we were only going to do it once - and it hadn't been done since before we bought the house nearly 30 years ago. Time for a makeover. 

Shortly after the bathroom was finished, I had the trusty old green 1998 Subaru inspected.  Our mechanic solemnly told me, when I picked it up, "It's good for now, but it won't pass inspection another year - the frame is showing some real signs of rust.  So we knew the time had come to start thinking about a new car - or at least a new to us new car.  We finally got around to it in the summer.

In August we picked up a spiffy looking white Subaru - ten years newer than the old one - a 2008.  A lot has changed in ten plus years of cars - starting with an electronic key to open the doors.  I have power windows instead of crank windows.  I had to exchange my old cassettes for CD's, and instead of using a lever to move my car seat forward, it's all electric.  (Actually that's a nuisance - it takes LONGER to use the electric button than it did the old lever!)  But the most indulgent thing of all is the heated seats in the front.  And I've turned mine on a couple times already.  No need to heat the entire car - in fact it won't warm up between my house and the parking lot at work since I live so close.  But that little switch turns on the warmth to my tushie in just a few seconds. 

Now that's a blessing - warm toes in the morning, and a warm tushie in my car. 
And I'm still not taking either one for granted.

Book Review: Praying in the Messiness of Life, by Linda Douty

The title was appealing. Whose life doesn’t seem messy at times? Following a transformative experience at a Walk to Emmaus retreat years ago, I found myself wanting to pray and study more regularly and more effectively than I previously had. I struggled to find ways to do that in the midst of a busy life, and having now discovered Douty’s book, wish it had been available to me then.

I immediately identified with Douty, admiring her honesty in admitting she at first just tried harder, to reach the closeness with God that she sought. She asks, “How can I open myself to growth in this crazy, busy life? What can I actually do, rather than constantly wishing it would change?” Her book explores a variety of approaches to prayer that are extraordinarily accessible, and practical, and really make a difference.

For example, I recently needed to walk a short distance from one building on the campus of my workplace to another. Instead of just walking along, anticipating the upcoming staff meeting, I deliberately prayed a version of Douty’s syncopated steps from the chapter on Praying with the Body. With each step, I prayed, “Fa-ther, Son and Ho-ly Ghost. Fa-ther Son and Holy Ghost.” When I found myself distracted a couple times, I let it go and returned to my prayer. What an invigorating walk that turned out to be! My attitude at the meeting and through the rest of my day was far different than it otherwise would have been. Such a simple approach to prayer, and it fit right in to the busyness of my day.

Douty’s presentation of dozens of simple approaches to prayer will help any believer draw nearer to God, in a relationship that becomes more and more in depth as it becomes more and more a part of every moment of one’s busy life.

I received this book free from Upper Room Books as part of their Book Review program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Blink and You'll Miss It!

Last evening Paul pointed out the two robins hopping around the neighbor's yard - they seemed a little confused by the patch of lingering snow.  But I was glad to finally see the birds whose song I've been hearing the last week or so.

I intended to get out this week and snap a picture of the snowdrops poking out of the snow - but by the time I actually went out with the camera, the snow was gone, and all that was left were the snowdrops. Nestled up against the house, they often bloom through a bit of snow or ice; the first indicator of spring.  The resiliency of nature.

And then this morning, it had snowed again.  So I could go back out and get another picture.  But I probably won't.

Such is spring in central New York - winter one minute, spring the next, with an occassional blast of summer thrown in just to keep you on your toes. 

Green Tomato Pickles

If you can't give them away, and they don't ripen, and you've eaten all the fried green tomatoes you care to, what else is there to do but pickle the green tomatoes?

So I Googled 'pickled green tomatoes' and made a jar based on the following recipe.  Similar to the refrigerator dill pickles I've made for several years, these were easy and surprisingly tasty.  And they don't have that green tomato taste that I really don't care for!  They just taste like - pickles!

Pickled Green Tomatoes

Ingredients:
2 pounds green tomatoes, about 4 or 5, thinly sliced
1 jalapeno chile, stems removed, cut in half lengthwise
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon peppercorns
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon dill seed
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup white vinegar
1 cup water
1 Tablespoon canning salt

2 wide-mouth pint jars or 1 wide mouth quart jar, sterilized

Evenly distribute the sliced green tomatoes, sliced jalapenos, cumin seeds, peppercorns, celery seed, dill seed and garlic in jars. In a saucepan, bring to a boil, the vinegar, water and salt. Pour the boiling vinegar mixture into the jars leaving a bit of headspace. Cover with lid and fasten with rings. Allow to cool and refrigerate. They will be ready after 4 hours and will last for 1 month in the refrigerator.

Alternatively, you can place the covered jars in a canning pot or stockpot, cover the jars with water, bring to a boil and then cook on high for 10 minutes. Remove the jars with tongs and then allow to cool. These jars will not require refrigeration until after opening.

After the success of the first jar, I decided to can some for more long term preservation.  A successful venture, except that the half pint jars really only used one small tomato each - not much help in the quest to deal with the bounty.  Many of the others have actually ripened, so I made still another batch of tomato sauce for the freezer last weekend.  A few tomatoes succumbed to decay and were tossed into the compost bucket.  We're down to one tray of green tomatoes. I'm almost finished with the garden for this season - ready to turn to the blessing of indoor domestic pursuits for the cold weather. 

Fried Green Tomatoes

They’re not my favorite vegetable, but when you have three large trays full of green tomatoes, picked in fear of a frost, and it’s the end of the season, and you hate to waste the food you’ve so carefully grown, you consider them a blessing. I posted a note about the green veggies on Facebook and one coworker offered to take some off my hands – once I took some to her, a couple others wanted some too. Then I really went to town on the vines, pulling them down off the fence to discard for the winter, and found another large bowl full. So I pretty much still have three trays of green tomatoes even though I made my brother take some too.

My hope is that many of them will ripen, and that the coworkers might want a few more (bags). The rest will likely end up in the compost pile. It’s been a good year for tomatoes I guess – my six plants grew well over my head – I needed to use a step ladder to tie them up to the fence and then reversed the process when I cleaned things up on Saturday. I wish I could remember what variety they were as they were so productive – somehow in my gardening efforts of spring I failed to either hang onto the tag or record the genus and species!

I have some strong memories of helping Mom can tomatoes grown in the backyard on Standart Avenue. Apparently, there used to be chickens back there, and the garden was quite productive. I was frequently sentenced, or so it seemed at the time, to weed a row or two of green beans. One of my all time favorite vegetables, I remember taking the colander out to pick the beans, or cut Swiss Chard for dinner. At the end of summer, the extra tomatoes lined the glassed in back porch, ripening on the windowsills. We dipped the tomatoes into hot water and then plunged them into cold water to get the skins to loosen – we felt really fortunate to have a garbage disposal, as that made the slippery, messy job of cleaning up so much easier.  There's nothing more satisfying than hearing the jar lids seal after boiling them in the canner.

My Dad read my Facebook posting (I still find it hard to believe he friended me - but he’s always been a somewhat early adopter of all things technological) and responded with the following about green tomatoes:

As a child; Don’t you remember having fried green ‘maters at home?

Dipped in egg, flour, salt and pepper, fried in hot grease until golden brown – favorite of your Grandfather Peck and mine.

On Grant Ave; We had some how gotten a whole bunch of green tomatoes at the end of the season. We wrapped individual tomatoes in newspaper and put them up in the attic and they ripened…. Didn’t taste like fresh but we enjoyed for quite a long time.

I imagine the tomatoes ripening in the attic on Grant Ave. were a great blessing to my folks at the time. We had only recently moved here and they were on a strict enough budget that we didn’t have a telephone, relying on the pay phone down at the corner, or the landlord’s phone for important incoming calls. Our family lived on a policy of “Eat what’s on your plate,” and Dad was known to say, more than a few times, “It’s not what you like in this world that makes you fat, it’s what you get.” A pragmatic approach to food and life.

Guess I’ll go fry some more green tomatoes - yesterday's blessing, and tomorrow's and the next day's!

Free on the Inside

Brother Victor died last Tuesday night, apparently after suffering a seizure. He was a gentle, somewhat quiet man who had been at the Fully Alive Bible Study at the Auburn Correctional Facility as long as I have been attending. The thing I most remember about him was his faithful service as the person who got water in a pitcher and poured it for each guest and man in the chapel. It was a much needed relief in the often hot, humid worship space. The heat in the chapel during the summer has been nearly unbearable at times - and even occasionally in winter, extraordinarily overheated and warm.

What a sad place to end your life – in prison. Yet what a joyous welcome Victor must have had coming into the presence of Jesus our Savior and friend!

I often think of the distribution of water as one of the ways the men can minister to us, rather than always being on the receiving end of our presence for prayer, praise and study. Sometimes we've seen a more mature Christian man directing a newer one in this act of service.

So last night and this evening, when I have another scrapbook project I want to be working on, I'm creating a scrapbooked scripture card to add to my collection that sits beside my prayer chair.  I've used songs and pictures and occassional stories to illustrate the meaning certain scripture has for me.  Interestingly, several have been created in response to experiences worshiping and studying with the men in the prison chapel.  It's holy ground for me, and I've learned so much from these incarcerated men, about how they have found freedom on the inside with Jesus Christ.

The scripture I'm using is Matthew 25:37&40.  There's lots of good stuff in that chapter but these verses speak to me of Victor's service -

"Lord, when did we see you...thirsty and give you something to drink?"  The King will reply, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of hte least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

What do You do With a Bathtub Full of Water?

I feel a little like I imagine the Gulf Coast residents feel after preparations for a hurricane that doesn’t materialize.

The city had a major leak in a 90 year old water pipe that required repair. They issued warnings that water service would be disrupted overnight and if the simple fix didn’t work it would require shutting off the water entirely and then a boil water advisory for a couple of days. “Stock up on bottled water and fill your bathtub with water for toilet flushing.” I used our camping jug to collect 3 gallons of drinking water in the kitchen and filled the tub at lunchtime. When I got home from work, I was surprised to find the tub empty – obviously the drain stopper wasn’t working, so I called Paul who bought a new one on his way home from work and we repeated the ‘fill the tub’ process. We made sure to run the dishwasher, set up the coffee pot, and took showers before we went to bed.

This morning, I checked online (amazing what you can find on the internet!) and learned from a 3:30 am press release the repair was successful – not only could I flush the toilet, I could also safely drink the water. Yesterday at work my coworkers were a mix of half those who hadn’t a clue about the situation, and half who were panicking and freaked out, buying up cases of water and fretting about possibly not taking a shower before work. (I can identify with the shower issue, though I’ll happily do a sponge bath as long as I can wash my hair each morning. I once washed it in a frigid lake – oblivious to the hazards of discharging all that soap into the environment – and have used more than a couple mop sinks in church basements while on weekend retreats.)

One of my earliest blogs was The Blessing of Running Water – October 9, 2009. I’ve cheerfully paid my water bill ever since then, often taking the chance to tell the clerk or the ladies staffing the Help Desk at City Hall about my experience carrying water in the Dominican Republic.

In the wake of the 5th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, for which a lot of New Orleans residents didn’t evacuate but later wished they had, I wonder just how many times you get warned about something like a hurricane or potential water shut off, and then simply ignore it. It didn’t take all that long to prepare for our water situation (an extra trip to the store, and a bit of planning on our part before bedtime.) We are so blessed with basic necessities like plenty of running water and we take it so much for granted until it might not be there.

Now what am I going to do with a tub full of water? Seems a waste to just pull the plug!

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!"

Snow Day(s)

Snow days - not for me - but the local schools were closed Thursday and Friday.  Thursday's closing seemed unnecessary, but that's in retrospect - glad I don't have to make the decisions.  My Bible Study was cancelled because by evening it was snowing more heavily and they predicted lots of wind - which never really materialized.  I did a little scrapbooking - a page on My Faith Heritage - does that count for Bible Study??  Maybe not, but I did reflect on being baptized and never again darkening the doors of that church.  God put his mark on me that day in 1956, though, and drew me ever closer to him in subsequent years as my parents started regular church attendance. 

Friday morning it felt like the winters of my childhood. Snow was piled everywhere and streets were barely plowed - single lane in places, evena couple days later.  People who had parked on the street seemed stunned that the snow plows had nearly buried their cars.  Paul got out the snowblower and tackled the driveway and sidewalk, while I shoveled steps and out to the cars to sweep them off.  Even with the push broom, it was hard work getting it off the car roofs. I had to shovel just to open my car door and get the scraper out.  At work, by 10:30 I was ravenous - my usual bowl of Cheerioes had worn off.  I guess I should do a little more regular exercise!  People in my building chipped in to buy pizza for lunch, (hoping the delivery guy could make it as it was still snowing!) and we had a lot of fun eating and laughing together at noon.  Even though we worked, it felt a little like a snow day.  My coworker said her 4 year old son told her he was jumping in "snow puddles." 

When I arrived home, Paul's car was on the street - the plow had heavily filled in the end of the driveway - we used shovels for a few minutes, but Paul retrieved the snowblower to finish the job - heavy wet snow is not fun!  I was out this morning for a while, and when I came back, found it again plowed full!  This time the neighbor was out and cleared our driveway with his snowblower. 

Hope the robins I saw last week found a protected place!  Maybe spring's not quite here - but it's coming!

The Blessing of Spring Coming

Move aside Punxsutawney Phil, I saw three robins yesterday, and that's MY predictor of spring!

I went down to Aurora to drop something off for Jason at Wells College.  It was one of those beautiful blue sky afternoons, with a few puffy clouds in the sky.  A couple students were gamely trying to sled down the hill from the Athletic Center, one on a tube, and the other on a sled.  It seemed slow going on the soft snow, but they were laughing. 

On my way back up the hilly country road, I saw that  on some of the windswept lawns and under pine trees, the snow has melted down to bare grass.  Suddenly I saw two robins bouncing along, searching for worms, I guess.  A bit later, I saw one more.  It's almost spring!

A year ago Paul and I went on a get away weekend and saw numerous robins in the still snow-filled landscaping around the hotel property.  It seemed somehow wrong to see them in the middle of the snow, but they didn't seem to mind.  By the time I found my camera they were gone.  The promise of spring - a memory only in my mind.