Change of Seasons

It's not only a difference in the air temperature that's signaling the fact that changes are ahead. The days are noticeably shorter, the light is noticeable lower. The grass is drier, the leaves are starting to turn colors, and there are grasshoppers everywhere I look. My favorite season is upon us.

As of this week, three of my four children are taking college classes, and my baby started her freshman year of high school. Having only one student at home is very different from the days to which I'd grown accustomed. It's been a good first week of school. We've run a race, enjoyed a wonderful field trip, made and delivered four meals for friends who have had a baby or have recently had surgery, and had a girls' outing.

The days are flying by like the leaves swirling in the autumn winds. This is the part of fall that I don't enjoy. It goes by all too quickly. I want to savor the smells, the colors, the crisp evenings, and the beautiful sunsets. It would be just fine with me if life slowed a bit and let me hold on to these precious moments. My mind and body feel like I should still be in the summer of my life, but my circumstances tell me differently. I'm not sure I'm ready for this.

Flying By

Can October really be a quarter of the way gone already? This Indian Summer that we're having makes it seem like the early days of the previous season, but the crunch underfoot tells me differently.

Time for Memories

I'm not always the best wife, or mother, or friend. In fact, more often than not, I stink at those things. Oh, I have plenty of good intentions, it's just that the best of plans get waylaid. I get so busy doing the things that I perceive to be important that I forget to enjoy the "right now" of the moment.

Summer means gardening, and gardening means preserving for the year to come. While this is a noble and important task, it becomes a problem when I have to stop entertaining, refuse to go swimming with my family, or even play a short game. All work and no play not only makes life very dull, but it makes for a crabby person, too!

I'm trying. I'm trying to make time, even during the busyness of summer to spend on fun things. Things that are equally as important as the canning. Early last week I invited friends over for a s'more party on Friday night. I truly was too busy to serve dinner, and actually had a batch of spaghetti sauce in the canner when our guests arrived. They were gracious to ignore the fact that I had to stand by the stove for a bit, and s'mores really seemed to be a perfect fit for a late evening get together.

Autumn and Sophie sitting by the fire.

Mac did his best to represent the non-continental United States in his hula girl shorts and University of Alaska t-shirt while enjoying his s'more. By the way, have you ever tried making s'mores with Reese's peanut butter cups rather than a chocolate bar? YUM!

Saturday involved canning from early morning until 3 AM.

Upon arriving at church on Sunday, we met a young man from North Carolina who was in our area for a Latin class. My mind started racing. We really should have him over for lunch. He's far from home, and would appreciate a home-cooked meal. And then my thoughts turned toward the canning jars covering the kitchen, the sewing machine on the dining room table, and my unmade bed.

He was invited, despite the condition of my home. And just as our guests had been gracious to me Friday night, Michael was just as gracious Sunday afternoon. He jumped right in and helped to chop vegetables for the grilled pizza, and closed his eyes to the mess around him, even commenting how happy he was to see the canning jars.

How is it that guests can bless me when I'm supposed to be blessing them? It's a beautiful thing!

A Walk in the Rain

I'll never be a runner.

I'm married to a man who asks me almost every morning of my life if I'd like to run with him, but I've never taken him up on it, and probably never will. But walking? That I can do. Actually, I can walk much faster than my runner-husband.

I set out this morning to walk in a 5K, and my only goal was to walk it in an hour. It was chilly so I donned long pants rather than shorts, a jacket, and was carrying an umbrella. And keys. And my iPhone. Yeah. Like I said, I'm no runner.

I got very warm as the rain let up, and folded my umbrella as I kept my pace. It wasn't long before the jacket had to come off, too. I tied my jacket around my waist as I walked, and my keys were practically dragging the ground in my coat pocket.


What to do? What to do?

Got it! I put them in the umbrella, which I was carrying horizontally in one hand, and so I kept walking, all the while digging my keys out of my dragging pocket. Yeah- I bet I looked very classy.

Just as I was rounding the cone at the halfway point, my phone rang. I had to fish my iPhone out of my other dragging pocket. Mmmhmm. I answered the phone to hear Abigail asking me questions about homemade yogurt. She was at home, making the recipe that I'd left her with. Not long after I hung up with her, and got my music back on, the rain started again. It felt good, and I didn't bother to put the umbrella back up, but I looked down to realize I was wearing a white t-shirt, and needed to put my jacket back on lest I look like I was in a contest.

More fumbling with the jacket, the umbrella in my hand, and my phone.

Long story short, I was surprised at the finish line when they told me that I finished in 51 minutes. I'll never be a runner, but multi-tasking I can do!

Graying

I'm often asked where I get my hair done. They don't just mean Where do you get your hair cut?, but Where do you get your highlights? This happens several times a week.  And time after time I explain that they aren't highlights. It's my hair naturally turning gray, or rather, white to be more precise. 

When I had my hair cut this afternoon by a new girl (because we frequent a local barber school), she exclaimed, "Whoever wove the color into your hair did an excellent job!" And I explained once again, No, no weaving at a salon- God placed that color there.

Sometimes when I explain that I'm graying, people look horrified, and proceed to tell me that I could cover it, and even that really, maybe I should. You're too young to be gray! 

Really? I wonder, what is the  appropriate age? 40? 50? 60? 80?

I must admit that I did color for a few years in my early 30's, but stopped about 4 or 5 years ago, and have never looked back. I'm a few months into my 40th year, and I love my hair.

Are we so afraid of aging that when we think someone has highlights we want them too, but when we learn that it's gray we are ashamed for them?

Do people really think it looks natural to stay dark until they're 70 or older? Or that because the dark is difficult to match that they look better blond than gray?

I'm certainly not saying that it's wrong to color your hair, I just wonder, why not embrace who we are?
What do you do?

Words

One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment. ~ Hart Crane

Ham and Bean Soup

It was a good evening for soup. And fresh dinner rolls. Isn't it always a good evening for fresh dinner rolls?

We enjoyed 50° weather here today, while friends a mere two hours away were already being blanketed by large, white flakes falling swiftly from the sky. It was actually balmy as I fed the chickens some organic lettuces early this afternoon. Late in the day, the clouds rolled in and slowly rain started to fall, causing the temperatures to drop a bit. By dinner, the sleet had started.

Abigail, Collin, and I had plans to attend the Project Linus workday tomorrow, but if school is cancelled, so is the workday. The past three months we've had snow enough that we haven't been able to get together, and the blankets aren't being made quickly enough. But! Have you ever heard the expression that God is never early or late, but always right on time? It's so true! We want things right now! Can't wait! Last month, Pat, my friend who coordinates our local Project Linus group, received a phone call from the hospital asking for blankets. She explained that because of the weather, there was a shortage, and she had none to donate. Shortly after, that afternoon? the next day? ( I can't remember now.) a package arrived at her home. The package contained six blankets, and had been donated by a woman in another state. She "randomly" chose to donate to the Linus chapter in our area. I say there's nothing random about it; God works in His time!

I'm very anxious for our new gas logs to be installed. I'm even beginning to get a bit impatient. We kept saying how nice it would have been to have the fire going as we worked on the fireplace. And then I grouted, and had to strike the grout. All of a sudden I was ever so thankful that the logs hadn't been installed, because striking the grout makes a mess and sends sand-like particles of concrete falling to the floor, and even into the firebox. Had the logs been installed, they would have been covered, and it would have been very difficult to clean them. God's timing is good and right all of the time!

Back to the soup- you can find my recipe here. Pat recently brought the same soup to our quilt club meeting. I asked her for her recipe, and sure enough, it was just like mine. Don't forget to have some fresh dinner rolls to accompany it!

What a Difference a Day Makes

Last Friday afternoon Autumn had the day off from her nanny position, and we walked through the park without a care in the world. Gallagher, the Standard Poodle she is raising for Pilot Dogs, enjoyed the ducks and the fresh air.

And then Saturday came, and with it, sad news in the mail. It won't be long until Gallagher returns to Columbus, Ohio, to continue his training. She isn't ready to say good-bye. I don't think he is either.

Busy as a Bee?

Perhaps this little guy isn't finding enough pollen to gather with autumn on its way and thought he'd find something good in my jars of jam. Perhaps he's a bit like me and doesn't quite know what to do with himself when the pace slows a bit. 

The weather is changing, and with the cooler temperatures there is less produce to preserve. My mind is turning to other things: crochet projects, things to sew, rooms to paint, carpets to clean, birthday and holiday preparations. 

I'm pretty sure this little guy will find his groove. Just like me. 

Rainy Day

Cooler temperatures and a slow steady rain are welcome on this August day. I love how rain seems to give permission to take the day a little slower than normal.

A little slower doesn't mean a total break, though. The dehydrator has been filled, dishes and laundry have been done, and an ironing pile beckons me. I might just ignore that little whisper. Being hard of hearing comes in handy some days!

Lessons from the Brambles

July is flying by with days full of harvests and preserving. It's curious to think that autumn is always thought of as harvest time, when so much of it happens in mid-summer. From the green beans to the summer squash, to the blueberries and blackberries, it seems everything is ready all at once and the pressure cooker won't work fast enough.

Blackberries. OH! the blackberries. God's free gift to us. We have but to walk and pick, and enjoy. Easy? No way. The bushes are full of thorns, and I've been snared many a time, not able to free myself, but requiring the assistance of my picking buddies. The plants are always surrounded by poison ivy. Always. Mosquitoes, snakes, and purple stained fingers, evidenced by the above photo, are just a few of the hardships of picking the berries, but they're worth it.

Blackberries and the obstacles we face to gather them remind me of my walk with the Lord. We don't walk blindly into the berry brambles, but we prepare. We don high boots, denim jeans, bug spray, and carry water with us. When we arrive back home we fill the bathroom sink with a mixture of cool water and Clorox, rinsing our skin thoroughly to wash away any poison ivy.

My walk with the Lord isn't always easy and there are many perils along the way, but I prepare by reading the Word, and suiting up. Sometimes I need fellow believers to "pull me from the brambles". It's an amazing parallel, really.

*Disclosure- Odd place for a link to a bathroom sink? Kind of, I guess, but CSN asked me if I'd like to review a product for them in exchange for linking back to their company. They're offering me a gift card to use toward the purchase of anything I'd like. Too good to pass up, wouldn't you agree?

Things I Love about Summer

♥ fresh squeezed lemonade

♥ fireflies

♥ spending hot days in the pool

♥ suppers made entirely from garden produce

♥ flip-flops

♥ bare feet

♥ long flowy skirts

♥ squirting people with the hose

♥ hummingbirds at the feeder

♥ fresh fruit pies

♥ making jam from fresh picked berries

♥ laundry hung out on the line

♥ and so... many more. What do you love about summer ?

Looking Forward to a New Week

Sometimes things are rolling along smoothly and you feel nearly invincible. Tasks aren't too daunting, deadlines are met. And then there are the other times.

This week? This week was one of the other times.

Rain showers greeted the dawn early Wednesday morning. I was going about my normal routine, taking care, first of the dog, and then the chickens. As I crossed the wet deck in flip-flops, my feet went out from under me, and I fell down a step.

It hurt. Badly.

I picked myself up, grabbed my umbrella and my flip flops, and crossed the lawn in my bare feet. No matter the pain in my backside, the chickens needed fresh food and water. I placed my flip flops on the top step leading to the coop as I didn't want to enter in bare feet. I unlocked the coop and made my way in.

I grabbed the waterer, opened the door to step outside, and down I went again. If I wasn't sore already, this sealed the deal.

I admit, I cried a moment before picking myself up for the second time in less than 5 minutes, and crossed the yard to the hose. I couldn't have cared less about entering the coop in bare feet by now, and so I did. I gingerly climbed back down the steps and into the house.

By this time, my right elbow was starting to swell, my forearm was bruising, and my left pointer finger was throbbing. And my backside? Let's just say that it looks like I sat in blackberry jam from the bruising.

I had been asked to make a cake for a 16th birthday. A three tier, fondant covered cake. I hate fondant. With a passion. Pictures in cake books show off satiny smooth cakes draped in the sugar coating, and they look so elegant. Let me just say that I never feel elegant while covering a cake with fondant. The cake decorator has to become something of an acrobat and a muscle builder turned pastry chef. It isn't pretty.

I started my baking on Thursday. For starters, I had to sift 21 cups of flour. That may not sound difficult, but after my episodes the day before, it nearly did me in. I completed the baking, mixing buttercream frosting, and icing the cakes in 12 hours.

Friday morning I woke, still sore from falling, and began making marshmallow fondant. 9 recipes, at that. I stirred, and kneaded and rolled. My shoulders ached. One by one I covered the layers with the sweet confection, cleaning up as best as I could while I went along. I was thankful for my youngest daughter who was eager to help in any way possible. My adrenaline kicked in and I was in a groove. Everything was going swimmingly, and then it happened.

The cake was to be plaid on the top and bottom tiers, with polka dots on the middle tier. The top tier was covered in fondant and I cut strips for the plaid design. It looked adorable.

I wondered, 'What if I placed a band going around the center of the tier instead of the plaid being mainly on the top?'

I discussed the possibility with my eager helper, and she agreed it would be cute. The minute I touched the chocolate brown ribbon to the aqua blue side I knew it was a mistake. The band wasn't level, and made the entire cake look crooked.

I ignored it for as long as I could, but couldn't stand it, and so I ripped all of the fondant back off of the top tier only to start the entire process over. This time though, the fondant ripped.

I was exhausted, and I cried. I ended up finishing the cake an hour late, and not nearly as prettily as I envisioned. Thankfully, the recipients were graceful and seemed to be happy. After a full 24 hours of working, I couldn't give anymore.

This morning I woke to bake cupcakes for a friend's husband's birthday. I told myself, "It's a new day!" Still tired and sore from the falls/kneading/rolling, I set out to make a new recipe.

Why I thought it would be okay to try a new recipe on the morning something was to be picked up I'll never know. I guess I was feeling optimistic.

The cupcakes were to be vegan, but the recipe I was using called for eggs. I tried substituting flax seeds for the eggs, and the recipe flopped. I don't know- I'm not vegan, and didn't know what to expect, but these cupcakes didn't look birthday celebration worthy. ( Actually, they tasted fine after they cooled.) In a panic, I googled another recipe that was similar to the first and gave it a go. Thankfully, they were a success.

My poor husband. I don't know who feels worse, me or him. I can tell you though, he's a wonderful encouragement to me, and loves me unconditionally. For that, I am really thankful!

Contentment

Comparison is the death of contentment.

-Author Unknown