Azaleas! Dogwood! Dandelions?

There's nothing much more spectacular than a blooming azalea. Our red azalea insists on pouring through the patio railing, making certain we don't miss its glory, and to make sure we don't forget that it is the first of two dwarf bushes to bloom in the Spring. Then, about the time it starts looking a little tired, along comes lovely Miss Orange Azalea, not to be outdone. She pours out the other way, into the yard, where I have to surround her with bricks lest she get in the way of the mower (or the mower in her way, I should say!)
I wondered, when we first moved here, why the previous owners didn't plant two of the same variety. It's easy to understand now that having two of these lovelies guarantees a prolonged Springtime. They're both simply gorgeous, and we look forward to them every year.




Along about the same time of the year, and often close to Easter Sunday, the dogwood trees come into bloom, making splashes and clouds of white here and there through the woods and at the edges of fields. There is a legend about the shape and color of the blossoms. The dogwood has been "adopted" by the Christian religion as a symbol of the crucifixion of Christ. The legend says that a flowering dogwood tree was used to make the cross of the crucifixion and as a result it now grows as a living memory of the event. The cross is represented by the four petals; the petals' brownish marks represent the nails; the center of the flower sometimes resembles a crown. Take it or leave it, it's an interesting story.


And then, of course, there are the ubiquitous dandelions! This picture shows how obnoxious they can be, infiltrating themselves into areas where it is most difficult to dig them out without destroying something else. I still remember, though, how my children, when they were small, would pick handsful of dandelion blossoms and present them to me as a bouquet. A mom can't ever forget those dancing eyes and cute smiles. I'm certain the same tableau continues today with other moms and kids, because we've never found a permanent dandelion slayer... so that's a good thing.

Lessons from Mother Nature

Yesterday I pulled old electric-powered pathway lights and put in new solar-powered lights and got to thinking how we take for granted the changes in the seasons and the new growth in the spring, but in actuality it’s a mind-boggling transformation and a recurring miracle. I know for certain that springtime is invigorating to flowers, trees and humans alike. We have more energy; we make plans, plot gardens, start projects, do some spring cleaning; we’re inspired to dance to the music (as if no one is watching); we feel grateful for what feels like a reward for doing something great that we don’t remember doing.

We struggle along. Take a lesson from this poor little Japanese maple tree. It has been in the ground for six years and is still not quite three feet tall… a real slow-grower. I’ve babied it through several seasons, never being sure if it was going to leaf out again in the spring… but here it is again in all its glory. I really want that tree to grow right where it is, even though it does have wet feet most of the spring. There’s a lesson to be learned from its determination to grow where it’s planted.

Can you guess what this is? Looks a little like that poor, stunted tree. When it’s mature (which will happen within days), it will look totally different, and will support many very large, pink, many-petaled blooms right around Memorial Day. It’s surrounded by lilies-of-the-valley that spread in circumference every year. They’re all about to bloom… stay tuned. A lesson here? Even “ugly” has the potential to be beautiful… watch and learn… wait and see.

The Japanese maple could take a lesson from this blue fescue that has re-seeded itself from the border along the north side of the driveway into the driveway itself, growing up out of the gravel. Mike and I have guessed that maybe the ground is less acid there. Even so, it’s something of a miracle that anything other than a weed could take root in a driveway. It’s pretty there, though, so there it stays, and maybe it will continue to re-seed. I like this daring-to-be-different little guy.

Here’s an example of how unpredictable and contrary Mother Nature can be. This Washington Hawthorne tree has the most beautiful clusters of flowers in the spring, pink at first, gradually changing to white. The leaves are dense and the tree itself is quite beautiful. However! It has long thorns on the trunk and on the branches that make it very un-friendly. Also, the roots are shallow and insist on coming up through the ground, trying to make more thorny little trees. It’s a Washington Hawthorne, and I think it’s going to struggle to have its way, no matter what this human wants.

Life happens. Rejoice and be glad.

Planning the Planting

The only good thing about all the rain we've been getting lately is that the puddles show me which areas of the garden are especially in need of topsoil. As far as I know there aren't any vegetables that grow well in a bog! So, I slogged around the garden perimeter, walking off measurements in preparation for planting the garden on paper. That's the fun part.

It's not a very big garden, barely a small plot compared to the humongous garden we had at Lost River. Now THAT was a garden!

Double-dug soil, enhanced with compost and various organic fertilizers, terraced with two-foot-high rock ledges, and with grassy paths alongside each row. The vegetables were easily harvested from either side, and we never had to worry about compacting the soil because we had no need to walk on it. There was room for strawberries and asparagus and peas and beans and beets and corn and beans and tomatoes and lettuce and spinach and radishes and all sorts of herbs and flowers, as well as winter and summer squash, zucchini, cucumbers, carrots, onions, garlic, potatoes and yams...... It was a dawn to dark garden, that's for sure.

This year's garden is going to look like an old lady's hobby, which it is! I pulled out my old copy of Rodale's Herb Book and our battered, much used Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening today and set to work plotting it all out on paper. I'll buy five tomato plants and three green pepper plants. The rest will grow from seed, a little bit of this and a little bit of that, with flowers and herbs scattered throughout, partly for looks but mostly because there are plants that like and encourage and protect one another. That's why it's called "companion planting".

Basil and borage protect tomatoes against that ugly tomato hornworm. Marigolds and nasturtiums planted all over the garden deter many bugs. Green beans are happy around dill and savory. Cucs & squashes taste better interplanted with oregano and marjoram. Pyrethrum flowers protect beans and can be made into a very effective bug-killer spray. Green beans like garlic, too. Caraway protects radishes. Chives like carrots. There is absolutely no need to buy anything to kill the bugs, because they don't come around when you companion plant.

Truth time... I gave up on growing broccoli and cabbage and cauliflower because I never found anything that kept the worms out... Yuk! ...and I tried the entire spectrum of organic deterrents from mint to red pepper spray. I have to admit that there is no magic bullet, but companion planting works well for the most part, and it makes gardening kind of friendly and cozy, thinking about all these compatible little plants :D


I'll put in a packet of cosmos, too, because when I first experienced those lovely, free and airy blooms a couple years ago, it was like discovering I had a new best friend!

The Art (?) of Gardening

This clever and pretty little door hanger is going to experience some fairly heavy use this summer. My garden is going to be twice as large as last year, so this morning I was busy moving my compost piles and burning down an area of last year's leaves, small branches, clippings and garden trimmings. All last year I added to two compost piles on a regular basis; one of leftover food, eggshells and vegetable/fruit scrapings & peels; the other of yard waste, weeds, twigs, and spent flowers. Occasionally I sprinkled organic compost starter on the piles and watered them down. Probably I should have turned them on a regular basis, but the starter instructions said that wasn't necessary.

When I went after the finished compost at the bottom of the piles, I was glad to find about four bushels of rich, crumbly, dry stuff that was ready to be spread, and another couple bushels of not quite done compost that makes a good start for this year's piles. It is so easy to make good compost; if done correctly they are never odiferous; there is no cost and very little effort involved. Now if you want fast-acting, nitrogen-rich compost, you will have to ask a neighbor who has chickens or goats to donate some animal waste to add to your compost pile. We had large, steaming compost piles when we lived on the "farm" at Lost River, because we had both chickens and goats.

I'm going to get some topsoil in a day or so to add to my raised beds, and then beg, borrow or steal a tiller. Then it will be time to buy plants and seeds. Because I love flowers, there will be flowers galore, and because I like to use fresh herbs when cooking, they will have a place in my garden as well. Maybe my next entry will be about companion planting (and no, that doesn't mean my companion will help with the planting. Stay tuned!

Generosity

American Heritage Dictionary: “1. willing to give or share; munificent; unselfish 2. Lacking pettiness or meanness in thought or behavior; magnanimous”

Roget’s Thesaurus: Giving; magnanimous; tolerant; forgiving; benevolent; openhanded; bighearted

So, what does it really mean to demonstrate generosity? I believe that to describe someone as “generous” we are attributing to them all of the above qualities, for if you have ever known a truly generous person, you realize that you are in the presence of someone very special. Their hearts and hands are open; they do not judge; they are kind. They’re neither meek nor weak; they simply show true generosity of heart and spirit at every turn… and in their presence, I am in awe, and feel the lack of their qualities and the desire to develop them. They make it look easy, and maybe it is easy for them, maybe some people are simply born that way, but I tend to think that it takes a lifetime of trying and learning to give freely, to care and to share. Like many other things, it is an ideal for us all to strive for, and whether we reach it or not, it’s the trying that counts.

A very generous person opened her heart to me recently, and I am the lucky recipient of some concrete results of her magnanimity. She didn’t think it was any big deal, but that’s probably because humility is yet another quality of a truly generous person. Because of her I now have reading material that should last me five years… and I have three wonderful, matching, brand new storage chests… and I have a milk pitcher that matches perfectly with a cookie jar that I’ve had forever… and I have a wonderful antique yardstick that still has the original metal ends on it… and on and on. There’s no way you can adequately thank a person like that, much as I would like to!

New Life

Springtime is truly here at last. The first flowering trees are bursting forth, the daffodils are swaying in the breeze and the tulips are delighting my senses with their magnificent colors. It is always worth the wait, because Spring is so lovely. How is it possible that grass greens up so quickly to such a lush, deep green? Even the dandelions are forcing their faces into the sunlight. The very air had a soft feel to it as I walked around the back yard yesterday. These pictures are of some "junk trees" along the west side of our property. They always bloom very early and then the blooms are suddenly gone, and I can never tell which trees they were. These exquisite, feathery blooms make a delicate display that reassure me that "God's in His heaven and all is right with the world".

Growing Up

It's amazing how fast time goes by, and it's not just an old wives' tale that the older you get, the faster it goes. Here are some recent pictures of Naomi at age 5 and Leah at age 3-1/2. Weren't they tiny babies just yesterday? Will it be just tomorrow when they are teenagers? I guess that's a lesson on "enjoying the now" and "carpe diem", because even though we will always treasure the special moments of the past, they are quickly piled up under new moments that also, and too quickly, become memories. It gives me great joy to watch my grandchildren grow, but it also makes my heart ache. Perhaps only a grandparent could understand.

Save or Share or Sell? Keep or Give Away or Toss?

We’ve all asked ourselves these questions many times as we move from one residence to another, clean out a closet, straighten a drawer, remodel a room. All those big and little items challenge us to the point that we may feel our values and priorities are in question.

What does it mean if we haphazardly toss out what we think of as junk? On the other hand, what does it mean if we have a need to save all our “stuff”? or even some, or most of it? Are we being selfish in both cases?

“I’m tossing it just because I want to, I don’t need it anymore, and I'm sure no one else wants it”(when there is every likelihood that someone else not only wants it, but could make good use of it, or even actually needs it… and then there’s the greater good of recycling rather than trashing, and the knowledge that we should help, empathize, and share with our fellow human beings).
--or--
“I’m saving it just because I want to, I might need it/use it later on, and my kids might want it sometime”(when you know it’s just taking up space, that the possibility of using it was originally a “toss” option so you probably will neither need nor use it, ever, and the idea of your kids wanting your junk is silly because they already have enough junk of their own).

Yes, there are elements of selfishness in both cases, which makes a person want to avoid ever accumulating anything for fear of having to make a decision about some worldly good (or assumed “good”... at least at one time... for a while anyway). What a dilemma.

Some folks are just packrats by nature, and generally we consider that amusing and quaint… after all, what harm are they doing? Others seem to be naturally spartan. Their homes are decorated in minimalist fashion, and usually clean. Their cupboards and closets are nearly bare by ordinary standards, and we think that’s kind of weird, but again, what harm are they doing?

Do we judge people’s values and priorities by the amount of stuff they surround themselves with? Well, yes, unfortunately some of us find all kinds of reasons to judge others. When you come right down to it, though, who cares? How important can it be? It’s your stuff, after all!

Thoughts on Gratification

Marty commented on my previous post that instant gratification is nice, and I've been thinking about degrees of gratification and sources of gratification.

Seems to me that simply working hard toward a goal isn't particularly gratifying, even though you know you are getting somewhere. Of course if you like the work and enjoy the process, then every step of the way can be satisfying. To my mind, though, it's especially nice to reach a level of completion when you can cross the job off a list. I'm a dedicated list-maker, and can find joy in simply crossing things off.

Even better, though, is being able to see the fruits of your labors. It can be a finalized report, all crisp and perfect. It can be a freshly painted room that turns out the exact color you were looking for. It can be the finalized clutch replacement on your Audi ;) It occurs to me that these things are special because they can be noticed and shared and appreciated, which leads me to the realization that all of us need attention and need to be acknowledged, some of us more than others.

There are skabillions of other little and large "jobs" we do every day. Cleaning house and doing dishes and cooking meals might be gratifying for a while, certainly when we are first on our own and in our first apartment or house or condo. It doesn't take long for that kind of work to become ordinary and tedious, though, partly because it is so repetitive, but perhaps more because it isn't noticed. Why a person needs to be continuously thanked and praised and respected for this kind of work is a mystery... but there it is... ask any housewife or clerk or factory worker.

Being able to prove our abilities to someone, to show what it is that we can do particularly well, is also very satisfying... but that wears thin, too. When we start a new job it is important to please the new boss, to learn quickly and to perform well. If we are noticed as an asset to the organization, that recognition becomes a stimulus to even better performance. However, in my experience it never fails that any new job quickly becomes "same old, same old", the recognition we crave isn't forthcoming, and the job becomes a source of dissatisfaction rather than gratification.

There is one "job" that seldom fails to please. Women have exclusive ownership of this experience and that is... having a baby! Nine months to enjoy the process, to get lots of attention, and finally to produce clearly visible "fruits of their labor" (sorry, I just had to get that in :) Parents share the job of rearing a child and can create a mutual admiration society as they watch the physical, mental and emotional development of that child. Gratification never ceases for parents who have children who grow into loving adults.

I guess each of us just has to pick and choose our own goals in such a way that they have the possibility of providing a feeling of personal success. Life is so full of changes along the way that our list of things to do alters as well, as do the sources and degrees of our joy.

Right now I am cleaning up my yard, selecting one ten-square-foot area at a time, and enjoying both the process and the completion. My life hasn't always been this simple, and I derive satisfaction out of realizing that, too.

Spring has sprung; the work's begun

My first day outside enjoying the sunshine found me happily at "work" in the wannabe landscaped area in front of the house. I found some of the first tiny spring flowers as well as one of the very messy areas that needed cleaning up. So, here you have the before and after pictures, taken an hour and a half apart. Yup, took that long to cut down the grasses in the back next to the house, trim the shrubs, pick all last fall's leaves out of the bushes, and finally get all the leaves cleaned up off the ground. It was so much fun I think I'll try it again tomorrow! Now all I have to do is decide which area to tackle next.

Waiting for Spring

Sunshine today and it looks lovely... looking out the window from inside, that is. In reality, it is windy and below freezing, so it's not really very pleasant out there. I did go out with an armload of recyclables and sorted them into the bins on our back patio, but scurried right back in. However, I did hear my crocus and daffodils and tulips pushing up from underground, eager to fill my world with color. The first few ladybugs and ants have made their way into the house, so Spring can't be far behind! Things are about to change in a big way.

The whole political climate is changing, too. Can you believe how much our new president has accomplished in only 39 days? That's one high energy fella, and regardless of a person's affiliation, everyone has to admire his commitment to change and his sustained determination. I can't help but think he is going to drag a whole lot of people along with him, perhaps even some who are kicking and screaming right now, and that many things are going to be very different. Enough politics...

While I wait for Spring I am reading and knitting and cooking, watching Netflix movies, exercising on my elliptical, organizing stuff around the house and in my computer. I've also taken on a volunteer editing job with Kiva, an organization that manages small loans to entrepreneurs around the world. I enjoy the editing part, but more importantly I like getting a glimpse into other countries, the families and the individuals, and I like the idea that they are trying so hard to improve their lives, and that they are getting help and being encouraged to change things for the better. It's the immediate and very personal glimpse of possibilities that engages me the most... and certainly a valuable and satisfactory way to spend my time.

So, I try not to be impatient with Old Man Winter, and to remember that the world keeps turning and that "to everything there is a season".

Another Kind of "Slushy"

I am compelled to share my experiences on the road yesterday, because maybe I'll begin to see some humor in it. To set the scene: A quick meeting in Bloomington with Miki was tentatively scheduled for 9:00 am, to take place before continuing on to Indianapolis for a biannual Project Linus chapter meeting. Marty and I had scheduled a "time optional" meeting for lunch during the hours I was to be in Indy. From there, plans were to shop at both Sam's and WalMart in Bloomington on my way home.

As my all too typical luck would have it, a "wintry mix" of snow and rain was predicted as well as temperatures just at and below freezing. However, I was not going to let the weather get in my way. After all, I learned to drive in Idaho and certainly knew how to drive in snow...

I got underway a little after 8:00 and made my leisurely way to Bloomington, actually driving the lawful speed limit, and thinking to myself, "Ha! There's no rain or snow; they got it wrong again!" Miki and I had a nice visit and then I was back on the road. Five minutes north of Bloomington the rain started. Actually, it was slush. Big drops of slush slapping onto my windshield. There seemed to be pockets of slush activity interspersed with no precipitation at all followed by gigantic gusts of wind. Then Marty called to say that he needed to postpone our lunch. That's when I made a regrettable decision. I had been seriously considering turning around and going back south, a thought that came to me about every ten minutes as I struggled on and on toward Indianapolis. "Nah! I can make it; no problem!" and then "Well, I've made it this far..."

Visibility on 465 was no more than 100 feet as Mr. Slushy kept adding to the "wintry mix". Even so, the roads were passable though very wet, and tires were splashing dirty slush high onto everyone's windshields. Naturally the idiots (excuse the expression) were driving 65-75 mph as if they could get to their destination before the weather got really bad (or maybe they were fearful of losing sight of the car ahead of them). The wind was awful but I hung on tight, watching for my exit, and breathed a sigh of relief as I parked at the site of the meeting.

I stepped out of my car into an inch of dirty sloppy slush... so with very wet snow now coming down on my head I tiptoed carefully over the slippery, but not yet icy, sidewalk. My reward of hot coffee and doughnut holes was waiting... little did I know that would be the best part of my day. A half hour later, having schmoozed my limit with the roomful of lovely ladies, I made my excuses, voiced my regrets, and returned back outside. And stepped onto a very icy sidewalk. "Oh, great! Terrific! This is not going to be fun."

Back onto 465 now and that funny white stuff was still coming out of the sky. Each lane was fairly clear, but moving from lane to lane was treacherous. The slushy snow had built up between lanes and was in the process of freezing, so people who weren't aware or careful or alert or sober found themselves doing unexpected wheelies and ending up on the side of the road. It was most interesting; I stayed well back from the pack.

Suddenly, sirens! Everybody came to a stop, some sideways of course because they braked too quickly. Luckily, no collisions. There we sat for half an hour, cars stopped as far back as I could see. During that time two more police cars, three ambulances and two fire trucks with "Paramedic" on the side arrived. All I could see was one car in the median and one off the right shoulder, both apparently undamaged. There was much scrunching around in the slush by the authorities and EMTs and paramedics, back and forth between the emergency vehicles and the two cars, wet heavy snow falling continuously. Finally we started moving, and as I passed the folks who had kept us all waiting I noticed smiles and shrugs and laughter among them, and I couldn't help but think, "Someone is going to stop their car, get out and punch one of these guys." Admittedly, I was surprised that no one did. If I were just the tiniest bit more aggressive, it might have been me.

So then, the road ahead had frozen and everyone was extremely cautious for a while, which did not surprise me. We all wondered what it would have taken for it to be one of us off the road back there. Not much. Precipitation stopped once I reached Bloomington. Now it was time to ponder the wisdom of trying to walk through ice, snow and slush to get into Sam's and then into WalMart. I made it, but got wet shoes, socks and feet.

I took Hwy 45 toward home from there, my progress hindered by a huge snow plow going a steady 45 mph, with never a place to safely pass. Thankfully, it pulled off at the main Crane gate. Then, just past the turnoff to Odon, I picked up another snow plow, a smaller one this time, but the driver was clearly a maniac. This person drove all over the road, attacking every little pile of snow, with complete lack of concern for the cars following. Just short of Boggs Lake, three of us were able to fly past.

Turning into our driveway, I knew I still had one challenge to go... getting up the hill. Determined, I gained speed, moved up nicely almost to the crest... and started spinning. A bit frantic now after such a dreadful trip, I put the car in 2nd gear and ground forward a little farther, then moved down to 1st gear and insistently forced my poor little "Gus" car up the final three feet.

I'm glad Mike didn't take a picture of me as I entered the house. I must have looked like one of those cartoon characters with their eyes whirling round and round! It took hours for the adrenalin to ease off. What a day!
...and look at my poor car!

I AM a Valentine!

What a lovely surprise! After sending "Be My Valentine" wishes to bunches of people, it turns out that someone actually wanted to be mine and wanted me to be theirs. I'll let you all guess who it was, but the clue is that my valentine's name starts with an "M". You know who you are, and I hope you know how much I love you. I can't remember the last time I got flowers. Do those daffodils we buy in early Spring count?

Be My Valentine

Happy Valentine's Day! Help yourself to a piece of this yummy cherry cheesecake :) Mike and I made serious inroads on this dessert last night, so if you don't hurry, it will be all gone.

Will you be my Valentine?

My "Fairy" Name

Always interested in things that I find "delightful" or "charming" or "extraordinary", I was surprised and pleased to find something on Mike's blog that fit all three categories. In the ethereal world of wonders, the possibility of the existence of fairies is enchanting, and very nearly believable, because how could one possibly disprove it? Here is my own personal "fairy name". Go see if you have one... I'll bet you do :) Go here.


Your fairy is called Oak Icefilter.

She is a bone chilling bringer of justice for the vulnerable.

She lives in forests of oak and lime trees.

She is only seen on midsummer's eve.

She decorates herself with leaves and berries. She has icy blue butterfly wings.

This was just what I needed this morning as I begin to come out of a week of misery. My headaches and congestion and coughing have been successfully passed on to Mike. (my bad) Another day may even see the disappearance of dizziness and aches, which will signify immense progress. Hearing from Eric that his Lucas has Type A flu and a possibility of pneumonia (!) makes me realize how mild my symptoms really are in comparison. It will be marvelous to go outside and enjoy the sunshine and warmth that is promised today.

Winter's Last Hurrah

When Mike told me this morning that it was only .6 degrees outside (that's point 6, as in less than one!!) I decided to try to be positive about yet another freezing cold day, and said, "This is Winter's last hurrah." Such a common phrase, but what does it mean? Off to my computer in the den, then to Google and on to Wikipedia: Last Hurrah means "a final appearance or effort, especially at the end of a career". Then on to a dictionary that called the phrase an American idiom and defined it as "a last performance before someone finishes a job or activity".

Okay, we're getting there, now where did the phrase come from? Back to Google. It was a 1956 novel by Edwin O'Connor about an old Irish American political boss running for re-election as mayor for the last time. A movie by the same name and based on the book was released in 1958 and starred Spencer Tracy. It was about "urban boss politics". A summary of the movie by Ed Lorusso describes it: "...(the movie) examines the good and evil inherent in politics and all the things that go into an election...(it portrays) an uphill battle against political machinery that preyed on ethnic hatred and old-time money." (Personal note: Has anything changed much?)

As an aside, I also learned that there is a business called The Last Hurrah Book Shop that specializes in selling books and memorabilia about, of all things, political assassinations. (Does this go into the category of "anything for a buck"?)

I have a built in barometer (called sinuses) that are telling me loud and clear that a big weather change is coming, so there is hope that Old Man Winter will soon expire and warmer days are on their way. (Wonder where "old man winter" came from?)

Birds on the Brain

Being "Birds" I suppose Mike and I are more prone to care about the flying variety. When we first moved to Shoals, it was fun keeping track of the different birds we saw in the deep woods, the huge Pileated Woodpecker being the most amazing. Our interest was further intensified when Marty worked for Wild Birds Unlimited. I started doing official "bird counts", carefully identifying and recording their presence at different times of the year. Mike and I continue to compare what we see with the pictures found in the Audubon book and on the internet. There was a Rufous-Sided Towhee at the feeders this morning. (see below)

In the last couple years Mike has taken over bird feeder duty, making sure they all have access to plenty of the right kind of seed. He also takes many, many pictures of the birds, some of which he posts on his website. I'm generally the one to select the bird feeder systems, the feeders themselves, and to buy the seed. Several years ago my sister sent us a wonderful hummingbird feeder, so we get to watch the teeny little birds, too. We have a couple suet feeders that we put out in the winter. Now we have bird feeders on the east, west, and north sides of the house for our unfailing entertainment.

Birds like suet in the winter; the fat in the suet helps their bodies keep warm. A few years ago I found a recipe for suet on the internet, and now make it every 3-4 weeks. In case anyone's interested, here it is: Melt 1 cup lard and 1 cup crunchy peanut butter. Remove from heat and add 2 cups quick oatmeal, 2 cups cornmeal, and 1 cup flour. Mix well and divide into 4 freezer containers. Freeze. Optional: Add raisins, craisins, nuts, veggies. Then settle back with your binoculars, camera and bird book, and enjoy the calm of a little nature study.

Snow Day

Oh the north wind doth blow and we shall have snow,
And what will the robin do then, poor thing?
She’ll fly to the barn to keep herself warm
And hide her head under her wing, poor thing.

Oh the north wind doth blow and we shall have snow
And what will the sparrow do then, poor thing?
She’ll hide in the hay and there she will stay
The whole winter snuggling in, poor thing.

Fear vs Hope

The mood changes from worry to terror these days when workers see the boss or the HR person approaching. Every day the fear grows of getting a pink slip with the notation: "...exit the building immediately...". Whoever thought we would be living through such an awful time? What happens to a family who have had to leave their home because they couldn't make the mortgage payments? What happens when neither of the parents can find work? What happens when the savings are gone but the bills keep coming and the creditors are threatening? What happens when there is no more food on the shelves and no money to buy more? What happens to families who have no one to help them, to offer them a home, to care about them and care for them? Whoever thought our neighbors and friends would be faced with this unbelievable dilemma?

It may not have hit your neighborhood yet, but it's getting closer all the time. We don't have the power to "do over" some of our past mistakes and failures, nor is there any easy way to fend off what may be inevitable. Small towns and rural areas are perhaps better equipped to deal with the sorrows of recession because it's likely there are relatives near and certainly a sense of community, of sharing and caring. Some will offer real help, some will pray, some will put their faith in our president and our lawmakers. Some keep on trying.

However, I just read a news article that shocked my soul and made me afraid. A man and his wife were fired on the same day, went home and killed their 5 children and themselves. They had lost hope of things ever getting any better, and leaving this world seemed a better choice than living in it.

We need to rediscover hope. Hope's opposite, despair, leads to unthinkable actions and reactions. Hope is a powerful force that allows us to carry on, to seek alternatives, to think ahead to what we would do if we found ourselves in such difficult circumstances, as well as to think about what we can/would/should do for those who need help. Perhaps it's as easy as opening our minds and hearts and homes, and making sure that unfortunate folks can count on us luckier ones.

Tonight, Mike and I talked about what it would be like to have all our kids and grandkids living here with us. We decided that we would be crowded, but we would sure have a lot of fun. Our own little commune right here. I think Mike was already planting a big garden in his head.

What It Can Do

The new wonder machine made excellent sandwiches last night, as you can see from the pictures. Thick slices of homemade bread spread with ranch dressing on the inside and margarine on the outside, filled with slices of turkey breast and swiss cheese, and topped with grilled onions and red peppers... these were really delicious. When lowered, the top of the press levels itself off to be parallel to the bottom of the grill and its weight slowly compacts the bread and fillings evenly without causing any sliding. Will wonders never cease?!

Tonight I grilled pork sirloin chops to perfection (almost) and topped them with apple slices cooked in a sauce made of brown sugar, water, cinnamon and a dash of salt, then thickened with corn starch. Very good. A new recipe for broccoli accompanied the chops, which was especially yummy and a keeper.

Mike had hot cocoa for dessert and I had sugared almonds. Felt like kings and queens, we did, we did.