Perils Of Making Jelly

I feel I must warn all uninitiated jelly makers of what can happen and just did to me. So, be forewarned.

I had this beautiful muscadine juice which I extracted from about four pounds of lovely purple grapes. I had used my new kitchen toy, the Omega juicer. I placed the juice in the fridge overnight and then allowed it to drip through double cheese cloth to remove any tartar crystals. All went well in this department. However I learned that I did not have any pectin on hand. First red flag ! I should have stopped, driven to the market and purchased pectin. But, I did not as the usually very reliable Preserving , Canning and Freezing book published by the Georgia Extension Service did not serve me well this time. I followed the directions for making grape jelly without pectin. After standing and boiling the mix for 45 minutes, it had changed color and still did not pass the "sheet" test. About this time my neighbor called to tell me the mail had come. Since I am too far from the road to see when this happens she always calls to tell me. I told her what I was doing and the unhappy results. She said "could it be the damp weather"? I had never thought of that!! Well, I should have as I am sure I have ruined all of that beautiful juice. I knew not to make fudge on a rainy day but had never considered the effect it might have on jelly. Perhaps because I had planned to use pectin, I completely forgot that !!

Well the sealed jars are in the hot water bath now and I can hear the bubbling of the boiling water and the sound of the jars being slightly moved around in their basket. I am so mad with myself for ruining that beautiful fresh juice. And also I am a little upset that the book I was using did not warn me that on a rainy day USE PECTIN.

So, to all of my friends who are checking in on me, please heed my advise and keep pectin on hand if you are inclined to make jelly. Otherwise you can just consider this lament of mine an experience you are happy to have missed.

Perils of Gardening

Yesterday I found it necessary to consult with my primary doctor re: a red spot on my ear which would not go away after two weeks of my own doctoring. When the nurse looked at it and commented with " Ohhhhhh", I said "That is what I get for sticking my head into the weeds".

Each summer I seem to attract cuts, punctures, and abrasions of various sizes and severity. I have learned how to doctor them myself because of previous injuries. Knowing just when to ask for help can be a little tricky. In this particular case I needed an antibiotic and some HORSE ointment !!!!! Yes, that is correct, horse ointment. My doctor raises horses and when they get skin injuries she applies an ointment which happens to be very effective on people. After one full day of applying this to my ear (along with taking the oral medication) I can see a definite improvement.

I keep my tetanus shot up to date because of my hobby which invites injuries it seems. One cannot always know just which bug has bitten as it all happens so quickly. . The "noseeums" are always a problem and I have learned to live with them. I did read that you could prevent getting those chigger bites by wearing tall rubber boots in the garden. Well, I may just try that as this has been the year of the chigger.

Since I share this land with the white tailed deer there is always a danger of coming in contact with the deer tick. It is very small and usually one does not know he has been visited by one until the rash appears. Early in the summer I always find ticks on me or on my clothes. They are the common "dog" tick and you feel and see them in time to burn, crush or flush them away.

Years ago I found on my carpet upstairs what appeared to be a fat, round, brown button. I was informed that it was an engorged tick which had dropped from it's host, hopefully the host was a visiting family pet.

Not all insect visitors to my garden are unwelcome. Many years ago I ordered some praying mantis egg cases and placed them about this place. In the ensuing years I have regularly found young mantises which are inhabiting the garden and vineyard, still making egg cases at the end of the season to perpetuate the species. When I prune the vines in the winter and find these mantis cases, I tie them to the vine so that the next year when the leaves come on and the warm weather causes them to hatch, they will be where their parent wanted them to be. The lovely lady bug with her pretty red spots I did not order but they are all about anyway. I am always happy to spy her on any of my veggie plants.

Another welcome creature is the lizard which seems to know what to do to winter over as I have seen him (or her) over several years. I have always heard that toads were good luck in the garden as they eat insects. I think the lizards do also. I have seen no toad but if I do I will give him a wide berth to ensure he stays on.

I could not have a garden were it not for the pollinating insects. At one time I had honey bees but they were lost to some disease as have been so many bees in this country. I understand that the solitary ground bee is a good pollinator and I do see them around and tolerate their presence because of their good help.

In the vineyard the wind acts as a pollinator by blowing the pollen from one vine to another. All of nature it seems is designed to keep the order of things intact. Even the lowly worm is very necessary for good soil.

I have no control over the most important aspect of gardening. That is rain. It has been absent for much of the growing season, but not today. Last evening the rain came down suddenly and noisily. Today started out the same way and more is predicted, thankfully.

So, I am willing to be inconvenienced by occasional bites or scrapes or rashes from poison ivy. The rewards are in the tasting. Food grown in your own garden, taken from the plant and to the kitchen onto the plate is so superior to any from the market. And the best part is knowing that no pesticides have been applied to my plants. It is a special joy being able to share with my family and friends, even up until frost when the kiwi are ready. It really has a year round benefit thanks to a deep freezer and canning jars. By this time of year some of my enthusiasm has dissipated, but in January when the inevitable seed catalogs arrive I will be stirred to action again and the problems of bugs, and bites and rashes will be a dim memory.

In With The New

There is a lot in the news lately about the swine flu virus and how to prevent getting it. Using hand sanitizers and washing hands frequently is being pushed in the schools. Children are urged to bring their own from home and have them handy. I have taken to carrying them in my golf cart when I am out working.

All of this reminds me of the old fashioned way of preventing the spread of germs - washing hands with soap and water. When I was teaching my new students my rules in September, hand washing was a must before lunch and I encouraged it also after a visit to the bathroom. In my first years of teaching in the mountains of Ky. we did not have running water so we used a round metal bowl and a pitcher of water. I poured water over the little hands as they soaped and rinsed them on the spot. I do not remember where the water came from. I think it came from the bathrooms which we did not use as they were always in disrepair. But the faucets you could not stop up.!!!!!! This meant we had to use an outhouse for anything but hand washing. But wash hands we did !! I was adamant about that.

Later in my teaching career when I lived in Arnold Maryland and taught in an elementary school in Severna Park, we had much more agreeable accommodations. The children would wash their hands in their respective bathrooms, often they were at one side of our classroom. If I had any doubt that some little Huckleberry Fin had not washed his hands I would say "let me smell your hands". If I did not smell the sweet fragrance of soap the child was sent back to do it correctly. They soon learned that it did not pay to disobey orders as it would just delay our departure to the lunch room.

Bringing in the new means departing from the old. I found this especially hard to do regarding my juicer. My son-in-law set up the new Omega 9000 for me on this past Sunday when we had our family gathering here. I had saved up some of the almost seedless muscadine grapes which I like to use for jelly. When that juice came pouring out of the spout it was just lovely. We all had to have a taste. My grandson who is in grad school in Ann Arbor Michigan likes to have wine with his evening meal. I asked him if he would like to taste some wine before it became wine. He agreed that it was very pleasant indeed. We were too busy to do much more with the juicer that day, but on Tuesday I got it out again and became discouraged ,when after making some beautiful juice it began to growl and shake. I turned it off and had to wait 2 minutes for it to come to a complete stop.

In the meantime I began to have pangs of remorse about having to give up on my old juicer. I just knew that if I could find a motor for it then a transplant would set it right again. After many attempts online to find what I needed I resorted to the old fashioned way and started making phone calls to see if anyone could help me find a small motor. All of the very nice men I talked to were very sympathetic but none could help me.

So, okay back to the new juicer I went. I soon discovered what caused the loud noises and shaking. That was juicer talk for "hey clean all of this pulp out of my strainer basket". I was pleasantly surprised to learn that a spoon and a few passes through the basket got all of the pulp out and I could resume juicing. Now that is progress I can vote for. In no time I had all of the grape juice in a container and in the fridge for an overnight rest. The overnight rest is necessary for tartar crystals to form and be strained off the next day.

This brings us to what I see on a rack on my counter, beautiful, clear, wine colored jelly cooling after the hot water bath. One test of good jelly is clarity and this jelly is very clear.

I have to admit that I do miss the familiarity of the old machine but this one is really better. I have more juice and dryer pulp. In time I will become so familiar with the new that I will, someday, take the old one out of the storage place and send it off to the dump. But, I have difficulty just pitching it out, after all it only needs a new motor.

Kiwi

Many years ago, my friend Mary Marshall gave me two kiwi vines. I planted them up behind the barn for the time being not knowing what to do with them or for them. Over the years I have become somewhat educated about the culture of kiwi. I learned that you must have both male and female plants. I discovered that you did not need a one to one ratio of male to female plants, one male can fertilize many female blooms. Also, the male blooms before the female. The bloom is a cream color with many stamens inside of five petals, as shown in the photo. Around the first of May I start looking for the little "knobs" on the branches to open and expose the pretty blooms, promising to follow with fuzzy brown fruit. I learned that my plants were called Hayward and over the years I have increased my holdings to 11 plants.

One male plant I moved to a new spot about 40 feet away from the main group. It had been in
that spot for about 7 years when an acquaintance wanted a male kiwi ,so I told him he could dig that one up but be sure he got all of the roots. The guy came with a machine and dug up a tremendous amount of roots. I thought that I had seen the last of that vine. Yet the next spring it came back up with a flourish. It must be kin to the rugged kudzu which will cover anything in its path. Since that digging I have replaced the trellises for all of the vines. It is much sturdier and needs to be for these vigorous growers.

The first year that they bore fruit I got eleven kiwi. I was so elated I took a picture of them to save. Each year the number has increased except for last year when they did not bloom, thus had no fruit. The reason was that I had them severely pruned as they were such vigorous growers. My plan was to retrain them onto three parallel wires, making them easier to control. This year it will be a lean harvest but knowing the habit of these vines I expect them to come back next year like gang busters ! Being in a drought for the past few years has not been helpful at all to encourage a good harvest. The leaves on one plant have begun to turn yellow and dry up. Usually they stay green until the first frost.

I had to learn the best time to harvest these fruit by trial and error. It seems that the best time is before the first frost. My daughter-in-law was the first person to alert me to the merits of this fruit. I took some to her and she let them sit on her kitchen counter for a few weeks to ripen. She was so enthusiastic about the taste of them that I began to be a believer also. When the harvest is prolific I share them with whomever wants them.

Early on I had intentions of making kiwi jam, but gave up on that plan. They are tasty enough fresh. My grandson showed me how he likes to eat them. He simply cuts them crosswise and using a small spoon scoops out the inside, eating as he goes. That is much more sensible than trying to peel them. And who in his right mind would attempt to eat the skin ! That skin may be why the four legged critters of the woods around me leave them on the vine. Occasionally I will find a kiwi with a spot showing obvious teeth marks. So, one of those critters has had the thought of tasting them and was deterred by that fuzzy tough skin.

I suppose the lesson to be learned with the story of the kiwi is that life has many surprises along the way. Before moving to Georgia I had little knowledge of the kiwi. Most people are surprised that I can even grow them here. I think the kiwi like the little mini climate where they grow on this place. I do not attribute their survival to any gardening skills on my part. I am just happy to have had the experience of growing and sharing them with my friends.

These are from last years crop. The larger one is probably about 4 ounces. The others have some more growing to do.

Professor Matthis

Recently I was looking in the family geneology book and found something my brother had sent to me re: the death of our grandfather. It was a copy from the Elizabethtown News, for Feb. 23, 1922. The cause of his death was pneumonia and he died in Louisville, Ky. The article was about his professional life. This sentence caught my attention "Possibly no teacher ever taught a greater number of pupils than he". It also states that for many years he had charge of a school in Texas during the war between the states. I would love to know more about that !!

The article states that he came "home" soon after the war was over and established Gilead Institute at Canmer, Ky. In 1879 he left there and went to Hodgenville, along with two other educators and apparently furthered the cause of education. He later "had control of Magnolia College and Upton Institute". My father was born at Upton. As a little boy he had a paper route in Horse Cave and would meet the train each day to get the papers which were thrown from the train. I am not sure but I sense that the train did not stop as it passed through.

I am inspired by this statement from the article "No matter how poor and uninviting in appearance or how obscure and lowly their parentage, no young man or young woman applying to him for entrance to his school was ever turned away. "his work was to build," and right well did he do it".

This statement also inspired me, "He knew that the best teacher is he who can inspire the pupil to do his best always".

Taking a quick glance back at my career in teaching, the times I remember best are those incidents which leave me with the feeling that I inspired my students to feel good about what they were doing and accomplishing.

One incident I remember took place in a first grade class in Severna Park, Maryland. I was presenting the concept of place value, using tens and ones. I was using little bundles of tooth picks secured with rubber bands. Each bundle had ten tooth picks. I gave each student ten toothpicks and had them count and bundle them to plant the idea of ten ones into their minds. Then I would add one toothpick -or more - to their desk and ask them to count how many they had in all. This went on for several days in Math class. Everyone was "getting it" except for one little boy. I would go by his desk as I circulated and give him help as needed . He dutifully carried out my instructions until one day as I stood at his desk watching him, he looked up at me with wonder in his eyes and said " NOW I know what you are talking about".

Since that time place value is taught with centimenter blocks using color coded blocks which would snap together. That technique is probably safer as today the points of the tooth picks would probably be consider a "lethal weapon". Of course since I retired from teaching in 1991 some other system may now be used to convey the basic idea of place value to young children.

Another "Aha" moment came in reading. We were using a pure phonetic approach and the student book pages had short words using the sound we were emphazing at that lesson. I would have a presentation using color coded chalk as a visual reminder. I used a great little blackboard which I could easily move about in our little reading circle. One little boy named Robert, cute as a button and sharp as a tack, did not want to try to say the words in his book. I did not press him at all. The other children understood Robert did not want to participate so they just passed him and did their part each day. Robert was attentive and listened. This went on for several weeks and one day as each child took his turn saying the words, something different happened. When the child before Robert had finished, Robert just started reading, perfectly !!!! He had just not been ready to give it a try. No doubt in his mind he had been reading all along but did not trust saying it out loud.

I remember Robert for another reason. He told his mother that what he liked about Mrs. Parsons was that she would give you a second chance. Robert had the most disorganized desk I had ever seen. Papers would be all over the place, books, pencils just scattered all about. He went through that entire year, learning everything perfectly but never could learn to keep a neat desk !!!

There are many stories in my mind about my students over my years in the classroom, but this is enough for one day. I am sure I will revisit the theme as those days are an integral part of me.
I just wish I could hear some of the stories that my grandfather could tell about his students, especially during the war between the states.

Gifts,

I began thinking of gifts today as my sister brought a cross to me that was made by a resident where she lives in Ohio. It is a cross which is formed by three spikes and held together with fine wire. She had a chain made for me to attach the cross to in order to wear it around my neck.

Some years ago I saw a similar cross in the gift shop at the Hambidge Center on Betty's Road near Dillard Georgia. I was told that the spikes came from a church which had been bombed in Germany during W.W. II. After the fire had subsided and the debris was being carried out the spikes were found all over the floor of the church. Someone saved them and if the story is true some of them made their way to this Artist Colony in north Georgia. I was intrigued with the story and the cross so I purchased one for my neighbor on her 80th birthday.

When I was around the age of 12 my father gave me a Christmas gift of a gold necklace which had an anchor, a cross and a heart hanging from it. When he gave it to me he said the significance of the emblems told a story. My heart is anchored to the cross. My father was a devout Christian man and this had great meaning for him and thus for me also. I kept that necklace for years and eventually the parts were lost except for the cross. I still have it in a box in my bedroom. It is solid gold and about 1/2 inch long.

At a much later time my second husband gave me a golden cross which has double lines around it forming its shape. In the center is a small diamond. It is very pretty. When he gave it to me I had been elected to the position of elder in my church. He said "an elder should have a cross". I must not have had a cross at that time, so he thought it important I have one and perhaps he was right. In researching the design I believe it is a Coptic cross as the ends of the length and breadth has a tiny circular shape. Though this one has space inside of the outline rather than being solid gold.

Over the years my children and others have given me jewelry. My son brought me silver on many occasions, on a trip to Bermuda he bought a silver sea gull and earrings to match. Another time a pin with a grape design in reference to my vineyard. He has very good taste in jewelry.

At this time I have a jeweler in my daughter. She has an eye for color and design as well .At this writing I am wearing a necklace which just seems to be appropriate for any occasion. It is colorful. She said she made it wild, like me. I love being thought of as "wild" at this advanced age. Of course I do not feel that I am advanced in age, nor do I feel it - most of the time. It is more like I am 16, even though I will admit to not being as active outdoors as I once was. This is especially true in the hotter months. I may still get out my pick ax if the job calls for it and no one is around to do it for me.

I have many beautiful pieces of jewelry which my daughter has made for me. One necklace and earrings set opened up a whole new idea for me. When I wear them with green, my eyes look very green. I found that to be incredible. I always thought I had brown eyes. My family says that they are hazel. Well, they are now green on some occasions and I love that too.

When I think about unusual pieces I have in my boxes, they include a bracelet made from a caribou antler given to me by my oldest sister. Also a huge fossilized shark's tooth made into a necklace and bracelet to match of small black teeth. These I found at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when on family vacations. I have mates to earrings in one drawer. I hate to discard them as ONE day I may find the mate. Well, it has happened!! Years ago my husband brought a pendant to me and another similar one to my daughter. His boss had been on a trip to Arabia and brought them to us. They had horses painted on them which were painted with the hairs of Arab women. That I thought was amazing.

It is fun to receive jewelry and gifts in general. It adds spice to life. One thing I no longer wear are rings. I still have two wedding rings in a drawer. Neither of which I can now force on my finger. I do not know if other women gardners have given up wearing rings, but they just do not seem right on me. Other types of jewelry however remind me of the giver, or incident which brought them to me. That gives me pleasure and that is the object of the gift and of the giving.

Alone

I have solitude on my mind today as my sister will be leaving in two days to go back to her home in Ohio. It has been nice to have her here and now I will adjust to her not being here. I have had some practice in these kinds of changes. I recall the first time my husband had to leave our home and was gone for two weeks. When he came back from this extended work trip I felt a little distant from him. It was all in my mind however and soon dissipated as our little family fell back into the routine of living.

One Thanksgiving holiday when I was away at college all of my classmates had gone to their homes for the four day break. For a reason which I cannot remember I had stayed on campus. Being there in my dorm room alone gave me a deep feeling of loss. I do remember that I "got over it " and life went on.

After my husband had lost his life and I was at home with our two children, I felt something different from loss. Since they were there and needng me to guide them through their adjustment I was too busy to feel other than a deep sadness. Also I was still in shock at the sudden way he died. One afternoon soon after his death, when the children were in school I had fallen asleep in a chair, I awakened suddenly, feeling a "presence" near me. It was not a fearful feeling, rather it was comforting and I felt it was the presence of my husband. I cannot explain the feeling but we were very happy together and somehow I felt that he was looking in on me. Perhaps in spirit he had come back to say his goodbye.

It is always easier to leave a place, person, etc. after a happy time together, than it is to be left after a good time, as in a family gathering, to be the one telling all good-by and come back soon. The emptiness of the house surrounds you and the best way to dispel the feeling is to get busy and find chores to do. That I have perfected to a fine degree. I just "git er dun" and go on. Perhaps that is discipline, but whatever it is, it works for me.

Perhaps it seems premature to be writing about this change now rather than after it has occurred. It may be that I just hate to see the separation become a reality as we are very close to each other and have an understanding which is so natural to sisters. Whatever it is I am sure we will be in close contact by phone checking in to see what is happening, what the doctor has said about tests, What the grandchildren are up to. In her case it would be purple gramma, a name given to her by her great grandchild after a fall left her chin purple. It is enduring none the less. And as the gentleman in our S.S. class said, having grandchildren to brighten our lives makes us feel younger, not older. I am buying into that and the idea that I will eventually recover from being the one left behind after this family three week visit. We will have many memories of this time to sustain us.

Correction, Aunts and Uncles

I misnamed one of my aunts in my entry re: Family Reunions and I want to correct it now. The aunt who lost her life in a car accident after a family reunion way back in 1932 or so was not Hattie, but Pearl. My brother alerted me to my mistake and I am glad to get it corrected. I did have an aunt Hattie, she was married to my mother's brother Joe. They were a large family as families used to be.

Yesterday in S.S. at prayer request time, one gentleman spoke up and said he had a "joy" and it was the upcoming birth of his 13th grandchild. He was elated and commented on how it should make him feel older but instead it made him feel younger. Our grandchildren have a way of making us feel that way, even if we are tired after spending a day with them. Incidentally, their parents are tired also after a day with them!

Thinking of aunts, I recall that when I was around 6 and my brother around 4, we were on a visit to see our aunt Clara and Uncle Matt at their farm in Indiana. I do not recall any other siblings being on that trip. It may be that we two, as the youngest of our eight, could not be left at home with the older ones for any length of time, so were included in the visit.

This story is about the tolerance of older folks for the youngest ones. My uncle Matt had a field of timothy which had been cut and put into the loft of his barn. My brother and I had no doubt set out to explore the farm. We also lived on a small farm of sorts, which had a barn, chickens, cows and a garden, so we felt comfortable being in that setting. Seeing the "hay" in the loft we immediately climbed up the ladder to the loft and proceeded to jump about with abandon in the sweet smelling new cut hay. We were having a glorious time when someone decided to check on the little ones as it had become too quiet. Finding us jumping and squealing with delight no one had the heart to punish us, rather my uncle Matt simply got his pitch fork and began to lift the hay and resettle it as it had been before. This aunt and uncle had no children of their own and I feel they were more forgiving due to that fact. After that incident we were under a more watchful eye.

Another thing I remember about that trip was in the evening all of the grownups were sitting around in a large room and talking, just as families do when they gather. It was a happy comfortable time and I recall falling asleep on my mothers lap as the talking went on into the night. To this day I can fall asleep listening to voices in the background.

Another of my mother's sisters, Amelia, was a talented seamstress. That is how she earned her living for herself and her only son after the death of her husband. In a picture of my mother around the time that she married in the early 1900's, she is wearing an elaborately stitched, long sleeved blouse and dark skirt. No doubt that blouse was made by aunt Mel. Another photo of that time, shows my father in a straw hat and suit. I suspect these were their wedding pictures and for some reason they were photographed separately. This aunt Amelia has a namesake in her sister's great granddaughters. We called our aunt "Mel" and we have a picture of her and her husband with their only son. This son never married and looked after his mother until her death later in his life.

Thinking of corrections, it seems life is full of them at almost every turn. My daughter makes beautiful quilts and when she makes a mistake and needs to correct it, she says she is doing reverse sewing. I seem to do a lot of backing up myself no matter what it is. It must be an acknowledged fact of life, as in reading the directions for the basket I am making, at one point it is directed that you may need to "back" up, take some weaving out and resume with a new length of weaver. So, no need to be discouraged if any project has to be "corrected", better to correct at the point of recognition than to go forward knowing you will lose more ground later by not correcting.

Serenity

My sister is still visiting due to a twist of fate. When her daughter in South Carolina came down with her husband and daughter she had planned to drive her mother back to visit with her this week. However my sister was not feeling well as her blood pressure had fallen too low and she did not feel like traveling. So after some discussion it was decided that my sister would stay here and we would work on getting her blood pressure straightened out. We simply did not take one of the new medicines that the hospital doctors had prescribed on top of all the other ones she was taking. Results in the a.m., she did not have the drop in pressure and she felt fine.

So, I suggested we drive up to Lula where Echols Peach Farm still had some summer peaches to sell. It was a pleasant drive up highway 23 north, to marker 35 and off to the right up a hill to a huge market selling everything from blackberries to a variety of dishes with roosters painted on them. That is what attracted the attention of my sister. She had been to a ladies retreat in her church called de colores, meaning many colors. The rooster was their emblem. I had to convince her not to buy a set of those dishes and then paying for 8 peaches we headed back into town and straight home.

As we drove along we decided the perfect lunch would be pimento cheese sandwiches with tomatoes from the garden so that is just what happened. We both had said a nap was in our future and it happened also.

Upon awakening we both got our current hand work and sat in the nice cool living room and while she embroidered a pillowcase I weaved on a basket. Yes, the one I had put away for many years. It is really looking nice now and I am at the point where I drop the weaving so the rim can be the handle. Putting the weaver in water and also part of the process, making it possible to pull the weavers in tightly ,making it a better basket. I took a break and called a neighbor to come over and just visit but she is on a new cancer drug and did not feel well. After a bit I decided to take some tomatoes over to her, which I did then back to weaving. Supper was one of the easiest to prepare, zapping left overs!!

The day had gone so well, my sister feeling well and me feeling ambitious I suggested we take a hammer and some nails and go up to the entrance where the "beware of dogs" sign had lost a nail in a big wind and needed repairing. She held the nails in her hand as we drove up in the golf cart. I had cautioned her not to drop them as we might find them in a tire one day. I accomplished this task and began to prune the big forsythia bush at the entrance. As I worked she commented and encouraged me to keep on keeping on. Then I said why don't you drive the golf cart around. "ME DRIVE" she exclaimed. Sure, it is easy and I turned it around and got her in the drivers seat with the cart headed down one of the rows. I told her which way to go in order to turn easily. When I saw she kept on going up toward the blue bird box and into no turning zone I began to walk that way. I saw her pondering what to do next so I called to her and told her to put it in reverse, but she could not find the knob to do that. By the time I had walked the length of the vineyard she found the knob and was turning ever so carefully. I met her and got in while she drove back. She was elated with her new found success. " Oh, this is so much fun she exclaimed !!! I never knew this was so much fun." This from my sister who has driven 600 miles in a day on the interstate just to go to visit her mother. So, I said go back and this time turn at the end of the short row. So, feeling very proud of herself she took off and I resumed pruning. Halfway back I saw her stop and also saw our neighbors taking a stroll, holding hands like teenagers and coming down the street alongside the first row of grapes. I heard them call out to her thinking it was me in the cart. She set them straight and she and the neighbors all headed to where I was working. We had a nice chat with them about their birthday visit to Chateau Elan in Winder, Ga. He is a wine lover and really enjoyed seeing how wine was made. All of this was familiar to me as my husband had made wine from the grapes growing in row one beside us. After more pleasant conversation my sister drove us back up the gravel road and to the back of the house. She did a fine job of parking the cart close to the brick porch right where I could hook it up to the charger, getting it ready for the next day.

It was so cool and pleasant sitting there in the adirondack chairs that it just called for a frozen chocolate pop. So, there we sat enjoying the cool of the evening and being cooled further by the frozen treat. We noticed that the security lights had come on and I said maybe the solar lights in front of the house are on so we decided to walk around front and see for ourselves. Walking is not my sister's strong point but off we went. Sure enough when we rounded the corner we saw three of the lights had come on. We knew another would come soon so we both stared it down and then it popped on making us laugh. By the time we had walked past the others were on also and the colorful orb in the blueberry patch was displaying it's many colors. Feeling encouraged my sister wanted to walk around again so we did.

We both commented on what a very nice day it had been. I was so glad we had that day together since our visit had been cut short with her hospital stay. It was like a little gift from God.

Drought

For the past few years we in the south have experienced a drought which seems to linger on. I feel most fortunate to have a deep well and very good tasting water. Each time I have had it tested it comes up with flying colors. Some of the rain we had a few weeks ago encouraged me into believing we were out of the dry spell, but it is still with us.

One of the unfortunate signs is that a golden delicious dwarf apple tree is all brown. I have watered it so much in the last few years, I really wanted that tree to make it, but it has not. Some furry critters have taken all of the fruit that it has borne in the past. I like to dedicate trees to people I care about and this one was dedicated to my second grandson. Sometimes odd things happen to plants. I had sown cosmos seeds around a lot of Asiatic lilies planted inside of a brick enclosure. They did not sprout, however yesterday I noticed one cosmos outside of the bricks. It just seemed to come up overnight and it has buds on it. Now, how did that happen !!!

Years ago I planted a plum tree up near the vineyard and I killed it with kindness. Wanting to give it every advantage, over a period of one summer I dug an 18 inch trench around the drip line. As I dug each section I filled it with kitchen scraps and a little lime sprinkled over the scraps. That tree just went bonkers ! It had so much fruit on it the next spring that it looked abnormal. And I think it was, as the next year it just told me in tree terms, I'M DONE !! Not one green leaf appeared. Now that hurt ! At one time I had five apple trees. One by one over the years they all died. The one that hung on the longest was an early June apple which had striped apples on it. They were almost mealy, not crisp at all. I think the woodpeckers just pecked it to death as there were drilled holes all over the trunk. In reality the woodpeckers were after some kind of bug or something under the bark.

Where I failed with the fruit trees I have had success with leyland cypress. Way back in 1991 I had some high school boys help me plant 11 of them at the west side of my house. In this year 2009 they are way higher than my house and I believe they do shield my house somewhat from the winter winds coming in from the west. During the hot summers, they have grown to the point where they shade the west side of my house. As the sun passes over my house and onto the west side of the trees there is a short time, about three hours when the space between the two is in full sun. Since I have no garage this is a nice spot to park my car in the late afternoon since my driveway goes all around my house. I have learned how to guage walking around my house 20 times to convert into 1/10 of a mile. Since math is not my strong point I could be off a bit on that !!! Perhaps my son will bring his portable mesuring devise up and confirm (or deny) this.

I heard the weather man say last night that in a few days we could expect late afternoon storms. Well, bring it on !! And with it cooler days. Our Georgia gardening guru told one of his concerned listeners that her tomatoes were not turning red because it had been too hot. It seems the fruit not shaded gets too hot to produce what causes them to turn red. I noticed that in my own garden. After picking market baskets filled with huge red tomatoes earlier in the summer, now it has slowed considerably. There are lots of green ones, which does hold promise for red ones eventually. One year I saved green tomatoes when it got too cold for them outside. I actually had a fresh tomato on Thanksgiving day. Now that was fun !!
Since the tomatoes are all that is still flourishing in my veggie garden I am continuing to water then and that is on my list of chores this morning.

The fall fruit is coming in now and yesterday I made fig strawberry jam. I have harvested a few of the almost seedless grapes planted by Mr. Huffman. They are waiting in my fridge to be put into my new juicer which is still in its box. So, as long as we do get a good rain which the weather man promised I can still enjoy the fruits of my labor. As they say, hope springs eternal from the human breast, and I say, especially after a drought.

Happenstance

Yesterday was a wasted day. My sister and I opened a box containing all the materials needed for making two potato baskets. We had the instructions for making said basket having made some years ago. However, the hoops I ordered for these for today were 20 inch ovals and not 10 inch rounds which the directions were written for. But in my usual fashion, I thought we could still make them so after a day of weaving and taking out weaving and trying to change the formula for cutting ribs we simple said "it ain't gonna work" and dropped it all. She had wanted to make them so much and that is why I had ordered the materials in the first place.

After sleeping on it last night, I remembered I had one egg basket which I had started years ago and for some reason had abandoned it along with all of the materials for finishing it. So, I thought she might want to finish it. But our day got side tracked with us trying to find some Stuart Nye jewelry online. I simply could not get the site to accept the information we had to put in. Another road block in our search for something she wanted. She was not feeling well, so I thought I would just finish this other basket for her and mail it to her when she got back home in Ohio.

I had to give it a test run so I soaked the part of the basket I would be working on, the part called the "ear", in some warm water and also the weavers I would be using. At first it was a bit tight, but I kept at it and used a small screw driver in place of an awl used it to make it extra tight as I went along. Pretty soon I had gone down six rows of weaving and it was looking pretty good. I switched to the other side and did six rows and then I knew it was a keeper ! I may not finish it before she leaves but it has really sparked an interest I have always had in baskets and I find myself thinking about what I might make next.

In the afternoon, my sister wanted to look at some old family pictures so we went up
onto the balcony room and I found a large cloth tote filled with old pictures. We had a great time looking at old family photos. I reached for one zip lock bag to see what was in it and I was so surprised to find a lot of letters written to me by my husband way back in 1948 before we were married. I did not even know that I had those letters. It was the summer before we went back to school in Richmond,Ky. We both had one quarter to finish to graduate. I read a few of them and not wanting to keep my sister from viewing the other pictures I put them away and I will return to them at my leisure.

When I get up each day it is like a whole new adventure for me. I never know where it will lead me.When I greeted this day I certainly did not know it would take me into the past, for an unfinished basket or for some long lost letters.

Harvesting

Harvesting can cover a lot of ground. It could be "bringing in the sheaves", or bringing in the tomatoes (which I did a lot of earlier in the summer). Today however I was bringing in the figs ( and some of the almost seedless muscadine grapes). Fortunately I am able to drive my handy dandy golf cart right up to the largest fig tree (the other two are covered with kiwi vines - my fault for not pruning properly). Simply stepping out and reaching into the tree and pulling off the best and ripest figs is sheer pleasure for me. Usually I see a big blue jay flying out of the tree when I approach. Today I did not, but half way into the job I heard him squawk from a nearby tree. I distinctly heard him say " how dare you enter my teritory"!! But I simply replied, "hello jay". That silenced him.

It was a good yield as I have learned that if the fig is large and feels soft it does not need to be completely brown (these are brown turkey figs). I now have enough to make strawberry fig jam. A very easy recipe which came to me from my teaching buddy, Lou. Who would have thought you could combine the figs from the Bible with the modern day jello and come up with such a great toast topper !

As for the grapes, I did not gather as many as I would have liked but it is early in the season for them. What makes them so great - for me - is that they were purchased and planted by my good friend Bob Huffman. He looked after the vineyard for me for many years. He even set up an honor "pay if you pick" system. We learned a lot of people just like to come in and pick their own and that is fine with me. It is not a money making project for me, just a love of gardening, but any money accrued was pocket money for Bob. Many of the once 200 grape vines have been cut down as the years have gone by. I have also learned that some of the men in the area like to make wine with the grapes and also anything else in the fruit family. It is a fun hobby for them. My own husband once made wine with the variety called Higgins. They are an interesting grape as they turn pink at maturity. They are fleshy and also tasty. It seems each of the grapes have their own distinct flavor. I was surprised this year that the almost seedless vines got ripe first. In past years it has been a variety called cowart. I only have one of those and it is planted just to the right as you come through the entrance. That is a new vine which came up from its mother vine. The mother vine either rotted through the main stalk or was cut down. Whatever the reason there was a mighty root system so all of these sprouts came up one spring and I chose one to keep and snipped off all the rest. Now after two years of all the energy going to one stalk it is a flourishing vine with plenty of grapes on it. The dark grapes are interesting in that when they ripen they turn black and have a dull appearance on the hull. Just a gentle pressure will tell you which ones are ready for picking. Also a taste test will let you know. Of course until you learn the tricks of the trade you may have to spit out a few !!!

Now that I have harvested, I must make good use of my harvest. And I certainly plan to do that. Whatever you are harvesting today I hope it is as rewarding to you as mine was to me. Just remember, sometimes it takes years to see the results of your labor. In Luke chapter 6:45 Jesus said that "a good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is good". That is King James version, your Bible may say it differently. However you read it may it be satisfying to you.

Tempus Fugit

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I have attained the age of 83 and that I have three grown grandsons. Before I became a grandmother I was not anxious for that stage of my life, perhaps because I thought it connoted gray hair and slowing down of all things fun. I simply did not like the term "granny". I was so busy with my job and my own life that it did not occur to me that having a grandchild would enrich my life and fill it with joy.

SO, I was caught completely off guard when, on Christmas day, 25 years ago my daughter and son-in-law insisted on coming up on Christmas day. I had resisted their urging to let them come up as the pump in the well was not working and we had no water in the house. Also, on Christmas day, no hope of getting it repaired. But insisting that they wanted to come up anyway I just gave in. Soon after their arrival that day my daughter handed me a small card. I thought it was for a gift and when I opened it and saw what it said I burst out crying ! Not the reaction they had hoped for !!!! But I was overwhelmed with some inner feeling which I cannot explain, a feeling of awe and joy. For I was informed that I was to become a grandmother!

In due time when that little boy arrived, I first saw him in a hospital room in the arms of his fraternal grandfather. His only living grandfather, as my daughters father was lost to us when she was 16 years old. I was the only grandmother as his fraternal grandmother was deceased also. So there we were, just as pleased as if this were our very own child, perhaps a more intense connection than with our own children,as we viewed his birth from a different perspective.

This firstborn grandchild gave me my name and guess what, it was not Granny, or Mamaw, or Nanny or Grandmother at all. It happened this way. When he was just a little tyke his mother had him sitting at their bay window looking out , waiting for me to arrive by car. Suddenly he called to his mother, "Bubbie is here". No one knows where he came up with that name. It is a name Jewish children call their grandmothers. And I LOVE it. !! Sometimes it is shortened to Bubs. I think it fits me perfectly.

So many memories come flooding in regarding this first grandson. He had been home only a day from the hospital when his mother had to go back into the hospital for a problem. I had come down to see if I could help out. His father came walking in with that little babe wrapped up in a blanket and cradled in his arm like a football, and completely in control. His every action exuded confidence. Bubbie was not needed.

In my mind's eye I can still see him ,a few months old, on a blanket on the floor of their bonus room. Christmas music was filling the air. Dimitri was on his back with arms and legs wiggling about as he responded to his uncle Bruce cooing and talking to him. His eyes so bright and he cooing back to this attention of his uncle on his hands and knees, bending over him. It was hard to tell who was responding to whom!!

The next spring he was at my house around Easter. I had a wind up bunny that hopped all about. I put it on the floor in front of Dimitri. He was lying on his stomach. His reaction was to arch his back, wave his arms about excitedly and kick his legs wildly. His eyes were as big as saucers as he rocked and squealed with glee at the sight of the bunny hopping around in front of him.

And now, in 2009 that firstborn is far from home, in graduate school starting on his chosen life work. Working toward a doctorate, he wants to be a college professor, like his great, great grandfather before him. This great, great grandfather had a love of teaching. He took in students who could not pay and tutored and fed them in his home. He helped to establish Gilead Baptist College in Kentucky. That school is now defunct but the teaching he did there lives on through all of his students.

So time has a way of keeping on. I do not view it as a sadness, but as inevitable progress, hopefully an improvement with each generation. Proverbs 3:13 says "Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding". I think that is what education does for us. The better we understand, the wiser we are and better will our choices be. So, I wish my grandson Godspeed in his chosen profession. I think he will approach it with vigor and enthusiasm, just as he did that little windup bunny.

Family reunions

The visit with my sister started out great. Our brother came down from Virginia so we had a little mini reunion. If our brother in St. Louis had been able to come it would have been perfect. We three went to worship on Sunday. Our pastor was not there but one of our S.S. class members, a retired history teacher had the lesson. He made it all very interesting. In church two former members, both lay leaders, had the service. They even led the communion service. Even though our pastor was not there we went ahead as though he were. We knew how to properly carry on without him. One of my favorite humns which I had requested to be sung this summer was in the bulletin. It is Great Is Thy Faithfulness. On Sunday afternoon my daughter and her husband came up with their two dogs. We had a great afternoon. The game of hearts always comes into play when we get together with them. I had a perfect chance to "shoot the moon". I had the queen of spades and the A, King, Queen, Jack, Ten and five of hearts. Alas I could not take that first trick when blood was shed. So instead of shooting the moon, I accumulated a LOT of points. Much to the glee of everyone else. Before that I had zero score. But we had a great time laughing, etc. as families do when they all get together.

On Monday my sister got up and had an odd feeling on her left side. Her daughter, son-in law and granddaughter had come over for the afternoon. While the young and adventureous ones went down to the lake to swim we decided my sister should have this "feeling" checked out at the hospital. Her daughter and I went in with her and the doctors decided to keep her overnight. She was there until Friday. After all the tests and the waiting and the thorough checking, nothing could be found to cause the problem. An adjustment was made in her medications and we came back home on Friday determined to make up for lost time, to enjoy the rest of her visit.

We have plans to make two potato baskets. I have all of the materials and perhaps we can get into that tomorrow after a good night of sleep. Years ago we made some of them and it was so much fun. I have one half finished upstairs so perhaps with her encouragement I will finish it. The last time I tried to make something with basket material I failed miserably. My sister-in-law had sent me a carolina snowflake which had been made by a basket maker in her home town of Abingdon, Va. My sister wanted one like it so a friend and I tried our best using directions to duplicate it. It was far more challenging than I had thought. I was really disappointed with my results. SO, I just ordered two from a basket place online and mailed them to her.

Now, we will try to make these two using new matrials and the same book with instructions in it which we used years ago !!

Sometimes things do not always turn out as expected. Once when I was very small my parents hosted a family reunion at their home in Kentucky. As the various members were heading back to their respective homes in another part of the country, my uncle had a car accident and our aunt Hattie lost her life in that accident. My sister who is with me now reminded me that she was riding in the car behind him when the accident occurred. She was on her way back to visit with one of the aunts and uncles. I am sure my uncle Henry carried a heavy burden of guilt regarding her death. On a happy note however, I recall at that reunion my sister and I were sent to a neighbors house to spend the night so that our bedrooms could be used for our guests. We were sent on our way with pockets full of chocolate icebox cookies, iced with vanilla. Oh how good they were as we walked along the road and munched on them. We went to stay with the Pope family who had children our age. their daughter was named Nola and she was a beautiful girl. I have a lot of memories of living in that area, all happy ones, except for poor aunt Hattie. Perhaps some reunion must have a blot on them so we can appreciate the times when family visits are perfect.