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.