EHINACEA, ET AL

Those are echinacea flowers, or straw flowers. Yes you consume this plant to ward off colds, and yes it is growing in one of my front flower beds. The vegetable gardens, like my children, have gone absolutely wild and seem to be all the better for it. My Three Sisters Garden of corn, beans and squash is just as delighted to be here as if an old Indian squaw had planted them instead of this old white squaw.

What I try to do is to make the soil as rich as possible, snuggle the plants and seeds in there all nice and cozily, and then let them grow as they will, creating their own barrier against weeds as they spread shade and crowd them out. And since I share the yard with a beagle and two of the cats, I have various little plots spread about, and fenced in. So here is a tour of my somewhat mixed up but (I think) lovely, growing things...

This is a side view of the three sisters, along with their friends, the heirloom tomatoes (Juliet, Ox Heart, Abe Lincoln and one or two others whose names escape me right now), basil, Italian parsley, and green peppers.

Granny Smith Apple Tree:

The pic above is another little garden, full to overflowing with two tomato plants (also heirlooms from last year) that volunteered to grow from seed this year, pickling cucumbers, tabasco peppers and chili peppers. The cucumbers will not be restrained and are overtaking their boundaries, reaching out to a volunteer pumpkin (or maybe its some other squash) growing just outside the plot, and threatening to mix it up with another pumpkin and some cantaloupes, fenced in a few feet away. I will show it to you now, and I think you can click on these.

And now, for some of the flowers....

And me, finally taking a bit of Sunday rest. To be continued....

DON'T BE SIDELINED BY DISAPPOINTMENT

 Disappointment surely comes to all the living, sometimes quite often, indeed.  But I find it helpful to acknowledge the feeling, allow myself to experience a bit of grief, and then with God's help to get the heck out of there. Either I give some thought to various ways I might redeem the situation, or if its something that cannot be fixed, I start looking ahead in different directions and seek out new opportunities.

Sometimes something we thought was coming to us does not come after all. Plans get canceled, opportunities are lost through a misunderstanding, people do not do or simply cannot be what we want them to do or be.
Hope is such a tenuous, fragile thing, and so easily dashed, isn't it?

And if we're not careful to guard against it, we might be embarrassed and take ourselves to task for being so foolish as to believe in something that didn't materialize for us. I would urge that we do not berate ourselves this way, lest we become cynical, bitter or despairing.  To live in those attitudes is to live less and less.

That is why we must pass through each denizen of disappointment in a brisk walk and not loiter. It is the seedy part of town and though we cannot avoid passing through it from time to time, yet we must never stop long enough to get stuck there. Wallowing in the hurt will eventually bind us into a type of mental and emotional slavery.  Better to keep our eyes fixed on what lies ahead, just beyond our disappointment, and walk steadily on.

Besides, sometimes when things don't go our way, there are cosmic though perhaps, presently hidden reasons why things fell through. Things happened this way for our benefit. If you love the Lord, or are at least open to the possibility of relationship with Him, you can be sure that He has a perfect plan for you, "for I know the plans I have for you", says the Lord, "plans for a future and a hope". And lastly, remember that "all things work together for good to them that love God and are called according to His purpose".

Sometimes God withholds the good from you, in order that He may give you the best. I wish you the best tonight and I pray that you will wake up tomorrow, ready once again to say yes to all the possibilities.

A Nap in the Afternoon

Lullaby, by Trisha Romance

Babies aren't the only ones who need them. Being home and having the opportunity to rest for a bit during the hottest part of the day is one of the true joys of life - in fact it makes life civilized. I am very proud and grateful to be an American but am I the only one of us who is not ashamed of saying that I sometimes indulge myself in a bit of rest? I am not a lazy person, but after a respectable amount of work, I sometimes need to recharge. But that is considered shameful, isn't it?

What is up with our incessant drive to do more, produce more, take on more and more volunteer work, (and make sure we brag about it) and push ourselves on and on until somebody ends up with a stress-induced autoimmune disease, or carpel tunnel syndrome, or gets involved in an accident?

I attended a day of discernment at our church on Saturday, in which we candidates for pastoral council were to meet with each other, discuss many issues and then vote for who we thought the Lord would have us pick for the council. Needless to say, I was not elected, and for that I am both slightly disappointed, but also massively relieved, since its good to know oneself well enough to know one is not a leader.

But as usual, two of the people elected were mothers of young children, one with a high stakes third shift job in another city and who has a military husband who is often away on deployment. I do not know the other one's employment status, but I do know she has very young children, and she is involved in other ministries in the church. So I guess this would be the perfect time for the Lord to remind me that His thoughts are not my thoughts and His ways are not my ways, because if the Lord's top choice for young mothers is for them to be away from their children as much as possible, or distracted with a whole lot going on outside the home, then I have misunderstood much of what I have read in His Word.

Personally, I voted for the men. Contrary to the wisdom of the "Goddess", I think men are absolutely wonderful creatures who make really good leaders, since they are able to make hard decisions without sentimentality and since they tend to see the forest in spite of all the sappy trees.  Really. Since this is my blog I will venture out here and say that, to me, younger women have much more important and noble things to do than to get involved with the rat race of the world, and older women who get themselves into positions of power tend to get kind of psycho. Even their physical appearance becomes an unsettling reflection of the weirdness within.....

And their opinion of themselves can become a bit unhinged. Do you remember when Nancy Pelosi decided that what the Muslim world needed was a visit from her, whereupon this grandmother took herself to see the heads of Islamic states (can we say socially conservative?) with her skirt hiked up like this.....

I have no doubt that they were very impressed. What was she thinking? Was she trying to seduce them? To be fair, I am no fan of Sarah Palin, either. She sacrificed a lot to get onto the national stage, including her family's privacy and dignity.


I am confused about a lot of this so-called progress. It must be that there is nothing wrong with this brave new world for women, and the constant emasculation and bashing of males, the power wielding old ladies wearing extreme facelifts and tight miniskirts, kids raised by hirelings or else raising themselves, and maniacal busyness.

I know what to do. After lunch I will take a wee nap, then make myself a cup of tea. Perhaps that will help me to make better sense of things then.

In the beginning...

Here is a shot of some of the things I have growing in the backyard. I am going to put in some more corn in that nearest row, where the first batch didn't come up so well. I need to take that straw from last year and break it up to mulch around the plants.

Hoping to get some more pics of the roses and flower beds, and also the vegetables as they, Lord willing, grow and progress their way to the table. I am using my basil, oregano, parsley and mint right now, and expect I might harvest some zucchini and cukes in the near future.

Sometimes the plants that show so much promise, that seem to do so well at first, meet with (natural) disaster, or else, as used to be the case quite often, my husband mows them down (on accident, I'm told). Hence, the fencing around everything. There to keep the dog and cats out (I tell him).

People are like plants. The flash and dazzle type are often the ones that disappoint us sooner or later (and usually sooner). And the ones that don't seem too impressive at first are often those who bear the most fruit. Never write someone off. I learned that a long time ago as a child, when I used to be singled out as the one who wasn't allowed to be in the company of others' children, considered as some sort of bad seed, I guess.

I've learned that in the growing season, it is often the seed that sprouts by itself, without being planted but rather just comes up from some remnant of the previous season, that proves to be the hardiest and most fruitful of all. It is usually found in some odd location where you don't particularly want it, but it deserves its berth because it is after all, a volunteer. It says, "This place perfectly suits me and I am thriving here. Stand back and watch me prove myself to you!" If you can keep others from mowing it down, you'll most likely get a lot of pleasant fruit from it. I have had pumpkins, cantaloupes and tomatoes galore from such volunteers. Something worth thinking about when one summarily dismisses another soul whom God has loved into existence.

Some more pics of the place....

CATCHING UP

I have not had the time, nor frame of mind to write lately. As some of  you know, each spring I leave the confines of the castle, cross the moat and go to a seasonal job scoring essay portions of standardized tests given to young folks. Though I've been on a break for the last week or so, I have been very busy at home with spring chores and working outside.

Cleaning out garden beds, planting, trimming and related activities have joined the usual tasks of housework, shopping, cooking, baking, keeping the peace, starting some trouble myself, dealing with the aftermath of that, church, cleaning the church, choir, talking to teachers about progress reports, or the lack of progress, and being a listening ear to troubled family members and friends. Its usually me bothering them, so its only fair to take my turn now. Oh yes, and there was a medical emergency in the family last week. Almost forgot that one, and praise God, it turned out well. And a birthday dinner for 12 the other night.

I confess I have been doing a little reading, a little research, and watching a few detective shows. I was a detective once, and will always be nosy, but its safer to watch other, more attractive people solve mysteries on tv these days.

So its back to work scoring schoolwork this morning, to get a little rest. We have had plenty of rain lately so our gardens are looking really good, thank God, so I guess I can tear myself away from them for a few hours and go earn some money. I certainly have spent enough lately.

Have I expressed lately how much I love this life I have fashioned? I feel like I have won the lottery this morning. We are together, stuff is pretty much paid for, and birds are singing outside. Have a good day y'all.

ON HEDGEROWS AND OTHER BOUNDARIES
I was commenting on Lady Lydia's blog, Homeliving.blogspot.com, about how, in perusing information on establishing a more natural back yard, I discovered information on England's hedgerows and the keen interest many people have in preserving them. I went back and found some basic information about them at the website of the borough of Bexley, London, England, from which this illustration and the following information were taken: 

Hedgerows are historical living boundary demarcations, made up of small trees, shrubs and climbers. They act as essential wildlife corridors  

Apart from forming the traditional aesthetic character of the English landscape, they also offer protection from winds, pollution, noise and trespass and afford privacy. Hedgerows prevent soil erosion and water run off, "green up" unsightly urban areas, provide verdant backdrops to developments and cover or prevent graffiti on walls  

Hedgerows support a myriad of species including nesting and feeding hedgerow birds such as whitethroats and chaffinches, bats, butterflies, moths, bees and other insects such as ladybirds, beetles and lacewings. They afford warmth, protection and shelter for small mammals such as dormice and rabbits and their predators, hibernating reptiles (slow worms, grass snakes and lizards) and amphibians (toads and frogs)

• Bats, also, use hedgerows as safe travel routes between roosting and feeding sites
• Hedgerows provide colour in the spring, flowers and nectar in the summer and berries/fruit in the autumn
• "Ancient" hedgerows, which tend to support the greatest diversity of plants and animals, are defined by the UK BAP as "those which were in existence mainly between 1720 and 1840 in Britain"
• "Species-rich" hedgerows may be taken as those containing five or more native woody species on average in a thirty metre length or those with fewer woody species but a rich basal flora of herbaceous plants.

I have stated that I have begun to establish a natural boundary (a hedgerow of sorts) along the back width of my yard to encourage a more diverse, and ecologically sound outdoor space, and to add some beauty and privacy, too.

I have come, perhaps rather late in life, to respect and appreciate boundaries. The natural one around my yard is also fortified by a six foot wooden stockade fence. It adds structure and precise definition to the boundaries of our land.  That is a primary function of boundaries - to define.

They define where what is mine ends and where what is yours begin, and keep many a mistake from happening. Boundaries protect the vulnerable who reside within them (toddlers and puppy dogs come to mind). They establish the playing field, which gives rise to the orderly rules of play.

I remember Nicky Gumble, the Anglican priest who founded the Alpha course (a very fine Christian formation program) talking about his unfortunate attempt to sub for a tardy referee at his children's football (soccer) game.  Since he didn't know the precise boundaries of the field and wasn't well acquainted with the rules of the game, chaos ensued. Children were upset and getting hurt and things quickly began to get out of control. In the nick of time, the real ref showed up, halted play, and quickly produced a piece of chalk with which he marked off the edges of the playing field. After this most important step, he proceeded to resume play and enforced the rules of the game, much to the relief and gratitude of children and parents alike.

The Lord God has set out His boundaries for us, and happy we are if we safely stay within them. He has set them for our salvation and that we may have life abundant on this earth.  The children in the misbegotten soccer game were not having fun when there were no rules nor discernible lines drawn, but instead were getting upset and even injured. When the referee came and defined the borders and the rules (which are in and of themselves boundaries), the little players began to relax and enjoy themselves again.

I am afraid that as the lines of societal propriety have been crossed, and the ancient hedgerows of faith and purity have been breached and assaulted to their near destruction, we are now suffering the injuries and dismay that such demonic violence has wrought.  Have we not lost our way, and become impoverished madmen, wandering into the paths of destruction?  We hear blasphemy, the most explicit sexual talk, cruelty and depravity spew forth from the television set, and from our own loved ones, and barely wince or make protest. In fact, God help us, those terrible things have begun to come from our own lips.  Think of what you say casually now, thing which you probably gasped at or held in contempt 20 years ago.

It was in the late 80's when, one Sunday, our pastor asked during a sermon, whether anyone had seen an important, recent ball game.  He obviously wanted to tie what happened to the home team into the point of his sermon. So he asked the congregation. A pre-teen boy raised his hand at the back of the church. When asked by the pastor what had happened to our team, the boy loudly replied to the entire congregation,
"They got their butt whipped."

An involuntary gasp came from the congregation as the term the boy had used "got their butt whipped" was not in general usage in polite society and was considered vulgar and crass. I know it seems hard to believe now, but it was.  It  just stuck out there, like the proverbial sore thumb.  Also everyone immediately felt embarrassed for our pastor who now had to respond and we also felt somewhat aghast about the parents, realizing that the child was probably used to hearing this kind of talk at home as a matter of course.

Well now the vast majority of us use this term like honey dripping off the hive, and consider it a mild euphemism for what is normally expressed.  I don't believe many pastors themselves would even notice anything amiss if they themselves used expressions like this in their own sermons.  And in fact, this little vignette is but the mildest of examples of the kind of boundary busting that has and is now occurring in our society and our personal lives.

To be continued.....

MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS MAKES ALL THINGS BETTER

I had been very grumpy today, whining and complaining about how I wanted to start being a little selfish, and do some of the same things I see other people doing. Especially people who are my age, not to mention the majority of younger folks. Things like, go on trips, buy jewelry, get manicures and pedicures and the like.  But after I had spouted off about all that, I felt bad inside.  Because I know that I would have to sweep my young adults, my father-in-law, and the animals out of my life in order to do all those things. And then we could downsize. And stare at each other and the four walls.  Or I could go out there and get a career! 

Wow, what was I thinking??  None of that appeals to me. Especially getting rid of everybody. True, I do want my children to become productive members of society with their own families, and while they are here at home, to help out more and make better choices, but do I want to boot them out onto the sidewalk? No, I really do not. And Grandpa. He is doing very well physically now, but he does not wish to return to his home in another state, because he will be terribly lonely. Do I want to pack him off to stay by himself and be lonely? No, I do not.

And these no-account animals. Do I wish that I would not have to step in hairball throw-up when I come downstairs in the morning, nor have the silly dog run in from the backyard and proceed to track mud all over the house? Of course I would. And I would not like to have to pay so much to keep them. But they are part of the family, and they bring us joy and entertainment, and I would never want something bad to happen to them, just so that I can lessen my work, or go get my hair done professionally. 

In fact tonight I thought the little one (kitty cat) had somehow gotten outside and was lost. This is when my ungrateful attitude came back to haunt me.  I began to pray earnestly that I would find her, and after about 20 minutes of looking high and low, inside and out, I realized that she was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, obscured by the table cloth. Oh, I was so happy and thankful. And that led me to be thankful for my husband and children, the rest of the family, my home and all the good things in my life. And thankful for all of the bad things that have not happened to us.

Tomorrow is our youngest child's confirmation day. I am so grateful that he and the others have been brought up in the Lord. I am also so very thankful to our Lord for giving me Himself, that I might live forever with Him, and that I might continue to share the good news of Christ's love for us all.  

So may we all lay our heads down on our pillows tonight, counting our myriad and marvelous blessings, and bask in the contentment of knowing that "all things work together for good, to them that love God, and are called according to His purpose.

THE CULTURE OF HOME

The word "culture" comes from the Latin and its original meaning dealt with the cultivation of soil for crops. So it is natural to consider that the "culture" of the home is something one must "cultivate" in order for it to exist and thrive.

We who treasure our home lives have an instinctive knowledge of what it takes to make a house a home, and it has very little to do with ticket price, address or stainless steel appliances.  Indeed, the art and let's face it, work of home-culture building is the one-of-a- kind molding that takes place in the space of the minutes and hours which comprise the years of our lives.  Instead of hiring the landscaper to design and implement your garden space, you spend a dollar fifty for a small six-pack of impatiens and plant them lovingly in a little bed in the front yard, and watch them grow and multiply into a charming little mass of cheery color. Next year you add some marigolds or primroses. Or take a doily from a box of things that Grandma left behind, and place it with care on a less than beautiful table.  Add a candle and a little figurine from the dollar store and you have given the eye something lovely and homey to rest upon.  It just takes a little time and thought and very little money, but you have cultivated some warmth and beauty in your home. And if you keep that little area free of clutter and the table cleaned and polished, you have made a tiny patch of heaven, right here on earth!

People will naturally feel relaxed and comforted in your home if you build its culture, because they feel they have entered a place that is full of real life. The best hospitality is when someone goes to the trouble to invite you in, gives you a warm beverage and a cookie, and after drawing you comfortably into their little home circle, they kind of take the focus off you and let you become part of the real life that is happening around you.  A lot of this came naturally in former times, and now we need to re-learn how to build our homes and build into the lives of others whom God puts in our path.

Back in ancient times, like when I was little, women used to drop in on each other and without fuss or thought start working alongside the hostess, snapping string beans, folding laundry or tending to the baby. It was all quite natural as well as quite helpful.  There was a lot more visiting in those days because there was someone home to visit. These were the times that women would use to talk with each other about subjects light or profound as they worked along, and thus be satisfied to welcome their tired husbands home at the end of the day with a good meal, without feeling the need to extract a "discussion" from them, and rake them over the conversational coals.   As a youngster, I loved to sit nearby and listen to the conversations, playing with my dolls and thinking about how great it was to live in the very center of the universe.

Perhaps it was easier then to think about the home as an important place to cultivate, guard and preserve. Back then, we didn't have quite as many entertainment distractions, nor any strident feminists dinging on our mothers' heads about how repressed they were.  We also didn't have a clothes dryer, dishwasher, microwave oven, or even an electric can opener.  In fact our can opener swung out from the wall by the kitchen door, and you just positioned the can up there and turned this crank until it opened.  Best can opener I ever used! The pencil sharpener was mounted in another room, and that was the best and most efficient pencil sharpener ever!   Funny.      

So indeed, manual labor was kind of built into a housewife's day, but so was the satisfaction of being the builder of her home. No two houses were remotely alike, and each family had their own unique way of expressing themselves in their home. The Bernard's had Victorian furniture and a kitty cat clock in their kitchen whose eyes and tail moved to the rhythm of its tick-tock.  Mr. Allen had a huge second yard that was a vegetable garden (complete with greenhouse and asparagus bed), my mother made the best coffee and baked wonderful pies and you could perform surgery in sanitary safety on Mrs. Reinhart's bathroom floor. My father had a workshop in his basement and his mother made wine every Fall in hers.

Perhaps people just need permission once again, to take pride in their home life - which is something different than making sure it is tricked out with all manner of granite and expensive flooring. It has more to do with a man taking joy and satisfaction in getting out there quickly to shovel and scrape that snow off the walk, or a wife touching up his no-iron shirt with, of all things, an iron. Or taking time to arrange some new things on the mantle and standing back to make sure they look just right. Or sitting down when you absolutely do not have time, and rocking that annoying child who is overtired and might just be coming down with something.

These and a million (at least) other small, routine, often repetitive deeds are what build the culture of home. They make memories, they bind hearts together, and forge the future. They keep the embers of love burning just enough to be able to once again be fanned into flame. They will give your children something to lean back on when they are out there someday as scared adults on the battlefields of life.

Right now, you just need to be there. Unplugged and interested. You need to be home.

Surprised by joy would be an understatement.....

"But God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

May this Easter season bring you special graces and all the joy of the Resurrection.  May we all come to realize His presence and His concern for us and for His creation. May we be co-laborers with Him in all we say and do. And may the Lord bless us, in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

LET US NOT LOSE HEART

Julien Dupré
(1851 - 1910)
The Reapers

 

“And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall
reap if we do not lose heart” (Galatians 6:9 NKJV)

 

 

You know, sometimes you just pray and pray for God to change people's hearts or change a situation, or change you. But it doesn't happen. You look up to see the heavens are brass.  I remember when my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, how I prayed. But as I prayed, I knew that I was praying against God's will.  I do not know why I felt this, but I did. I prayed anyways. She lived for an uncharacteristically long time for her diagnosis - six and a half months, and perhaps this was just so we would come to a place where we would be able to let her go.

 

Then there are times, and I am not making this up, where I have felt the Lord prodding me to name my need, specifically, like when we had very little money and some big debt. I was doing dishes, alone in the kitchen and I was thinking about it. I felt that nudge to just say what I needed. So I figured it out in my head, and said, "Well, Lord, I think $20,000 would take care of absolutely everything."

 

The next week, a wealthy relative of mine just decided, unsolicited and out of the blue, to give me $20,000. I say, out of the blue, because that money just seemed to fall out of the sky, right from heaven.

 

But I think that sometimes I have prayed for years without answer for a thing, and persevered, just because the alternative is a dark place that I do not want to go - that place is called despair. And that is a place where we must never go, nor even entertain the thought for a millisecond. Not when we battle in prayer against true evil, or for things that are undeniably right. 

 

There are other things, insurmountable things in my life, other people's choices and things I cannot control, and for those I must continue to learn acceptance.  That is for the best, and it builds holiness. But there are also things which I cannot quit praying for while I live and those things mostly concern my children. And children in general. 

 

And ironically, I feel burdened always to pray for those who are discouraged.  When I speak to people or when I write, I always feel myself led to encourage someone, or make people laugh and feel light-hearted. Because I cannot stand for people to be overwhelmed with sadness or fear. Because despair, for me, is always at the door, right there, pushing, pushing. And I do not wish that for anybody.

 

So with God's help, indeed it is most likely God alone who does it, I push back. Sometimes hard, sometimes barely able to resist, but yet I am still standing. So I would just like to write tonight, on Good Friday, the night the Light of the World lay extinguished in the damp, cold blackness of the tomb, that we must keep on, keep on praying, keep on knocking, keep on seeking God. We will sow our prayers and patiently tend our little fields, the lives He has given us, and wait for the Easter Sunday of answered prayer. We will reap a bountiful harvest if we faint not. We invest our time and our hopes, as the farmer who sows and tends his field. Why? Because as Peter said, "Where else are we going, Lord? You alone have the words of eternal life".

 

He's the only game in town, as far as I'm concerned, and I've got to trust, and so do you, that even when we don't feel peace or feel we are about to be swallowed up by worry and anxiety, that He is there, He is not surprised, He loves us and He is working everything out for the best. And as regards our loved ones, He does not desire the death of any sinner, but rather that they all turn and be saved. So, therefore, we keep on praying that they'll find their way, along the narrow path lit by our prayers, to the doorstep of their very  home.

 

 

IF YOU RECALL SOME OF THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE BY WHAT KIND OF FOOD WAS SERVED, YOU MIGHT BE ITALIAN (AND ARE ALSO FAT, PROBABLY)

 

I remember Easter Sunday at my house, particularly when my Grandma Bernardina blew into town with two huge pans of lasagna or home made manicotti on the back seat of my uncle's Cadillac. If it was manicotti,  her homemade sauce would be full of meatballs and sweet and hot Italian sausage.  Accompanied by a big green salad. When the second course came, which was my mother's ham, sweet potatoes, asparagus, corn, apple sauce, black olives, rolls, and heaven knows what else, people would have to strain to make room for it. This would tick off my mother, who would twist up her face in that pained look she'd perfected, and exclaim with precision each year like she was reading from a Hollywood script, "Oh Ma, why do you always ruin my dinner?!"

My grandmother would never reply, but just sit there looking tres smug, maybe stuffing a roll into her mouth (she always did love bread, and while people were yelling at her to stop eating it, would lean in towards me and say with a big bread-eating grin, "Me like-a dis! Mmm!").

Of course, there would be wine and beer, as well as soda, but I never remember anybody being drunk. Except drunk on excess dinner. To add insult to injury, dinner was followed by Italian Easter pies, coffee and cookies, and finally fruit and nuts. And ye olde Easter basket. Sometimes they would have expresso in those little demitasse cups, explaining that it was very good for your digestion. Maybe that is why they lived through washing all those dishes afterwards.

Interesting that I can click off the menu like its remnants are still clinging to the back of my hand, but I do not remember any of my Easter outfits. Usually we were covering up our bright pastel dresses with winter coats anyways, because Easter comes way too early up north for one to make a definitive fashion statement. At least not a positive statement. Since one's Catholic church was usually in one's Catholic neighborhood, most of us walked to Mass in our finery, shivering but joyful just the same. I had the added pleasure (since I've always been insufferably curious about everything and everyone) of living a few houses away from the church, so I would get to check out all the people walking to and from Mass (since we had several each Sunday). I think my best friend, Arlene went to the 7:30. She always was dressed like a perfect doll. And the Bernard's next door (they anglicized their name from Bernardi, I think) went maybe at 9:15, so I would sometimes glance out the window and pass the time watching them and other ladies mince by in their high heels, with their outfits fitting beautifully because they were all wearing girdles back then. Never a vulgar jiggle or outline of cellulite beneath the dress. In fact, the first time I noticed a woman (older and a bit chunky) without the benefit of a foundation garment, we were walking behind her on the way to church, and my mother whispered in horror, (committing a venial sin, I'm sure), "That woman isn't wearing a girdle!"  

"How do you know?" I whispered back. And then she pointed out the reverberating cottage cheese, inadequately obscured by polyester (not a good choice, either). Somewhere in the recesses of my young mind a tiny alarm bell sounded, a bell like fancy people used to ring in movies when they were calling for their maid, but this tinkling little bell announced that someone had taken a beebee gun and shot the tiniest hole, all but unnoticeable, really, but a hole nevertheless, through a window in the fortress of Western Civilization. You know you're in trouble when the middle-aged start throwing off restraint.

I also remember that we always had pretty hats, our Easter bonnets, and pastel or navy blue dress shoes. Never white of course, because back then it was considered gauche to wear white before Memorial Day. Who made up this stuff? Yet following it made everyone more relaxed, because we knew what the rules were. Speaking of rules, the rules were pretty easy for the men and boys: Thou shalt wear a suit, dress shirt and tie, or at least a dress shirt, dress pants, and tie, and thou shalt not EVER go to church with unpolished dress shoes! But men seemed to love to polish shoes.  My father had a little shoe shine kit, with Kiwi brand shoe polish, buffing rags and boar bristle brushes, and he seemed to relish the weekly task. I know I liked the smell of the freshly polished leather, and was fascinated by watching him polish away at that shoe leather until you could almost see your reflection when you looked at it.

Back in the kitchen, all of the women would be wearing aprons, as they did every day anyways. They never wore much, if any makeup, and they all had Easter corsages which would be safely stowed in the refrigerator right after church in hopes of keeping them fresh for another run or two.

The food was always eaten loud. Do you know what I mean? Hot, too, of course, but Loud. With gestures. Laughing, or scolding, and with joking and teasing, perhaps, and lots of opinion giving, in not one, but two languages, all LOUD. It was always fun to me to be outside the house when we had company, standing under the windows and listening to them talk (because crazy Italians who live up north are notorious lovers of fresh air and get overheated by the cooking and the shouting and leave the windows open, even if its just a crack). If the talking was in Italian and you didn't know what they were saying you would bet that they were having a big argument, but no, it was just a discussion. Discussions themselves seem to have gone out the window nowadays, because nobody is home to cook, eat and discuss with each other. And the Internet, the tawdry replacement, seems to be only for endless arguments and name calling, which is really bad for the digestion.

I told my family that this year we are going out for Easter dinner, because I am singing in the choir, and cleaning after church, and some people have to work early or later, but now, as I think about it, I am changing my mind. Because I want my children to have a continuing tradition of holiday dinners at home. I want them to be able to look back and be built up in their spirits as they reminisce, the way I am when I think back. I may not be wearing a girdle that day, but I will at least go for the control top panty hose AND slip. Though they cannot be here physically, I trust and pray that all of my co-revelers of holidays past will be in the kitchen with me, part of that vast cloud of witnesses, the Church Triumphant, cheering me on. Loudly.

WE HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO

I seem to always lose my bearings when things in the larger world upset me. It is one thing to be gravely concerned about the future of society and one's family, but quite another to be consumed by those concerns.

We are better off getting to work and praying about the larger things as we go about our day, as our hands and hearts continue to make life sweet in our private world.

God alone is in control and He uses the choices man makes in his free will to effect His all-encompassing plan. Better to get going in the morning and to sing a song than rant and rave on the Internet or in front of the television.

My goal is to be so tired at night from hard work and my daily interactions with others that I can fall, happily exhausted into bed, knowing I've done my best, and if not, asking God's forgiveness and the chance to begin anew next morning.

Perhaps we should just get busy today, with productive things, and doing it all with love. Concentrate on our own sphere of influence, and implore God to use His.

IT IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL TO BE GROWING SOMETHING

 

It is Springtime, and the promise of new life begins to unfold. In times when you are discouraged, and things just aren't going your way, or your country is being taken over by a bunch of little girls, you need to press on and do something constructive. Like plan and plant a garden.

There is something so satisfying about digging in the soil, and feeling earth in your bare hands. I find that it makes me literally feel grounded again (of course) and revives my weary soul. It is part of the health care plan that God gave us, and what could be better than growing at least some of our food ourselves, and gaining just a teeny bit of independence is so doing?  Or do these people know better than we do?

You know, there are people who are issuing edicts about what, since they are taking control of us, we should eat and what we should do to remain healthy, so that we can better fit into their plans for us. Some of these people smoke cigarettes or wear polyester pantsuits and get way too much plastic surgery, but they know better than we do about how we should live. As usual, it is "Do as I say, not as I do". Its a shame that they do not worry about the health of the unborn who are slaughtered in their mothers wombs in America, but that is how crazy their thinking is. They compared what they did to the Civil Rights movement. What a farce.

"Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!", says Isaiah 5:20.

God defend us from this monstrous regiment of women!

Well, I propose that we take matters into our own hands, and try to live in healthy ways, so that we can stay out, as much as God wills, of their government system (that and vote them out next time). So if you live up north right now, go out and plant some peas, parsley and start some brassica seeds (things like cabbage, broccoli, brussel sprouts) indoors. Those of us in the mid-zones can be sowing lettuce, herbs and many other things directly into the soil right now, and if you are in the deep south and pacific west, well then good for you, because the planting world is wide open.

And find out what edible things grow naturally in your area, and start foraging. I particularly love to do this, but then I am nothing if not a bit eccentric. I come by it naturally from my father, who loved to forage for greens, berries, mushrooms, nuts and fruits from abandoned orchards. One time, I saw these Polish ladies picking crab apples from landscape trees outside a restaurant in a shopping center. So guess what? I got in there too, and afterwards made delicious jelly from my stash. If you decide to forage, you probably want to pick from plants and trees that are over 20 feet away from the road because of contamination from car exhaust, but you can still find plenty of landscape trees and abandoned or wild growing plants that fit that bill.

The natural thing is to also plant perennial edibles that are indigenous to your area as they will be the healthiest and hardiest. Do a little research and find out what grows well and/or is native to your area, and get going with that.

Not everybody wants to forage, however, and lots of people do not have much or any land to plant on. You can look into square foot gardening, wherein you amend the soil (which we need to do anyway) to make it really rich so you can grow a lot in a little space. People in apartments can put things out in pots on the balconies or in the windows.

I also love to go to the "pick your own" farms and well, pick my own. It is fresh and cheaper than what you can buy in the stores. It is healthy to be out in the sunshine and fresh air, too.

Nancy Pelosi (groan) says that now that this massive takeover has been effected and we are on our way, via financial ruin and moral disintegration, to the trash heap of history, we can (be made to) focus on diet rather than diabetes and other drivel ad nauseam. Yes, well, we don't need Nancy to run that for us, do we? Whatever we can do for ourselves, we should do. I think we will be better fed, healthier, and more fulfilled by doing what we can for ourselves.

Awhile back, I wrote down some rules for myself. When I obey my self-made rules, I am a lot happier and things work out better for me. I will end today's post with them, and wish you a long, healthy and independent life!

Rise Early

Pray without Ceasing

Nourish yourself and others with wholesome food and drink

Practice the Presence

Work like a peasant

Get plenty of fresh air and sunshine

Make time for silence and solitude

Go to Bed Early

Be ever thankful

Gleaners

FRIDAYS IN LENT

As most people know, Catholics and some other Christian groups go without meat on Fridays in Lent. Indeed, the Catholic Church has not quite abolished the practice of meatless Fridays throughout the year, but still recommends them to the faithful. This practice can be abrogated on other Fridays of the year, however, if other acts of penance or reparation are done instead.  For you and me, it might be eating lesser meals on Fridays, or giving to charity, sacrificing some other pleasure or privilege, or doing some secret good deed for another person.

In Lent, however, we are to abstain from meat on Fridays, period. Well, not quite period, because of course during Lent we are to fast, give more time to prayer and bible study, give alms and in general, pull back from the world a bit more in order to deepen our faith and our walk with Jesus.

So on these Fridays, we turn to seafood dishes or humble ethnic recipes to fulfill our obligation. Now,  we can go "American Ethnic", which is fish sticks and macaroni and cheese, or grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup! Then there are the various other soups, such as Clam Chowder, or Lentil soup. For us Italian-Americans, we usually have a lot of favorites in our arsenal, most of which include some kind of pasta, vegetable, and sauce. Spaghetti with clam, or shrimp or artichoke sauce, for example, and greens and beans for another.

A favorite at our house is the old standby, "Pasta e Fagioli", which means Pasta and Beans. Somehow the pronunciation of the dish has devolved into Pasta Fazool, and I am not here to speculate how it did that.

I came not to explain Pasta Fazool
I came to cook it.
And eat it.

Now, if it is not a Friday, I will add a little bit of pepperoni to this dish, but for tonight, this is how it is done:

You will need a larger pot to cook the pasta in. Fill it 2/3 full of cold, salted water. You will use a smaller sauce pan to start your sauce and beans in. You assemble:

2 cups uncooked elbow or other small macaroni (e.g. ditalini, small shells, etc.)
1 15 oz. can of (I use Hunt's) plain tomato sauce. Or use 2 small cans.
1 15 oz. can of cannellini (white kidney beans), or great northern beans
As many cloves of garlic as you want (I always use at least 3 because hubby loves garlic).
Olive oil
Parsley (fresh is great, dried is fine; ditto for following spices)
Oregano
Basil
Crushed red pepper flakes.

Turn the big pot on to have the water come to a vigorous boil, and proceed with the following:

Cut up the garlic finely and saute in olive oil (maybe a couple of tablespoons of oil). Don't let the garlic burn, but let it just be a bit translucent. I find that it is helpful to have your cans of beans and sauce open and ready to be poured, and have your spices at hand.

Add beans (juice and all), sauce, and some liberal shakes of spices. A little crushed red pepper goes a long way, so be conservative with that. Let this cook together, well stirred, for 5 minutes or so, or until your pasta water is boiling. When water boils, add the elbows and cook for 5 -7 minutes. After this, drain off half of the water, or so that the water is just barely to the top of the pasta. Add in your sauce/bean mixture, and cook till elbows are soft but not squishy - sort of al dente.

Serve with generous amounts of grated parmesan or romano cheese. Enjoy with a tossed salad and maybe some bread. If the dish is not salty enough for you, add some more to taste. Usually when you use the pepperoni (which would be cut up and sauteed with the garlic), it is salty enough, but meatless may require a little addition.

This is really delicious and satisfying as only peasant food truly is. I wish you a happy Friday and a blessed Lent!