Monday, June 30, 2014

Dear June

 

Dear June,

Please don't go away. You have been glorious. Your days have slipped by like nearly perfect pearls on a string. Now we are down to the last pearl, and I want to knot the string and hold it still for awhile longer.

What I have loved best about you is that everything is growing. Growing so fast that from one day to the next, seeds burst into life, leaves burst into green, flowers burst into beauty.

Maybe the reason I want you to hold still is that my baby is growing, too. He is a big boy, running everywhere, not talking much but understanding almost everything we say. I have had four other babies, and they have each and every one insisted on growing up. But those babies were born when I was a young mama, and I welcomed their independence. This baby came to us late in life. I want to cradle him longer, sing to him more, stare at his face while it is yet soft and dimpled. And even though I treasure all these moments with him, still he grows and grows.

I am not going to ask for the impossible thing. I know these early summer days are giving way to mid-summer, with heat and harvest and in our family, a wedding. I know that July will be memorable.

But Oh! June. I am going to miss  you.

(The soundtrack to our summer has been "Rivers in the Wasteland," the newest album from Need to Breathe. Caleb took Julia to the concert when, at the last minute, Krista couldn't go. Julia was overjoyed. I told her - It's a good thing you were vocal about how much you like that band. Ask for what you want. In particular, ask God for what you want. He delights in giving us the desires of our heart!)

Listen to one of my fave tracks  here.




Friday, June 27, 2014

Three Peonies


This.
In beakers, in a vintage lime-limned planter, on my kitchen sill.


This makes my heart sing.
Because there's no flower like the peony,
and no leaf like the hand-painted hosta,
and these are the last peonies of the season.


Place something beautiful above your sink,
and the daily chores that march through this space
will be brushed with beauty as well.

Have a lovely weekend, my friends.






Monday, June 23, 2014

Bounty and the Very Good

 My date for the weekend, not looking too happy.
He thought he was going outside to play, then he got roped into picture-taking.

This week:

~Another lovely bridal shower for Krista, my son's fiance. When we walked up to the front door of her aunt's house, we saw beautiful chalkboard lettering that read, "33 days till she's Mrs. Murphy!" I got teary-eyed. It's such a precious time for them. Also, WHAT?? Mrs. Murphy? I'm hardly Mrs. Murphy myself. That would be Nate's mom. She's the real Mrs. Murphy!

~My adored Gramma Ericson's piano was delivered to our house, courtesy of my aunt and uncle. Anna Kate has been over the moon about it. She learned by leaps and bounds on our keyboard, but she was always hankering after a real piano. She will not stop playing. The other morning, Nate and I were trying to pray together, and finally he hollered at her to stop the music. Then he muttered to me, "It sounds like a freaking saloon in here." She spent most of the weekend taking off the bench upholstery and painting the seat of the bench. It's white, but she might give it a coat of green eventually.

~The garden is growing, but the weeds in the yard are growing faster. When we moved here, this had been farmland. Not one useful thing grew on our 2 1/2 acres. We planted trees and sculpted hills and created gardens and sowed lawn. Now the perimeters of our property have become a sort of wild beast. There's an unidentified weed that is climbing along the hills, snaking up into the pine trees and threatening to overtake  them. Our weed trees, which are Siberian Elm, are pure evil and must be eradicated. Suddenly there are thousands of them. Nate and the boys used to cut them down every summer, which is sweaty, dirty work. The trees have to be cut about an inch below the ground. I'm trying to cut down about 20 per day. Nate and his knee are still out of commission, so he can't do heavy yard work. And of course we miss our handy dandy big boys, who after years of manual labor around here decided to become an engineer and a doctor. Whatever.    


Today I'm going to replant some of the garden rows where nothing has come up. I found these striped zucchini seeds, and I'll plant about two of them. They're saved from our harvest of a few years ago, and I hope they still "work." We want zucchini, but we don't want to be overwhelmed by zucchini.

The upcoming wedding, the garden, the seeds, all remind me of a post from last summer. Here is part of what I wrote then. If your life seems barren and hopeless these days, remember that something is always growing. God is in the business of creating, every day, every minute. Someday you will see fruit. Until then, rest in the hope of a future bounty, a feast so delicious that it will fill every empty space.

As I listened to Michael and Brooke say their vows to each other, I thought,
These vows are thorough, they cover just about everything.
I liked that they promised not to slander one another.
My husband and I talked about those vows, as we drove home after the wedding.
Maybe they were idealistic, we agreed.
It's impossible not to be a bit idealistic, when you're twenty-one years old and full of love.
When you say "For richer or poorer,"
you're imagining richer.
When you say, "In sickness and in health,"
you cannot predict what sickness might look like, 
or how it can destroy peace and rob joy.
We know something about that.  
 
I think of the marriages I know
that have begun in a cloud of hope and optimism, 
and have been ground down to death.
Usually the death is brought on by either generational curses
or by addiction.
We know something about that, too.

I have great hope for Michael and Brooke,
and for the other couples we saw married this summer.
The way I see it, 
they're part of the story of God,
part of His "tov," His "very good,"
and what they did, in this culture of death and man-made definitions, 
was to choose life.

I thought a lot about life, about "tov," about God's plan for renewal and rebirth,
when we planted our garden this spring.
The Hebrew word "tov" has subtle variations of meaning, 
one being "its good is hidden within it."
Some seeds don't grow.
They have no life in them.
Other seeds, the good ones, the very good ones,
grow beautifully.
And what they produce, the fruit that we can eat and not be afraid of eating,
is so good that it too contains seeds of life,
seeds that are very good,
seeds that we can use again next year.

And that is "tov."
It regenerates.
The life in it grows, and nurtures, and gives birth to more life, more nurture.
And that is why I still believe in marriage.
Because it's not just about love.
It's about life.

Genesis 1:27-31
So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.

And God blessed them. And God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth." And God said, "Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit. You shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth and to every bird of the heavens and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food." And it was so. And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.  

Another excuse to hear a favorite song by Josh Garrels.  Listen to it here.





Saturday, June 21, 2014

Rhubarb Jam for 85 Cents


These are glorious days. We've had lots of rain (too much, some would say). The earth is warm and all the gardens, along with their weeds, are growing with wild abandon. When I'm outside with the baby, I give up on getting any work done. He runs for the road as often as not, cackling with joy as his strong little legs carry him towards disaster. I am constantly scooping him up and taking him to safety.  


When I do get outside alone to garden, the task is daunting. I'm just chipping away, doing what I can.
I moved this Strawberry Rhubarb plant to the big garden. It's a delicate variety and it won't take over. In fact, it needs a fair amount of fertilizing in order to thrive. I harvested a bit of it and added it to the bigger stalks of rhubarb that my mom gave me. 

Here in Minnesota, rhubarb should be free. It slays me when I see it for sale at the grocery store. Surely a neighbor or a friend has rhubarb to share. If not, plant some, quick, and you'll enjoy it forever. It freezes beautifully, so it can be enjoyed all year long.   


I wasn't going to make jam this year, but with the rhubarb from my mom, I had so much that I decided to whip up a quick double batch. This recipe is shameful, full of sugar, and ridiculously easy. I got six jars of jam for under $5.00, so I figured that came to about 85 cents per jar. This week we are living on hot buttered toast with jam. It's delicious and summery, piquant and bright. There's nothing in the world like the taste of rhubarb.

Rhubarb-Pineapple-Raspberry Jam

6 cups finely chopped rhubarb
3 cups sugar (I used scant cups and it turned out fine)
1 20-oz. can crushed pineapple, with juice

Combine above ingredients in a large pot, stirring, and cook on medium heat. Cook for at least one hour, turning heat down if mixture starts to boil too much.

After one hour, turn off heat and add:

1 pkg. raspberry Jello (with sugar)

Stir well till all the Jello is incorporated.

Pour into jars and seal.

(I don't seal my jars, but keep half the jars in the frig, since we eat it up so quickly, and the other half in the freezer).

In other rhubarb news, today I'm making the Pie Bars for a grad party tomorrow. If you haven't made them, I promise you, they are beyond delicious. We decided it's because they are more like lemon bars with rhubarb. So in other words, the best, most original lemon bars we've ever tasted.  Here is the link.