A Christmas Blooming

"It is not as we strain after feelings and experiences...but as we seek after God Himself, looking to Him as our Father, prizing His fellowship, and finding in ourselves an increasing concern to know and please HIm, that the reality of the Spirit's ministry becomes visible in our lives.  This is the needed truth which can lift us out of the quagmire of non-spiritual views of the Spirit in which so many today are floundering."

J.I. Packer

Experiencing God

Christmas Day

Glory to God in the Highest, and Peace on Earth, Good Will towards Men.

                                                            Luke 2:14

Never had I planned to take such a break from the computer and blogging. Missing you in terrible degrees and only misty thoughts appear whenever I begin questioning when I shall be able to get back to it again in any regular form.

  

Celebrating Christmas with family, at my house this year. 

Only Charlotte and I truly witnessed close-up the bittersweet moment when my parents saw each other for the first time since Thanksgiving. My mother's illness has required her to live in an Alzheimer's facility, the grief this has caused us is unbelievable.  But we managed to get her here for a few hours.

Daddy was carried downstairs by his grandsons, and then later they carried him back upstairs and to bed. He did beautifully.

Charlotte's dollhouse       

Claire was faithful in clean-up duty. What did I ever do without her in past years?????   She also brought along a delicious brussel sprouts dish and creamy mashed sweet potatoes.    

Amid the disorder  before everyone had left to return home, a family photo was in order, in our new sunroom.     

 Only a tiny peek into my home on Christmas Day. I have enjoyed sharing it with you.                             

"Mercy and truth are met together;
            righteousness and peace have kissed each other."
                                                                                          Psalm 85:10

My father is settled in a room upstairs. A regular daily caregiver along with Hospice will assist me and my family in caring for him.

Many visits these past two days from those gifted with mercy, willing to help.

Peaceful thoughts when you know Who is in charge.

canning jars and pumpkin-y things

It is good that I do not have to live without canning jars, they prove to be extremely handy around my house. I use them for storing such a variety of things. Sometimes I even freeze leftover stock or soup in my quart jars. (Of course, the trick here is to allow expanding room at the top.)

Today roasted pumpkin seeds fill a half-pint jar. These are from the pumpkin I cooked over the weekend. The same pumpkin that moved from sitting on the steps of my back stoop, to being cut in half, scooped clean of seeds and set on a cookie sheet to bake in a 375 degree oven for 1 and 1/2 hours. Now I have unlimited (it seems) amounts of fresh pumpkin to incorporate into tasty fare.

Such as pumpkin soup and a pumpkin cream pie that unwittingly metamorphosed into a pumpkin mousse dessert due to a teeny mishap. As I was hurrying and scurrying about Saturday on my way to place the prepared pie into the refrigerator...OOPS! The gingersnap crust blended throughout the pumpkin cream and became a delightful consistency to make this dessert extremely yummy!

Have you ever tried Pumpkin soup?

Saute a medium onion and a clove of crushed garlic in 2 Tablespoons of butter. Cook these until the onions are tender and translucent. Add 4 cups of chicken broth (I used boxed). Add 1 teaspoon of crushed red pepper and simmer, uncovered, about 30 minutes. Then add 2 cups of  fresh pumpkin (or one can if using canned pumpkin). Simmer at least another 30 minutes. Cool slightly and then process the soup in a food processor in small batches. Pour back into saucepan, add 1/2 teaspoon of salt and one cup of heavy cream.  Garnish with tiny snips of fresh chives, a dollop of sour cream or a sprinkle of fresh nutmeg.

Now, I  do believe I have re-typed pumpkin from "pumkin" enough times already! Goodnight!

blue ribbon leavening

 The making of your own baking powder is so simple and economical. And the quality of it is steps above the canned sort you purchase at the grocery store.

 1/4 cup cream of tartar

 2 tablespoons baking soda

Sift together 3x and store in a clean, dry tight-sealing jar at room temperature, out of direct sunight, for 4 weeks.

This may be used for any recipe that requires baking powder. I give it a blue ribbon.

*Also, I have used it only recently with a batch of biscuits and it was over 4 weeks old, still worked like a charm.

giving thanks

As I walked in November's mellow sunshine this afternoon, my heart was absorbed with the matter in which these times of my life have stacked themselves. Like old suitcases with silk linings, solid mahogany dining room cupboards and tarnished pieces of silver, the familiar, the treasured, and the changed tell a story that scribbles across pages, creating chapters and requiring volumes, yet the words are not enough.

My mother has not lived near me since I officially left home and became a wife over thirty-two years ago. That changed yesterday when we moved my mother into an assisted living home only three miles from my house. Sounds neatly packaged and stacked, yet the tugs of my heart in this matter are strong.

But thankful I am, and my heart rests and daily lifts up genuine thanksgiving and praise to my Lord.

Happy Thanksgiving each and every one!

no secrets here

It is no secret that this is my most favorite young couple.

No secret either that their birthdays are only two days apart in late October.

We let go of any clandestine tendencies and celebrate grandly with both families. Dinner, cake, and presents, 

              

the only secrets hanging around until the wrappings are peeled off.

And since it should not be a secret to anyone, I am simply pleased as punch to announce Claire's spot in the blogging world.

                                                                                       

Treasures gathered on an afternoon walk in the woods, that is except for the pink chrysanthemum, it was snipped from my front yard.

Amidst

I awoke in a strange bed. Mother must have heard my stirrings and quiet rustlings because she came shuffling down the hall, early. I read a portion of John 15 to her, "I Am the vine, you are the branches." 

I continually averted her attention from my father, who is currently not with her due to his recent illness, to childhood memories:

churning butter with her grandmother, 

springs of fresh water,

 deep in the country,

 country hams taken from the smokehouse and given to a hungry man who stopped by the porch, 

moustache cups from which Papa drank his coffee,

 and sleeping in the bed with Big Mama and Papa because the bats hitting against the chimney during the night aroused such fright. This personally was my most favorite because she would pat the side of the couch and smile, remembering the comfort.

The conversation ran along with me filling in the missing pieces of words lost.

I prayed, at times tears running down my cheeks, on the drive home that morning. A drive that took me through heavy traffic, where the sunlight danced across the windshield and the sky was so unbelievably clear after a weekend of mindboggling confusion.

He embraced me. 

It is good to be home with my family once again. Doing the routine things with revitalized appreciation.

Entirely different conversations than that of the previous days.

We laughed a lot last night. A hopeful antidote to balance the tears. 

It might possibly be time to add caregiving as a label. A portion of my day is spent with the concerns of my elderly sick parents these days. 

nature study tea

The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming

and exhilarating than any wine they tell of.

The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value
 to the bounty of July.

-Henry David Thoreau

 


sketching
               knitting
                          reading
                                     a cup of hot tea
                                                             a lighted candle

                          
  

bluebird of happiness

The birdbird of happiness has landed at my house. She was discovered in a little shop downtown last weekend begging to come to my home and stay indefinitely.

The work has begun for the sunroom that is to be added at the rear of my house. The girls and I are becoming acclimated to work crews and the banging throughout the day. Right before Christmas I am expecting to have a room lined with windows, just in time to bring plenty of light in those darker months of winter.   Happy, happy, yes.

A new discovery of fascination in the world of sewing has dropped into my lap. The creating of a Victorian crazy quilt. Actually, this one will be a table runner. Late yesterday afternoon sunlight was pouring into the area I have dubbed my "sewing room", and even though it was time to go downstairs and prepare dinner,  I found my self saying "just one more piece, please". Addiction comes easily to me evidently.

Last night I gathered my colored threads and began embroidering a sampling of stitches on the luxurious silk fabric. Silk dupioni fabric from my stash. Happy, happy,yes.

Bright and early tomorrow morning I am taking a junket with my dear husband. A weekend away, just the two of us. Happy, happy, yes.

She is presently hanging in my kitchen. When the sunroom  is completed she will fly in there and make it her permanent abode. Happy, happy, yes