Faith, Folklore, and Friends

Celebrate Saturday: Share the Warmth

2012-02-11T10:47:00.001-06:00

For those of you
                      who kept saying,
                                  "this just doesn't feel like winter"
                                                           or "when is winter going to get here?"

Don't look now, but it is here.
                                    And it is mean and and it is powerful.

Celebrate this beautiful day of life by grabbing a book and a cup of tea:
Come and sit by the fire with me.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. ― Edith Sitwell

Folklife Friday: Tea

2012-02-10T11:08:00.003-06:00

Ahhh, the joys of a cup of tea.

In the South, rarely do you find a kitchen without a pitcher of sweet tea. Served over ice with some lemon, it is as much a staple as cornbread. Some of my friends have ice tea for breakfast, along with their bacon and eggs.

A few years back, we started having water with our meals. I rarely make a pitcher of tea now, but make it a cup at a time, steaming hot. I now have a much better understanding of the motivation of the colonists when they pitched a hissy fit over their tea being taxed. A girl wants and needs her hot tea!

There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea. ~ Henry James (1843-1916)

Both the discovery of tea and the origin of medical knowledge have been attributed to the same person--the Chinese "Yellow Emperor", who lived about 2500 years before Jesus Christ was born. It is said that he saved his people from a cholera epidemic by insisting they boil their water. People being what they are, then and now, some curious person, tired of plain boiling water, threw some leaves in the pot to flavor it. Hallelujah! Since then, tea has been associated with healing.

Back in the day, just about every family had a bunch of catnip and sage growing along the garden fence. The sage was used for chicken and dressing and the making of sausage. The catnip leaves were made into a tea to soothe colicky babies. I never gave my sons catnip tea because they were never bothered with colic, but I knew many mothers who did. Catnip, I have learned, does have sedative properties.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
~ William Cowper (1731-1800)

I love trying new teas. My colleagues at work and I are always sharing different kinds of tea we have found. The greens are not desirable to me, but I love the blacks, chai, and fruit-flavored. My favorite right now is a berry mix from Celestial Seasonings--it has no caffeine so I have it right before bed.

There is a cold front heading to North Alabama this weekend, and nothing warms me inside and out like a cup of tea. Put the kettle on!

The Old Account Was Settled hymn

2012-02-09T12:27:00.001-06:00

Earlier this week I wrote about my dad on his birthday, and remembered us singing. The Old Account was one of the hymns we would sing a cappella while we cooled on the porch on summer evenings. I can remember that my lil' ole sister and I could really hit some high notes during the chorus, especially on the 'Hallelujah' part. You cannot prove me wrong 'cause there is no recording of it on this earth.

I have known this song since I've known my name. Johnny Cash recorded it and many people know it as his song, but it is much, much older than Johnny Cash.

The Old Account Was Settled Long Ago
Lyrics and Composer: Frank M. Graham, 1902.

There was a time on earth, when in the book of Heav’n
An old account was standing for sins yet unforgiv’n;
My name was at the top, and many things below,
I went unto the Keeper, and settled long ago.

Chorus
Long ago (down on my knees), long ago (I settled it all),
Yes, the old account was settled long ago (Hallelujah!);
And the record’s clear today, for He washed my sins away,
When the old account was settled long ago.
The old account was large, and growing every day,
For I was always sinning, and never tried to pay;
But when I looked ahead, and saw such pain and woe,
I said that I would settle, I settled long ago.
Long ago (down on my knees), long ago (I settled it all),
Yes, the old account was settled long ago (Hallelujah!);
And the record’s clear today, for He washed my sins away,
When the old account was settled long ago.

When in that happy home, my Savior’s home above,
I’ll sing redemption’s story, and praise Him for His love;
I’ll not forget that book, with pages white as snow,
Because I came and settled, and settled long ago.

Long ago (down on my knees), long ago (I settled it all),
Yes, the old account was settled long ago (Hallelujah!);
And the record’s clear today, for He washed my sins away,
When the old account was settled long ago.

O sinner, trust the Lord, be cleansed of all your sin,
For thus He hath provided for you to enter in;
And then if you should live a hundred years below,
Up there you’ll not regret it, you settled long ago.

Long ago (down on my knees), long ago (I settled it all),
Yes, the old account was settled long ago (Hallelujah!);
And the record’s clear today, for He washed my sins away,
When the old account was settled long ago.

Some things never get old, and it makes me happy that something that was so true and relevant more than a hundred years ago is just as good today as it ever was. Anyone can sing it. Okay, here we go: a-one, an a-two, an a three. . .

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Wordless Wednesday

2012-02-08T13:24:00.003-06:00

Jesse Owens

2012-02-07T07:09:00.000-06:00

The best things to come out of Lawrence County, Alabama, is Highway 157 and Jesse Owens.

He was born in Oakville, just east of Moulton, to a sharecropping family. When Jesse was nine years old, the family moved to Cleveland, Ohio.

In high school, Jesse caught the attention of a track coach, who helped train him. The rest, as they say, is history - history that Alabama can be proud of.

The 1936 Olympics were held in Berlin, Germany. Adolph Hitler, already powerful, opened the games. Hitler thought the games would show how much better German athletes would perform, proving his theory of racial superiority for Aryans. How disappointed the twisted little dictator must have been when our Jesse won four gold medals! Hitler refused to shake hands with the black winners, and told those close to him to make sure that no blacks be allowed to compete in any future Olympic games.

Years later, Mr. Owens said they had no idea how far-reaching Hitler's refusal to shake hands with him would be. Sadly, Mr. Owens was probably accustomed to such rude behavior.

When I came back to my native country, after all the stories about Hitler, I couldn't ride in the front of the bus. I had to go to the back door. I couldn't live where I wanted. I wasn't invited to shake hands with Hitler, but I wasn't invited to the White House to shake hands with the President, either.

I always loved running…it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.

We all have dreams. In order to make dreams come into reality, it takes an awful lot of determination, dedication, self-discipline and effort.

The Jesse Owens Museum is just off Highway 157 in Oakville, near the spot where Jesse breathed his first breath. Stop by if you are in the area; it is well worth your time.

Multitude Monday: Birthdays

2012-02-06T09:07:00.000-06:00

Former President Ronald Reagan was born this day in 1911. I can remember the 'Reagan Years' well. We were so proud of him. Some say he was the most loved American president, but no one loved him more than my daddy did. They had a special bond--my daddy was born on this day in 1915.

The term 'yellow-dog democrat' refers to those voters that believe the Democratic Party is so superior, that it would be better to vote for a yellow dog than any Republican. I don't know what the Republican equivalent to that is, but I know my daddy would have had splinters pushed under his fingernails or faced a firing-squad before he would have voted for a Democrat. If someone really thought the Democratic candidate would be the better choice, well, you just learned to keep it a secret around Daddy.

After he retired, Daddy loved helping Mama with her flowers. In the photo above, he is pulling weeds out of the flower beds by their roots.

Like most of the children in his day, Daddy left school after the third grade; at that point, they were old enough to help on the farm. In spite of the lack of formal education, he was the wisest man I knew when it came to nature. He could point to any tree or bush in the woods and tell you its name, what it produced, and what the wood could be used for.

He also had a love for reading, preferring the western paperbacks that were so popular then. He was a storyteller, to the point of boring us sometimes, because if he couldn't think of a new story, he just told us the old ones over and over. Oh, for one more summer night of storytelling on the porch with a video camera!

I'm so thankful for:
~the talents I inherited from him . . .
~the physical traits from Stricklin DNA . . .
~the way he made whistles out of hickory saplings every spring. . .
~his love of nature that he passed on to me. . .
~him singing the old hymns with us. . .
~the way he watched the weather from the porch. . .
~his Aqua Velva. . .
~his thick, silver hair in the later years; he never lost any of it. . .
~him taking my oldest son fishing (my son still remembers every minute of it). . .
~him pointing out ginseng to my new hubby...Hub still looks for it when we are in the woods. . .
~his laid-back approach to life. . . .
~his seersucker pants he wore on Sunday; Mama could iron a pleat in them that stayed all day!
~the way he hung his left arm out the window when he was driving--summer and winter. . .
~the wild meat he put on the table when times were lean. . .
~the way he cried when my oldest brother left for the army. . .
~him visiting his mother almost every day in her old age. . .
~the way neighbors came to him when they had a sick animal. . . .
~his ability to smoke ham and bacon to perfection. . .
~the little bags of candy he brought home from work. . .
~how he stressed the importance of family. He stayed close to his siblings although they were scattered over several states. . .
~his strength when my brother was killed while the rest of us fell apart. . .
~the way he loved his friends. He visited Mr. Austin, a life-long friend, on a beautiful morning in November; that night, Daddy died with a heart attack. Mr. Austin grieved for Daddy the rest of his life.
~Seventy years of walking on this Earth.
~his love for his hound dogs.
~White-headed cabbage.

51-75 Joy Dare.

Daddy and Mama on their fortieth wedding anniversary.

Celebrate Saturday: Share the Light

2012-02-04T08:35:00.003-06:00

You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16

As you wander this weekend, kind friends, let your light be a beacon to those lost in the darkness, that they could find their way home.

Folklife Friday: The Peddler

2012-02-03T09:53:00.002-06:00

They were called 'rolling grocery stores', those panel trucks that had been customized with shelves to hold groceries, paper goods, and sewing needles, among other things. They were common in the fifties and early sixties in rural areas when people were unable to go into town on a regular basis. Smart merchants knew the folks still needed the items, so they brought the merchandise to the country--to the fine homes and the sharecropper's shacks alike. It costs a little more, of course, but what convenience!

After school ended in May and the strawberries were picked, life could be somewhat boring for my siblings and me. We didn't go to town much, since it was a thousand miles away (okay, maybe twenty). Remember, we had no phone and a television that got two channels clearly, one of them being public television. Our house had no air conditioning, so most of the daylight hours were spent outside. We were constantly looking for something fun to do, something to break the monotony of those long summer days.

Thursday was special, because Thursday was 'peddler day'. The time he arrived varied according to how many people were waiting by the road to buy something that day. If you weren't waiting by the road, he might just drive right on by, so we had a designated 'look-out' to make sure he didn't pass our house without stopping.

Mr. Franks, who is still clear in my rapidly eroding mind, drove the truck and dispensed the goodies. He was short, heavy, and always in a hurry. I don't want to get Mr. Franks in trouble, but it has been fifty years and he was an old man then, so I think it is safe to tattle. He would give us face value in cash for coupons! We searched magazines for coupons, and praised the day that Procter and Gamble or some other company sent us coupons in the mail. Mr. Franks would also buy eggs, but we usually didn't have any to spare and had to use the pennies we had saved.

Candy bars, the ones that cost a dollar today, could be bought for a nickel. If you bought a quarter's worth, you got one free. So we would pool our money sometimes and get six big candy bars for twenty-five cents. He had a supply of tiny little pecan pies and something similar to Ding-Dongs. Even then, I was a bargain hunter, so I would buy a package of two wrapped pastries for the price of one candy bar.

Mama didn't buy a lot from the peddler man, because Daddy worked in town and went by the grocery store everyday. Sometimes, though, the peddler saved the day when the need was urgent, like canning lids or some baking soda. Some of the elderly widows in the neighborhood bought all their groceries from Mr. Franks. We hated it when he stopped at their house first; it seemed like it took them forever while we stood there, waiting, our money sweating in our hands.

There were other sellers who came to our house. One couple we knew drove their pickup to Florida regularly and bought a load of fruit. They had a small fruit stand in their front yard, but on pretty days, they loaded that fruit up and sold it door to door. We always loved to see them coming. For a while, another couple who sold Watkins products and other goodies would stop by, and we were always excited to see what they had to offer. We called them "Ole Watkins"; I don't know if we ever knew their real names.

At school, we read about families in cities who actually had their milk, butter, and eggs delivered to their houses. All we could think was, "How crazy is that?" Some other child in another school may have read about our peddlers and thought the same thing. Needless to say, we pitied them.

Solitude

2012-02-02T09:02:00.000-06:00

Solitude. We all need it, but sometimes, it is really hard to find.

Time to turn off our phones, our televisions, the world. Time to rest our minds, think, breathe in, breathe out.

Solitude liberates us from entanglements by carving out a space from which we can see ourselves and our situation before the Audience of One. Solitude provides the private place where we can take our bearings and so make God our North Star. ~ Os Guinness

Wordless Wednesday

2012-02-01T06:28:00.003-06:00

Some Tuesday Humor

2012-01-31T06:32:00.002-06:00

A new missionary went to Venezuela for his first term. He was struggling with the language and didn't understand a whole lot of what was going on. He got lost on his way to the church, but eventually got back on track and found it. The small church was packed, and the only pew left was the one on the front row.

So as not to make a fool of himself, he decided to pick someone out of the crowd to imitate. He chose to follow the man sitting next to him on the front pew. When they sang, the young missionary peeked at his neighbor's hymnal to see the page number. When the man stood up to pray, the young missionary stood up too. When the man sat down, he sat down.
Whatever the man next to him did, he did. During the preaching, the young missionary didn't understand a thing. He just sat there and tried to look just like that man in the front pew.

Then he perceived that the preacher was giving announcements. People clapped, so he looked to see if the man was clapping. He was, and so the young missionary clapped too. Then the preacher said some words that he didn't understand and he saw the man next to him stand up, so he stood up too. Suddenly an incredible hush fell over the entire congregation. A few people gasped audibly. He looked around and saw that nobody else was standing, so he sat down.

After the service ended, the preacher stood at the door shaking the hands of those who were leaving. When the young missionary stretched out his hand to greet the preacher, the preacher said to him, in English, "I take it you don't speak Spanish?"

The young missionary replied, "No, I don't. It's that obvious?"

"Well, yes," said the preacher. "I announced that a family in our church has a new baby boy, and I asked the proud father to stand up."

Multitude Monday: Seeing the Goodness

2012-01-30T11:36:00.001-06:00

Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men! For He satisfies the longing soul, And fills the hungry soul with goodness. Psalm 107:8-9

Today, I'm thanking the Father for:

Yellow jonquils in January.

                    Hot berry tea when I come in from the cold.

Oswald Chambers, who died in 1917, but still blesses us with his book of devotions every day.

The muted sounds of traffic on the Parkway a half mile away; letting me know things are normal.

                    A beautiful umbrella that was a Christmas gift.

The beautiful rain that gives me an excuse to use my new umbrella.

A ceramic cup full of perfectly brewed coffee.

                    Always a new road to travel.

Books.

The Florence-Lauderdale Public Library; a house full of treasure.

                   Our good neighbors who watch.

My little sister who is celebrating her birthday today.

Grocery stores full of good things.

                   Stop signs.

The neighbor who always wave when I go past her house.

January sunsets.

                   White, puffy clouds.

People who remember that work is a good thing.

The old photo of my husband's ancestors that reminds me.

                    Granddaughters singing when they think no one is listening.

Friends who always say 'yes' when I am needy.

A child in a spinning teacup, so full of joy!

                     Spiral notebooks.

Sweet dreams.

A life that is full.

26-50 The Joy Dare

Celebrate Saturday: You are Special!

2012-01-28T08:51:00.002-06:00

The LORD your God is with you,

the Mighty Warrior who saves.

He will take great delight in you;

in his love he will no longer rebuke you,

but will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

Enjoy your weekend, my beloved. As you wander, remember that you are special. God loves you so much, He smiles and sings over you.

Folklife Fridays: Squirrel for Breakfast

2012-01-27T08:13:00.000-06:00

Where I grew up, squirrel hunting was as common as apple blossoms in spring. Every family, if they were physically able, hunted squirrels for a source of protein in their diets. Our woods had plentiful nut trees, oaks and hickories and black walnuts; therefore, there were plenty of squirrels.

Daddy would start out at first light, his feet scrunching on the frost-covered ground, to find some squirrels. He usually brought at least three home, sometimes after walking for quite a while. Three provided enough meat for a big, hungry family.

After the squirrels were skinned and cleaned, Mama would parboil the pieces a while, then dredge them in flour, salt, and pepper, and fry them in a big iron skillet. After the meat was done and removed, she added more flour and water to the drippings to make gravy to pour over the squirrel meat. Other days, she would boil the squirrel meat until it was tender, then add dumplings to the pot.

We absolutely loved it, and yes, we ate the brains which are considered a delicacy now. Sometimes, my lil' ole sister would find a pellet of buckshot in hers, which the rest of us found highly amusing.

Squirrel is showing up on menus in Appalachia and some other parts of the country now, some of it rather expensive.

I haven't eaten any squirrel since I was much younger. I am not opposed to eating it in any way, being the true carnivore that I am. It is just that I don't have my Mama to cook it for me, or my Daddy to shoot them for me now. Hub and I apparently don't have the hunting gene, and we are able to buy meat already cleaned at the grocery store. If we ever get the urge to try it, however, we won't have to go far to hunt for squirrels.

There is a huge scaly bark hickory tree just off my deck, and it is a mecca for squirrels. Many times, I can see at least a dozen running around in my back yard. I enjoy watching them but sometimes, they can be a little annoying. They eat my dog's food right out of his feeder, and the sweet little dog lays there and watches them, yawning occasionally. And there is a constant battle with the bird feeders.

Sometimes, I wonder what my daddy would say if I could take him out on the deck and show him all those squirrels. With his shotgun, he could probably lay in a month's supply of squirrel meat before the police got here.

Rainy Days

2012-01-26T07:39:00.001-06:00

It's another rainy day here. Our average precipitation for January is 4.61 inches. Yesterday, we had received 6.02 inches, and there is already more than an inch in my rain gauge from the rains that began in the wee hours this morning.

Every year, we long for rain when the hot air of August scorches the pavement, the plants, and the people, when all the moisture just stays in the air and wraps around us like a wet, wool blanket.

For the most part, I enjoy the rain. It does make me thankful that I don't have to go to work on a horse-drawn wagon. It also makes me thankful that my house doesn't leak, although I can't say the same for my office at work.

I just hope all the bulbs in the ground that are getting ready to stretch toward the sunlight don't drown.

For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. Matthew 5:45b

Primitive Music

2012-01-25T13:54:00.000-06:00

We have been listening to and loving the Primitive Quartet for more than thirty years now. They are a group from Candler, North Carolina, that plays and sings the gospel just like it has been done for years in the mountains. They have a Christmas singing in early December every year in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and these photos are from the 2011 singing.

These photos aren't the best, since I was way back in the crowd.

And what a crowd it was! There were people there from many, many states. We saw lots of old friends, and met lots of new ones.

Every time these men get up to sing, they acknowledge that whatever talents they have, it is all God-given and they will use the time they have to worship and honor Him with those gifts. Because of that, I have never seen them.....

spend their time on stage talking about football or politics...

come on stage trying to look like a rock band...

set their music at such a painful volume that the lyrics are lost. . .

talk about awards they have received (and they have gotten plenty!)

I'm convinced that they are using their gifts to glorify Jesus, our Savior.

If they are within fifty miles of here, or sixty, or a hundred, sometimes, we go to the concert. It is worth every mile.

What a blessing, what an honor it has been to know them!

By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. John 13:35

Tuesday Humor

2012-01-24T16:34:00.000-06:00

Mrs. Gladys Makes Up Her Mind

Poor Mrs. Gladys, she went to visit her grand-daughter and her husband over the weekend and the news is not good. She was excited about seeing the young family, and she was looking forward to going to church with them Sunday morning but things didn’t go so well. Leslie and her husband go to a big new mega-church. Mrs. Gladys, on the other hand, is used to the much smaller, much more intimate congregation. Hers is a nice country church and she’s been a member there for well, a while. Trust me. It wouldn’t serve any of us for me to elaborate. Mrs. Gladys wasn’t very impressed with the slick marble and the soaring ceilings of the new mega-church. Nor was she at all fond of the contemporary music. Now personally, I like both the old hymns and the new faster paced praise music, but I understand that some people prefer one or the other.

Mrs. Gladys didn’t think the people were all that friendly, either. She said no one spoke to them in the parking lot and no one greeted them in the foyer. To hear her tell it no one even made eye contact with her. Now, if Leslie were telling this, she might say that her dear grandmother’s frown might have been more than a tad off-putting, but I am definitely not going there. What’s important here is that Mrs. Gladys told me that she felt plum invisible and no one likes that feeling, especially Mrs. Gladys.

After the service Mrs. Gladys made up her mind to talk to somebody before she left. Leslie said her grandmother turned around to a couple seated behind her, stuck her hand out in the woman’s direction, and said, “Gladys Dunn.”
The woman smiled thinly but the man grabbed her hand and said enthusiastically, “Me, too, lady, me too!”

From my friend, Shellie, the Belle of All Things Southern. Check out her website at allthingsouthern.com

Multitude Monday: Taking the Joy Dare

2012-01-23T12:57:00.001-06:00

I have been following Anne Voskamp's blog, aholyexperience.com, for several years. She is a beautiful writer. Every Monday, her post notes things she grateful for, little things that we can fail to see unless we look with searching eyes.

My blog has recorded hundreds of things I'm grateful for, but Anne has challenged us to find 1000 things to thank God for in the year 2012. That's about three a day, unless of course, you get 23 days behind like I did.

Here we go! Today I'm thankful:

1. that we were safe during the storms that swept through the South last night.
2. for the good decisions I have made; accepting Jesus as my Savior and having a personal relationship with Him is the best one I have ever made.
3. for a strong body that has been many miles in sixty-one years.
4. for a clear mind. Most days. Well, some days.
5. for a warm, dry house to live in.
6. for the gift of hospitality He has given me.
7. for laughter.
8. for the way the sunlight reflects off the water in puddles leftover from last night.

9. for the contrails crossed white against a blue sky: a painting worthy of art museums.
10. for the gift of reading.
11. for the invention of the printing press; can you imagine what it would be like not to have a Bible or any other book?

12. for good food.
13. for sitting with an old friend in Sunday school yesterday.
14. for sitting with a new friend in Sunday school yesterday.
15. for Sunday school.

16. for the birds that visit my deck.
17. for green leaves pushing up from the cold ground.
18. for the tinkling of wind chimes, music on the front porch.
19. for the ability to make things with my hands.
20. for women everywhere who study the Word together.
21. for things that last long.
22. for a new group of students.
23. for old books that never get old.
24. for family.
25. for friends.

Celebrate Saturday: Seeking

2012-01-21T08:37:00.000-06:00

In comparison with this big world, the human heart is only a small thing.
Though the world is so large, it is utterly unable to satisfy this tiny heart.
Our ever growing soul and its capacities can be satisfied only in the finite God.

As water is restless until it reaches its level, so the soul has no peace until it rests in God.
~ Sadhu Sundar Singh

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.
~Matthew 11:28

Folklife Friday: Another String Quilt

2012-01-20T07:55:00.000-06:00

During the rainy, stormy day this week, I completed this string quilt. Quilts like these were named string quilts because some of the fabric used were small as strings, all that was leftover from other projects.

I actually made the blocks a few years ago during and after a class on string quilts. Unlike food and flowers, the blocks will keep until you have time and energy to put them together.

I know some of my students will recognize some of the fabrics that were used. Blocks are made by cutting old newspapers in the desired shapes; this is an eight inch square. Starting in the center, fabric strings are sewn on until the newspaper square is covered. Then, the fabric strings are trimmed to the size of the newspaper. It is best to leave the newspaper on until the blocks are sewn together, then they are removed before you make the quilt sandwich (top, batting, lining).

I quilted this quilt using a free motion foot and meandering. The quilting pattern doesn't have to be marked, so it is a time saver. The label is made from a block I had left over.

I love bright colors, so I use red a lot in my quilts. When I made quilts for sale, the quilts with red or purple always sold first.

God has blessed us and I am able to buy fabric I need for sewing projects, but I still love using the scraps. In fact, people give their scraps to me so it isn't likely I'll ever run out. For some reason, I get intense satisfaction from taking a pile of strings and making something beautiful out of them.

Wordless Wednesday: Remember Last Year?

2012-01-18T12:43:00.002-06:00

Visitors

2012-01-17T07:30:00.000-06:00

If you feed them, they will come. I spent way too much time trying to get these beauties to pose for me, but it just didn't happen. Most of my bird photos are made through a window, so if an unexpected glare appears, that's why.

This little fellow seems to love my birthday gift as much as I do!

I wonder if she thinks she has found the buffet at Ryans. . .

Can you spot the thief? It is bird food, not squirrel food! The squirrels must have gotten tired of dog food or wanted some variety. I wonder if a stove pipe around the pole would help.

A bird does not sing because it has an answer.

It sings because it has a song.
~Chinese Proverb

What's it Worth?

2012-01-16T07:16:00.000-06:00

A well-known speaker started off his seminar holding up a $20.00 bill. In the room of 200, he asked, “Who would like this $20 bill?” Hands started going up. He said, “I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this. He proceeded to crumple up the $20 dollar bill. He then asked, “Who still wants…… it……?” Still the hands were up in the air. Well, he replied, “What if I do… this?” And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. “Now, who still wants it?” Still the hands went into the air.

“My friends” he said, ” We have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who DO LOVE you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by WHO WE ARE. You are special.

This month marks the 39th anniversary of Roe vs. Wade, the legal decision that has caused approximately fifty million babies to be murdered in the place they should have been safest, their mother's womb. Since then, children have been taught that life is worthless unless it perfect and convenient: not by our words, but by our actions.

LORD, have mercy on us all.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. Psalm 139:13

Happy Birthday, Litter Lee

2012-01-12T07:54:00.001-06:00

In loving memory of Mary Lynn Stricklin Horton

January 12, 1937-December 2, 1990

She was the same kind of different as me.

My half-sister, Mary Lynn, was my oldest sibling. Her mom died from complications of measles/pneumonia when Mary was about four, and her brother was two.

Before too long, my dad and mom were married, my mom a new bride with an instant family.

My parents lives, like those of everyone we knew, consisted of growing cotton, corn, chickens, and children.

Their world was very small, immobile, static for generations.

An aunt and uncle had moved to Michigan searching for a better life and had seemingly found it. When the aunt became pregnant, Mary traveled there to help her during the pregnancy. Mary saw how big the world was. She returned home when she was no longer needed, but she was never again content living on the farm.

There was not a lot of opportunity for social interaction with anyone who was not a relative. People visiting from outside the area always seemed different and exciting. When Mary was sixteen, a neighboring family had visitors from far away Arizona. The visitors had a son, just the right age, and when they returned to Arizona a few days later, Mary went with them as a new bride.

Any marriage based not on love but as a ticket out of town doesn't have much chance for survival. Mary was soon home again. My parents were angry when she eloped, and the anger lingered after Mary came home in defeat. She was soon looking for a way out, a new beginning.

We had relatives in northern Indiana, part of the post-World War II migration from the agrarian south to the industrial north. Mary, older than her years, went there looking for work. I was very young at the time and was thrilled when she wrote home and said she had found a job as a waitress. In my frame of reference, any job that didn't consist of dirt and heat and aching backs was definitely glamorous and highly desirable.

One year, while she was working in the north at Christmas time, we received a huge box in the mail from Mary with presents for everyone. Mine was a black wallet, and inside, she had placed a one dollar bill, and it was all mine! I can't think any other gift I have received in my life that was as exciting as that one.

Mary spent her life searching. She moved from job to job, from husbands and lovers, never staying anywhere for long, never finding her peace.

I had a child when I was a child of nineteen. Mary, alone again, came to stay with Hub and me, helping, teaching me to cook and take care of the house. She never had children of her own and sort of adopted our first born son as her grandchild. He would follow her every step. He loved her immensely, and would even eat onions if she did. When he started to talk, he couldn't quite manage her name, calling her "Aunt Litter Lee".

She became more settled after that, and soon found her soul mate, the first real love of her life.

Soon after they married, she found her greatest love, finally opening her heart's door as Jesus stood there knocking, patiently waiting for this special child. Her restless spirit was replaced with a gentleness that is rarely seen.

Mary was happy and content for a little while, but unfortunately, her struggle wasn't over.

It all came so fast; the phone call, tears, a lump in her breast, a willingness to fight. The surgery, the chemicals, the waning of a strong body. The enemy consumed the bones, took the energy, but not the spirit.

On a cold December day, first born son, barely a man, so young to learn hard lessons, stood and eulogized his beloved Aunt Litter Lee. She was 53 years old when the battle ended. There is no way to measure the impact of her brief time on this earth.

The Word lets us glimpse into heaven, the perfect place, where we will never hear words like cancer. I think when its my time to cross the Jordan into the promised land, Mary will be there, in front of the others waiting to welcome me. We'll hug and giggle, and I'll tell her how hard it was with her gone, and we'll make up the lost time.

We always had a joint birthday celebration; hers is today and mine is tomorrow. I have already had more birthdays than she did, but I never forget hers, these twenty-one years that we have lived in different places. Happy Birthday, Sweet Sista!

For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. Revelation 7:17

Kindness

2012-01-11T07:34:00.000-06:00

On Monday, my friend Danny Joe died.

Danny Joe and his wife, Jo Ann, were auction fanatics, just like Hub and me, so we were always seeing each other. He loved fishing and was usually looking for vintage fishing equipment at auctions.

He always had a smile to share, and he always had a pocket full of candy. Anytime you met Danny Joe, he would have a piece of candy for you. In my case, it was usually cinnamon disks or lemon drops, my favorite. Sometimes, a small piece of candy and the kindness with which its given is a large thing.

Kindness, like courtesy and manners, is not as common as it used to be.

Several years ago, on the day after Thanksgiving, I attended an estate auction that had several quilts I wanted to buy. The day started out clear and balmy, but a north wind blew in and I was not dressed properly for it. I was standing outside, trembling from the cold, thinking I was going to have to leave before the quilts came up, when Danny Joe slipped his coat off and gave it to me. He assured me that he had on quilted coveralls and was too hot with that big coat on. I bought the quilts that day but I can't remember which ones they are or what I did with them. But I will never forget that warm coat on a cold day, and the kindness of a good man.

We'll miss you, Danny Joe. I don't know if there will be fish fries in heaven, but if there are, I'll look for you there.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness. . .Galations 5:22

January Tulips

2012-01-10T18:57:00.000-06:00

Today was a dark, damp, dreary day, like days that we have every January. That is not going to change without a radical move to a lower latitude, which I don't think is going to happen.

Of course, it is easy enough to surround yourself with flowers.

The sixteen tulip blocks, a simple nine-patch variation, were made yesterday afternoon.

Today, I sewed the blocks together with sashing and borders.

Pretty sure I am sensing an old-fashioned quilting bee in the near future to quilt this little garden.

In the depths of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.- Albert Camus

Sunday Travels: Argentina

2012-01-09T07:23:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, we went to Argentina.

One of my favorite places in the world, the Florence Lauderdale Public Library, has a series of programs on January Sundays for all of us who want to travel the world but just haven't had the opportunity to do so yet. This is their fourth year to do this, and it has become so popular that they will probably have to move to a larger room soon. Yesterday's program was full of those of us who wanted to "Get out of Town" without spending the time, money, and effort to do so, so we packed out the library on a wet, cold, cloudy afternoon, and we were transported to the far south for just a little while.

My longtime friend, Deborah Douglas-Brown, affectionately known to some of us as DDB, and her husband, Bill, presented a program about a recent trip to Argentina. The Browns travel more than anyone else I know. Every time I see her, my first question is, "So, where have you just got back from?"

Find the passport! We are off to China next Sunday afternoon.

*National Geographic photos

Celebrate Saturday: Color

2012-01-07T11:26:00.000-06:00

At first glance, the winter landscape seems gray and dark, devoid of life and color.

Look again!

Chill air and wintry winds!

My ear has grown familiar with your song;

I hear it in the opening year,

I listen, and it cheers me long.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Folklife Friday: Sewing Scraps Together

2012-01-06T07:27:00.003-06:00

The winter deepens, the new year is still brand new, and once again, I am beset with the mood to cut fabric into little pieces and sew them together again.

Our Christmas break from school was always highly anticipated, and we loved every minute of it until Christmas was over. Then, the days became boring, the weather keeping us inside with nothing to do. The only electronic entertainment we had was a radio with a dial and a daily market report lamenting the fluctuating prices of corn and pork bellies.

My Grandma Gean lived within walking distance of our house, so just about every day, I walked to her house to 'quilt piece'.

Grandma was the neighborhood seamstress, and her patrons usually gave her the leftover fabric scraps from their projects. She had to use the larger scraps for her own quilts, of course, but she saved the smaller ones for me and my lil' ole sister.

Grandma would cut squares or other shapes from the omnipresent Sears catalog, and we would sew the small scraps, some just strings, to the paper. After the whole paper block was covered, she showed us how to trim the scraps so the blocks were perfect. At least, we thought they were perfect. I was amazed that it was possible to create something so beautiful out of scraps that were seemingly worthless. To my knowledge, none of those blocks we did exist today, but the lessons they taught are still going strong.

Fifty years later, after teaching many quilt classes and compiling a stack of blue ribbons, people often ask where and how I learned to do what I do. It was on Grandma's couch, warm from the wood heater, listening to the wind-up clock ticking the seconds away, pushing that needle in and pulling it out. Then, pushing it in again and pulling it out again.

The Sounds of Silence

2012-01-05T13:07:00.000-06:00

When you are tired, weary, angry, stressed, depressed, or just generally having a bad day, there's nothing like a walk in the woods to revive your spirit.

Is it the fresh air, or the bare trees, or the leaf-covered path?

Could it just be the silence?

God of Zion, to you even silence is praise. Psalm 65:1

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10

Slow down!! Listen. . . .

Talking About Teeth

2012-01-04T08:32:00.000-06:00

Today's blog is for a dear friend who is recovering from oral surgery. I can think of only one thing good about that--we still have our teeth! Back in the day, most women lost their teeth during their birthing years, when the body needed more calcium than it could possibly get.

Culpeper's Complete Herbal, published in 1814, offered this advice for keeping healthy teeth:

1. If you will keep your teeth from rotting, or aching, wash your mouth continually every morning with juice of Lemons, and afterwards rub your teeth either with a Sage-leaf, or else with a little Nutmeg in powder; also wash your mouth with a little fair water after meats; for the only way to keep teeth sound, and free from pain, is to keep them clean.

2. To keep teeth white, dip a little piece of white cloth in Vinegar of Quinces, and rub your gums with it, for it is of a gallant binding quality, and not only makes the teeth white, but also strengthens the gums, fastens the teeth, and also causeth a sweet breath.

3. To fasten the teeth, seethe the roots of Vervain in old Wine, and wash your teeth often with them, and it will fasten them.

4. For the tooth-ache, take the inner rind of an Elder-tree, and bruise it, and put thereto a little Pepper, and make it into balls, and hold them between the teeth that ache.

5. For a Scurvy in the gums, take Cloves, and boil them in Rosewater, then dry them, and beat them to powder, and rub the gums with the powder, and drink the decoction in the morning fasting an hour after it. Use red Rosewater, for it is the best.

6. For rotting and consuming of the gums, take Sage-water, and wash your mouth with it every morning, and afterwards rub your mouth with a Sage-leaf.

Well, there you have it. If you can't think of anything to be thankful for today, remember the dentists and dental hygiene products available to us. Dr. John shouldn't worry in the least about losing me as a patient.

2012: The Year of Changes

2011-12-31T07:31:00.012-06:00

For the past few years, some of us have named the new year coming.

2011 has been the year of laughter. There are many studies that conclude that laughing is good for you physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I have proven them right! Actually, finding things to laugh about is quite easy around here. And if all else fails, there is always Everybody Loves Raymond reruns. I plan to continue this practice of laughing every day just because I like it.

Naming 2012 has been a little difficult because there are so many options. Some of my friends have chosen 'joy', 'yes', 'learning', 'travel', to name a few. For me, it will be the year of 'changes'.

One major change is coming in February, when Hub will retire after working 42 years at the same place. He is so ready and looking forward to it! There are other potential changes that I can't talk about yet, but just the possibility has created some excitement for us.

The verb change means to become different, altered, modified, or to pass from one thing into another. Change can tend to be undesirable, because it sometimes gets us out of our comfort zones and makes us look at things in a different light.

Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, and increasest thine
indignation upon me; changes and war are against me. Job 10:17
KJV

A new year with its blank calendar pages can be as scary as an uncharted sea. Before Columbus sailed west across the Atlantic, he was told there were monsters out there waiting for him.

Instead, he found a whole new world.

Folklife Fridays: Bare Christmas Trees

2011-12-30T08:09:00.006-06:00

On January 30, my Christmas 'tree' is lovely, still bearing its ornaments and lights, still radiating with fiber optics. It hasn't shed one needle. It probably never will, because the people who made it used fine machines and glue and paint to construct it, giving it the general shape of a tree. The closest it ever came to a tree was when it was in a box in the back of the truck, coming home from Sam's, when we were driving through Forest Hills.

It does not make my house smell like Christmas. It used to be different.

As soon as our school dismissed for Christmas break, my lil' ole sister and I went to the woods in search of a Christmas tree. We ambled in woods not our own because we wanted to find something we hadn't seen before. A few times, it is possible we wandered onto government land, but it has been over forty years and we don't fear prosecution at this point.

Cedars were the best; they had much thicker foliage than the scraggly loblolly pines that were common there. The cedar trees usually had a few dead branches around the bottom, but that was easy enough to fix, and they smelled heavenly. So we would saw down a cedar, usually no more than three or four inches in diameter at the trunk, and drag it home. We did this despite the dire predictions of my Grandma who believed that if you cut a young cedar, there would be a death in the family before next Christmas.

In the old farmhouse, a wood heater was our only source of heat. It was located in the large living room, the same room where we would put the Christmas tree. We would put the tree in a large bucket with gravel to make it steady, but sometimes, it still wouldn't stand up, so we put a nail in the wall and somehow wired the tree to it. Say what you want to, but it worked.

For a little while, the cedar tree glistened with aluminum icicles and construction paper and the living room was absolutely glorious. Visitors were greeted with the smell of the forest as soon as they opened the door. I can still smell it every time someone says Christmas now.

The wood stove had to be roaring for the heat to make it to the kitchen and bedrooms, so the average temperature in that living room hovered around ninety during the day. The little tree held on for about three days before it began to drop its needles, a few here and there at first. By the time Christmas arrived, there were more needles than gifts under the tree, and if you looked carefully, you could see bare branches under the tinsel. We had to take what was left of the tree out as soon as Christmas day was over.

Looking back, I think it may have been a miracle that the little trees didn't spontaneously burst into flames and light up the whole holler. But in their short lifetimes, they made such an impression that they are remembered all these years later.

*Christmas tree image is borrowed; enjoy!

Thousand Word Thursday

2011-12-29T15:05:00.002-06:00

On the Fourth Day of Christmas...can we do lunch?

2011-12-28T09:03:00.011-06:00

It has been said that when somebody gets married, they are marrying a whole new family. I don't know how accurate that is, but in my case, I got a new brother and two new sisters. The brother was still a teenager, and the sisters, both skinny with long, dark hair, became my new best friends. We are still hanging out together, these forty-two years later.

The oldest rambled some, living in the frozen north and the very Hotlanta for a while. The youngest stayed here, briefly living in Muscle Shoals (which is just across the river), but has never left Alabama. For years, we lived within a ten-mile radius, but somehow managed to never see each other. We talked on the phone regularly, but we might go months without actually being in the same room.

December, 2008. The three of us managed to get together for lunch at Legends Steakhouse. On that cold Wednesday, we made a goal to meet for lunch every month the next year. It was a goal we set together, but none of us really believed it would ever happen. After all, we are busy people. There are jobs and obligations and family and doctors and promises we all have to keep. But we promised to try.

December, 2009. We met for lunch again, celebrating because we had made it a whole year. Dare we try for another year? We decided to go for it. We tried to set the date for every first Wednesday, but the date had to be moved around more often than not. Sometimes, we had to cut it short so somebody could get back to work.

December, 2010. We celebrated two years, and no one had missed a single time! We have never done anything two whole years in our lives! We are pumped up now, thinking we can do anything. We are so proud of ourselves. Bring it on, third year!

December, 2011. Here we are again. This had been a hard year, and one month, we did it on the very last day because we had put it off all month and people do get sick. But we made it! So here we go, starting our fourth year. At this point, no one dares to cancel; no one wants to be the one to break our streak!!!

During these three years and counting, we have been able to check out most of the restaurants in our area, sometimes going to one as soon as it opened. Some we had gone to more than once, sometimes for convenience or we knew we could find a parking place there. Some have been dumps that we will never go to again, but getting that knowledge was always fun.

Dictionary.com explains a habit like this:
1. an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary: the habit of looking both ways before crossing the street.

2. customary practice or use: Daily bathing is an American habit.

3. a particular practice, custom, or usage: the habit of shaking hands.

4. a dominant or regular disposition or tendency; prevailing character or quality: She has a habit of looking at the bright side of things.

5. addiction, especially to narcotics.

Our monthly lunch meetings have become a habit; one that we love and never want to stop. It is also a commitment, and none of us wants to disappoint the others by not showing up. We have agreed that if one of us moves to heaven (any other move doesn't count) during the year, the other two have to continue.

As we approach a brand new year, a calendar with lots of blank spaces, consider starting some new habits that will make life better for you and others. It's your choice. Yes, it is easier to do nothing, but it is not better. This is a good day to get that calendar out and start planning!

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.
James 4: 13-14

On the Third Day of Christmas

2011-12-27T09:43:00.004-06:00

Well, the weather outside is frightful. Cold rain and dreary clouds always make me want to start new projects. Any guesses?

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you tried to get the last drop of boiling water out of the kettle to make tea? In my case, the lid fell off and steam attacked my pinkie. Ouch!

I'm amazed that the skin on my little finger would stretch that much. It doesn't hurt, but of course, I can't wash the dishes!

On the Second Day of Christmas

2011-12-26T13:12:00.005-06:00

It is still Christmas at our house!

Horses still decked out. . .

A cut-glass ornament that hangs in the entrance. . . .

Christmas quilts still on the wall. . .

There is some mistletoe under there. . . .

Granddaughters can't ride him anymore, but he still comes out at Christmas. . .

Loving those hand made ornaments. . . .

Musical churches with open doors. . . .

. . our 'power off' lantern lighting the wreath. . .

and a frig full of leftovers! No way am I ready to end all of this!

A Christmas Prayer

2011-12-25T07:32:00.002-06:00

Loving Father,

Help us remember the birth of Jesus,

that we may share in the song of the angels,

the gladness of the shepherds

and worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate

and open the door of love all over the world.

Let kindness come with every gift

and good desires with every greeting..

Deliver us from evil by the blessing

which Christ brings,

And teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May Christmas morning

make us happy to be thy children,

and Christmas evening bring us to our beds

with grateful thoughts,

forgiving and forgiven,

for Jesus’ sake.

Amen.

~Robert Louis Stevenson

On the Road to Bethlehem

2011-12-24T07:16:00.004-06:00

Did Mary know? Did she wonder?

Surely her back was aching as she rode the donkey; maybe caused by travel weariness, maybe the first contractions, faint at the beginning.

For months she had known she was the chosen one. She had felt and watched the baby grow inside her.

Surely her young skin was riddled with stretch marks, her feet swollen.

As she continued mile after mile, Joseph by her side, leading, did she wonder if there would be a resting place for them tonight, if there would be a place of welcome, a warm place?

Did she know that this was the last day, the last day the Savior, our blessed Jesus, would reside in her womb?

Did she know that by tomorrow, she would be different, the world would be different, all time and eternity would be different because of the baby she carried?

Could her heart and mind comprehend anything so glorious?

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

O, Beautiful Star!

2011-12-23T07:03:00.001-06:00

Is there anyone who hasn't stood in the dark, looking up to the expanse above, and wondered? How I wonder what you are....

The Christmas season reminds us of the star of Bethlehem. The bright, incomparable star that was a map for Magi. The star that led the way for traveling wise men in search of a king. Wise men who had studied the heavens, astronomers, who had seen changes and knew something extraordinary was happening. Intelligent men who plotted the paths of stars when my Anglo ancestors were still nomadic because they had not learned how to store food. Men looking for answers.

There has been rampant speculation for hundreds of years about the source of the star. Some believe an alignment of planets. Others think it was a comet or supernova.

Why is it so hard for some to believe that the star was created specifically for the glorious birth of the Savior?

Could the King of glory become human and live among us without 'stirring up' all creation?

And God said, "Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth." Gen 1:14-15.

Psalm 19: 1-4 The heavens declare the glory of God; The skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; Night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, Their words to the ends of the world.

He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Psalm 147:4.

Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. Isaiah 40:26.

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east come to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him. Matthew 2:2.

Heaven wasn't surprised when the star appeared. It was no accident of nature, no regular cycle of the universe. The star was for the Child.

*NASA photos

Home for Christmas

2011-12-22T06:53:00.002-06:00

We never forget where we came from.

There is within every living thing an instinct to go home, the place where they began, the place where they belong.

We hear stories of lost dogs returning home, worse for wear, after traveling for miles and miles, across rivers and busy interstates, after weeks of being lost. Banding hummingbirds has proven that some return to the same feeders in the spring, after they have wintered in South America, hundreds of miles from the plastic red feeder that feels like home to them.
Each year, the swallows return to Capistrano. Pacific salmon return to the stream where their life began.

The circle of life sometimes ends where it began, and somehow, we find comfort in that.

Some terminal patients, knowing that their days on this earth are few, beg to leave their hospital beds and go home, to their place, to spend their final hours. Wounded soldiers on blood-drenched battlefields write of their desire to just make it home, to be surrounded by family, to be buried in familiar soil. Home, where peace and rest can be found, where problems can be handled.

After World War II, many of my relatives moved to the industrial cities of the north, seeking jobs that didn't exist in rural Tennessee farming communities. The north presented opportunities for a better life, but they felt like aliens, strangers in a foreign land. Some prospered and spent their working years there. They never ceased to call Tennessee home. Many returned to live in the Tennessee hills after retirement, their lives iron drawn by a magnet. Things were different when they returned, but it was still home to them, still that place in their hearts where they seemed to belong.

During the time they were in the north, my relatives made every effort to be home at Christmas. Their large families crammed in one car, eating peanut butter sandwiches along the way, they would drive for hours for the privilege of sitting around the dinner table with their kin, people who talked and thought the same way they did. Children loved it, and didn't complain about sleeping on the cold floor on pallets made with quilts. There were never expensive gifts to exchange, but just being together was enough. There was always laughter.

There is something about Christmas that makes us long for home. Not the gifts or even the food there, but just being where you know you are loved in spite of your shortcomings, where its okay if you wear pajamas all day. We long for it enough to sleep in airports and risk being stranded in early blizzards. We long for it enough to give up gifts so the money can be used to buy gas to get to Grandma's house. During the hot, growing months of the year, we are looking forward to Christmas, waiting for the time when we can go home again.

There is something about Christmas that makes those in the family of God long for home. Home where we are loved in spite of our shortcomings, home where we are surrounded by those who talk and think the same way we do. Home where we are encompassed by the familiar. Home with our loving Father, where we can rest. Home where each day will be a celebration of the Lamb. Home where we will never be lonely again. Home where we belong.

Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit. Ephesians 2: 19-22

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-21T07:28:00.001-06:00

Unexpected

2011-12-20T08:23:00.006-06:00

It is an ancient profession, this job of being a shepherd.

Someone has to tend the sheep.
Someone has to keep the flock together; to chase away the predators.
They have to keep the little lambs from wandering off and getting lost.
They have to keep moving sheep to different pastures, searching for fresh grass.

In the days when believers read Isaiah and waited for the promise, there were many shepherds. The job sometimes fell to single men who had no family responsibilities, who could stay with the sheep day and night. They moved about with the sheep, living in tents or wagons.

Being a shepherd was a cold, lonely job with little to eat and none of the comforts of home.

Throughout time, God has used shepherds for his purpose.
Before he became the Father of Nations, Abraham tended sheep.
Jacob and Isaac were shepherds.
Moses spent his time in exile tending sheep.
David, who had God's heart, was with his flock when he was called to
service.

Then the day came.
The day God had known about since the beginning, the day that would change us forever.
Heaven trembled with excitement.

The angels might have gone to the east, where wise men studied the skies and knew.
The angels might have gone to Herod's castle, or to priests, teachers, or leaders.
The angels went to the shepherds.

The birth announcement that the prophets had yearned for was made to lowly, coarse shepherds....
doing their jobs on a cold night, not expecting this night to be any different,

not expecting to be surrounded by a multitude of angels and the glory of God.

An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men to whom his favor rests." Luke 2:8-14

Easy Recipes

2011-12-19T07:49:00.003-06:00

Some of you have asked for these recipes. I'm glad you enjoyed them.

Banana Pudding was a delicious dessert my Mama made, but she had to stir the pudding and beat the meringue for the longest time. This one is much easier.

Creamy Banana Pudding
1 (14 ounce) can condensed milk (not evaporated milk!)
1 1/2 cup cold water
1 (4 serving size) package instant vanilla pudding mix
2 cups whipped cream

1 (12 ounce) box vanilla wafers
3 or 4 bananas

Combine sweetened condensed milk, water, and pudding mix; mix well. Chill 5 minutes. Fold in whipped cream.

Put a layer of vanilla wafers on the bottom of your bowl. Top with a third of the bananas and pudding mix. Repeat vanilla wafers, bananas, and pudding mix layer twice, ending with pudding mix. Garnish with crushed vanilla wafers. Keep refrigerated. Make this several hours or even the day before your guests arrive.

I make this in a trifle bowl and put extra vanilla wafers around the sides just to make it pretty. This dessert will make your guests forget that the roast was a little dry or the rolls slightly too done!

Hot Fudge Pudding Cake
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1 3/4 cup hottest tap water
Vanilla ice cream

Heat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix flour, granulated sugar, 2 tablespoons cocoa, the baking powder and salt in an ungreased baking pan, 9x9x2 inches. Mix in milk, oil and vanilla with fork until smooth. Spread in pan. Sprinkle with brown sugar and cocoa. Pour hot water over batter. Bake for 40 minutes.
Let stand at least 15 minutes. Cut into nine squares. Put each square in a dessert dish and spoon ice cream on top. Cover the ice cream with the pudding from the pan.
Enjoy!

The first time I made this more than thirty years ago, I couldn't believe it would turn into something edible. I was so wrong! It has been a family favorite. I have learned to put the baking pan on an aluminum foil covered larger pan, because the pudding will boil over sometimes.

Sorry I don't have photos of the finished desserts. I'm not planning to make them again before Christmas, and I know some of you wanted the recipes before you did your Christmas baking.

Celebrate Saturday: Come, let us adore Him

2011-12-17T07:44:00.008-06:00

Two little boys, both abandoned shortly after birth, grew up together in the state orphanage. When they were old enough to understand such matters, they were allowed to select a date to celebrate their birthday, because no one knew when the actual date was. The boys, who were as close as biological brothers, picked the same date to celebrate. It was a day when they were special and the focus was on them.

Every year, as we are privileged and honored to celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas, skeptics say it wasn't really His birthday. Perhaps it wasn't, but that is entirely irrelevant. It is a day set aside to focus, to remember, to share in honor of the greatest gift ever given.

I love Christmas. Everything I do during the season, whether it is cooking or wrapping or decorating or visiting, I do because of the gift of that baby, my Savior, who made a feeding trough into a King's throne and changed the world forever. Matthew 25:40 constantly reminds me that whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6

Folklife Friday: Sacred Harp Singing

2011-12-16T05:18:00.015-06:00

The little Baptist congregation in the place I grew up had a loud, out-of-tune upright piano and someone to play it most of the time. Some congregations were not so blessed, and sang their hymns a cappella, whether it was a part of their doctrine or not.

Hymnals were printed with shaped notes to indicate the different voice parts. The most popular hymnal was titled Sacred Harp, and thus it became known as sacred harp singing (sacred harp referred to the human voice as a musical instrument). Some summers, there would be a singing school at the church where children were taught the parts and how to make hand movements to accompany the music.

Sadly, I never attended any of the singing schools, and the first fa so la I learned was in high school chorus. This was in the sixties when The Sound of Music was a popular movie, and one of the songs our choral director selected was Do-Re-Mi. I still haven't learned to move my hands correctly to the music.

Sacred harp music is alive and well in Alabama. There is a singing convention every year, and various meetings throughout the state where this music can be heard and the audience can participate. There are some good links to sacred harp music at AlabamaFolklife.org.

Last Saturday, as Hub and I helped celebrate Christmas Past at Sugarlands Visitor Center, we attended a program of sacred harp singing. Hymnals were passed out, and a song leader led us through several hymns. The theater was almost full with people from all over the country, and we didn't personally know a single person there. Some of us, perhaps most of us, were not trained singers, but the old songs sounded beautiful as we joined together in singing. We sang some standards like Amazing Grace and Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. Beautiful Star of Bethlehem, Silent Night, and some other Christmas songs were included.

There is something so right and special about being able to share a hymnal with a total stranger and blend your voices in praise and thanksgiving. I felt like I had been to a revival meeting when it was over.

Christmas at Sugarlands

2011-12-15T06:11:00.008-06:00

Did y'all miss me? I'm always very busy at the end of the semester, and we spent several days in the Smokies last week.

The Sugarlands Visitor Center at the entrance to the Smoky Mountain National Park at Gatlinburg had their Festival of Christmas Past last Saturday. Hub and I spent the day with them. There was so much to do, and all of it was good.

There was a whole building with staff and volunteers teaching how to make traditional Christmas ornaments. Here, I'm learning to make an angel from rags.

This table was full of natural greenery to make wreaths from. There was holly, pine cones, cedar, sumac seed heads, nandina seeds and foliage, ivy, and much, much more. I tied mine together with ivy vines, so everything on my wreath was natural. I plan to go on a scavenger hunt next week to make some fresh ones for Christmas day.

This fellow liked his so much, he decided to wear it for all of us to see!

Isn't this beautiful? I had never thought of using ivy in my Christmas wreath. They showed us how to make those dried apples on the wreath, too.

Outside, there were tools that we don't see anymore, including this apple press. The fellow using it gave recipes and talked about making apple cider, hard cider, and apple cider vinegar.

This blacksmith worked all day showing how to make farm implements and small tools. It was warm around this area on a very cold day.

Smoke from this pot of apple butter was the first thing we saw when we drove into the parking lot. They cooked Winesap apples, sugar, and cinnamon for several hours until the apple butter was done. We had generous samples that were delicious.

Inside the visitor center, there were demonstrations of spinning, quilting, and dyeing yarns. Mountain music and storytelling (yes!) were offered in the theater all day, but I'll blog about that another time.

Between activities, we hiked a trail to an old cabin (Wordless Wednesday yesterday and more later). Both of us were exhausted when we left, but it was a day we will long remember.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-14T08:07:00.002-06:00

Folklife Friday: Recycled Christmas balls

2011-12-02T12:16:00.007-06:00

Y'all know I love recycling. I learned to do it when it was a necessity, not a popular 'green' thing to do.

So I'm at my favorite store, the Loaves and Fishes thrift shop, when I see a buggy full of assorted Christmas balls someone had donated. I loved them instantly. I bought four bags full for a grand total of six dollars.

A friend had told me about a Christmas wreath made from these balls, so I went to Pintrest.com and learned how to do them.

I had all those pretty balls and hot glue. I did not have the energy to go to Hobby Lobby or JoAnn's to get the Styrofoam wreath to glue them to. Hub goes to the garage and cuts a 12" square of shipping Styrofoam, then cut the inside out to make a square wreath form.

After spreading newspaper over the card table, I began to glue the largest balls to the outside and inside of the wreath. Then, I glued some on the top. I used smaller balls to fill in so you couldn't see the Styrofoam. This was so fun that I forgot to take pictures during the process.

Here's what it looked like. Now, ain't that just purty??? {If you look close, you can see the reflection of yours truly taking the photo.} I plan to use it for a centerpiece with a tall candle in the middle. It was super easy to make.

There were lots of balls left over, so I plan to make another one. Next time, I will buy the wreath; I don't know if this one would be strong enough if I hung it on the door or somewhere else.

Moral of the story: Don't ever throw anything away.

Welcome, December!

2011-12-01T07:22:00.004-06:00

I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December

A magical thing

And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring

Than we were in September,'

I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December.

Oliver Herford, I Heard a Bird Sing

Wordless Wednesday: Daydreaming????

2011-11-30T07:04:00.004-06:00

Anniversary and the Foster Family Band

2011-11-29T07:44:00.003-06:00

Last night, it was raining with the threat of snow. The dark was accompanied by a wind that undoubtedly had just passed over a glacier before it got to North Alabama. Normally, on a night such as that, I would be snuggled in jammies and under a quilt on the couch. But last night was different.

First of all, yesterday marked the 42nd journey of the earth around the sun since that rainy day in 1969 when Hub and I were married. I have made countless meals since then, but I refused to cook last night. We enjoyed dinner out and then went to a concert by Dr. Bill Foster and the Foster Family band.

In addition to being a musician, Dr. Foster is a superb storyteller. He shared some Civil War stories that his family had planted as they spent evenings on the front porch of their Appalachian home. His stories are so real and pure that you can almost feel the rough boards of the porch beneath you.

We were accompanied by some friends that are relatively new to the area, and it was the first time they had seen Dr. Foster and his family. They enjoyed it immensely. We are all looking forward to the University of North Alabama's Storytelling Festival in May, when we will be able to hear more of these stories.

The Foster family spent many years on the road, but only perform now for special occasions. We are so blessed to have talent like this in our area.

Sorry the photos are not better; it was difficult from where I was sitting. They have a wonderful bass player, but I wasn't able to get him in the photo.

Christmas Reading

2011-11-28T08:56:00.003-06:00

In three days, it will be December.

For those of you who need a little jolt to get you in the Christmas spirit, check out these books!

Other than the true Christmas story in the Bible, this is my favorite Christmas book. It was published in 2004, and I think I have read it every Christmas since then. Alabama native Fannie Flagg, recent winner of the 2012 Harper Lee award, knows what she is talking about! I feel like I know everyone in this book personally.

Most people are familiar with this book because it was made into a movie that is shown over and over every year. This is not a typical John Grissom book, but it is fun and worth reading.

Get out the tissues; you are going to need several before you finish this book!

An Irish Christmas is new for me this year, although it was published in 2007. Sounds good; its at the top of my 'to be read' stack.

Does anyone have favorite Christmas books that I need to know about? All these books are fairly short and easy to read. And we have 28 days until Christmas!

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-24T06:50:00.002-06:00

The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving. -H.U. Westermayer

The most detailed description of the "First Thanksgiving" comes from Edward Winslow from A Journal of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, in 1621:

Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, among other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain, and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty.

More than 200 years after that first thanksgiving celebration, President Abraham Lincoln declared the final Thursday in November as a national day of thanksgiving. Congress finally made Thanksgiving Day an official national holiday in 1941.

Most people living today cannot really imagine what life was like for the Pilgrims.

With their own hands, they made tools and built a nation.

Their food crops weren't grown for bragging rights or as a hobby; their crops determined if they would starve or live through the winter. They were truly thankful when the rains came, when the hot days made the corn stalks climb.

They thanked God for a bountiful crop of acorns and other nuts, which fed the game that fed them.

They gave thanks that their children had lived to be a year old, that their hands were able to hold the axe and the plow.

The pilgrims were thankful for neighbors who would help them, sharing seeds and knowledge of the land, without which the Pilgrims could not have survived.

Thanksgiving doesn't have much importance anymore in our culture. It is a day to eat too much and fall asleep later watching football.

It serves as a launching point for the Christmas season, with Black Friday the next day and the coffee table piled with ads for 5:00 AM shopping.

Some decorate their homes and businesses for Christmas after Halloween, just skipping Thanksgiving completely.

Today, please take a little time to remember that:

while you're enjoying your comfortable home, 80% of the world live in substandard housing.

while you're reading your Bible or other book, 67% of the people can't read.

while you're stuffed from your dinner, 50% of the world is malnourished and 1% is starving.

while you're cleaning up the kitchen, 33% of people don't have safe drinking water.

when you go to the bathroom, 39% of people don't have improved sanitation.

while you're comfortably watching television, 24% of people have no electricity.

God has blessed our nation, for in its beginning, they didn't forget Him.

“To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.”
–Psalms 30.12

Wordless Wednesday: The Waiting

2011-11-23T06:54:00.003-06:00

Celebrate Saturday: A last look at autumn

2011-11-19T06:52:00.003-06:00

This week, we have had rain and wind and the golden leaves have morphed to brown and lay scattered everywhere. The trees stand naked, cold, strong, waiting for the time when the earth warms again and they will be clothed anew.

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.
~E. E. Cummins

Folklife Friday: Sweet Potato Biscuits

2011-11-18T06:47:00.011-06:00

Y'all know how I love sweet potatoes. Autumn wouldn't be near as nice without sweet potato pie and baked sweet potatoes.

We live about fifty miles from an Amish community where we travel every fall to buy sweet potatoes. If I use them sparingly, they will last until after Christmas. Sweet potato casserole is as much a part of our Christmas as the tree and tinsel. It's back to the canned ones after that. Canned ones are not bad but require just a little more butter than the fresh ones.

Last weekend was spent at a retreat in the North Georgia mountains with some of my besties. After the teaching was done, we played and shopped and ate. At one of the restaurants, we were served a plate of sweet potato biscuits while we were waiting for our food. They were so good, I could have eaten the whole plate by myself!

How hard would it be, I wondered, to make my own? Not long after I got back home, I looked through my cookbooks, knowing one would jump out out me. And, of course, it was Paula Deen's! If anyone can be trusted with cooking sweet potatoes, its Miss Paula.

Are you ready? Here we go!

You need 3/4 cup mashed sweet potatoes. A normal person would peel one large or two small sweet potatoes, chop them in small pieces, and boil, covered in water, until done.

I have never claimed to be normal. I hate peeling sweet potatoes. So I boil them whole in their skins until they are tender.

You can peel the skin off with your fingers at this point.

Mash them with a potato masher, or you could use your mixer here.

After the sweet potatoes are completely mashed, add the butter and some milk.

Now, ain't that purty??!

Add your flour, sugar, other dry ingredients to the sweet potato mix (Recipe below). I couldn't make a photo here because I had flour on my hands. The mixture will be stiff; put on a board and knead just until the dough is smooth. Pat it out with your hands until it is about 1/2 inch thick.

Cut them out. Save all the scraps, mash them together, and shape into another biscuit or two.

Here they are--a dozen biscuits in the oven. I love this iron baker, because the biscuits will slip off right side up.

They were yummy! I made up some honey cinnamon butter just in case the biscuits didn't have my daily required calories. Thank you, Miss Paula!

Sweet Potato Biscuits from The Lady & Sons, Too! by Paula H. Deen

3/4 cup mashed cooked sweet potatoes

1/4 cup milk

1/4 cup butter (room temp)

1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

4 teaspoons baking powder

2 heaping tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. In a large bowl, mix the potatoes, milk, and butter. In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. Add the flour mixture to the potato mixture and combine to make a soft dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and toss lightly until the outside of the dough looks smooth. Roll the dough out to one-half inch thick and cut with a biscuit cutter. Place the biscuits on a greased pan and bake for about 15 minutes.

Enjoy!

Thursday humor

2011-11-17T07:05:00.004-06:00

This story is from my friend, Charlotte, at emz-pineypost.blogspot.com. I loved it, and hope you do, too.

There was a little old lady, who every morning stepped onto her front
porch, raised her arms to the sky, and shouted: 'PRAISE THE LORD!'

One day an atheist moved into the house next door. He became irritated at the little
old lady. Every morning he'd step onto his front porch after her and yell: 'THERE IS NO LORD!'

Time passed with the two of them carrying on this way every day.

One morning, in the middle of winter, the little old lady stepped onto
her front porch and shouted: 'PRAISE THE LORD! Please Lord, I have no
food and I am starving, provide for me, oh Lord!'

The next morning she stepped out onto her porch and there were
two huge bags of groceries sitting there.

'PRAISE THE LORD!' she cried out. 'HE HAS PROVIDED GROCERIES FOR ME!'

The atheist neighbor jumped out of the hedges and shouted:
'THERE IS NO LORD; I BOUGHT THOSE GROCERIES!!'

The little old lady threw her arms into the air and shouted:
'PRAISE THE LORD!
HE HAS PROVIDED ME WITH GROCERIES AND MADE THE DEVIL PAY FOR THEM!'

Wordless Wednesday

2011-11-16T07:23:00.002-06:00

On this rock....

2011-11-15T07:29:00.008-06:00

And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. ~Matthew 16:18

I have always thought that this verse uses a rock as a symbol of strength. Jesus is telling Peter that His church would be so strong that nothing, NOTHING, could destroy it.

But then, some people take it more literally.

Colonel Milford Howard built this church house as a memorial to his first wife, Sallie. The boulder extends to the inside of the church where it is part of the pulpit. Colonel Howard's ashes are interred in the rock.

The church is located in Mentone, Alabama, on top of Lookout Mountain. Regular services are held there on Sundays and Wednesdays and it is open to the public at other times.

It is definitely worth stopping to see if you are in the area. Be sure to stop and eat at the Wildflower Cafe while you are there. Saturday, a group of strong ladies on a church retreat stopped there for lunch. We ate, laughed, entertained and was entertained, but that's a story for another day.

Celebrate Saturday: Soar!

2011-11-12T07:58:00.004-06:00

but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:31(NIV)

Kind friends, may your soaring this weekend take you to places you have never been before. You are loved!!!

Folklife Friday: Sweet Gum Balls

2011-11-11T06:07:00.001-06:00

Sweet gum trees are plentiful in North Alabama. They are strong, beautiful trees that have many uses. They are loved and hated here because of the seed balls, or sweet gum balls.

Fallen seed balls are difficult to get off the ground, their spikes sometimes half buried. They are too small for most rakes and the lawn mower won't pick them up in the grass clippings. Many people refuse to have the trees in their yards.

If you are young and don't have to worry about keeping the yard clean, then you probably love them.

They were among the first ornaments when we started decorating Christmas trees in Appalachia. They could be dipped in a flour/water mix to look like snowballs (photo is from my friend, Tipper, at blindpigandtheacorn.com). They could be wrapped in aluminum foil and hung on the tree. In hard times when aluminum was scarce, people saved their cigarette packs and used the foil inside to wrap the sweet gum balls.

If you wanted to get really fancy, you could dip toothpicks (broken in various lengths) in Elmer's glue and stick it in the ball. When the glue dried, it could be sprayed with white paint or the 'Christmas snow' that came in a can. They could be hung on the tree or piled pyramid style on a plate to form a centerpiece.

It's been several years since I used sweet gum balls in crafts. They are piled up along the roadside where I walk, so I know where to find them if the urge strikes.

Being Thankful in Hard Times

2011-11-10T06:19:00.005-06:00

I heard and my heart pounded,
my lips quivered at the sound;
decay crept into my bones,
and my legs trembled.

Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity
to come on the nation invading us.

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,

though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.

Habakkuk 3:16-19(NIV)

Wordless Wednesday: Sea Monster?

2011-11-09T06:49:00.001-06:00

Caring

2011-11-08T09:37:00.006-06:00

My little dog was lost.

I prayed for God's help in finding him, feeling selfish.

After all, wars are waging all over the planet.
The rain hasn't come to come areas, and the people are starving.
Earthquakes have shaken towns and villages, causing mud to cover lives.
Terrorists are plotting, training for evil, and must be watched.
Disease spreads daily.
Presidents and leaders are struggling with economics, immorality, each other.
The weather has just gone crazy.

God, our Father, the High Priest, has this blue planet to care for, in the midst of a dynamic universe that listens to Him and does what He says.

Why would I think that Abba Father would care that my dog was lost?

If it matters to me, it matters to Him.

Before the creation of the world, He knew me and had plans for me.
I am his heir.
I am eternal.
He loves me, knows when I hurt, knows when I am weak.

What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it-we're called children of God! That's who we really are. But that's also why the world doesn't recognize us or take us seriously, because it has no idea who He is or what He's up to. 1 John 3: 1-2 Message.

For some, it is much easier to believe God's miracles than to believe that He really loves us, His children. We know what we have done, how we have failed. It's hard to forgive ourselves.
We can't forget it. He can.

We're not worthy of His love or grace. He knows that, and loves us anyway.

Loves us enough to help a mentally challenged dog find his way home.

If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matthew 7:11

It's About Time

2011-11-07T08:32:00.003-06:00

At last, we are back on Central Standard Time.

I'm always happy when Daylight Saving time is over. I love that it is light when I get up. Yes, it gets dark earlier, but that's okay with me. My youngest son has a job that requires him to get up very early, so he has to go to bed very early. Now, he can stay up until dark!

My Grandma Gean refused to set her clock up in the summer, thinking it was a sin. So all summer, we were in a state of confusion about what time something was going to happen....was we supposed to pick her up at nine or ten? Old time or new time? She fought a losing battle, but she was diligent until the end.

It takes several weeks for me to get all the clocks changed. So if I'm early, that's why.

We may need to rethink this whole thing.

Celebrate Saturday: Amanda's Birthday

2011-11-05T07:34:00.005-05:00

Today is a special day in our family.

We are celebrating the birth of the youngest member of our family, who turns twelve today. She arrived several days before she was expected; her mom was at school, teaching high school students, when Amanda let her know that it was time to go to the hospital.

She and her sister are the best things I could hope for.

Happy Birthday, Amanda.

Folklife Friday: Persimmons and 'Possums

2011-11-04T08:12:00.009-05:00

No one has to tell a child not to eat unripe persimmons twice. Once a child takes a bite of a green one, the memory stays with him forever. It's that bad. I speak from experience.

We hunted them, however, because we wanted to see what was inside the seed. The seed, when opened, could reveal a knife, fork, or spoon. We spent hours opening persimmon seed. My sister's husband was from Maine, and when he first came to the South, he thought this search for persimmon cutlery was the weirdest thing we did.

Astringent persimmons are common in the eastern United States. Back in the day, people who hunted opossums for food or sport or just because they were mad at them for getting in the chicken pen, looked for persimmon trees. Opossums loved the fruit and could often be found hiding in the trees. This could be used as a measure of their intelligence, since the trees were completely bare of leaves by the time the persimmons were ripe.*

There were some families who cooked opossums then, baking them for hours and surrounding them with ripe persimmons or sweet potatoes. Our family probably would have been considered poor, but we were never that poor! We had squirrels and rabbits and quails, but my mom would not consider cooking anything as ugly as an opossum.

As an adult, I have been quite adventurous in my eating, consuming alligator, squid, octopus, shark (it does NOT taste like chicken), and many other things not usually found on a Southern table. I have never tasted opossum, however. Maybe I will get that hungry someday, but it hasn't happened yet.

*This photo is from the American Hiking Society blog. I did not go out in the woods at night and find an opossum.

Prayer in Schools

2011-11-03T12:12:00.006-05:00

In the past few weeks, there has been some controversy in Lauderdale County, Alabama, (where I live) concerning prayer before football games in the public school system. Some saw this as school-sanctioned prayer, because it was broadcast over a PA system that belonged to the school, and a violation of First Amendment rights of the 8% of the crowd that didn't like it.

The superintendent, possibly in order to avoid a lawsuit for his already financially stressed department, stopped the prayer.

At one of the county schools last Thursday night, minutes before kickoff, three timid six-grade girls stood up and began to recite the Lord's prayer. Immediately, they were joined by almost every person sitting in the bleachers on the home side. When the guests of the opposing team saw what was going on, they stood and recited the prayer, too.

At another county school the same night, fans from both sides walked onto the field together and prayed. It caused the kickoff to be a few minutes late, but the penalty was declined.

No human can stop a Christian from praying. As a teacher, I can assure you that prayer in school is constant, even if it is not on an intercom system.

Daniel prayed, knowing he was heading for a lions' den, and we all know how that turned out!

His Eye is on the Sparrow

2011-11-02T09:11:00.009-05:00

She was the picture of humility, a sweet, gentle woman.

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come?

She was the first person I knew that was so close to God that she would burst into spontaneous prayer and praise no matter where she was or who she was with.

She lived in the best neighborhood in town. Some envied her. They said they might be different if their lives had been easy like hers.

Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,

She lived with an alcoholic, abusive husband for thirty years. A proud man, he never inflicted any scars that would show. His cuts ran deeper.

When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:

So proud, that even as he was dying from the effects of his beloved alcohol, he refused to believe that he couldn't save himself. So arrogant that he thought the financial gains he had made here would somehow erase his rejection of Jesus Christ and all that was holy.

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

She prayed for him constantly. She found no satisfaction in his lingering suffering, in spite of the times he had mocked her salvation.

After his death, she adjusted, and turned her prayers toward their children who had looked up to him and had been influenced by him.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,

That is where she was when I had the privilege to meet her and become her friend. I am thankful and honored that God allowed our paths to cross while we are living here.

For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

His eye is on the sparrow lyrics by Civilla D. Martin, 1905.

Sharing Recipes

2011-11-01T07:26:00.007-05:00

A few days ago, a friend asked about recipes I make for the holidays. Some things, I have made for many years, and it wouldn't be Thanksgiving or Christmas without them. Sorry, I don't have step-by-step photos of these; these are things so good and fattening that I just make them on special days.

Sweet Potato Casserole
4 cups sweet potatoes, cubed
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup packed brown sugar
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons butter, softened
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C).
Put sweet potatoes in a medium saucepan with water to cover. Cook over medium high heat until tender; drain and mash. You can use canned sweet potatoes if you don't have fresh ones.

In a large bowl, mix together the sweet potatoes, white sugar, eggs, salt, butter, milk and vanilla extract. Mix until smooth. Transfer to a 9x13 inch baking dish.

In medium bowl, mix the brown sugar and flour. Cut in the butter until the mixture is coarse. Stir in the pecans. Sprinkle the mixture over the sweet potato mixture.

Bake in the preheated oven 30 minutes, or until the topping is lightly brown.

Holy Smoke Pie
Crust:
1 cup of flour
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans

Cut butter into flour and add pecans. Using fingers, pat mixture into the bottom of a buttered 9x13 pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes until crust is firm and lightly browned. Set aside to cool.

1st Layer:
1 cup confectioner's sugar
8 oz. cream cheese
~1/2 cup of whipped cream
Mix together and spread on cooled crust.

2nd Layer:
Small box of instant chocolate pudding, mixed according to package directions.
Spread over cream cheese layer.
You can use other flavors of pudding here if you don't like chocolate.

3rd Layer:
Whipped cream, as much as you want. I usually buy a 12 ounce container. I take out the 1/2 cup for the first layer, then use the rest of it on top.

Garnish with chopped pecans and/or chocolate curls or whatever you want to.

This can be made a few days before you need it. I can't tell you how long it will last; we always eat it all the first day!

Check by later for the coconut cake recipe.

Formed to be Spectators

2011-10-31T13:06:00.003-05:00

Every human being is

“formed to be a spectator of the created world –

and given eyes

that he might be led to its Author

by contemplating so beautiful a representation.”

~ John Calvin, Commentary on Romans 1:19

Celebrate Saturday: Picking up Pumpkins

2011-10-29T15:10:00.003-05:00

Kind friends, as you search for the perfect pumpkin, this orange monument to autumn, I hope you can feel the dwindling October sunshine on your shoulders and in your heart. Have a joyful weekend.

Folklife Friday: Omens

2011-10-28T07:43:00.007-05:00

I think people were more superstitious when I was younger. Some folks I knew recognized and greatly respected omens.

We all knew that a black cat crossing the road in front of us could only mean bad luck. Of course, that bad luck could be easily negated by simply making the sign of the cross.

A dog starting to howl for no reason could put fear in the hearts of the strongest, for it could only be explained by the presence of the death angel, coming to get someone close by. Nowadays, when my dog starts howling, I know in about two seconds I will hear the sirens from the fire department over the hill.

Omens were widespread, but some particular ones were confined to small communities or family units. My Grandma Gean seemingly recognized an omen in every sneeze, itch, or change in weather.

One very common omen was seeing a ball of fire, or light, just before a tragic event. Some say it looked like a ball of intense light, others are convinced they could actually see moving flames. One family reported seeing a fireball just days before their house burned to the ground.

There are possible explanations for some of these. If the person was in the woods at night, it was probably Foxfixe, bioluminescence created by fungi on rotting timber. If a thunderstorm was going on at the time, it might have been St. Elmo's fire, a weather phenomenon produced when atmospheric conditions are just right; think electrical fields and grounded objects.

But, sometimes, they were seen on clear days outside the woods.

One summer when my husband was a child, the whole neighborhood was entertained by a series of balloon-sized lights that appeared every night. They appeared near a small spring and traveled, in a row, about fifty yards until they disappeared. The lights appeared for several weeks, and the crowd, including my father-in-law, gathered to watch them nightly until the lights stopped showing up. Hub didn't not see them personally, because his mom decided it was not something small children should be exposed to. There was a lot of speculation, but no agreement on the source or logic of the lights.

The Williams' ran the community store when I was about ten years old. They lost their adult son tragically in an automobile accident. A few days after the funeral, mama sent me and my lil ole sister to the store to get something. We were apprehensive about going; having seen death close up made Mrs. Williams somehow different and a little scary to us. We had found our item and were waiting for the receipt when Mrs. Williams broke down, sobbing on the counter. She told us that a week before her son's death, they had been awakened during the night by the sound of an automobile horn blaring in the driveway. When they got up to see what was happening, there was no car, nothing, in the driveway except moonlight. Mrs. Williams, a sober, Godly woman not given to hallucinations, was convinced that the sound was a warning, or omen, of their son's death. My lil ole sister and I had chill bumps and probably made record time getting out of there and walking home. There have been many things that I have forgotten in the subsequent years, but this incident is as clear to me as if it happened yesterday instead of about fifty years ago.

If you can explain these things, please use the comment section to share with us!

October's Party

2011-10-27T06:36:00.006-05:00

October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came -

The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand,

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

~George Cooper, October's Party

Happy Birthday, Mama

2011-10-26T05:47:00.004-05:00

Violet Beatrice Gean Stricklin
October 26, 1917-November 11, 2007

It's my mama's birthday.

The Earth revolved and seasons changed ninety times while she was here.

Uneducated, but wise.

Beautiful, work-roughened hands never still.

Her life was taking care of her family, and that she did well, even when the road was hard.

She did massive amounts of laundry on a wringer washer; her clothes lines full every sunny day expect Sunday.

She could coax nutritious vegetables out of tired clay soil, rising with the sun to do battle with weeds.

Her quilts still warm our beds and our hearts.

Known for her incomparable biscuits, she made enough in her lifetime to completely fill a Cracker Barrel.

More familiar with pain than joy, she endured.

She lived to see adult children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.

We are educated, talented, well-traveled, scattered.

She lives in all of us.

Beadie Haynes, Marie Thompson, Mama, Geneva Gean

In heaven, we are promised a mansion, blissful rest.

I'll bet my mama's has a clothesline, white robes waving in the breeze.
Could be she's sitting on the porch, waiting for her children to get home.

She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed. Proverbs 31: 27,28

All That Remains

2011-10-25T07:14:00.006-05:00

When James and Sarah Jackson decided to help settle the wilderness of North Alabama in the early 1800s, they chose the best site in the county for their mansion. They named their new mansion Forks of Cypress, probably because two branches of Cypress Creek ran together not far from there.

The mansion was built by skilled artisans, who built a safe and beautiful place. Located on a hill, it is said there was always a breeze blowing across the porches that encircled the house. James and Sarah raised a big family there.

Unlike many such mansions in the area, the Forks of Cypress was left unharmed during the Civil War. What it could not survive was a common summer thunderstorm.

In June 1966, the mansion was struck by lightning. The Forks of Cypress, with its antiques and memories, burned to the ground in less than thirty minutes. What a loss for our community!

The completely symmetrical brick columns are all that remain today.

Renaissance Faire

2011-10-24T07:02:00.009-05:00

For the past twenty-five years, on the third weekend in October, scenic downtown Wilson Park has been transformed into something.....

medieval.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear.
~William Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night's Dream, 5. 1

Celebrate Saturday: New Friends

2011-10-22T19:37:00.004-05:00

Get moving...God doesn't drive parked cars. ~Sarah Palin

Folklife Friday: Ghost Story

2011-10-21T06:51:00.012-05:00

George and his family lived more than a mile from the store. He walked there almost every day, picking up some items for his family while catching up on the news. The store was the main source of information in their little community, and George didn't want to miss anything.

It had been a long, busy day, and George had not had time for his diurnal trip to the store. As dusk was turning into true night, George set off, his empty tobacco sack overriding his anxiety of walking in the dark.

George walked peacefully for a while, surrounded by starlight and the sounds of his footsteps. As he started down a steep hill, he was shocked to discover he was not alone. A woman, clad in a billowy white gown, appeared, crossed the road in front of him, and went into the ditch on the far side of the road. Shaken up, he continued to the store with record speed.

George was greeted by the usual gang--retired and unemployed men who spent most of their time sitting outside the store and speculating on the affairs of the world. They sat up with interest when George appeared, bedraggled and white as cotton. They nodded sympathetically as George recounted his experience, his voice trembling as he struggled to regain his normal breath.

It turned out that many of the men had seen the woman before. She always appeared on the road at night and always disappeared in the ditch just like George had seen her do. No one had any solid ideas as to who or what she was. Some explained her away by saying it was just some crazy woman who wandered around at night.

There was no alternative to walking home the same way he had come. George even mustered up the courage to look in the ditch where the woman had disappeared. There was no footprints or disturbed vegetation that George could see in the dim light.

The mystery of the woman in white was never solved. George never saw her again, although afterwards, he made sure to find time for the trip to the store during the daylight hours.

Harvesting the Green

2011-10-20T08:52:00.012-05:00

Late yesterday, Hub was scrambling to get the green tomatoes before Jack Frost got them first.

Our tomatoes didn't do real well this year. They were almost dead when the Labor Day rains revived them and they put on a whole new crop.

The biggest ones were wrapped in newspaper. Some say they will stay good and ripen until Christmas.
I remember my Mama making green tomato pickles. The smallest ones will be canned with garlic and hot peppers in vinegar. Hopefully, they will perk up our winter suppers, but I'll have to let you know about that later.

The middle-sized ones are for sharing and fried green tomatoes. Remember fried green tomatoes?

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-19T07:46:00.001-05:00

Out of the Dirt: Bragg-ing

2011-10-18T07:56:00.009-05:00

Like every reader, I have my favorite writers. There have been so many that have stirred my emotions and made me a part of their world, and I'm thankful for that. The one is love the best, the one I cherish, is Rick Bragg.

Yesterday, Rick was in our area. We were privileged to see a newly released documentary about his life called Out of the Dirt. Afterwards, he talked to us about family and roots.

His first book, All over but the Shoutin', was recommended to me years ago. Very early in the book, I was thinking, "Who is this? He is writing about me, about my family." I have never actually met anyone in the book, but they are all my neighbors and kinfolks. His other books are just as well-written.

In his book, Writing for the Soul, Christian author Jerry Jenkins had this to say about Rick Bragg:

I read other writers and strive to be like them. I read others, like Rick Bragg, the Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times columnist, and simply surrender, knowing I will never reach his level. At the risk of hyperbole, I can say I would consider my life less complete had I never read the opening lines from his All Over but the Shoutin' (my favorite nonfiction work). That's one book that makes me want to read a paragraph twice, just because of its power and poetry. I recommend it to any writer at any stage of the journey.

Rick Bragg may be Alabama's best treasure.

Understanding Beauty

2011-10-17T08:13:00.002-05:00

There are various orders of beauty, causing men to make fools of themselves in various styles... but there is one order of beauty which seems made to turn the heads not only of men, but of all intelligent mammals, even of women.

It is a beauty like that of kittens, or very small downy ducks making gentle rippling noises with their soft bills, or babies just beginning to toddle and to engage in conscious mischief/

a beauty with which you can never be angry, but that you feel ready to crush for inability to comprehend the state of mind into which it throws you.
~ George Eliot

Celebrate Saturday: Share

2011-10-15T06:30:00.009-05:00

Isn’t this the fast I choose:
releasing wicked restraints,
untying the ropes of a yoke,
setting free the mistreated,
and breaking every yoke?

Isn’t it sharing your bread
with the hungry
and bringing the homeless poor into your house,
covering the naked when you see them,
and not hiding from your own family?

Then your light
will break out like the dawn,
and you will be healed quickly.
Your own righteousness will walk before you,
and the LORD’s glory will be your rear guard.
Isaiah 58:6-8

Thank you for sharing your time to visit with me here. I pray your weekend is filled with blessings....
Wanda

Folklife Fridays: Apples

2011-10-14T08:17:00.005-05:00

It seems that October and apples just go together.

Apples are one of my favorite fruits, and I eat them all year long. Most come from Sam's, pretty apples that are almost good but can't be compared to locally grown October apples.

I'm talking about apples so fresh you can taste the sunshine and so juicy that you need a napkin while eating one.

Our favorite orchards are in Athens, Alabama, and we went there last weekend and stocked up. The golden delicious are my favorite and I have just about ODed on them this week.

My mom was known for her apple pies, which she cooked almost every day. Hers were not fried. She made the half-moon shapes with her dough and apples then baked them. Experience had taught her exactly how much dough and apple filling was needed to make two pies that fit perfectly in her cast iron skillet.

When her grandchildren were small, they immediately went to the kitchen to get some apple pie as soon as they got to Grandma's. I wish I had a photo of those pies to share.

We canned and dried apples every year; stocking up for the cold months when an apple pie could make a whole day seem better. In addition to those half-moon apple pies, we had the two crust apple pies, apple cake, apple bread, the seven layer stack cake with dried apple filling, and many, many more desserts.

When we were small children, we sneaked and ate little green apples as soon as they were the size of plums. We managed to get some salt from the kitchen before we sat under the tree, eating several at a time. Mama's dire warnings of stomach aches often came true, but I can't remember that stopping us from eating them.

I can apples in a simple syrup, four cups of water to one cup of sugar. They are served as a side when we are having any kind of pork--I love the taste of apples and pork together. If all the canned apples have been eaten, I use applesauce from the store with my pork roasts.

My friend, Tipper, at blindpigandtheacorn.com, reminded me this week about a game we played when we were having marathon apple peelings for canning or drying. We would attempt to peel the apples without breaking the peel, then throw it over our back. If the peel landed in the shape of a letter, the letter was the initial of the man you were going to marry. Mine always landed in a 'S' and I married a 'B', so don't take that game too seriously!

When you wish upon a Star.....

2011-10-13T06:26:00.008-05:00

Everyday, we hear about new discoveries in the solar system. Astronomers are excited about seeing for the first time many earth-like planets in the solar system.

Twenty-first century technology is allowing a new peep into the ancient heavens;
images that Galileo and Copernicus couldn't fathom.

An Austrian astronomer recently estimated the number of stars
to be approximately 70 sextillion. 70,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.
More than the grains of sand on Planet Earth.

They have been there since the fourth day.
They have been in their place, waiting, serving their purpose.

Twinkle, twinkle little star.
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Psalm 19:1

*NASA images

Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-12T06:33:00.002-05:00

Newbery Medal books

2011-10-11T05:50:00.006-05:00

Lately, I have been going back and reading some Newbery medal books that I somehow missed before. The books are in the Young Adult category, but I enjoy reading them as much as I love adult books.

The oldest one I have read is The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare, which won in 1959. I never tire of reading about colonial times and how their thinking was so different from ours.

My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George was also published in 1959. It is a Newbery Honor book.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson won the medal in 1978, but most children today have heard about it because it was recently made into a movie. The book surprised me with its ending.

In his 2001 award winner, A Year Down Yonder, Richard Peck manages to write a delightful book about a Chicago teenager spending a year with her Grandmother in the south without being derogatory to the southern way of life.

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis won the medal in 2000. This book is my favorite....it made me laugh out loud and cry, something that is hard for a book to do.

My goal is to read all the Newbery Award winners. They have been given out since 1922, so I have a lot of catching up to do.

I'm so thankful that I have the time and ability to read.

I'll be at the library.

Orange in the Air

2011-10-10T07:59:00.008-05:00

Ah, the joys of autumn! My world is full of various hues of yellow and orange.

It is not the leaves. They are starting to turn but won't reach their peak for a week or so.

It's pumpkins! There must have been a bumper crop this year!

There have been pumpkins everywhere I've been this weekend....beautiful, bright pumpkins!

They must have known I was coming and got all dressed up for me.

This fellow refused to show his happy face!

With just a little imagination, these pumpkins can be seen as dozens of pumpkin pies, all topped with fresh whipped cream and an extra sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

Two came home with me. They will be used to decorate for a few days until I decide what goodies to make from them.

Celebrate Saturday: Seeking Wisdom

2011-10-08T08:46:00.008-05:00

Four things on earth are small, yet they are extremely wise:

Ants are creatures of little strength, yet they store up their food in the summer;

Coneys (badgers) are creatures of little power, yet they make their home in the crags;

Locusts have no king, yet they advance together in in ranks;

A lizard can be caught with the hand, yet it is found in kings' palaces.
Proverbs 30:24-29 NIV

. . . and on your quest today, kind friend, remember that all wisdom comes from our Father. . .

I thank you and praise you, O God of my fathers; You have given me wisdom and power, You have made known to me what we asked of you. . Daniel 2:23 NIV

Folklife Friday: Hedge Apples

2011-10-07T04:45:00.006-05:00

Hedge apples have always seemed a bit mysterious to me, like they didn't really belong here. Their bumpy skin reminds me of maps of the surface of distant planets or bad pictures of human brains.

Other names for hedge apples are Osage orange, horse apple, or bodark (from the French meaning bow wood). The fruit is not poisonous, but the sticky, sappy pulp is not desired by men or animals. Just handling the fruit left a sticky residue on my hands.

After asking around, the only use I found for hedge apples was putting them in basements and around the foundation of houses to deter insects. Some say no spiders could be found in their house as long as the hedge apples were good. They stay good for two or three months before they decay.

The wood of the hedge apple tree produces a hot fire, but no one wants to cut the sticky wood because it gums up the saw. I read that the hedge apples will burn when dried, producing lots of sparks. I plan to try this after they start to decay.

Hedge apples have a slight citrus scent, and I think their uniqueness makes them pretty. These will sit on my dining room table until they are ready for the fireplace.

These will be scattered around in the basement to test their ability to deter insects. I hope they work on those vile jumping-jack crickets.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein

And the Winner is...

2011-10-06T06:13:00.023-05:00

My first blogging contest is over.

All the entries were put in a box.....

then, after much shuffling, a name was drawn.

The winner is....LYNN WILLIAMS!

Lynn, message or email me and your new little buddy will be on the way!

Thanks to everyone who participated.

Remember, my blog on Labor Day talked about rain on my turnip seed?

We all know that you reap what you sow!

This is going in the crockpot before I go to work!

Can anyone identify the object in this picture?

Come back tomorrow and check it out!

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~Phil 4:7

Wordless Wednesday: Patience

2011-10-05T06:32:00.003-05:00

Finding the Good

2011-10-04T06:42:00.006-05:00

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt,

finds tongues in trees,

books in the running brooks,

sermons in stones,

and good in everything.

~William Shakespeare

Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. Proverbs 34:8

Rock Springs

2011-10-03T07:39:00.013-05:00

Yesterday was a perfect autumn day.

After church, we went for a ride to Rock Spring, a nature trail off the Natchez Trace.

Rock Spring has an abundance of jewelweed, loved by bees and hummingbirds and me.

When the hummingbirds head south for the winter, they stop to eat and rest at Rock Spring. Sometimes, you can see hundreds of them sipping nectar from the jewelweed.

We saw just a few. We were about two weeks late; most of them are already gone. Some may be flying over the Gulf of Mexico right now.
It was a good walk, even though we missed most of the hummingbirds.

Crossing the creek was easy.

The beavers have been working hard.

The water behind the beaver dam is about a foot deeper than the water in front of it.

We saw berries and blossoms and lots of other people out to enjoy the day.

Grab on to the autumn while it is here. Please don't miss opportunities to see the beauty around us!

Don't forget to leave a comment here or on my Facebook link to be in the drawing for this fellow. Contest ends Wednesday night; you can comment once a day until then.

Celebrate Saturday: Find a Festival!

2011-10-01T07:04:00.006-05:00

Fall has come, waltzing in with its cooler temps and brilliant colors.

Festivals are blooming out all over!

Get out of the house and see what you can find today.

There will never be a more perfect day to walk around, share some smiles, and breathe in the fresh October!

Enjoy. . . .

Folklife Friday: Come to the Fair!

2011-09-30T06:11:00.005-05:00

The Northwest Alabama state fair has come and gone, and not many even noticed.

The fair used to be something we waited for, longed for, all during the hot summer. The week before the fair, promoters would install a huge spotlight that would sweep across the sky to remind folks to get ready. We would sit outside and watch that light and talk about what all we were going to do once we got to that fair!

Over thirty years ago, I was attending a monthly home demonstration club, and the leaders there encouraged us to enter our food and crafts in the fair competitions. So I entered some things, helping to insure there would be no empty shelves in the exhibition hall. To my utter delight, I won a blue ribbon for my whole wheat bread and my elderberry jelly! I have been taking things to the fair since then.

I fear that the fair and its exhibits will pass away with my generation. The times, they do change. Until then, I'll continue to take things as long as I'm able.

Here are a few of the goodies that I entered in this year's fair.

The quilt trimmed in blue is made from old calendars.

This is a hand appliqued, hand quilted Christmas wallhanging.

Need a close-up?

Remember this little guy from a few weeks ago? He won a blue ribbon in the recycled crafts catagory.

In celebration of the fair, I am giving this handsome fellow away to one of you. All you have to do is leave a comment here or where it is linked to my Facebook page. You can enter once a day until next Thursday, when I will draw for and announce the winner.

Is this fun or what?