Slate Saturday

When we left the funeral at 11:18 this morning, it was misting slightly. By the time we arrived at the craft sales site in Winona Lake, it was sleeting. In typical Hoosier fashion, the sun came out a few minutes later, then disappeared. Now it is 40 degrees and overcast at 4:30 p.m., probably our warmest temperature for this cold slate gray Saturday.

We had our first hard frost this week; I may need to put my geranium and mum pots in the garage overnight again. I discarded my small wax begonia the morning after the frost. My husband said that as he placed it next to the garbage bag on the curb, he saw all kinds of potted plants on our block sitting next to neighbors' trash. The seasonal change has settled into our hearts and minds. If my geranium hadn't recently put out all kinds of blooms, I probably would have said good-bye to it, too. Its fecundity gave it a reprieve. All thoughts of summer are definitely gone.

I bought a few Christmas gifts at the craft fair, including a beaded bracelet for my Operation Christmas Child box (girl age 10-14). Are you working on a box? Just a few weeks left until collection date. The beader in her 20's had never heard of the Samaritan Purse ministry. I shared a little and told her that the bracelet would go far away to brighten a young girl's life. Previously, my tracked boxes went to Africa, last year to Columbia, South America. She was happy to know her handiwork was for a good cause.

Bought some peanut brittle from the Church of the Good Shepherd table. Somebody gave us some of this last holiday season. One bite and you are hooked. I have never made brittle; penuche and fudge a few times, but I don't even own a candy thermometer now. 

On the way home from working in the library Wednesday, I snipped a branchlet from a bush near the Health Care employee entrance. It has fine grain-like growths. I think it enhances my pottery jug of artificial autumn leaves, but my husband didn't even notice it until I pointed it out.

Tuesday is the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther posting his theses and challenging the Catholic church. I am going to place our two library books about Luther in the hall display along with changing the library bulletin board. I am hoping there might be some newspaper articles I can clip to post, too. I doubt our church will even mention this anniversary, but other churches and organizations have planned special services and events.

Next Saturday there are at least 4 craft fairs taking place in Warsaw. I pretty much finished up my Christmas craft shopping for local family today, but I will still browse these other opportunities. One is the community art association; those should be interesting though more costly items. This is the first time they have rented a building at the fair grounds.

Friday I went to the Friends of the Library book sale in North Webster. The past few sales have been disappointing, but this time I bought 12 books, including a few Christmas ones. Next Friday the Warsaw Community Public Library FOL has a book sale. After that, I will search Better World Books again to fill in series gaps. I have some money to spend after a generous donation. I'll have to do shelf weeding to make room though. My helper has returned, and Friday the return box was empty. Hooray! 

Me Too

Bundled up in the warmest clothes we had, my church youth group jammed ourselves into the crowd lined up along the curb waiting for the Rose Parade to start. It was unusually chilly for a Southern California January 1st morning. 

Some people blew on their hands or rubbed them together to generate heat. When my butt was touched, I assumed the person behind me was doing likewise, and I inched forward the few inches I could to give that person more room. Then the rhythmic stroking began. I was a naïve 15-year-old girl, but my gut sent me a message of uneasiness.

I am not sure why I turned my head to look at that person as I wouldn't have the courage for confrontation. I saw a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a deadpan face except for the challenging eyes. Before I pivoted back to look ahead, I glanced down at his hands stuffed into the pockets of his light-weight overcoat. Mercifully, the touching stopped. He knew that I knew there was something not right. I never spoke of it to anyone.

As I matured and became more sexually aware, I knew that act that day was intentional and for the man's gratification. It was a small and relatively insignificant incident compared to the sexual assault and sexual harassment experiences of the women now speaking and tweeting out ; yet, more than 5 decades later I can clearly picture that man's face.

Pew Neighbor

The man who sits one chair over from me on Sundays is now in heaven. On October 15th he told me again how he was looking forward to bringing his wife to the harvest dinner potluck on November 5th. She has been unable to attend church for over a year because of health problems. We all thought she would be the first to pass away, but God had other plans.

This man who is 85 played tennis a few times a week. Last Thursday he and another player collided on the court. My church member broke his neck. He had paralysis from the neck down and trouble breathing. Yesterday his family decided to disconnect the ventilator and let him go to heaven to be with Jesus.

One never knows when earthly life will be snuffed out. His heart was right with God. How about yours? 

Measure for Measure

Thursday night we attended a play at Grace College put on by the Actors From the London Stage theatre company. I have never seen a live Shakespeare performance. This one was somewhat different from your period costumes and sets.

Actors From the London Stage is a traveling company that puts on workshops and seminars at academic institutions twice a year. This troupe consisted of five actors. As the professor introducing the play said, "They use whatever props and costumes they can fit into a suitcase."

Each actor plays multiple people; the audience is cued in by a scarf, a hat, a boa, a cloak, etc. as to which person is speaking. Sometimes a single actor's multiple characters engage in dialogue with each other.  This amuses the audience at first as the actor pivots or crosses the stage and puts on his "costume" (often a hat) to face the other character. The only time I had confusion was with the Escalus/Provost/Justice character. The costume prop was not distinctive enough, and I didn't always know which character was speaking the lines. 

Lacking elaborate costumes and sets to draw the audience in to the play required superb acting so those watching used imagination to fill in the "blanks". Truly, this was professional theatre. The program mentioned that there is no director so the actors must decide among themselves as they rehearse and perform how they want to portray the scene and characters with the minimal equipment they have. They come from various British theatres and usually have not worked together before.

Measure for Measure was not a Shakespeare play I had read previously or studied in high school or college. I guess it is a comedy though it has its tinge of darkness when condemned Claudio and the friar look at the "benefits" of death over life. Claudio who started out sitting on the ground upright sunk lower and lower and finally shed tears as they discussed his coming death. I occasionally had trouble understanding this actor's lines, but this emotion needed no words. There is a synopsis of the play on the AFTLS link above. It questions the Old Testament idea of "an eye for an eye" vs mercy.

It was an enjoyable evening.

I just finished cooking some Paula Red apples into applesauce. They had mushed up in other dishes where I wanted slices; ideal for making into sauce. Naturally sweet, too, so I added no sugar just some cinnamon. In fact I included one tart Granny Smith apple to balance the sweetness a little. We will eat the applesauce tonight with pork chops. 

Santa Rosa California

As I was sorting through the papers in my file cabinet recently, I came across a few paragraphs written by my grandmother shortly before she died and used in her memorial service. She mentioned growing up in Kelseyville, Lake County, California before as a teen she moved in with her aunt in Pico Rivera. I wondered how far north Lake County was so I looked it up on a map. Not too far north of Sonoma County and Santa Rosa. 

About two weeks later the horrendous fires that put Santa Rosa in the news occurred. I remembered hearing that the man who led my church choir in Mesquite, Texas ended up in Santa Rosa after serving in the church in Pacific Palisades to where he moved from Mesquite. It has been over 20 years since I last saw him. Google found him for me at Santa Rosa Bible Church. On the church web site I learned that the church was readying to have a church service at 2 p.m. Sunday in another church as their church sat in the evacuation zone. Also, 40 church families had lost their homes to the fire. [There is a relief fund you can contribute to described on the church web page.]

Curious about Stan and Lori, I again did an internet search for an address. They live in the Brushy Creek area in the foothills and were at risk. The video on the church site mentioned that Stan would be coming from the foothills to help lead the church service. From what I can tell about the fire, they have been spared so far. Hopefully, they will not lose their home. Conditions do seem to be improving allowing for containment of the fires. Pray for our suffering Christian sisters and brothers. 

Eating New Things

I don't know why I bought the box of polenta. My grocery store was having a "Taste of Italy" promotion, and I had recently seen a recipe for a sausage and polenta breakfast casserole. This was months ago. I finally decided to brown up some Italian sausage with mushrooms and a red pepper and eat on top of the polenta. I knew it was corn mush, but it sounded more interesting in the Italian. I won't be seeking it out again. The instructions on the box were for the whole package; I have leftovers. I read of people who make a block of the polenta and fry up slices. I guess I will try that to finish off what I cooked. 

The little green zebra tomato was quite tasty. Beside it is the second of the orange tomatoes from the farmers' market.

I had better success with the cinnamon swirl banana bread I baked Monday morning.

This is actually a good recipe for really ripe bananas because most of the other ingredients are in your pantry. No nuts in this recipe. It is quite delicious. The only negative I saw was that the top layer of cinnamon sugar doesn't soak into the batter very well. There was lots of loose sugar around the sides of the pan when I removed it from the oven, and when I sliced the bread, lots of the "crust" of cinnamon sugar that did adhere crumbled off. Next time I would put more of the cinnamon sugar in the middle layer, less on top.

Cinnamon Swirl Banana Bread

3 over-ripe bananas, smashed

1/3 cup melted butter

3/4 cup sugar

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp. vanilla 

dash of salt

1  1/2 cups flour  

Swirl Sugar:

1/3 cup sugar

1 tbsp. cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a loaf pan. The recipe writer used a 9x5; mine was somewhat larger as I used my silicone pan (no size known but definitely bigger than 9x5).

Mix bananas, butter, sugar, egg, and vanilla; sprinkle baking soda and salt on top. Gently stir in flour. Do not overmix.

In a small dish mix the swirl sugar ingredients.

Put half of the batter in the loaf pan and then sprinkle a little more than half of the cinnamon sugar over the batter in the pan. Add the rest of the batter, then sprinkle the remaining cinnamon sugar on top.

Bake for 50-60 minutes, adjusting for pan size if not using a 9x5.

It only took 35 minutes for mine to have a toothpick come out clean. 

Goshen Farmers' Market

After breakfast at Lux Café this morning, we headed over to the farmers' market on Washington Street. The eggs Benedicts we ate at the café were good, but slightly disappointing as they used ham rather than the Canadian bacon listed on the menu. A diverse menu; the pancakes looked huge, the crepes also generously sized. So many Amish/Mennonite folks in the restaurant. Even had a few buggies tied around back. This restaurant is on US 33, a busy road for bikes and buggies, but we saw a few. One table of 8 Amish ladies had a non-Amish lady eating with them; I suspect she was the driver of a hired van.

I meant to take my camera this morning but forgot; you will have to see my purchases rather than the lovely produce, etc. in the market. This market is in a building, and we found out there is a café. I would have liked to buy some of the baked goods in the café, but the line at the register to pay was a dozen deep. Instead we bought at a booth a pumpkin muffin to have with our scrambled eggs tomorrow. I learned this market is open on Tuesday afternoons in the summer though with fewer vendors than on Saturday.

I was glad to get the fall edition of Edible Michiana. This free magazine is always interesting to peruse.

A vendor was busy making a floral arrangement for a gentleman, but she paused long enough for me to buy my 5 stems. 

I also bought some heirloom tomatoes. The grower told me the name of the orangish ones but now I forget. She said they are one of her favorites for flavor. We'll try one at lunch. She threw in the little green zebra tomato for free when I mentioned I had never eaten one of those. A very pleasant and informative lady with dried dirt on her fingers and under her nails. The real McCoy.

I bought Jan Karon's newest book To Be Where You Are at Meijer to add to the Grace Village library. I need to make a bookplate as the book was purchased with money given in memory of a former resident. 

Not much color in the leaves yet. Still corn and soybeans unharvested in the fields we passed, too. Lots of pumpkins and autumn/Halloween décor though on porches and yards.

Time to make our lunch sandwiches and slice the tomato. Hope you are enjoying your mid-October Saturday.

Merry Lea

As we drove east under gray skies this morning, I had no inkling we would find ourselves hiking under pretty blue skies with white puffy clouds. It was overcast all of yesterday, and today was forecasted to be the same at least until noon. 

We went to Merry Lea an environmental educational center run by Goshen College. The trails are sometimes on dirt but often on dew-drenched grass. Eventually the damp seeped thru to my socks. I hope the natural tan color returns when the boots dry.

This land north of Columbia City near Wolf Lake was given to the college for its biology and environmental studies programs, but the public is welcome to hike the trails. It was quiet except for bird chatter and honking geese; usually there are school children during the week, but the educators were at a conference. We were surprised to learn that sorghum syrup was going to be made on the north side of the acreage. The lady at the learning center building invited us to visit that program and gave us driving directions.

We ate our trail mix overlooking Cub Lake; the sun made it impossible to photograph this lily padded body of water from the bench where we sat by water's edge. There are many small lakes/ponds on the property. Click on the link above to see a map.

How would you like to live in a dorm in such a pretty place?

One of the instructors told us students live here for a semester as part of the curriculum.

Part of the mission is preservation and conservation of the natural ecology, but they also do some sustainable farming.

The mobile chicken coop (on wheels) is moved around even into some of the dying garden so the chickens can grub around for bugs. I guess the students collect the eggs as part of their food. 

The garden plots were fenced. While hiking we saw a deer flick its white tail and speed away from us. I would guess rabbits are also to be defended against. 

We arrived at Rieth Village a few minutes before 10 a.m. The fires had been stoked under some pans of sorghum juice, but the plants awaiting pressing had not been touched. The juice is a nasty bile green, not a bit appetizing. It boils down into an amber syrup.

You can see the color better in this smaller pot that was to be cooked down on a turkey cooker.

Since the pressing activity hadn't started, we hiked around a wetland pond to the farmstead. Most of that was closed up since as I mentioned before the environmentalists were away for the day.

I guess the school children have interaction with farm animals usually.

We continued to walk the circular trail by the wetland pond until we came to a west cutoff leading back to Rieth Village.
Now a belt driven by a tractor turned the pressing wheel. We saw the pressing of the stalks. I was surprised how bulky the wastage was and how little the trickle of juice was that emptied out of the funnel. A lot of work for not a great quantity of syrup I would say.

As we headed for our car, a lady from Old Loon Farm which had supplied the tractor equipment and buckets invited us to try some cookies she had baked from sorghum. They were yummy, sort of like a molasses spice cookie. She also had what she called "sorghum butter" she poured over a biscuit for us to try. I didn't like it as well as maple syrup or honey, but it was OK. 
We spent so much time on the southern and eastern half of the acreage, we didn't make it to the western lakes and forests. It was time for lunch. We'll have to return sometime. It was an enjoyable outing.

Downsizing the Family Home

I recently finished the book Downsizing the Family Home by Marni Jameson. I've seen this AARP publication advertised in the bulletin and the magazine; I checked my public library, and it was available.

"I wanted to be respectful of my parents' belongings, honor their lives, be a good steward of their assets, and preserve their past and mine. I didn't want to be weighed down by more stuff ..." she writes. She had recently divorced, moved from a very large home in Colorado to a small rental in Florida and had no room for more stuff.

Ms. Jameson found herself in a difficult situation of needing to clear out her parents' house of 50 years and ready it for sale in 9 days. That is all the time she could take away from her job and her daughter. She lived across the country from this house. She had the advantage as a syndicated columnist of lifestyle and home life to know experts she could tap into for advice. She shares this advice and what she learned thru her hands-on experience. 

Her mother was experiencing short-term memory loss and her father was failing physically from lung damage. The father had drafted his son's help in visiting potential assisted living communities and finally decided on one. The wife who didn't like change kept saying we don't need to move. Actually, they cut it pretty close as in less than 6 months from the clearing out and sale of the house the father died. The funds from the sale of the house gave her father comfort that his wife would have what she needed to remain in a safe environment. 

Since Ms. Jameson's father initiated the move and her brother helped select furnishings and household goods for the new apartment, the early stages of the process went fairly smoothly. Her mother had been taken several times to the new residence, but on the day of the move, she stopped at the threshold of her new apartment, clenched her fists, and loudly declared "No, no, no!"

As the book points out in chapter one deciding the timing of the move to assisted living is tricky. If the person(s) need this kind of residence but balk, it makes it harder. Sometimes an intervention must take place. Fortunately, Ms. Jameson had the cooperation of half the couple (her father). Once the clearing out of the house started, her mother knew she could not return.

Because of her contacts, the author was able to identify and set aside potentially valuable items from all the other stuff. She then held an estate sale with her brother and sister-in-law helping, but still had lots of things to dispose of. She had when sorting boxed up the hard-to-decide items and put them in the garage so the house could be painted. But as you might guess, these items were photographs, memorabilia, keepsakes, documents, some jewelry. She did finally ship a painting and her mother's china to Florida using a professional shipping company to pack the items, but of course this is prohibitively expensive for most items and for most people. When the house sold quickly, her brother stored these boxes for future perusal. 

Though she loved her parents immensely, the emotional and physical toll of clearing out this house with all of its childhood memories was overwhelming. The answer is for the parents to make a real effort as they get older of divesting themselves of things. Hers did not. (My mother did not.) The author tries to persuade all of us to be kind to our family by not leaving such a mess. Given that this ideal does not exist for most of us, and we get stuck with handling all of our parents' stuff, her advice is practical. What services children use will depend on their own financial means, time available, and physical stamina, but at least they will know the options after reading the book. 

I do not have children thus it will be my spouse or family member or friend who has to step up to the task. I continue to pare down some so that whoever gets the responsibility will have it easier. Probably my husband and I will downsize from our condo to an apartment and get rid of more items at that time. Moving certainly does help winnow stuff.

The book motivated me to continue with the KonMari method I had started. I finished the clothing and books several months ago but I got bogged down in the paper category. This past week I made progress in the file cabinet drawers so the light in the tunnel appeared. However, a subcategory of paper would be all of the magazine clippings of recipes sitting in a storage box under my bed. I had "indexed" them at one time, listing the recipes on a page for each plastic archival envelope. I am trying to decide whether to make any effort in scanning thru them or just junk the whole mess. When I first clipped them, I would make an effort to cook/fix at least half a dozen recipes per year. That died before I even got to Indiana. 

Because light rain was predicted for last night and today, I scurried to my neighbor's tree yesterday afternoon to gather pinecones. I wish I had taken a bag, but I carried 10 cones home. They had a little sticky pitch that stuck to my fingers. I may only keep them for one season, then throw them out. I should heed the advice of the book I just read. I put them in my woven pine needle basket from the Ozarks which I love and will keep as long as I can.