Happy as Kings

We struck out upon a dike.
We talked of dikes as we walked on it, for when you read  The Wheel On the School,
you learn about dikes, sourkraut, and storks.
The sun was out and up but going down.

We walked awhile, butterfly nets and insect houses in hand.  Then we saw how low the river was to the south.  The islands of mud and silt sticking up everywhere.
Then we saw a little trail, blackberry bushes hiding it, big boulders making it an adventure to get down.
No rocks at the bottom, just silt and little islands awaiting our presence.
We move from one island to the other...
"look, there's a land bridge."

I look to the east, the mountains lit up by the setting sun...green forests covering them with passion.  And above them a haloed cloud, and above it the inspiring Mount Hood.

I took in my breath, watching the children play with my husband.  Marveling at the beauty all around.
I'd never felt so rich.  No one could take that moment from me.

This morning I read the children's poem with Dawson and Noelle:

The world is so full
Of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all
Be as happy as kings.

I thought of last night and knew exactly what Stevenson meant.

Daffodil Hill

2011

It's time. Just about now last year my preschoolers and I happened upon a lovely discovery while taking a nature walk.

2010

2010

It was so lovely we took the older boys back with us.

And this year, after the morning lessons were nearing complete, I shared my plan.  "How about taking a nature walk, guys?"  They mumbled something incoherent.  So I tried again.  "I was thinking of heading to Daffodil Hill."

Immediate cheers rose out and they could hardly get ready and out the door fast enough.

It didn't disappoint.  We set out on the trail and the six year-old ran ahead to make sure there were indeed daffodils for us to find.  There were, and in abundance.

We meandered around on the hill, exploring, pointing out the different colors, and picking a few to grace our table in remembrance.  In remembrance.

Of what?  Of this moment, just here.  Just this.  Basking in this gift of now and knowing that those bulbs designed by God were created to burst forth now and we might as well go and see.

It's not always been this way for me.  Still isn't.  I easily get overwhelmed with the tasks before me.  I sin in my anger at another.  I choose to "accomplish something" instead of give attention to what's really important.

But it's getting less.  I know it when my eight year-old son says at the dinner table: "Mommy's getting more tame."  I know it when we return from the grocery store and someone's squished all the bread and they've piled all the groceries in such a way I can't even get through and I want to scream.

But the Spirit wins and instead, I hear myself say, "Look, kids, the rain's really coming down now.  I'm so thankful we got all this inside before it started.  Just a few minutes more and..."

It's not me.  It's God.  He is powerful to create us more and more into His image.  

I'm at the swimming pool going ga-ga over a little baby six months old.  He's no-wristed, smiley, content, full of chub from finger to cheek to toe.  Just like my babies were.  He makes such an impression on me I tell my husband about the baby and suggest we try for one more?  

I want to go back.  Hold my boys in all their chub just one more time.  I want to tell that mother not to do anything else but enjoy that little baby.  He'll grow out of his baby fat so soon.

The next day a friend stops by.  Her oldest is heading to college next year, youngest entering high school.

She looks at my children all circled around the table reading books and working on tanagrams.  

A look of nostalgia comes over her face as she says to me, "I remember when my children were just like that."

WHAM!  The words work through me hard.  I don't have a little baby or peace and quiet or many other things I think I want.  But I do have this. Now.  Grace.  Beauty in the present moment.

So I'll stop and dance at Daffodil Hill for as long as my children want to go there with me. A yearly reminder that they're growing up, and that I must boldly enjoy it all.

God's grace always abundant if I dare to see.

photos: a visit to Daffodil Hill, all 2011 except if marked

a few fall recipes

We enter a new season and I intentionally stop.

To see.  To experience.  To enter in.

A few things have to happen in these parts for that to happen:

1.  A willingness to get rained on.

2.  Eyes set to discover the beauty, big and small, everywhere we go.

3.  Choosing to be in the moment.

4.  Sharing the discoveries and experiences with others.

5.  Being thankful for what's given.

My life seems to have gotten smaller.  I spend a lot of time in the basement.  I converse with very few people over the age of ten.  

And yet, when I look at this fall recipe, I trust.  

My prayer is that this precious time of being with my children will result in a greater impact in this world than if I were to engage in every great activity and opportunity given.

Other recipes we've enjoyed this fall:

Zucchini Yeast Rolls

2-3 cups summer squash (shredded)

1 cup/ 250 ml water

1/2 cup sugar

3 tablespoons oil

2 teaspoons salt

Combine in a saucepan and heat slowly until warm, stirring to blend.  Or warm in microwave.

1 cup bread flour

1 cup whole wheat bread flour

1/3 cup dry milk powder (I used flax meal instead)

2 tablespoons active dry yeast

1/2 teaspoon ground mace (optional)

Combine in a mixing bowl.  Add liquid ingredients and beat well until smooth.

1 3/4- 2 1/2 cups bread flour

Stir in enough additional flour to make a soft dough.  Knead 8-10 minutes until smooth and elastic.  Place in greased bowl, turn to grease both sides, cover with a damp cloth and let rise until doubled in bulk.  Punch down and let rise 10 minutes.  Shape rolls and place on a greased baking sheet.  Cover and let rise until doubled.   Bake in a preheated oven at 350F until golden brown, 25-35 minutes.  Brush with milk for a soft crust and let stand 5-10 minutes before removing to a wire rack.

Simply in Season, Lind and Hockman-Wert, p. 87

Country Beef and Cabbage Soup

12 ounces 95% lean ground beef

2 cups beef broth

14 1/2 ounce can stewed tomatoes, undrained and crushed

1 cup chopped onion

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 bay leaf

1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper

4 cups coarsely chopped cabbage (about 1/2 medium head)

15-ounce can red kidney beans, rinsed and drained

(I doubled it for our family and we had it for two meals at least with plenty leftover)

1.  Brown beef and onion in a large soup pot.  Add the remaining ingredients except the cabbage and kidney beans, and bring to a boil over high heat.  Reduce to low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes.  

2.  Add the cabbage and kidney beans to the pot and raise the heat to bring the mixture to a boil.  Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for an additional 15-20 minutes or until the cabbage is tender and the flavors well blended.  Remove bay leaf (or give whichever person who finds it in their bowl a prize) and serve hot.

The Good Carb Cookbook, Woodruff, p. 131

My prayer is that you, too, will choose to look for beauty in whatever season you're in, even when it won't stop raining.  That you will give thanks.  That God's purposes will be worked out in you and through you.

And I'm so grateful for you.

Summer Flame

 
  Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
but only he who sees, takes off his shoes--
      the rest sit around and pluck blackberries.
                                             Elizabeth Barrett Browning

We all prepare to work, knowing we'll get scratched.

Knowing also it'll be worth the scrapes, tears, and blood.

Yes, there was the time we went picking and one child stirred up a yellow jacket's nest
and I don't think we ended up with much that year.

It hasn't deterred us, though...this late summer outing in quest for blackberries.  So sweet, juicy, a burst of delicious flavor, immediate delight!

Summer is drawing to a close.

The sunflowers are bowing their heads lower, paying homage to the sun that gave them life.

The squirrels are working hard to ensure we see not one single ripe walnut, reserving them all for their own winter supply.

And we, we head out to the fields to enjoy summer's grand finale.

I fear the future and cry at the past.  All the what-will-be's of summer are now what-have-beens.  And the to-do list for fall is immense, insurmountable;  feels impossible.

But here, this evening, we stop to savor these astounding jewels.  And store up a little for pie.

Will I choose to remember this evening the next time I get anxious and start to fret?  Just maybe, by God's grace, I'll see in that moment the bush afire God has gifted me....

Because sometimes blackberries are hangin' on the common bushes afire!

photos: blackberry picking, trip to SunRiver