Apples

“Over the river and through the woods…” the lyrics flitted through Shelby’s mind. Whenever she heard this Christmas melody she couldn’t help but think about her paternal grandparents, especially her grandmother Irene.

Shelby was pretty sure her family didn’t cross a river during the hour-long drive to her dad’s childhood home south of Stetsonville, and she knew for certain she and her siblings had never ridden in a sleigh. Still, the song brought to mind Sunday visits that began with a hearty meat-and-potatoes meal, followed by an afternoon of Sheepshead or Pinochle, and games of Scrabble. Sometime after the sun went down, the visit ended with three generations gathered once more around the sturdy oak table, just before her dad and the uncles went outside to warm up the cars that would carry everyone home.

While the mid-day feast featured fried chicken, roast beef, or baked pork chops, the evening spread was always canned ham, sliced for sandwiches, homemade bread and creamy butter, with oatmeal cookies and canned apples for dessert. The canned apples were served from quart canning jars that Grandma Irene brought up from the cellar.

Each year apples grew and ripened on trees that lined the gravel driveway east of the house. The apples were smaller than the ones sold at the grocery store—each one the color of applesauce and  just a bit larger than a marshmallow. The homegrown apples were canned stem and all in a sugary homemade concoction—the recipe not written down, but kept within Irene’s memory. By the time Shelby was deemed old enough to play Scrabble (5th grade) Irene had been canning apples and garden produce for decades.

Irene carried a bouquet of lilacs when she and Grandpa Joe had married in the spring of 1931, less than two years after the Wall Street Crash that kicked off the Great Depression. Shelby’s dad, born in 1936, was their second child of seven—three girls and four boys.

As an adult, Shelby would encounter a photograph of the Irene & Joe's children taken near the apple trees and wonder why there were eight children, arranged from tallest to smallest. Grandma Irene explained that the “extra” one, Janice, was the only child of her sister-in-law, whose husband farmed the place a mile down the road. When Shelby asked why Janice was included, Irene shared that Janice and her mom always came by to help with picking and canning the apples—after all, apple canning was a family tradition.

-rjw

Blue Jay

A blue jay chirped angrily at me this morning apparently upset that I moved the corn cobs it feasted on yesterday. I looked up and found its white breast in the tree overhead, its blue head jauntily tilted, its piercing eyes looking down on me. I responded, “If you wanted breakfast, you should have gotten up earlier, before I started raking these leaves, after all it’s almost noon.”

Today is Sunday, a stunning autumn day with warm sunshine and a bright blue sky—the kind of day that beckons, Come outside and play. I locate the rake and clear leaves from the curb that lines our street, pulling my quarry up onto the front lawn, adding it to the shallow piles the wind has gathered overnight. 

As I begin to bag the leaves for transport to the community compost site, the blue jay takes flight, perhaps in search of another autumn display of gourds and field corn, a breakfast buffet.

R

Photo by Jeremy Hynes on Unsplash

semi-precious stones

Standing in the beauty of creation on a crisp fall night I feel so alive. The rich dark sky embraces my senses, brings the stars almost within my grasp. God is close.

A few hours later, as I am tossing and turning in anxious sleep, satan hisses. The self-contempt that slithers into my consciousness are earthly things: temporary setbacks, imagined obstacles, past regrets, impending shame. Exhaustion has opened the gate. Like stones taken from a quarry, crushed and spread as base beneath a newly paved road, I am being smothered by layers of lies, oily asphalt.

I wake and God seems so very far away.

My heart beats loudly in the anxious silence.

God hears the voiceless prayers of my heart, invites me closer, shifts my focus away from obstacles, setbacks, shame and regret. God melts the layers of lies, opens my eyes to see that what I fear is temporary or imagined, not impending but tethered in the past.

I find comfort in the necklace I wore for the funeral of my niece, a time when hopelessness, grief, loss and fear gave way to a celebration of her life and her New Life.

In the darkest of moments, when we are feeling less than precious, when we fear death and darkness, God hears our hearts cry. God is already there.

... the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:26-28 NIV

Rw

Bacon and Sausage

The alarm clock rang at 5am. I got out of bed, hit the snooze button, went to the kitchen to fry bacon and sausage. I don't remember the last time we purchased breakfast meats. Typically we're a bagel and fiber bar house, enjoying something heart- healthy with our coffee.

The hardier breakfast fare is a seasonal celebration. Today is the opening morning of gun season for white tailed deer. Sunrise 7:08am.

If I were a gambler, I'd put my money on the one in the middle to bring home a buck. She got up early to exercise, ate fruit and yogurt for breakfast.

The rest of us? Well...

Rw

"And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day. 

And God said, 'Let the land produce living creatures 

according to their kinds: the livestock, 

the creatures that move along the ground, 

and the wild animals, each according to its kind.' 

And it was so. God made the wild animals 

according to their kinds, 

the livestock 

according to their kinds, 

and all the creatures that move along the ground 

according to their kinds. 

And God saw that it was good. 

Then God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, 

in our likeness, so that they may rule over 

the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, 

over the livestock and all the wild animals, 

and over all the creatures 

that move along the ground.'

So God created mankind in his own image, 

in the image of God he created them; 

male and female he created them."

Genesis 1:23-27

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EZ Autumn Blossoms

In the shadowed
northwest corner of
the flower bed
surrounding
our front porch,
strong purple blossoms
atop delicate stems
await the arrival
of midday sun.

Basking in
the warmth of
southern exposure,
a precocious yellow flower
with rich orange center
signals the inner
vitality of her family,
even as her sisters
emerge as seed.

The honeysuckle
is not an early riser,
but a slowly
awakening bloom.
She will play outside
long after her neighborhood
playmates lay down to rest.
Through frigid icy months
she will wear her foliage,
a warm and rugged coat,
sheltering chirping birds.


Resting in God's care, the flowers do not worry about tomorrow, but live and bloom and seed in autumn harmony, in close proximity to one another, in the care of our Creator.

In the cold predawn shadows, when my rest is interrupted by the toxic speculation of anxiety, will I fondle the dark and dangerous gods of what if... ?

I, the Lord, am your God ... have no other gods besides me.
You shall not take the name of the Lord God in vain.
Remember to keep holy the Lord's Day.
Honor your father and your mother.
You shall not kill.
You shall not commit adultery.
You shall not steal.
You shall not bear false witness.
You shall not covet your neighbor's spouse.
You shall not covet your neighbor's goods.

Or choose passionate belief in Christ?

Love the Lord your God with all your heart,
and with all your soul, and with all your mind.
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.

Like the flowers we are invited to grow and rest, each in her own season, each in harmony with others.

Strong and delicate. Precocious and vital.

We are not to worry about the storms expected tonight, but intentionally engage God, spending our earthbound seasons sharing the promise of gentle rains and fertile soil, protective blankets of snow, and the warmth of the sunlight.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.
Philippians 4:6

Rw


EZ Autumn Blossoms copyright 2011 rjw (there's a book in here somewhere)

Second Story Windows

Supplies:
bottle of Windex
roll of paper towel
sturdy wooden chair
one 20' ladder
razor blade scraper
hammer
brad nails
2nd roll paper towel
trash can (empty often)
putty knife
glazing compound
3rd roll paper towel
husband to move ladder
2nd bottle Windex
felt weather stripping
wood stain and brush
spoon to remove dirt from glazing compound

In the long list of benefits living in an old house offers me, "washing windows" is not included. Yes, new windows, fabulous vinyl replacements, are an option for many, but I am a bit stubborn. Entrenched actually. Preservation and restoration.

Our upper sashes are 'permanently' held in place by 113 years of weathering and maintenance, freeze and thaw, dust and varnish. Unlike my more open-minded sisters with vinyl replacements,
I wash four of my second story windows from porch tops, crawling out and standing on pitched roofs, one foot lower than the other. Washing the exteriors of the six remaining second-story windows requires climbing a 20' ladder, perching at the top to wash and glaze. Precarious positions for a woman with hips as old as mine.

A previous owner protected the windows with storms, so in addition to the original stationary upper sash and removable lower sash, I wash upper
and lower glass panels from the storms, their 'combination' screens, and the tiny dirt-
catching channels
that align and combine screen with glass.
(Add Q-tips to supply list above.)

There are chance encounters with box elder bugs, spiders, bees, wasps, tiny black flying bugs the spiders seems to enjoy, and those lady-bug looking insects that are not really ladylike or lady bugs at all.

There are random and annoying smudges of white paint on clean glass, created by Windex resting too long on the metal frames of the storms. There are paint splatters older than the storms, crisp dry paint waiting patiently on the exterior of the upper sash, removed by the simple scrape of a razor blade. How did I miss those last time?

There are dents and dings, tiny places where finish is scrapped away from wood, blemishes left by my unpracticed hammering of brad nails that hold the stops in place. With delicate brush strokes, these blemishes will be covered with Minwax Woodfinish 210B Golden Oak or Red Mahogany 225 - whichever is a better match. I size and cut felt weather stripping, placing it into the voids and spaces inherent in old windows.

There is a dusting of fine black dirt atop the glazing compound after the open container falls from the top of the ladder and lands in the freshly turned soil of the flower bed. Before replacing the lid, I scrape the misty blackness from the snow white paste with a kitchen spoon.

There are challenges to overcome - my fear of heights and aversion to spiders, the dirt in the glazing compound. The work is physical and intricate, taking days longer than I'd planned.

On this beautiful autumn day, when the sun streams in through clean vintage glass, I am grateful for the physical stamina to do the work and the undeniable satisfaction of a job well done.

Moses did everything just as the LORD commanded him.

Exodus 40:16 NIV

God gave Moses a long and intricate list of tasks to accomplish, and the stamina to do the job well.

I am grateful.

Rw

brad nails
window sash
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HGTV

I like watching HGTV, especially the shows where people tackle projects. I am drawn to the sharing of a vision, the demolition, the rebuilding. I am captivated by the moment of hopelessness when a problem 'bigger than expected' is discovered.

There is difficulty and pain in the moment of hopelessness, yet the joy in the finished project grains depth, becomes greater. The homeowners appreciate the completed room with a bonus: they view themselves differently, more capable and knowledgeable. Self-image is remodeled too.

The LORD merely spoke,

and the heavens were created.

... breathed the word,

and all the stars were born.

... assigned the sea its boundaries

and locked the oceans in vast reservoirs.

Psalm 33:6-7 NLT

As the green leaves splash on autumn color, and fall gently glides into another day, I am learning to embrace the remodeling of my self-image, the unfolding of my strengths and weakness, my moments of hopelessness and joy.

Rw
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