Good Morning!

I like mornings. I’m definitely a “morning person.” If I am going to get something accomplished, then I’d better get it done in the morning. By the afternoon I have fizzled and my “get up and go” has went. My workday mornings are pretty routine: Dan gets up and goes to “work out” around 5:30 a.m. Sometimes I hear him…most times I snooze on. He gets back & wakes me up at 6:30 a.m. Stumble into the kitchen and make coffee (hopefully on the walk from bedroom to the kitchen I will have become fully awake…otherwise we usually have some sort of catastrophe on our hands—coffee made without coffee filter, coffee pot never turned on…). Brush teeth, put on makeup. At 7 a.m. the “Today Show” comes on. That is my “alarm” and I’d better be blow drying my hair at that point. By 7:30 a.m. I am “out the door” and ready to start my workday. Every work day that’s my morning. Seriously. Every work day. Like, since always. Ahhhhhh, then there is the “week-end me.” The morning dawdler. A friend of mine, Jeana, introduced me to the phrase, “of a mornin’,” as in:

Of a mornin’ I like to have a large cup o’ coffee with vanilla cream.

I love that phrase. It gives off a conjecture of lazy Saturday mornings—doing what you want. So I think of my Saturday mornings as “of a mornins’.” I can piddle around and discover that it is 10 o’clock and I am still not dressed and ready for the day. Oh, but I have enjoyed my morning! I love a special blend of coffee that is sold at the Red Buffalo in Sedan, Kansas. That’s my “week-end brew.” Now don’t turn your nose up—it is chocolate orange flavor. I know, I know…it sounds so odd. But it is soooo good. And the aroma! I will start the coffee, maybe water the plants. Drink some coffee. Fill the bird feeder. Watch some HGTV. Drink some coffee. Make the bed. Drink some coffee. Do my nails. Drink some coffee. Mess up my nails. Drink some coffee. See what I mean? If you haven’t dawdled away a morning…come on over, I’ll show you how it’s done. The coffee’s ready!

Jelly Making, Grandma and A Glass of Wine

August…hot summers in Kansas…at the Farm…one window air conditioner…and Grandma is making jelly.    My Grandma Ruby made the best jellies and jams.   My memory of her making them in the kitchen at the Farm is so clear.   As I make my jelly and jams, I like to think she is smiling down at me, knowing when it looked like I was more interested in the book I was reading or getting out of doing my chores, I was actually learning from her and now continuing her legacy.

I love the term “putting up” used in connection with preserving/canning foods.  It sounds domestic (and I don’t mean that in a “Susie Homemaker” way, but a “taking care of family” and “providing.”   I always think of the pioneer housewife, after a morning of picking a bushel of tomatoes, “putting up” the jars of canned tomatoes, tomato preserves, etc.—and sitting down in the evening looking at her efforts cooling on the table).

I am struck by the similarities and the differences of Grandma “putting up” the jelly and me doing the same.   Grandma’s bounty was either picked (by Grandpa and the grandkids, probably) or exchanged with a neighbor (her peaches for their cucumbers).   I sent Dan to the store for a bushel of Porter peaches.

Grandma would take her bowl of fruit to the living room to cut it up as she watched her “shows” (soap operas).   My cousins and I would be on the floor at her feet playing with paper dolls or reading one of the many volumes of “Reader’s Digest Condensed Books” that was always found on the bookshelf.   I prepare my fruit after work at the kitchen sink, peering over the breakfast bar as I watch the latest episode of “Duck Dynasty.”

The first time I made jelly, Dan was in college in La Grande, Oregon.   We were so broke we couldn’t afford much in the way of Christmas gifts for our family.  Our landlord had planted a cherry tree in the yard of each of his duplexes.   The tenants were allowed to pick all they wanted.   They were the most beautiful cherries.  Dan and I picked and picked and picked.   We could not afford a good cherry pitter, so we bought this little one-at-a-time pitter.   You would center one cherry into the center, press down and out came the pit.  One.cherry.at.a.time.   I still have that pitter—wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Dan attended school during the day while I worked at the Juvenile Department at the County Courthouse and then he worked at night as a jailer at the Courthouse.   Often our paths crossed at the on the Courthouse steps.   During that week of “pitting cherries,”  I remember we would give each other reports of how far we had progressed:   “Ten Cups!”  “Only two cups tonight!”  That was the BEST cherry preserves ever made.  After I “put up” jar after jar of the preserves, I would often go to the basement pantry to just stare at the beautiful glowing ruby jars.   I don’t know if the recipients appreciated the gifts of jelly, but I don’t think I have since ever made a gift that had as much love and effort put into the making as those cherry preserves.

So fast forward 39 years and here I am “putting up” peaches.   This time my jelly and jams have a twist that happened from a lucky experiment.   Last year as I was making grape jelly, I did not have enough “juice”—BUT I did have some open sweet Texas red wine.  Hmmm.   Yep, I did it!  Just poured that wine into the measuring cup.   The result was very, very tasty.     So, on a trip to Missouri (where you can find many wineries with “country” or “non-grape” fruit wines), I purchased some inexpensive peach wine.  

The "Juice"

Here’s my “Peach Wine Jelly” recipe:

Peach pits…yes, peach pits.   Save them as you cut up your peaches.   Leave a little “meat” on the pits.   Simmer them for about 30 minutes in several cups of water.  (I was making two batches, so I used about 8 cups of water).   Strain into a bowl.  

2 cups “peach pit” juice

2 ½ cups peach wine

3 cups sugar

1 pkg. Sure Jel (I use the “for less or no sugar” kind) Pectin

Follow the directions on the box of pectin for making the jelly.

For my “Peach Wine Jelly-Jam” recipe (it is kinda jammy and kinda jelly):

In a large Pyrex measuring cup (4 cup), I place about 6 finely chopped, peeled peaches.   (Actually, I prepare my fruit & freeze it.   It is easier to chop the semi-thawed peaches that way, and I can make the jelly when I want and not feel as pressured to do it all at one time…but that’s another story).   Pour the peach wine over the peaches to the 4 cup mark.   Now add ½ cup more wine (the recipe calls for 4 ½ cups prepared fruit).

3 cups sugar

1 pkg. Sure Jel (again, I use the “for less or no sugar” kind) Pectin

Follow the directions on the box of pectin for making the jam.

Oh yes—you should have a little wine left over.   Put it in the freezer to chill as you start the jelly making process.   As soon as the jars of jelly are cooling, sit down, put your feet up and finish that bottle! 

Mix your pectin with a 1/4 cup of the measured sugar

Hint:  Keep a bowl of sudsy water in the sink to "quick wash" hands and spoons, etc.

Organization and prep--makes life easier

Stir, stir, stir. (I use a BIG pot so I won't make a mess)

Water Bath...almost finished!



Now relax!



DONE! 



Initial Preparations...Peach "juice" and Peach wine!

Let's Take a Road Trip to Branson

I haven't posted in a long, long time....a bad bout of mono last fall knocked me out thru Christmas...so very little got done...and the new year brought many challenges at work.  SO--instead of thoughts today, I thought you might enjoy a "road trip" to beautiful Branson, Missouri.   As I write this, it is Spring--the redbuds and dogwood are in bloom.   My husband and I enjoyed a morning drive south of Branson to Big Cedar Lodge--coffee on the terrace overlooking the lake!  Then on west and north across Table Rock Lake and back towards Indian Point.   We stopped by a peach orchard and of course found a cow or two!   Enjoy!!!

Royal Empress Tree--Branson Showboat

Looking at Lake at Big Cedar Lodge

Driving into Big Cedar Lodge

A couple of cardinals joined us for our cup of coffee

Looking across the lake at Big Cedar Lodge

Flowers at Big Cedar's gardens

Spring leaves against stained glass at Big Cedar

Old fashioned flowers

At Big Cedar's gardens--I could handle a dog like this

Of course I found a horse!

A nice gentleman told us to go "above the stables" at Big Cedar and "see the colors."

Everyone needs a rest!

Bridge on Hwy 13 across Table Rock Lake

I made Dan turn the car around to "shoot" these lovely ladies.

Peach blossoms

Peach Blossoms

More peach trees--overlooking the Ozarks

Peach orchard

Favorite Things & "Eye of the Quilter" 2012

How does that song go, "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, da da da da...these are a few of my favorite things?" Well, if you know me just a little bit you know that 1) Oklahoma is my FAVORITE place in the whole wide world; 2) I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the wild horses; and 3) I cannot RESIST a dirt road (hence my love of my Jeep)! This afternoon I opened my e-mail to discover three messages from the International Quilt Show informing me that all three of my entries into this years "Eye of the Quilter" photography exhbit entitled "Favorites" had been selected to be shown!! I am so honored and so excited--especially because this years' photos are three of my favorite things! Each photo had to be accompanied by a short story/essay of what/why the photograph portrayed the theme. SO--I will let my photos and essays explain:

The Dome: I am an "Okie." Coming home to me means coming home to Oklahoma. I grew up a "military brat" which meant traveling and moving all over the world--an experience I would not change for anything. But home leave meant "Oklahoma." When it came time for me to graduate from high school, my father was to be stationed in Vietnam, so my parents let me choose where I wanted to attend school for my senior year...I chose Bixby, Oklahoma! There are many images I could find that would depict Oklahoma, but this is one of my favorites. Being a quilter, my eye is drawn to patterns, color and light. The Oklahoma State Capital and its "new dome" (it was dome-less until 2002), represents the strength and fortitude of this great state. The dome, still shiny and new is much like Oklahoma (we've only been a state since 1907): The twinkling stars like those on a prairie sky, the golden color of a field of wheat at harvest time; the light of a bright summer sky...and even the dizzy feeling you get from spinning 'round to see it all like an Oklahoma tornado.

The Horses: I wish, I wish, I wish--that I could capture the sound for you of the wild horse herds in the Osage Hills of Oklahoma. Close your eyes and picture green, rolling hills covered not with herds of cattle, but herds of horses. You can hear the soft blowing of their breath--the poof of air. It is simply magical. When the light is right and the horses are out--I can't help but stop by the side of a road to grab a quick shot. I tell myself that I am going to drive from "Point A" to "Point B" without stopping...but then there are these horses in a field by the road...just beckoning me to pull over. Then I hear them and once again I am lost on the side of the road with my camera and 50 shots later I remember that the ice cream I bought is melting and I must go home...but just one more shot....!

Where the Roads Come Together: When I was little girl, my Mother would have me sit in the passenger seat of our car and we would go "exploring." It was my job to read the maps and help direct us to our final destination. To this day, I love to turn down a dirt road and see where it leads. In life, we often don't know where the road we are travelling will take us and who will cross our paths. We've all travelled different roads, but now we have found a place where our lives have intersected once again. So which way to go--the fast lane on the rails...or the dusty road less travelled? You go your way and I'll go mine--but I'll meet you up the way!

Radium Therapy

This is a very difficult blog to write.  In fact, just thinking about it has almost given me "blogger's block."  So, before I begin, I want you to know that I loved my mom very much.  She was a unique personality--and she taught me to be strong and most importantly that "home" was not four walls or a specific place, but "home" was my family and wherever they were--I was "home."

I want to write this, though, because for the past seven years I have worked in the "retirement living industry" managing an independent retirement residence.   I have cried with, commiserated with, laughed with, and even stomped my feet in frustration with many, many daughters.  I've hugged and soothed many mothers, too.  Why?  It seems daughters and mothers--especially those who are "strong willed" and passionate about life, sometimes (as my mother would say) "butt heads."  Because I often felt guilt and even anger and often frustration in my relationship with my mother I thought it was "just me."  I figured everyone else must be much nicer people than me--that they didn't ever want to run screaming out into the street and yell:  STOP!!!!  I CAN'T TAKE THE GUILT  ANYMORE!  So, I with this preamble--I write this blog.

RADIUM THERAPY

Several years ago my husband, daughter, brother, mother and I went on vacation together to our timeshare in Winter Park, Colorado.   Mom and I saw an advertisement in the elevator of the condo for a free mixer that included "great door prizes."  No way my husband or brother were going to attend---so mom, my daughter & I went for our free glass of wine, cheese tidbits and hopes of a door prize.   Of course it turned out to be a sales pitch--but we resisted and stayed till the end--and (woo hoo!) we won a free white water rafting trip for 2 down the Colorado River.  (OK, I was thrilled--mom wasn't.    Mom was in her mid-70's and had suffered a stroke--otherwise she would have led the pack down the river).

Leaving mom alone at the condo (can you tell how loaded that comment is?), my husband, daughter, brother and I headed off to the wild (not) headwaters of the Colorado River.  White water is a bit misleading.  Much to my relief, it was more like white ripples.  Not being a good swimmer, I was relieved to find it was more of a float trip along a very scenic part of the Colorado River. 

Let me interrupt the story to tell you a bit about my state of mind at this point in my life.  This vacation came right after a very stressful time at work that had meant a lot of long hours and extra week-ends, etc.  Mom had suffered a stroke the year before and recovered well, but my whole family was spending a lot of time helping her. Mom called me every morning at 6:30 a.m. and as soon as I walked in the door at night.  She and I both were frustrated at her lack of independence.    I developed a weird disease called chronic urticaria (chronic hives) that was only relieved by taking a steroid pill (which made me feel totally insane).   I literally felt as if my world was coming apart at the seams and that I had no control over anything in my life.

So--here we were, floating along the Colorado River.  We came to a bend and the guide pointed to a little settlement of maybe six houses.  Picture a dirt road, a railroad track and six little wooden houses.  "That is Radium, Colorado," he said.  "You almost can't get there--unless you take a long and rough dirt road.   The train drops the mail off once a week. Phone service is unpredictable. The residents there are almost cut off from the rest of the world."  I sat up in the raft--he had just described my dream abode.   You couldn't get there from here?   It would be almost impossible for people to visit?????  Wow.  Let me move there now.  I forced myself to make a mental photograph of Radium in my mind.  Oh, how I wanted to jump off that raft and swim ashore.  Thank goodness my swimming skills were limited, or I would be living there now.

Think how blissful.  No phone.  No Internet.  No 6:30 a.m. call making me feel guilty all day.  No boss with another crazy deadline.  Obviously I must have been dreaming I had won the lottery, too--I never considered what I would "do" to live.   I think I actually prayed, "Please, Lord, please.   Please let me live in Radium."  

Instead life went on and I eventually quit my pity party.  Dan and I "retired" and began working together managing a retirement residence.  My hives went into semi-hibernation...and life was kinda sorta normal.  But every so often, when I thought I couldn't take it...I'd take a mental trip to Radium.    My Radium therapy.

Mom fell a few years after that trip to Colorado and we discovered her back was like a fragile egg shell.  I was living in Dallas.  I would often take off on Tuesday afternoons and drive to Oklahoma City only to get up the next morning to get back to work in Dallas by 11:30 a.m.  On Thursday afternoons (our last work day of the week), Dan and I would drive to OKC to help mom and go back to Dallas on Saturday night in order to be at work on Sunday morning.  I would try to make arrangements for help for mom through home health or even a short stay in an assisted living community near her home--but I wouldn't make it to the Red River before she would call me and say she changed her mind.   Mom had a strong support group of friends who helped her, but instead of working with me and what I was trying to do--they would often go along with her plans and assist in undoing whatever I had set up.   I often wished I had a brick wall to bang my head against.  Instead, I would take "Radium therapy" and mentally visit that little town and wish.   Just the knowledge that there was a place on earth where it was difficult to be found, contacted or get to seemed to give me peace.

(After one trip alone to Oklahoma City, it seemed that every car that passed me on I-35 was either a convertible or a Wrangler Jeep with the top down.  I was driving a plain Jane Saturn stick shift with a radio and not even a C.D. player.   I pulled into our parking area and told my husband:   "We're either going to go get a Jeep or you are going to find a way to cut the top off this Saturn."  We got our first Jeep that night).  See, going insane sometimes has benefits.

Unfortunately, my mom did not get better and passed away that spring.  She had always told us that she did not want to live past age 80.  She was 78.    Our life became much quieter and I still miss those stupid, irritating 6:30 a.m. phone calls.  And I still take Radium therapy when life gets tough.

Last summer we found ourselves again at Winter Park.  This last year our good friends, Kathy and Dave, joined Dan and me on our trip.   We decided to take the jeep to the Colorado Headwaters Scenic Byway.  I looked at the map and saw a thin line that was the road to Radium.  I only had to ask Dan once--"Can we go there?"   He knew how much that little village meant to me.  So, 17 miles off the main (dirt) road we bumped along until we came to curve and a bridge across the river.  Fittingly,the first house we saw had a donkey in the front yard (to symbolize my stubborn tenacity at hanging on to this pipe dream?).  I am sure my good friend Kathy confirmed in her mind that I was insane when she saw Radium.   "Do you STILL think you want to move here?"  Yes--yes, I do...if only in my mind.

The Colorado River Scenic Byway--looking at the train track below

Me--under the road sign to Radium.  I am sure there is some subliminal reason

I decided to give the "Peace" sign in this photo.

The Radium Donkey



Road to Radium





Kathy, Dave and Dan--"Where does she want to go??"



Dan and Dave--On the Road to Radium

Why God Made Those Fly Over States

Jason Aldean has a beautiful song out right now called "Fly Over States."   It is about some guys on a flight across the U.S. looking down on the middle of our country--looking down at the "fly over states."    Those of us from Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, etc.--we've all been on the receiving end of the pitying comments from our coastal friends--poor, poor, pitiful us for having to suffer the deprivation of living where it is brown, flat & nothing to look see (or at least that is their opinion).  If they only knew....

   

"On the plains of Oklahoma
With a windshield sunset in your eyes
Like a water colored painted sky
You'll think heavens doors have opened
You'll understand why God made
Those fly over states."

Last night God finger-painted the sky.   I think He looked down on these fly-over states and smiled.

 

Wild Horses

A quick drive today from Bartlesville, OK to Sedan, KS could have meant driving our usual route of Hwy 75 to Caney and over to Sedan.  Not a bad drive...but one we make a couple of times a week.  Today was one of those just pretty days and when the intersection with Hwy 75 and Hwy 10 came up...the pick up truck just almost turned west on Hwy 10 on its own.  

Its a fun road--better driven in the Jeep but the pick up had to do for today.  First you go over the Copan Lake Dam (which is high because of recent storms).  Then curves and up and down the hills and into the valleys.   A motorcyclist's dream road.   Everything is so green and wild flowers are in every ditch and gully.  The fields are yellow with mustard.  Another curve and across Hulah Dam!

And then there are the horses!   Many of the large ranches here in Oklahoma are home to the Bureau of Land Management's wild horse program.  There's controversy about this program--but there are no words to describe the beauty of a wild horse herd.  To see them running and drinking from the ponds is truly breathtaking.  

But the best is the sound.  Stop the truck.  Get out and listen.  You can hear the wind...the caw of a crow...and the horses--soft blowing of their breath, a whinny...thank  you, Lord, for the horses and for those that keep them and care for them.