Be Fruitful!

It has been an amazing summer growing season! The weather here in Ohio, while a bit uncomfortable for a period of time because of rain and high humidity, has been absolutely perfect for our garden. I'm finding we may have put a bit too many tomato plants in the small area we designated for our garden this year, for they are overtaking the entire garden. Live and learn.

Still, they are in a good, sunny location and are providing a great amount of tomatoes. I see new baby tomatoes and new flowers each day. Among the varieties (six plants) are several heirlooms (including Cherokee Purple and a striped orange variety), a  Better Boy, Goliath Hybrid and an Early Girl--from what I remember. Unfortunately, the foliage is so thick I can't see the little name tags I placed by each plant, and don't remember all the varieties this late into the season! I am truly salivating at the thought of my first tomato and mayo sandwich (on soft Italian bread, of course) of the season.

 

For the first time this year, we planted garlic! One of my favorite accomplishments in the 25+ years we have lived on this tiny farm. I am one of those people who cannot cook without garlic, and it would be a disaster indeed if I were ever out of it. My husband planted 13 little cloves this past October. Every one of those little cloves grew and survived during the extremely harsh Ohio winter of 2014, which included mounds of snow and days--even weeks of sub-zero temperatures. They not only survived, they flourished; and so, today, we are rewarded with 13 heads of garlic which we harvested this morning. And the extent of our work was to put them in the ground and then forget about them. Each of those little heads of garlic contains about 13 to 15 individual perfect little cloves! And so, today my husband gathered them up, I braided them and we hung them in the barn for a month or so to dry. I am most proud of this endeavor. I will bring them into the kitchen when they are dried, to hang there, to use and share with family and to decorate my humble little farm kitchen--and to keep the vampires away, of course :).

 

This year's weather has also been perfect for our Greek Columnar Basil and Italian Flat Leaf Parsley. I love parsley as much as I do garlic, and must always have the flat leaf variety around for cooking and salads. I think it is much more flavorful than the curly kind. I am expanding my horizons. I used to think one could only cook with parsley or use it as a garnish, and not usually eat it right out of the garden. It took a magical Christmastime visit to London, England in 2012 to change my mind about that. The night before we left for home, we had dinner at Rules Restaurant in Covent Garden. Rules is the oldest and most famous restaurant in London, and one which none other than Charles Dickens himself frequented. We were truly blessed to have secured a reservation there the day before, as most often reservations require weeks in advance to obtain. We ordered two  salads for the table to share with our meal, and one of them was strictly an herb salad, with flat leaf parsley being the main ingredient. No salad has ever been paired more perfectly with the roasted game entrées we enjoyed that evening. Since then, I have also been making parsley salads for our dinners at home, as well as cooking with it as always.

 

The basil is also quite nice. I don't like a very strong, harsh basil flavor, and this Greek Columnar Basil really fills the bill. It is a delicate basil flavor and has smaller leaves. I love it. I cannot wait for my own tomatoes to ripen so that I can make a wonderful caprese salad! It has started growing fast, faster than I can use it fresh; so I am drying a few stems of it so that I can harvest it before it flowers, and not waste a leaf.

 

We normally grow only bell peppers. I'm not a fan of the more bitter green ones, but love the sweet red, yellow and orange varieties. This year we have added a Carmen red sweet pepper and pimiento. They are all doing well. Do you remember that wonderful pinkish pimiento cheese spread in a jar from when you were a kid? I do. It was one of my sister's, brother's and my favorite snack on crackers. I cannot wait to make a homemade pimiento-cream cheese spread from my own peppers.

It doesn't take a lot to grow a garden. And the rewards are so sweet--and savory. It's such a creative endeavor, and always reinforces my belief that we (should) work hand-in-hand with God to create, to share the yield, to be fruitful, to make good of the gifts we have been given. How can a world go hungry, when even the smallest garden space is so fruitful and multiplies to such an enormous yield? I don't think I could enjoy nourishing myself with food I had helped to grow if I did not share it: "...it is not only from eating, but in the breaking of bread with another that we receive our comfort and satisfaction in the gift of food." (From Thy Bounty by Monica E. Smith). There simply is no greater feeling than to be aware we have been creative and fruitful at base level. Enjoy your summer.

 

 Tomatoes

 

Italian Flat Leaf Parsley / Greek Columnar Basil

 

                                                       Carmen Sweet Pepper / Orange Bell / Pimiento

Drying Basil (above); Garlic Braided and Hanging to Dry in the Barn (below)

 

 Monica and Daughter, Veronica Browsing the Amazing Menu at Rules / Parsley Salad

 



My Husband, Scott and Son, Jeremy Anticipating Our Meal at Rules with Great Delight

 

Peace,

Monica

 

 

Today

 Video Music Selection: "Through the Dark", by Helen Jane Long

Today I set out on a walk through Logan County Ohio. I was armed with a camera, Helen Jane Long on the ipod, hot tears and cold raindrops, and a few prayers: Of thanksgiving for what had been, joy for the life I now live, and petition for what I hope my life to become.

I am in that proverbial "autumn of my life"; and sometimes the way becomes cold, frightening, confusing and unclear. Or, perhaps it is just hidden by all the tumult in the world.

But not today. Today I could see clearly, right through the low, dark clouds of this October sky. Today, I wasn't cold but rejuvenated by the day's coolness and the refreshing rain upon my face. Today, I could see and hear the beauty in the world I sometimes miss. Today, I was alone, but I was not abandoned. Today, I was not confused about which road to take. Today, I knew just where I was going, and with whom.

 

I share with you some of the beauty of today's images. God bless all, and be with you this day.

 

 

 

 

Christmas in Logan County—Gifts of the Season

Every now and then, everything falls into place. Yesterday was one such day...

It was a cold, snowy day, and I awoke thinking about all the things I needed to do before Christmas, planning and wondering if I would have enough time to accomplish all that I wanted. Of course, there is always time for a cup of coffee, so I sat in my favorite lounge chair with a hot cup and my dog by my side, making mental notes and plans for the day, the room heated by that penetrating, osmotic warmth only a wood fire can give. 

Soon I was out and about, doing some Christmas grocery shopping, and feeling very merry. The weather was cold and crisp and all before me was laid out in a soft white blanket, compliments of a fresh snow which had fallen a couple days before. The roads had been plowed, for the most part, and the ones that were still snow-covered had been flattened by previous traffic, and were quite driveable. So on the way home, Christmas carols blaring in the car, singing at the top of my lungs, I took a detour and turned off on a snowy country road.

I immediately knew I had made the right decision. After mere minutes of taking the turn, I was rewarded with the most beautiful sights. My first stop was a small horse ranch, where I spied a beautiful chestnut horse in the distance. I immediately pulled to the side of the road and got out of the car to take some pictures. To my surprise, the horse stopped, looked at me and trotted over to the fence to get a closer look. So I did the same, being careful not to mis-step in the deep snow. She greeted me as if I were a long-lost friend, lowering her great head over the fence, nuzzling me and braying softly, staying with me quite a while, as if she couldn't get enough of my affection and attention. Before I realized it, her foal had galloped beside us as well, shaking its head and wondering what all the excitement was about. They both were clothed in their long winter coats, hair, mane and tails blowing in the winter wind. I don't remember actually seeing horses in their winter finery this closely, and they were beautiful. It seems I had made their day; they certainly had made mine. They stayed a few minutes, then gave a whinny and off they ran—but not before I had taken some photographs.

I continued driving and soon came upon a a logging camp. Somehow, this sight was unexpected. I drove slowly by, as it was quite interesting to watch the work being done, managing to take a bit of video and a snapshot from my car window as I passed. I found it intriguing, as this scene is something I might normally only experience on The Discovery Channel, perhaps as seen through the eyes of Mike Rowe from "Dirty Jobs". And here it was in my back yard. It seems that even in frigid, snowy weather, the world must go on. Or, perhaps, especially in frigid, snowy weather, the world must go on...

I have always been fascinated with trains and railroad tracks. And, for some reason, they are even more attractive and appealing in the context of a snowy winter—decorated with the greenery of pine trees, bony fingers of bare tree limbs that seem to be pointing the way to life—much like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come—the whispy dried brown briers and boskets peeking through the deep white snow on either side, and, yes, two deer who happened to cross the road just beyond the tracks, stopping briefly to consider me before bounding across the road, passing by a tiny covered bridge (red, of course)  to the safety of the somewhat greener grass on the other side. No picture here—except in my memory—as I was too mesmerized by this "Christmas Card" to engage the camera!

I passed many farms of various sizes, beautifully decked out in the colors of the season. Somehow, there is something very Christmasy about a red barn in a snow-covered field, a hay wagon decorated with a green wreath. I think, living in the country, I sometimes take for granted the beauty that is all around me. These sights are before me always, but I sometimes do not see them. Like all people, I lose focus and sight of what is important, concentrating on my own problems and dissatisfactions and becoming so involved in the details or negative aspects of things in my life, missing the entire purpose and beauty of life, as a whole, altogether. I guess it's pretty much not seeing the forest for the trees...

A small detour became several hours before I realized I needed to get home to my dog, throw another log into the woodstove, turn on the Christmas tree lights and prepare supper for my husband and I. I had not meant to be gone so long, but the detour had become a found opportunity which filled me with the Christmas spirit through and through. It had been a good decision, which led to a better day and an even greater appreciation and enjoyment of God's special Christmas gift to His children.

Especially now, at Christmastime, there are gifts aplenty, gifts that anyone can afford, gifts more meaningful, more precious and more lovely than any amount of money can buy. The world is closer than you think—even as near as just outside your window, around the corner, or down a country road. I encourage you to explore the world of your surroundings and to experience the true gifts of this season or any season. I assure you it will be a memory not forgotten, one that gratifies the eyes, the ears, the soul.

Peace, and Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good, warm and memorable Christmas night.



He is Not There...

Mark 16: 1 - 7
1	And when the sabbath was past, Mary Mag'dalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salo'me, bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him.
2	And very early on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen.
3	And they were saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the door of the tomb?"
4	And looking up, they saw that the stone was rolled back; -- it was very large.
5	And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe; and they were amazed.
6	And he said to them, "Do not be amazed; you seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here; see the place where they laid him.
7	But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you."

Today when I awoke, I sat in complete silence, a cup of hot coffee, my little dog by my side, and enjoying the cool freshness of a new day. Usually, I need some kind of "noise", and so the television goes on as soon as I awake, even if I am not watching. But on this Holy Saturday, I needed only the silence. I needed only to hear the birds twittering as they flew from tree to tree, the mourning dove sing her solemn song. I needed only to watch the yet-bare branches waving in the early morning breeze outside my window, and the sun emerge from a clouded sky. I needed only to contemplate Him who made all these things, and the historic and world-shaking events which had transpired over a mere few days some 2000 years ago.

Holy Saturday has always been this way for me, even as a child; and we followed this same tradition with our children. I remember being taught to do "quiet things" from Good Friday afternoon until Easter, as we (even in our youthful minds) prepared for the Resurrection, as we gave due respect and honor to God. We may not have understood fully--lack of understanding does not  imply untruth--but there was no need. There is no need. Such is the way with matters of the heart.

Tonight, we will attend the Resurrection services, Liturgy and blessing of Easter baskets as is our tradition (in the Byzantine Catholic Faith), as I have done every Holy Saturday of my life. The services will continue into the small hours of Easter Sunday morning, after which we will share the blessed foods from which we have fasted with our family, in Celebration of the Resurrection. It is these practices which keep me sane in an insane world. It is these celebrations that give my life meaning where, otherwise, I am at a loss to find meaning. It is these traditions that make me whole, bring to me the peace I cannot find elsewhere. It is this faith and this belief in a loving God which makes life beautiful and worth living, as we await the eternal glory promised by God, in Christ Jesus who prepared the way for us to follow .

May Christ crucified touch each of you in a most special way this day, this Easter season; and May God bless us all with an increased faith, wisdom to know Truth and the desire and courage to live it.

(photos: St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church; Columbus, Ohio; Good Friday April 2, 2010)

Silent March

Top to Bottom: Maple Farm and Mad River on State Route 287 in West Liberty, Ohio (Logan County)

No time of year presents a more certain dose of reality, or reminds us more strongly that nature does not abide by our timetable, than March. This morning, with warm thoughts and dreams of spring still in my head (despite needing the extra down quilt on my bed last night), I awoke to frozen pipes in the bathroom and Bernie's cable (with which we chain her outside) snapped completely in half from the cold. Apparently, much to my dismay, March has decided to forgo the "in like a lamb" scenario this year.

The Mad River still has patches of ice where the river seems only to be a little trickle of water left over from a late winter rainfall. Local weather reports still talk of wind chills, and the choicest logs from a recent truckload of wood are burning furiously in the wood stove. But living in the country, and with an open mind, one begins to notice the early heralds of spring around this time of year, assuring that, indeed, spring is just around the corner.

I love driving down State Route 287 through West Liberty, Ohio. Though it can be tricky to maneuver the hills and winding curves after a fresh snow, beauty is nonetheless lurking, even in winter. This stretch of road is a buffet for the eyes, at times wooded areas or fields and wide-open spaces, at times artistically spaced farmhouses—sometimes new and impeccable, sometimes in need of repair (and offering a certain beauty of their own). In autumn the trees here are especially bright and colorful and I find it hard to keep my eyes on the winding roads when driving. Even in winter after a new snow, the hills and valleys are lambent in the sun or moonlight, evidence of the simple shimmering purity which remains in nature. Depending on whether you're traveling through this area in mid-summer or early October, also on the menu are rows and rows of corn, alternating from emerald green to a deep coppery, almost incandescent glow in the shining sun. The daylillies and little clumps of multi-colored wild flowers in spring and summer are quite profuse, fragrant and especially lovely.

As in all of life, one thing you can always count on in nature is change, and while I don't like change, I always look forward to and am excited by the change of seasons. It signals a new beginning fertile with possibility, and adds a little spice to my routine. But I always seem to be caught off guard by one particular presentiment of spring, which, after living here for 20 years I should well expect: the bright red pails which suddenly appear in a large grove of maple trees on Route 287. They are a surprising and welcome burst of color in the otherwise dull gray-brown of winter's coup de grâce. It's time for maple syrup again, and all things warm and sweet. It's March, sweetest of months, flowing like syrup into our midst, allowing us to savor life's fullness once again.



Silent March

Though she may arrive
Silently, lamb-like
March cannot hide

Her bright red pails
Handily hung
Give her away,

Announce her arrival
With the pomp and ceremony
Of a royal entourage,
Signaling the time
For mapling once again

March, sweetest of months,
Flows like syrup into our midst
Allowing us to savor life’s fullness