Pears, A Tradition of love

by Christy Monson

I remember as a child washing, paring, and slicing fruit to dry in a shelved, screened-in chest my grandmother had made. It was rickety but serviceable as we placed it, loaded with pears, in the sun to dry the fall's harvest. When the fruit was dry, we layered the dehydrated snacks into covered tin cans and placed them in a cupboard in the basement. During the winter, I used to love to creep into the old wooden cabinet in the unfinished rock cellar to enjoy the sweets.

Through the years our family has continued this fall ritual, washing, paring and slicing summer's goodness to enjoy through the winter months. What began with my grandmother has been carried on by my mother, and now it's my turn to spearhead this tradition. Children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren wait to enjoy the results.

This practice has come to mean much more than just preserving the fruit of the vine. Tradition and love go into every slice of sweetness.

I just sent this picture to my children. Their grandmother is dying of cancer, yet here she is still arranging the pear slices on the drying trays--truly a gift of love.

The grandchildren and great grandchildren live all over the United States. I went to the post office yesterday to mail everyone's package of pears. The little families wait for this time of year just like they anticipate Christmas. The love that comes with each parcel means much more than the fruit itself.

Family tradition? Yes. A Love gift? Yes. Nurturing family members? Absolutely.

Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do...but how much love we put in that action. Mother Teresa

Take a few minutes today and think of the traditions of love you are building in your family. 

I'm sure my grandmother had no idea the custom she was starting with her homemade screened in chest filled with sliced pears. It was a gift of love and continues to be so.

What gifts of love are you giving them?

Mother reading to the great grandchildren when she was well

"Can" I do it?

by Marsha Ward

I live in an area where apples grow in massive quantities when we have a good crop year--like we did this summer. Many of the property owners hereabouts are absentees; these little cottages are their second homes, yet they have apple trees on the property which were planted years ago, and those trees continue to bear, year after year.

Tree by the Car Wash (the creek)

Most of the absentee owners not only like you to pick the fruit, but often beg you to do so in order that the tree limbs don't get over-burdened and split off. One branch mishap occurred just across the road from me a month ago.

Tree before it lost a limb due to excess weight of apples. Nearly fell on a car parked nearby!

My daughter visited me last week, and took home a HUGE box full of apples she had picked. I have a smaller portion here. However, all around me, I see fruit going to waste. 

I hate that.

I decided I could do my small bit to prevent waste, so last week I purchased a water-bath canner, jars and lids, and utensils. My intention is to [gulp] make applesauce and apple butter, and bottle it for the coming winter.

I know. I have a novel to write.

There are plenty of trees from which to pick apples. That isn't the problem.

This tree is right across the road, and the apples are now red, ripe, and very delicious. 

The neighbor across the road would be most happy if I would go over and pick the apples. The neighbor next to them invites me to pick anytime from her trees. And she has a lot of trees!

My only problems are time, strength, and endurance.

And yet, I'm going to make an attempt, because I can't stand to see the waste.

Can I can? We shall see!

Gratitude or Attitude?

By Kari Pike

I need to practice finding more humor in the challenges life throws out there. I realized the other day that my blog posts of late have been pretty heavy. So, I started taking "gratitude walks." (Inspired by my friend Jenny Christensen and the book she has written about her battle with cancer.) Each morning, after my bike ride, I walk around the block a few times and ponder on the abundance with which I have been blessed. I try to hold a conversation with Heavenly Father and thank Him for everything He has blessed me with - praying with gratitude and asking for nothing. The first couple of days, I found myself slipping into the asking mode within the first couple of minutes. Being grateful and not asking for anything turned out to be hard work!

But, you know that scripture that teaches us that what we sow, we reap? Well, it applies to the power of gratitude. By day three, I made my bike ride part of the gratitude journey. I had such a sweet experience. With the cooler temperatures in the morning, I started my ride later than usual. The sun was higher in the sky, adding light where before I had only seen shadows. I expressed gratitude for a new perspective. I saw the same houses, the same bridges, the same trees and canal. But they were different. I noticed architectural details I had missed before. The grass and the trees looked greener. Instead of just a ribbon of murky, dark water, I could see life in the canal: carp, turtles, ducks, and insects. I came across a school of carp (they are fish..so I assume you call a large group of carp a school) sunning themselves just under the surface of the water. They took turns rising just high enough that their dorsal fin stuck out of the water and made them look like they were pretending to be sharks. I could just imagine the "teacher" fish instructing the rest of the school on how to act as fierce as their large salt-water cousins so they could intimidate the local fishermen.

I have been immensely blessed by the power of gratitude. My daily challenges remain, but now I see them in a different light. I have the same twenty-four hours in the day, but I can see more clearly how to use my time. Focusing on the resources and blessings available to me gives me hope. Hope motivates me to try harder to be better, to do the best I can with what I have, and to trust in the Lord.

I am grateful for wise friends who teach me how to be and do better. I am grateful for this magnificent world that the Lord created for us. I am grateful for life and knowing that someday I can return to live with my Heavenly Father and thank Him in person. Now how cool is that going to be!

just for smiles:

2-year-old at lunch: "Gimme more!"

Dad: "Can you say a nice word?"

2-year-old: "Nice word!"

Dad: [face palm]

oh..and I'm super grateful for two-year-olds and sticky hugs and yes, even scorpions...but that's a story for another day.

hugs~

Leveraging the Cat

by H. Linn Murphy

It's taken me years to get up the guts to query agents and tout my book. Mostly it's because I generally polish my manuscripts exhaustively for stupid mistakes so I don't look like the authors of a couple of books I just read.

When you as an author birth a book out into the cold hard world, you are not only offering a product for sale, but you represent yourself as an author. Why send your baby from your literary womb half-formed, especially if you know better?

Some time ago I acquired a book from an acquaintance. The author was a stellar person and had worked hard on his book. The back of it proclaimed that it had been edited. I could find no evidence to support such a claim. The manuscript was so riddled with errors that I stopped reading it somewhere in the first chapter. I'm normally a forgiving reader if the story line is good enough, but I simply couldn't finish it.

The problem isn't usually spelling errors, although some people seem not to own a spell check program. It's more of a usage thing. The other day I read this phrase: "She leveraged the cat out the window." I nearly expired, laughing.

True, the word 'leverage' means literally to use a lever. But the character in question wasn't using a lever to launch the cat. It sounded like the cat was the victim of a hostile buy-out. Much better if the author had said: "She catapulted the cat out the window." That would have been something I'd have brought popcorn to watch.

Phrases which don't match up are like continuity errors in movies. (My family likes to spot those. Some of our favorites are in the movie RETURN TO ME.) They launch the reader out of the story and cause them to think about the phrase instead of the story.

Another snippet I read recently is: (She) pulled the splayed dress from around her neck. I don't know about another reader, but the word splayed shoves me into a whole other visual.

Try this one out: Smoke flumed around the spatula.

I'm gone.