We like to eat salsa.

We like to eat healthy things.

We like to make healthy things to eat.

Mid August is tomato time here in Southern Ontario.  Real Tomatoes.  The kind that are allowed to ripen on the vine because they are not traveling thousands of miles on a truck before being eaten.

A few days ago I checked my calendar and realized the window for salsa making was becoming increasingly narrower.  So, I took myself to the farm market and picked up a bushel and a half of tomatoes and the rest of the fixins for making salsa.

It’s a lot of work but the rewards are great, not to mention delicious.  Gather a few loved ones and/or friends and get set up.  More people working together make the work being done a whole lot of fun.  A couple of years ago I invited 6 friends to come to my house after church on Sunday afternoon and bring with them, 6 jars each.  I provided the tomatoes and “innards” of the salsa and we had a salsa making party.

When I was a young lass, my mama, Nano, canned and froze and “put up” all kinds and sorts of preserves.  Back in the 60’s and 70’s we could only get fruit when it was actually in season.  That season was relatively short.  Because of Nano’s hard work and love of cooking and preserving, we had fruit the year round.  Peaches, plums, cherries, apricots, strawberry jam, strawberry rhubarb jam, raspberry jam, saskatoon jam, relish, apple pies…well I could go on and on.

I remember the smells of vinegar and onions and the sounds of snapping sealing lids.  It wasn’t exactly special for me at the time.  It just was.  These were the sights and sounds of home.  The smell and sound of love.  Of care.  Of family.  Of community.  I cannot remember my mother ever, (I know that is quite a commitment to say EVER or NEVER.  But I say it without an ounce of hyperbole) sighing or moaning or whining or wishing out loud that it wasn’t canning season.  No!  She loved to do it as much as we loved having a choice, selection, variety in the middle of a cold February.  I wish, I really do wish I could share with you the love of preparing food for family.  It seems we, here in our society, are losing the love of providing, other than a house to live in and a meal on the table.

The blessing of sharing the fruit of our labour around the table is becoming a thing of the past.  We are all so busy.  For many, busy is necessity and not desire.

Is there any way we can change that?  Can we go back to some of the goodness of the past?

Hard work and sharing together is such a good thing.  I know there are different ways to care.  Your way may well be different from mine.

By now you know my love language is hospitality.

Come On Over.

One day when my children were very little, my mother came to visit us.

Widowhood had struck early and heartache was to be her constant companion from that time onward.  It seemed that Fall was the best season for her to leave the west and travel east.  Fall in Ontario is a spectacular time of year.  My firstborn proclaims each time it rolls around that it is his favorite.

My mother, wearing sorrow as joyfully as was possible given her grief at the loss of her beloved, came each September for many years and it was perfect timing as far as I was concerned.  She enjoyed the season and helped me to cook and preserve the bounty we found at the many markets nearby.

The memories of childhood became reality once again as we canned and cooked.  Her love of turning fresh into future deliciousness, was contagious.  This is one of the reasons I love to spend hours in the kitchen.

I watched her love it.

Beware the things you love.  you will pass that love of those things to those who watch.

And So, I cook and share, here with you and here in this house with those who come to visit.

Tomorrow I will finish my batch of Nano Relish.  Once you taste Nano relish, the green stuff you get in the jars at the grocery store just will not work anymore.  I often make a batch every other year.  Sure it takes a few hours but I figure those hours are worth spending.

 

 

 

I made a salad the other day!

It was to share with a few friends.

It was pretty tasty.

Nothing fancy

A few homemade croutons and some bacon cooked in the oven add flavour!  Give them a try!

 

 

I’m sittin on the deck near the dock of the bay but there’s no tide to watch roll in!

There is however, a breeze in the trees and a bit of lapping on the shore.  I’ve missed you, friends.  It seems in the past two weeks I have tucked

words, experiences, learning

away,

wanting to share them with you and yet, not certain.   Wanting to write and talk and encourage,

But what can I offer that is Meaningful enough to give you pause, worth your while to read and then ponder?

There was a preacher a week ago in a chapel on a different lake and grown children several times, here to enjoy this bay.

There was my husband,

working and

working more and far away and then here for a few hours and then off again, another plane, another hotel and he has people calling him, wanting his brain, his expertise and where in the world, I wonder, will he ever find the time to answer their calls and help with their crisis?  When will he sleep?  I suppose it’s good that sleep isn’t as high on his list of priorities as it is on mine.  He tells me sometimes, the basics, the gist of what he has going on.  I try, I really do, to listen and respond and digest what comes so clearly to him and

isn’t it remarkable how God wires us all  differently.

My husband and I are polar opposites and I have learned lots from him.  I want to be intentional in listening and hearing.

We, he and I, have been on a 32 year adventure.  This journey has had bumps of huge proportion.  Yesterday I thought about bumps after I had my turn behind a big boat with an even bigger wake.

Bumps are tough to maneuver.

There I was, skimming, flying, holding on for dear life and wanting so desperately to succeed and conquer and all the while

enjoy the journey.

Mine was a wild ride for sure and last night

that biggest little one of mine and I had some strong words for each other and worked through something that wasn’t so hard, but once we started we needed to finish it and he and I are good at that.

We talk and sometimes our voices are raised and we talk some more and then we agree that it’s ok and we will move on and we smile

And

I cannot count the times over these 30 years of his life that after we have gone our separate ways and I have begun to turn the covers back, there has been a

light, gentle knock on the door

and last night I knew it was coming.

This boy who is so much like me

highs and lows and strong and joy filled and then sad and joy again

and Closure is big.

Sleep does not come easily when there might be something in the air.  Something not so good.  Not so pleasant.  God tells us about that in Ephesians 4

We love deeply and this is a blessing and it makes life bumpy.

This girl who will, in just a few weeks become his wife, had stood there in the kitchen with us, earlier and listened and contributed and listened more and added her own wisdom.  She is young and I am often amazed at her understanding of life.  Then I remember she is not her own.  She has been bought with a price and she is mindful of that price.  She understands the sacrifice that was made on her behalf and is humbled before the one who made her and loves her more than…

I was thankful again last night, as I have been many times in the past two years, that God chose her for our firstborn.  Chose her for us.

Last night the knock came and he walked in with maybe a bit of a glistening eye, a shaking voice.  Came and gave me a bear hug and apologized for the part he had played in the conversation.  Forgiveness requested and Forgiveness freely, lovingly given.

He is quick to Ask forgiveness, always has been

and he is quick to Offer forgiveness.  This boy models grace, well.  We talked for a few more minutes, the two of us and then we went our separate ways again

peace.

When I woke up today they were gone.  Headed back to the city and work and regular life and all the excitement of new days full of promise.  I looked at my phone and there was another comment from him on last night’s events and I said we had dealt with it and it was gone.  Today was a new day.

I smiled and clicked the button to send one to him.  Then told him we had jumped a bump something like the ones I had managed yesterday.  We sent a LOL and he continued with his day and I with mine.  I prepared a note for the sweet girl, telling her how thankful I am that she is part of us now and I love her.

Have you noticed how

different words come and go?  I tend to have strong feelings about words.  May be odd, peculiar, but some I like and others get overused and somehow lose their strength.  Still others are not only unnecessary, but dishonoring.  God has quite a lot to say about words in His Word.  My dad gave me a book once.  It was called The Tongue A Creative Force.  The giving of that book was not a coincidence.  I needed it.  Still need to refer to it, often.  When my three little ones were old enough to memorize, we embarked on a project one summer to do some memorizing of God’s Word.  One of the verses was Psalm 19:14.  Not sure if they remember it but I sure do.

Intentional

It’s a good word but what does it mean?

Merriam Webster says it’s an adjective and means something is done in a way that is planned, or intended.

Now

I can wrap my head around that.

I can tell you that my ride on the water yesterday was not planned, yet when I got up and out there I was very much intentional about staying Up and On the skis.  Intentional can happen quite unexpectedly and yet once you get there, somehow the decision to be intent upon the task seems obvious .  The conversation with my boy was certainly not planned but we were intentional about the depth of the content and then very intentional about resolving and settling.

The preacher I mentioned way back at the beginning of this post, talked about Abraham and how God called him but he needed to put feet to his faith.  Action to his willingness.  This same preacher also said we need to decide to spend time with other like minded people.  It isn’t good for us to try to do the Faith walk alone.

I contemplated calling this post HOGWASH in response to the thinking some people have that they don’t need other people.  That they can make a decision to be intentional about following God and then do it by themselves.  But I decided it wasn’t very nice to start a chat with that kind of a word.

When last week’s preacher started to talk I knew I wanted to be intentional about listening and remembering so I looked for a piece of paper and a pen

Found both and began to listen and write.  Then I looked down at my Bible and the selection of paper, various sizes and shapes, covered with writing, that were nestled amongst the pages.  This particular Bible is the one I keep here at this little place by the lake and I take it with me when I go to that chapel down the road a ways.  Over the years I have listened, often deciding to record what was being said.  By the time the last song has been sung  I have usually scribbled on the front and back, right side up and up side down, of whatever I can get my hands on.  Sometimes that something is an offering envelope.

Yep, intentional can pop up where it isn’t expected.  Then I get to decide if the subject at hand is important

to me and OR to God.

Thats a thought big enough to create some intentionality in me.

 

 

 

 

It’s August and we all know what that means!

Corn, fresh picked! Tomatoes ripe on the vine and Peaches juicy and sweet!

When I was a girl at my parents table, Summer fresh food was my favorite.  I was just explaining to friends this week how, during corn season, which by the way was much shorter in those olden days than it is now,

a common summer dinner was

fresh corn straight from the farm, boiled for just a few short minutes, sliced tomatoes sprinkled generously with salt and pepper, served with  fresh bread.

This week I have shared several dinners with friends and fresh corn and tomatoes were on the menu every time.  They were delicious and brought back fond memories of Those years.

To one of the dinners this week I brought Peach and Blueberry crumble.  Oh boy was it good.

A few days earlier I was looking for something to make for lunch.  On the counter was the platter of fruit I try to keep fresh and ready.  There was an avocado, a beautiful tomato and a ripe peach.  Perfect!  It came to me then.

Peach, Tomato and Avocado salad.  I chose to eat it just like that.  It really doesn’t need another thing.  These flavors are wonderful together.  A touch of salt and pepper would add a touch of taste.  To dress it up a bit more you can also add olive oil and or balsamic vinegar OR a TBLSP. of Fig balsamic.  (Longos carries it)