The Warm Spot

The house became quite cool last night, and I know that I had reached down and pulled the heavy quilt up over us sometime in the early hours. Snowie snuggled close to me until early morning, when I heard the jingle of his bell as he jumped off the bed, headed for the downstairs. There must not have been any little stuffed mice on the stairwell because I did not hear him scampering around on the wooden steps after he left.

The next time I opened my eyes, the windows were letting in the soft glow of early morning, telling me it would soon be time to rise. I rolled over, and much to my delight, I discovered there was a warm spot in the bed—the kind of spot that makes you pull your arms and legs up to be certain that you do not have them outside that comfort zone. It reminded me of childhood.

It is such simple things as this that makes winter my favorite season. A wood stove, a cozy down coat, a warm spot—all these things are simple pleasures that bring delight.

Blessings.

Click on the photo to enlarge this and see the detail of this beautiful tombstone in our church cemetery. What a work of art! 

I took this photo when I was standing in front of my church. We have to travel several miles to get to the closest town. We are celebrating our 150th anniversary this year. 

My church 

The First Sunday in Advent

I love Advent. Each week we light another candle on the Advent wreath. We celebrate with special music and remember friends and family with little gifts to tell them that we love them. We decorate our homes with greens and crèche. Added to the list of fun is the candy and baked goods—temptation, anticipation, and celebration. Advent.

For those of us who are Christian, however, this season is more than a celebration. It is the time when we prepare our hearts for the coming of the Christ; this is the celebration of The One who makes peace between God and man, bringing it to all creation.

Take time with me to prepare our hearts as well as our homes this Advent season.

Blessings.

Always looking for a comfortable spot...

Shivering at the dinner table 

It is snowing again tonight. 

I love the way the farm on the horizon meets the clouds in this photo. 

Giving Thanks

We celebrated Christ the King Sunday last weekend. I love this day—the hymns and the theme of Christ’s glory. I guess you could call it the New Year’s Eve of the church year; next Sunday is the beginning of Advent, the first Sunday of our church year. Sandwiched in between is the day we set aside to give thanks to Him who has given us all good things.

Today my sisters will be here; one is from North Dakota and the other, Florida. We are going to sort through the things in my mother’s house that she did not take to her new apartment. This evening we will celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my mother’s birthday all rolled together into one. Today is my wedding anniversary as well—it is now 27 years.

God is faithful; He is Lord.

I am thankful for many things: Our Father, family, friends, farm, and you who visit my blog so faithfully as well. Blessings.

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Catching up

O.K. Donna. If I am going to participate in a photo contest, what do I do? I wouldn’t know where to go to find a photo contest. LOL!

I’d like to welcome those who are new here. I enjoy reading all of your comments. For those who have linked to my blog, all friendly linkers are welcome to do so. And Dy, I took the picture of the snow-covered landscape from my deck one snowy evening last week. It has all but melted, so we are waiting for the next dusting. I would find it hard to live somewhere that did not have snow--winter is my favorite season. Janie, you have a cute little addition to your family. Kittens are such a sweet blessing!

I have something new. Now when someone posts I get an email telling me that you have posted. I like this because I wonder if I have missed comments when someone posts on blogs I posted several days past. Maybe it will allow me to answer posts in the comments box a little easier, too.

I wish you all a very blessed Thanksgiving. May God continue to show his grace to you and your families throughout the coming New Year. Blessings.



This caught us by surprise! Usually India and Snowflake do not curl up together. I guess they both wanted to catch a few sun rays in the bay window.

For Janie

When I was in college I went to summer school in Spain one summer and Mexico the next. In Mexico I stayed a couple of nights at the Wycliffe Bible Translator’s Center. We met a little, old lady from Wisconsin who went to Mexico to work after she had retired from teaching. When she found out I was going to get married soon, she decided she needed to give me a recipe that I could take with me. I’ve changed it here and there as the years have passed, but it always disappears when I put it on the table. Sometimes I make a larger batch of the white sauce and use a 9x13 pan. Since Janie asked about a recipe using chicken and broccoli in the TWTM boards, I decided to post this here today. Enjoy!

Broccoli-Chicken Casserole

Make a white sauce using:
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
¼ teaspoons salt
1-teaspoon curry powder (optional)
1 1/2 cups milk or chicken or turkey broth (I make my own, but I assume you could use bullion or canned)

When thick and bubbly remove from heat and add:
½ cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon lemon juice

Spray 8x8 casserole dish with cooking spray and
place enough lightly steamed broccoli to cover the
bottom of the pan. Add a thick layer of cooked,
chopped chicken or turkey.

Drizzle white sauce over chicken and sprinkle
lightly with grated cheese and buttered bread crumbs
or wheat germ.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until bubbly-hot.

*The original recipe’s white sauce was:
2 cans cream of chicken soup
1-cup mayonnaise
1-teaspoon curry powder (opt.)
1-teaspoon lemon juice

There Were Nine

The picture of cats below had nine kitties. In the foreground is Mama Kitty (1) who is standing in front of the fluffy, orange Ruffy (2). Ruffy has her tail draped over black and white Orion (3). Orion is rubbing up against white and orange Betelgeuse (aka Bug—4), and Bug is trying his best not to get too close to the huge white guy with black ears who we call…of course, Ears (5). Behind Ears is tiger-striped Blackie (6) who is standing next to the Holstein-looking cat named Oreo (7). Hidden in the back you can see the calico markings of Spit Fire (8), and the black and white head on the right side of the picture belongs to Charcoal (9). What fun!

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I was going to post another photo, but Picasa does not seem to be up and running tonight. Blessings!

Morning

My poetry is usually simple--the kind I read to my children when they were small. When I sit in my Big Green Chair to read my Bible and meditate in the morning, my thoughts tend to be quiet and simple, like the poetry I write. This is what I penned this morning.

'Nowie
The jingle of his bell,
Is all I need to hear
Outside my bedroom door
To know that he is near.

He joins me in my chair
To meditate and pray,
A fuzzy ball of fur
To help begin my day.


Peace and tranquility.

I don't know how well this will post, but I will try it. I took
this photo last night while my husband was combining
under the beauty of Venus. Click on the photo to enlarge
it and see what you can see.

How many cats are in the picture? 

Burning leaves 

Tomato Staking

Raising children is a journey. We walk a long winding path that leads us through cheerful meadows, but that path is bound to descend into dark and difficult stretches. A couple of my children were very strong-willed when they were small. I recall attending a homeschool meeting one evening when my five-year-old had decided he did not want to be there. Before we bundled him out of their home, he had played “bat the pull chain” with the ceiling fan and had jumped from couch to chair to chair to couch around their living room. Nothing like asking for attention and making mom and dad desperately embarrassed! This child could not be left in a room with other children without making someone break down in tears. This was a time where the path narrowed and became very steep; the night was rainy and the new moon gave no light to help us.

I prayed. I cried. And then I decided that I needed to tomato stake. At the time I did not know anything about tomato staking—this is a new term to me. Yet it is a good way to describe what I did. When I grow tomatoes in the garden, I can let them trail all over the ground or I can carefully place a stake next to them and gently tie them up as they grow. When the plant produces fruit, the staked plant’s tomatoes stay clean and have room to grow. The plant that sprawls on the ground has fruit that is squashed between the vines and is dirty, and the slugs and dampness of the earth can leave them less than perfect. A child that is staked, like the tomato, is trained to do what is good by gently tying him to you—so that his fruit will also be good.

I began by telling my son that he would need to stay where I could see and hear him. I also called him over to work with me whenever he could help in the task. We hoed in the garden and washed dishes together. He scrubbed the sink while I cleaned the shower. When he played with his brother and sister, he did so in a place that I could see what was happening, and as soon as my instincts told me that he was headed for trouble, I called to him to do something different—some days I got the play-dough out and set him at the kitchen table; other times he joined me by helping me work. I can honestly tell you that this was not easy for either of us! Some days we had quite frankly had enough of each other, and I chose, in desperation, to set the “dear” child in front of a video. Sometimes I did this because I needed a respite; other times he was simply too tired and cranky to be capable of obeying me. For a whole year we lived this way—slowly allowing the apron strings to get a little longer. As he showed me he could be trusted, I allowed him more freedom. If the freedom was abused, we drew the circle between us a little smaller. It was exhausting.

A child who is angry and troublesome is not cooperative! It was not fun to pull weeds with a child who was mad at me! As we worked side by side, I found that it help if we talked. I told him that I loved him. I talked about what I wanted for him as he grew up—to be an honorable person whom others could trust and rely upon. I told him stories about people who did not learn to abide by the rules (the news is full of these). When he was mean to other children, we discussed what it meant to be a friend, how we needed to act in order to have friends, and what we could learn from God’s love that showed us how we should treat others. I also shared my struggles with this child. I spoke about areas in my life that I was trying to improve—I told him that I prayed and meditated so that I could remain calm with my children. I talked about the times I lost my temper or raised my voice at him and discussed how I was working hard on changing my behavior so that I could be a better mother. I tried to be a real person to this child so that he could see that all of us struggle to do what is good—it is part of being human.

I also learned to listen. This child loved to tell me about a video he had seen—over and over and over again. He chattered about what was important to him, and I listened to all his let’s pretend stories, Lego building experiences, and silly humor. I asked him questions and I paid attention to him. As he worked beside me, I began to look deeply into his soul and I learned to love him all over again. When a child takes a turn towards rebellion, it is easy to forget how much we love him, but this is the very time in his life when he needs to feel that love more than ever. This is not easy. When they make us hurt, we like to retaliate; so we are left struggling with our own emotions and frustrations. We are stretched and forced to grow and mature. Children do this to us whether we like it or not. It is a painful experience that teaches us about ourselves, about our own shortcomings.

Today I have a teenaged son. One day he had invited me to go over to the woods with him, and as he drove up on the gator to give me a ride, I saw him dust the seat off next to him for me. He has a deeper voice now, and I have to look up when I speak to him. He has a wonderful sense of humor. Although his antics around the house can drive us a little crazy, I have a responsible child whom I can trust. He obeys me and I do not sense any of that old rebellion inside him—I am so glad we took the time to win the battle when he was a five year old! This same child now works with the children in an AWANA program; he listens to verses and leads games. The adults who work with him tell me how much they appreciate him and that he is a good role model for the children.

Tomato staking was a long, arduous task. I spent a lot of days feeling like a failure. I felt helpless and many times I felt like tossing my apron over my head for a good cry. I am glad, however, that I did not give up. The effort was more than worthwhile. I sense that I would not have such a peaceful teenager if I had not addressed the problems of my 5 year old. I suggest to anyone whose young child needs tomato staking that you do, indeed, take the time and effort to do so. The rewards are good.

Dusk

I had a long talk with my mom this afternoon. We are making plans for my sisters to visit and getting the rest of her things out of the house now that she has moved to an apartment. However, as soon as I was off the phone I grabbed a jacket and headed outside because I was afraid it was going to be too dark to see my way along the country road if I waited any longer.

It was cool outside, but not cold. There was no wind. The cats were just getting fed, so none of them followed me down the lane. I turned and headed up the dead end road. There was the noise of traffic coming from a road several farms away, and some farmers’ grain bins were roaring in the distance, but the road I walked along was very quiet—no birds or rustling of corn.

A waxing crescent moon was above the pine trees as I looked over my shoulder. Not too far to the right of the moon was a large, white object—shining bigger than any star. I wondered if I had brought my binoculars along if I would have been able to see that Venus, too, was a crescent tonight.

I turned and look towards the east and found the only other object in the night sky—a reddish, peach colored spot of light, slightly smaller than Venus--an almost butterscotch colored Mars. I wondered if a telescope would be able to see its polar cap and the dark strip around its middle; the night appeared to be clear enough for that. Glorious.

I walked to the top of the second hill and stood listening to silence.

The stars began to come out. The Summer Triangle was visible first. Then I noticed that I could trace the handle of the Big Dipper. Two stars of the Little Dipper and Cassiopeia were there. Then I found the Great Square and Andromeda. As the sun’s evening rays began to fade, my friends began their evening dance in the night sky.

As I came down the last hill, I heard a mew. Bug was there, asking for some love. I scratched his belly and he walked down the lane with me. I closed the garage door and spoke to my son as he headed down from the shed. Inside I checked the woodstove and found that the coals had dwindled and the stove needed to be stoked. I checked the soup in the crockpot and added a few leftovers from the refrigerator to the pot. The evening news was on and the family was chattering. The spell of the beautiful evening was not broken, though. I still feel it here, in my heart, and I want to carry it with me for a while. Wouldn’t you?


A photo I snapped a few nights ago when it was full moon.

I climbed to the roof of the house today and found myself on a rather slippery slope. When the girl came outside I mewed plaintively, and she climbed a ladder and brought me down. I thanked her with a very loud purr. Now I'm sitting here pondering the meaning of being human. I haven't quite figured out what I should do with my tail when I sit up like this, but if I do well enough, perhaps they will let me join them at the table during meal times, don't you think?

Indian Summer

It is Indian summer here in Wisconsin—those warm, hazy days that always come after a hard frost. I once read that the term Indian summer was coined by the Indians themselves and that they believed that the hazy sky came from the “Great Chief’s” pipe. I think there are several ideas on how this originated, however.

The wood stove is going to be allowed to burn out today, and I think I’ll get my rake out and begin to burn leaves under a few of the trees whose branches are stark and empty of foliage. I wish I could give you not only pictures but also the smells and sounds of raking and burning leaves, the donkey’s bray, and the cats’ meows, fresh bread pulled from the oven—although there are a few farm smells you’d want to avoid…

Have a wonderful day!


Spit Fire and Bright found the blanket I put next to
the wood box

A November sunset (click on photo to enlarge)