Summer days were filled to the brim. With a growing family Mom had planted a bigger garden and days were filled with picking up any stones we could find between the rows of vegetables and piling them beside the garden for Daddy to use on one of his many projects. I enjoyed picking stones much more than pulling weeds which also thrived in abundance.
It was always fun to start the canning season. Peas were always the first vegetables ready to harvest. Shelling peas was a tiresome job. With several five gallon buckets heaped full, we would get bowls and sit on the front porch swing and start shelling them. To make a boring job more fun we often played guessing games while we worked or sang songs.
Once we were done shelling them Mom would wash them to remove any of the dirt that happened to get into the bowls of peas while John and I went to the attic to find the jars Mom needed. Once we found the jars, they needed to be scrubbed in hot soapy water, which I thought was a total waste of time since they looked clean already.
Once the jars were scrubbed to Mom's specifications we would fill them with peas and carefully measure a teaspoon of salt into each jar and then filled them with water and turned the lids on tightly. Mom would set the filled jars in a canner and cover them with water and light the burner under the canner. Once we saw a few puffs of steam escape from the canner we would check the clock and calculate the time the peas could be removed from the canner three hours later.
Several days later another batch of peas would be ready to can and we would go through the whole process again. And so it continued all summer long, as one vegetable ended another one started and by fall it seemed everything wanted to ripen before the first frost and days were hectically busy with piles of sweetcorn and bushels of tomatoes and green beans plus the fruit, peaches, pears, and early apples. We would no longer have time to pick rocks and the weeds used to wave victoriously at us as we worked from morning till night everyday canning food to take us through until the next summer.
Every once in a while after a particularly warm and tiring day Mom would send John and me to the corner grocery store in the village to buy a box of ice cream for a treat for supper. The half mile walk was worth it as we stood in McLaughlin's Store and Mr. McLaughlin would open the freezer and let us choose a box of ice-cream. He was a kindly old man and would often give us each a Popsicle to eat on the way home. We never could make those Popsicles last until we got home as we thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing cold sweetness they provided after working all day.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
A Wedding
The first wedding to be held in our new church house was scheduled to happen in less than a week. I was looking forward to it since we were also invited to the reception.
Mom went to help get ready a few days before the wedding. There was a lot of baking and food preparation to do to get ready for all the guests. Since we lived close to the bride's home they borrowed our fine china too in order to have all the tables set with pretty dishes.
Once the day of the wedding came we went to church. Everything seemed like a regular church service except the first bench facing the preachers was reserved for the bridal party which was still hidden away in one of the coatrooms in front of the church house.
The first song was finally done being sung and the 'Lob Lied' started. After the usual twenty minutes of singing it, it was time to sing the third song. Mom had told me to watch the door of the coat room carefully once they start singing the third line of the third song. I had been waiting for that line all morning and now as the first drawn out word faded and the next one followed all eyes were glued to the door as it opened and the bridal party came walking carefully into the room. I watched as they all stood in front of the bench and sat down at the same time. The bride looked very happy but I wasn't thinking about her happy face. I had happened to see that the girls all had to have their hand held by the boy that was escorting them, I nearly shuddered at the thought that I would ever have to do that and vowed I would never get married.
After two regular length sermons the bishop told them if they still wanted to be married they could come stand before him. He had a long row of questions to ask them to which they answered with a soft little yes. The rest of the church stood for a prayer and then the bishop joined their hands and pronounced them man and wife. They returned to their seats while the rest of the preachers gave them words of advice and commented on the sermons. The closing song was sung and it was finally time to go to the reception.
As we got to the home of the brides parents I looked in awe at all the tables that had been set with pretty dishes. There were lots of girls hurrying from the kitchen to the tables carrying bowls filled with steaming food. Everything looked really good and I looked forward to sitting down at one of those long pretty tables. I followed Mom upstairs where she placed our wedding gift on a bed that was heaped with gifts for the happy couple.
The brides father was in charge of seating the people. Close relatives got to be seated first and closest to the bridal table. Once we were seated I was happy to see that we had an excellent view of the bridal party from where we were sitting. Sitting right next to me was a little girl about my age. Once silent prayer was over and everyone started passing the food we started talking. Her name was Effie and she was a sister to the groom. Her mother was one of the cooks so she had to sit at the same table we were at, but she was happy to be able to see her big brother from where she was sitting.
It didn't take her long to eat everything on her plate and then she sat there gazing into the living room at all the other people. Directly across the table from us was a little three year old who was misbehaving and in a fit of anger threw his bread crust that his mother was trying to get him to eat right into Effie's plate. A little later Effie happened to notice the crust and hurriedly picked it up and ate it looking mortified that she still had a crust on her plate.
I felt sorry for her that she ate someone else's crust but I didn't tell her that it hadn't been hers. And as much as I had looked forward to that wedding it is the bread crust I remember the most vividly.
Mom went to help get ready a few days before the wedding. There was a lot of baking and food preparation to do to get ready for all the guests. Since we lived close to the bride's home they borrowed our fine china too in order to have all the tables set with pretty dishes.
Once the day of the wedding came we went to church. Everything seemed like a regular church service except the first bench facing the preachers was reserved for the bridal party which was still hidden away in one of the coatrooms in front of the church house.
The first song was finally done being sung and the 'Lob Lied' started. After the usual twenty minutes of singing it, it was time to sing the third song. Mom had told me to watch the door of the coat room carefully once they start singing the third line of the third song. I had been waiting for that line all morning and now as the first drawn out word faded and the next one followed all eyes were glued to the door as it opened and the bridal party came walking carefully into the room. I watched as they all stood in front of the bench and sat down at the same time. The bride looked very happy but I wasn't thinking about her happy face. I had happened to see that the girls all had to have their hand held by the boy that was escorting them, I nearly shuddered at the thought that I would ever have to do that and vowed I would never get married.
After two regular length sermons the bishop told them if they still wanted to be married they could come stand before him. He had a long row of questions to ask them to which they answered with a soft little yes. The rest of the church stood for a prayer and then the bishop joined their hands and pronounced them man and wife. They returned to their seats while the rest of the preachers gave them words of advice and commented on the sermons. The closing song was sung and it was finally time to go to the reception.
As we got to the home of the brides parents I looked in awe at all the tables that had been set with pretty dishes. There were lots of girls hurrying from the kitchen to the tables carrying bowls filled with steaming food. Everything looked really good and I looked forward to sitting down at one of those long pretty tables. I followed Mom upstairs where she placed our wedding gift on a bed that was heaped with gifts for the happy couple.
The brides father was in charge of seating the people. Close relatives got to be seated first and closest to the bridal table. Once we were seated I was happy to see that we had an excellent view of the bridal party from where we were sitting. Sitting right next to me was a little girl about my age. Once silent prayer was over and everyone started passing the food we started talking. Her name was Effie and she was a sister to the groom. Her mother was one of the cooks so she had to sit at the same table we were at, but she was happy to be able to see her big brother from where she was sitting.
It didn't take her long to eat everything on her plate and then she sat there gazing into the living room at all the other people. Directly across the table from us was a little three year old who was misbehaving and in a fit of anger threw his bread crust that his mother was trying to get him to eat right into Effie's plate. A little later Effie happened to notice the crust and hurriedly picked it up and ate it looking mortified that she still had a crust on her plate.
I felt sorry for her that she ate someone else's crust but I didn't tell her that it hadn't been hers. And as much as I had looked forward to that wedding it is the bread crust I remember the most vividly.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
Currently ...
Reading ... I'm almost finished with the book of Psalms in my morning Bible time. In fiction I'm half way through Marigold by L.M. Montgomery. At first I thought it was incredibly boring, but I'm glad I kept reading because it has become much better.
Playing ... not a lot lately, though I did tell Steven I'd play his choice of board game this afternoon.
Watching ... Best Baker in America. I enjoy it, even though it gives me a an unneeded desire to bake and make pretty foods.
Cooking ... I have some hamburger thawing to make enchiladas for supper. Last night I made baby back ribs. They were okay, but not the best I've had. They had been on sale at Aldi, but even with the drastic price cut I'm not sure they were worth it.
Calling ... I don't remember the last time I called someone. This morning the phone rang and because I was expecting a call I picked up even though I did not recognize the number. The voice on the other end of the line asked if she could please speak to Jack Sparrow. I was surprised and immediately burst out laughing. I wish now I would have said something along the lines that he is out looking for Davy Jones locker.
Crafting ... we just finished up several fun diamond painting canvases. They're now ready to be framed. They turned out lovely.
Loving ... the warmer weather, and that it's not raining. I'm hoping my flowerbeds will finally dry off enough that I'll be able to transplant the flowers I got at the greenhouse several weeks ago already.
Disliking ... this stubborn cough/cold that Steven is recovering from.
Listening ... to the sound of the washer and dryer running in our laundry corner. The noise the pair makes drowns out the prettier sounds that I know are there, such as singing birds and a rushing waterfall.
Drinking ... water mostly, but also a less than delicious drink twice a day. It's not that bad, but will also never be a favorite. It's made with raw ginger, parsley, cinnamon, vinegar, lemon juice, and water.
Wanting ... to go to the library soon. We have things due back tomorrow. So far I have never had a library fine in my life, and I want to keep it that way.
Playing ... not a lot lately, though I did tell Steven I'd play his choice of board game this afternoon.
Watching ... Best Baker in America. I enjoy it, even though it gives me a an unneeded desire to bake and make pretty foods.
Cooking ... I have some hamburger thawing to make enchiladas for supper. Last night I made baby back ribs. They were okay, but not the best I've had. They had been on sale at Aldi, but even with the drastic price cut I'm not sure they were worth it.
Calling ... I don't remember the last time I called someone. This morning the phone rang and because I was expecting a call I picked up even though I did not recognize the number. The voice on the other end of the line asked if she could please speak to Jack Sparrow. I was surprised and immediately burst out laughing. I wish now I would have said something along the lines that he is out looking for Davy Jones locker.
Crafting ... we just finished up several fun diamond painting canvases. They're now ready to be framed. They turned out lovely.
Loving ... the warmer weather, and that it's not raining. I'm hoping my flowerbeds will finally dry off enough that I'll be able to transplant the flowers I got at the greenhouse several weeks ago already.
Disliking ... this stubborn cough/cold that Steven is recovering from.
Listening ... to the sound of the washer and dryer running in our laundry corner. The noise the pair makes drowns out the prettier sounds that I know are there, such as singing birds and a rushing waterfall.
Drinking ... water mostly, but also a less than delicious drink twice a day. It's not that bad, but will also never be a favorite. It's made with raw ginger, parsley, cinnamon, vinegar, lemon juice, and water.
Wanting ... to go to the library soon. We have things due back tomorrow. So far I have never had a library fine in my life, and I want to keep it that way.
Monday, May 21, 2018
Tasting Snow
One of the many games we enjoyed playing was using a jump rope and wear it over our shoulder and then under our arms and pretend we were a horse while someone else drove us.
One Saturday there was a few inches of fresh snow covering everything and John, David and I decided to play horse again. Our barn was a big old spruce tree that had branches that touched the ground on three sides, the other side had an old propane tank that had been converted to an air tank to run some of the smaller machinery in Daddy's wood working shop. The hooks on the tank worked great as a place to tie our 'horse.'
On this particular day John was the farmer and David and I were the horses. I stood under the tree waiting for John and David to get back from their little run and have my turn. I was hoping they don't go too far because I wanted some fresh snow to run through before we had all our little paths made.
Once they came back John unhitched David. As I prepared to have my turn David announced how great it was to have a fresh layer of snow that he can pretend to eat hay by licking the snow on the tank and proceeded to take a lick.
Unfortunately he didn't get to enjoy the snow because his tongue stuck to the tank and he couldn't get it to loosen. He started crying as I ran to get Mom, but before she could bring a pitcher of warm water he gave a hard yank and pulled himself loose, but cried even harder when he discovered he had left a good bit of his tongue still stuck to the tank.
Mom and Daddy tried to comfort him in any way they could think of. They were worried that he might never be able to taste again and have trouble speaking. For several weeks we had to put all his food through the baby food grinder but bit by bit his tongue healed until you could no longer tell anything had happened to it.
We had learned our lesson well and never tried licking snow on any metal surface again.
One Saturday there was a few inches of fresh snow covering everything and John, David and I decided to play horse again. Our barn was a big old spruce tree that had branches that touched the ground on three sides, the other side had an old propane tank that had been converted to an air tank to run some of the smaller machinery in Daddy's wood working shop. The hooks on the tank worked great as a place to tie our 'horse.'
On this particular day John was the farmer and David and I were the horses. I stood under the tree waiting for John and David to get back from their little run and have my turn. I was hoping they don't go too far because I wanted some fresh snow to run through before we had all our little paths made.
Once they came back John unhitched David. As I prepared to have my turn David announced how great it was to have a fresh layer of snow that he can pretend to eat hay by licking the snow on the tank and proceeded to take a lick.
Unfortunately he didn't get to enjoy the snow because his tongue stuck to the tank and he couldn't get it to loosen. He started crying as I ran to get Mom, but before she could bring a pitcher of warm water he gave a hard yank and pulled himself loose, but cried even harder when he discovered he had left a good bit of his tongue still stuck to the tank.
Mom and Daddy tried to comfort him in any way they could think of. They were worried that he might never be able to taste again and have trouble speaking. For several weeks we had to put all his food through the baby food grinder but bit by bit his tongue healed until you could no longer tell anything had happened to it.
We had learned our lesson well and never tried licking snow on any metal surface again.
Friday, May 18, 2018
The Birthday Cake
Mom's birthday was always a special occasion. Daddy used to have a nice gift for her and we children would try our hand at creating something special too.
The busy summer days were passing and as her birthday approached I kept trying to think what I could make for her this year. John and David were making a wooden shelf with a cute little rail around it, but so far I still couldn't think of anything.
I dug through boxes of fabric scraps hoping that I would become inspired but nothing seemed to work. Then one Saturday as we were doing our weekly baking I found a recipe book that had colored photos of desserts. As I paged through it I found what I was looking for. A beautiful marbled layer cake with thick fluffy frosting.
I knew Mom had a doctors appointment a few days before her birthday which would give me the golden opportunity to have the kitchen to myself to bake the cake while she was gone, and the mess cleaned away before she came home.
I took the cookbook to my room and pored over the recipe. I had visions of how pleased Mom would be when she saw and tasted the beautiful cake I was going to bake.
The day finally arrived when she had to go to her appointment. I kept watching out the window waiting for the driver to come. After what seemed like a long time I saw him appear over the hill. I told Mom he was coming and she hurried to get her bonnet and handbag and told me after I swept the kitchen floor I was free to play until it was time to peel potatoes for supper. I watched as they backed out the driveway and drove down the road.
I got the mixing bowl out and started on the cake. It wasn't long before I remembered I needed to preheat the oven. I opened the stove door that held the oven burners and pulled them out. After tipping the chimneys back I turn the wick up and carefully struck a match to light them. As the flame caught the wick and started spreading around it I lowered the chimney. It got stuck a little bit and as I jiggled it to loosen it, it suddenly dropped down and snuffed my flame. I tried it again but the same thing happened. After numerous attempts I finally gave up and went down in the shop and told Daddy what my plans were and how I couldn't get the burners lit. He came and lit them for me, and after I had adjusted the wick until the flame was burning a nice blue like Mom always did I was finally ready to continue with my cake.
I showed Daddy the picture of the cake I was planning to make. He smiled and said "It looks really good," as he patted my shoulder and then went back to his work in the shop.
I glanced at the clock and was dismayed to see that I had wasted quite a bit of time trying to get the burners lit and decided I would have to cut a few corners if I wanted to have the cake cooled enough to have it frosted before Mom came home. I decided to make only one layer instead of two. It didn't take very long to make the batter, and I was feeling better about my plans again. The recipe told me to melt some chocolate chips and stir them into part of the batter. To save time I decided to just pour the chocolate chips into the batter and let them melt while the cake was baking and have a lot of cute little swirls in the cake. I poured in the chips and stirred vigorously and then decided to pour another cupful of chips in to make it extra special.
As I poured the batter into the cake pan I had visions of Mom asking me how I ever managed to make so many little chocolate swirls in the cake, and how pleased she would be to find out how easy it was. I set the timer, and then turned to the frosting section in the cookbook to find the perfect recipe.
I wanted to try something different from the regular one Mom used to make, and it didn't take me long to find it. Lemon Flavored Icing. I got my bowl ready and dumped the powdered sugar in and added lemon juice. It wasn't turning out creamy and fluffy like I had hoped it would but I didn't have time to start another batch. The cake was now cooling in the refrigerator and I needed to get it frosted and hidden before Mom came home.
As I was washing the dishes I had used I thought of the perfect way to still make the cake beautiful. I would use food coloring. The back of the package had instructions on how to mix the colors to get a color other than the basic four. A lovely purple would look very pretty and be just the thing to help the cake become special since so far it wasn't co-operating with the one I had envisioned. I carefully measured in the drops of food coloring but instead of turning a lovely purple it turned into a sickly hideous brownish orange. I felt like crying as I looked at it.
There was no time to do anything because I heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway and when I looked out the window and saw that Mom was at home I quickly grabbed the cake and my bowl of frosting and ran upstairs to my room. I sat on the floor and poured the frosting on the cake. It was too thin and as hard as I tried to spread it evenly over the cake I soon found out it was impossible as it all wanted to pool around the edges. I hid it in one of my desk drawers and went downstairs and helped Mom get supper ready.
When her birthday arrived and I presented her with my miserable cake she smiled and beamed as if it actually looked pretty. She cut pieces for everyone. I was disappointed to see that the chocolate chips didn't melt and swirl like I intended that they should and since I had added more than double what the recipe had asked for the cake was crumbly. The icing wasn't much better since it had dried to a brittle lemony mess. Mom must have sensed that my dream cake had turned out all wrong because she asked for a second piece, commenting how nice it was to have a daughter old enough to make a cake all by herself.
I still wasn't happy with the cake, but Mom made me feel special and I vowed to make it up to her next year by making something really nice for her birthday instead of a cake.
The busy summer days were passing and as her birthday approached I kept trying to think what I could make for her this year. John and David were making a wooden shelf with a cute little rail around it, but so far I still couldn't think of anything.
I dug through boxes of fabric scraps hoping that I would become inspired but nothing seemed to work. Then one Saturday as we were doing our weekly baking I found a recipe book that had colored photos of desserts. As I paged through it I found what I was looking for. A beautiful marbled layer cake with thick fluffy frosting.
I knew Mom had a doctors appointment a few days before her birthday which would give me the golden opportunity to have the kitchen to myself to bake the cake while she was gone, and the mess cleaned away before she came home.
I took the cookbook to my room and pored over the recipe. I had visions of how pleased Mom would be when she saw and tasted the beautiful cake I was going to bake.
The day finally arrived when she had to go to her appointment. I kept watching out the window waiting for the driver to come. After what seemed like a long time I saw him appear over the hill. I told Mom he was coming and she hurried to get her bonnet and handbag and told me after I swept the kitchen floor I was free to play until it was time to peel potatoes for supper. I watched as they backed out the driveway and drove down the road.
I got the mixing bowl out and started on the cake. It wasn't long before I remembered I needed to preheat the oven. I opened the stove door that held the oven burners and pulled them out. After tipping the chimneys back I turn the wick up and carefully struck a match to light them. As the flame caught the wick and started spreading around it I lowered the chimney. It got stuck a little bit and as I jiggled it to loosen it, it suddenly dropped down and snuffed my flame. I tried it again but the same thing happened. After numerous attempts I finally gave up and went down in the shop and told Daddy what my plans were and how I couldn't get the burners lit. He came and lit them for me, and after I had adjusted the wick until the flame was burning a nice blue like Mom always did I was finally ready to continue with my cake.
I showed Daddy the picture of the cake I was planning to make. He smiled and said "It looks really good," as he patted my shoulder and then went back to his work in the shop.
I glanced at the clock and was dismayed to see that I had wasted quite a bit of time trying to get the burners lit and decided I would have to cut a few corners if I wanted to have the cake cooled enough to have it frosted before Mom came home. I decided to make only one layer instead of two. It didn't take very long to make the batter, and I was feeling better about my plans again. The recipe told me to melt some chocolate chips and stir them into part of the batter. To save time I decided to just pour the chocolate chips into the batter and let them melt while the cake was baking and have a lot of cute little swirls in the cake. I poured in the chips and stirred vigorously and then decided to pour another cupful of chips in to make it extra special.
As I poured the batter into the cake pan I had visions of Mom asking me how I ever managed to make so many little chocolate swirls in the cake, and how pleased she would be to find out how easy it was. I set the timer, and then turned to the frosting section in the cookbook to find the perfect recipe.
I wanted to try something different from the regular one Mom used to make, and it didn't take me long to find it. Lemon Flavored Icing. I got my bowl ready and dumped the powdered sugar in and added lemon juice. It wasn't turning out creamy and fluffy like I had hoped it would but I didn't have time to start another batch. The cake was now cooling in the refrigerator and I needed to get it frosted and hidden before Mom came home.
As I was washing the dishes I had used I thought of the perfect way to still make the cake beautiful. I would use food coloring. The back of the package had instructions on how to mix the colors to get a color other than the basic four. A lovely purple would look very pretty and be just the thing to help the cake become special since so far it wasn't co-operating with the one I had envisioned. I carefully measured in the drops of food coloring but instead of turning a lovely purple it turned into a sickly hideous brownish orange. I felt like crying as I looked at it.
There was no time to do anything because I heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway and when I looked out the window and saw that Mom was at home I quickly grabbed the cake and my bowl of frosting and ran upstairs to my room. I sat on the floor and poured the frosting on the cake. It was too thin and as hard as I tried to spread it evenly over the cake I soon found out it was impossible as it all wanted to pool around the edges. I hid it in one of my desk drawers and went downstairs and helped Mom get supper ready.
When her birthday arrived and I presented her with my miserable cake she smiled and beamed as if it actually looked pretty. She cut pieces for everyone. I was disappointed to see that the chocolate chips didn't melt and swirl like I intended that they should and since I had added more than double what the recipe had asked for the cake was crumbly. The icing wasn't much better since it had dried to a brittle lemony mess. Mom must have sensed that my dream cake had turned out all wrong because she asked for a second piece, commenting how nice it was to have a daughter old enough to make a cake all by herself.
I still wasn't happy with the cake, but Mom made me feel special and I vowed to make it up to her next year by making something really nice for her birthday instead of a cake.
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