Some fine things....

  Cane Creek Park

Everitt Sean

Just testing some changes I made to my subscription reader. I'm hoping I did this right and our blog is being sent to our readers correctly. Otherwise I may be starting over.....
I thought I'd share some "fine things" in my life. Some of the finest, actually!

Tim with our grandchildren at Cane Creek Park in Cookeville, TN

Aurora Lilly

 Estella just loves her little cousin Aurora

Estella Cheri

These are a few of the  fine things in my life. This is from a song by the Eagles called  Desperado. Our son recently played this and posted a video of it on facebook. He was actually quite good. Really. I should know, I have very good taste in music! (at least I think so)  He's been playing this one off and on since he was a teen. Practicing. We hadn't heard him play in a while and both of us were impressed with him. We might just be a bit biased....

  In the song, is a  line that goes like this....."Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you only want the ones that you can't get."......... This is often so true in our lives. It just seems that we are never quite satisfied with what we have. That there is always something more that would make us happy if we could just somehow, find a way to get it.  I have often thought of these words whenever I find myself longing for something just out of my reach. 

                                           Some fine things have indeed, been laid upon our table! 

The House that Tim built, the beginning

I'm sure I've mentioned once or twice that we are building a house. We have been slowly doing this for the last five years or so. Time is our main hindrance to it's progression.  Tim is a master carpenter/McGyver type handyman. I really am not bragging on him, well maybe just a tad bit. He has the 'almost miraculous' ability to take something, that most people in our American culture would simply discard and buy new, and make it look as if,  that is just what he did.

I'd like to tell you the story of the House that Tim built. This story is still being written and will continue to be so, this is really just the beginning. I'll try to keep you up to date as we go along.

It all began with an idea. Don't all good projects begin that way? It really wasn't even all his idea. Our son Jeff owned some property and had wanted to build a house on it for several years.
The property was adjacent to the 100 plus year old  farm house we owned at the time.
That was a fun house. We thoroughly enjoyed our time we lived there. It was however, over 100 years old and needed more work than we were able to afford.  The housing market was in good shape and it sold in record time, to a nice couple who have been kind to it and have continued to remodel it, to match it's era.

I would love to be able to show picture of this next process but....I have been unable to locate any pictures of  the process. I'll just have to tell you about it instead.

 Jeff and his friend Josh had once had the idea that they could dig the footers to this house by hand. They soon discovered while it was possible, it was probably not time well spent. After the sale of the house we hired a friend to dig the footers and a 12 x 12 storm shelter and root cellar combination.
 During this time we rented a trailer just up the road. When the block work was finished, the framing began. Framing on a house built from the ground up is very encouraging! It goes up fast and suddenly a house is standing where there was nothing before. In just a few days time the structure and the 'bones' of your dream are in front of you, finally visible and no longer just an image in your mind.

This really did go up fast as we had some extra help. Friends from the church we were attending came over and gave us a good old fashioned Amish style "barn raising". -The irony is, that a few of these men were actually former Amishmen.- In one weekend we had a two story house complete with walls and a roof.

 I remember, after everyone left Sunday evening, Tim and I stood in the upstairs of our new home. A ladder leaned in the opening where the stairs would one day go. There was the clean fresh smell of lumber and sawdust. We stood looking out the empty holes where windows would someday be. A cool breeze began to blow and slowly a soft rain started to fall and increase in volume. The acoustical sound of rain on a metal roof with no insulation or interior walls cannot be duplicated... or forgotten. We sat down on the floor and just listened for a long time. It was a quiet peaceful moment.

Over the next several weeks Tim installed windows, plumbing and all the pipes and such that make a house flow with water in and out. We hung some insulation, what we had. Installed a woodstove, a huge Ashley that ate mounds of firewood. In a two story house with not much insulation it is chilling how fast the heat can run away and disappear seemingly into thin air. As fast as we shoveled it in only a small area surrounding the stove was very warm. Now, this was fine, as we worked there finishing up what we could. Work a while, go get warm, a nice rhythm develops.

However, the finances were getting tight. The amount we had made from the sale of the farmhouse had come to an end. It had gotten us this far. Tim was putting in a lot of time on the house, so the income was lower and in our business January and February are slow and troublesome months. Rent was costing us precious money we wanted to invest in materials for the house. So, one cold February day, we simply moved in.

It was really cold outside. Below zero. In a two story house with very little insulation those temperatures can be really tough to deal with. Our floor design was open on the first floor so the heat flowed somewhat well. I don't want to paint the picture better than it was. It was cold. We closed the upstairs opening off as we didn't have stairs yet anyway. I had remembered my mother stapling huge sheets of cardboard to the walls of an unfinished house we were living in growing up so I followed her example. Yes, I've lived this scenario before.- A word to the wise, don't marry a carpenter/ adventurous type. They are convinced that their families are much tougher and more capable than everyone else. At least this has been my experience. I can smile about it now, but at the time I had some serious issues with being cold.-

The week we moved not only was it below zero, I had contracted a terrible case of the flu. I was miserable. Along with it all, I had feelings of great dislike toward my husband. -yes, I've since gotten over it-  I survived the cold air, by sleeping in the recliner chair, next to the stove and filling it every hour. This became my job and still is. It seemed that  the rest of the adults in the house never felt the temperature change when the fire would start to die down. I did. I knew exactly when it was time to add wood without ever opening the stove door. We dressed in layers during the day and around the stove it really wasn't too bad. Chilly, cold even, but doable. I love, how I can say that in past tense now! These are still not fond memories, but it wouldn't be a true story if I left this part out.

Spring is slow in coming when you are counting on it the most! It does finally show up though and all the winter blues fade into the background, with the explosion that is spring in the Southern Appalachians. Green is bursting into life everywhere. It just pops free, as if it's been holding back for weeks, just waiting for that unseen sign that seems to say "its time!" Rather melodramatic I know, but you see, winter and I just have not made our peace. I keep thinking this year, "I'll be friends with it and accept it as just another wonderful season" and every year just before those first warm days arrive, I feel as if I have 'fought a huge battle' and come out battered and bruised. But, a winner none the less.

Spring did finally arrive and with it a whole new problem. Mud. Red clay. This is serious stuff and not to be taken lightly. I wonder if it couldn't actually suck you in to the point of needing some forceful leverage to remove you from the 'miry pit' you find your self in. It gives a new meaning to the bible verse....He brought me out of the miry clay....there is also a hymn with those same words and I will never again be able to sing it without thinking of the sticky, goopy, even dangerous red clay that now surrounded our house. There wasn't a blade of grass left in the "yard".  After all the digging of footers, septic system and water lines that had gone on the previous fall. We were simply trapped in a sea of red. It tracked in and I was sweeping and mopping it up all the time. It stained the unfinished  flooring an orange color. I think I may have actually shed a few tears of frustration over it. It became easier to deal with, as spring was finally here. Life was good. We would keep advancing, keep building, keep improving, moving forward towards the goal we had set in our sights.

Isn't that what you do in life? It's easy for me to look back and see how far we've come. To have a better perspective than I did when I was right in the middle of it. Which is why I've deliberately chosen to write realistically about this time in our lives. It was hard and those who write about these things without this aspect are simply not quite being honest. We all have trials in life. Jesus, himself said : "In this world you will have tribulation." And we do indeed.

We also have great joy and  He has given us so much to live for. Family and friends top the list. We all have those  moments in time when we see something so beautiful that is takes our breath away. These things are there, if we choose to look for them. For years, I closed my eyes to these things and hid in my disappointment with my life. It was by choice, that I finally decided to see, hear and smell the goodness that surrounded me. Moments like sitting in the upstairs of our empty house with a fresh cool breeze blowing, listening to the sound of rain on a tin roof, with the man of my life. Words are unnecessary at these moments, just a silent whispered prayer of pure gratitude  and a request to somehow 'never let me forget this'.... If we could just find a way to live in those moments.

The riches of a simple life

An old gate Tim built for Jayme's horse pasture. The field is growing up and the gate is leaning more and more, but I still love his gate.     

Today as I was driving down the road I glanced into a field that was full of wildflowers. I was thinking of each species and naming them in my mind; Iron weed, Joe Pye weed, Mist Flower, Goldenrod. I then glanced at the forest behind the  field and began to name the trees which grew there; Maple, Oak, Hickory, Tulip Poplar, Sycammore and as I was doing this I felt a great sense of satisfaction. I knew the plants around me, a few short years ago I couldn't do that. I remembered when we had first moved to this part of the country it was a desire of mine to be able to identify the trees and plants here. I realized that I was accomplishing that. I felt almost a sense of being wealthy. That seemed like an odd thing and I wondered why I felt it.

It came to my mind of being a young child again. My father and mother both loved the outdoors  and the country lifestyle. Riches and fame were not for them. Just the simple life. They would often take us on rides into the woods and we would pick berries or just enjoy the scenery.
I remember that my father could tell the difference between each of the many pine trees that blanketed the mountains in Montana. He knew which mushrooms were edible, which berries were good to eat and when it was time to pick them. My parents had their favorite berry picking patches and went back year after year. My father was a hunter and fed their family of six on much wild game over the years. My mother always had a flock of chickens that provided us eggs and meat. She was a faithful shepherd to a small herd of goats that provided delicious, healthful milk. They raised pigs some years, as well as, a steer or two.
They grew large gardens and canned hundreds of jars filled with the bounty. I can still picture the rows and rows of them filled with colorful vegetables and fruits.
I can almost taste the elderberry and chokecherry syrup that was used for our 'made from scratch' sourdough pancakes.   I remember for a while mom had a crock filled with a sourdough starter she had bought. She "fed" it often and it would bubble up and threaten to overflow. Oh, but it produced many steaming pancakes.
I used to sit at the counter and watch her make bread I can still see the yeast as it dissolved in the warm water and oil in her large bread bowl. She would stir in the flour and remaining ingredients and the smell of warm yeasty bread dough would fill my senses. Later on, the most delicious aroma of all would saturate the house, the smell of freshly baked bread. She would butter the tops and I can still see the melting liquid run down the sides. I get my love of baking bread from these vivid memories, I know that I do.

 As all these memories came back I realized why knowing the plants around me made me feel wealthy. The security of knowing that we could do the same as they had done. We had the ability and had done many of the same things over the years. To have a simple life and find our riches in God's nature and hard work. To live in a similar way as people have for many millennia. We had learned this and could do it again,  it is within our reach. These thoughts filled me with a deep satisfaction. I actually felt we possessed an 'immaterial'  type of wealth. A kind of 'ancient' knowledge of something that is slipping away from us.

I'm not sure what our future holds, but we would like to simplify our life and do some of those things we did when we were raising our children. Tim looks longingly at our neighbors tractor and says "I want to be a Larry when I grow up." (our farming/ Methodist Pastor next door. Tim wants to be the farmer part) I  know that he has always enjoyed our homesteading attempts. We shall see if this is what God has in mind for us. I know better than to make too many plans.....they always seem to change. Whatever happens, I do know that you can always simplify your life where ever you live. Turning the internet off once in a while is a good start and I have seen Urban gardens that put me to shame.

                                                         

Chicory a beautiful wildflower we have here. I just love the color. The perfect shade of blue

We are grateful for the country life we grew up with and raised our children in. Wouldn't trade it for anything.



Thank you mom and dad, for showing us this peaceful, simpler way of life, through living it yourselves.














~that you also aspire to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, and to work with your own hands~ 1 Thessalonians 4:11

Volunteer Vines

For the last several years I have gotten a volunteer vine growing somewhere on our place. Somewhere, that I did not plant them. The flower beds have been the usual place. This year one showed up in a pile of wood bark from last years fire wood.  I let it grow, since I hadn't planted a garden and I love the idea of a mystery vine. This is it's   lovely bloom. It blooms at night and by mid morning is gone. By evening, new ones will be opening again. I wonder if it's related to the Moon Flower? I'm sure it's not, but they are the same color and both bloom at night.

So, I let it grow. I told Tim to watch out for it and not to mow it or pull it up. I wanted to see what it would be. We were busy working and I pretty much just ignored it, not even paying attention to how big it was getting. One evening, after we pulled in, I glanced over at the side of our house, where my Elm tree is.
I couldn't believe it. While we were busy, this little vine had been busy too. It grew and climbed all the way to the top of the tree. That's what I get for not paying attention.

If you haven't figured out what it is yet, here's another hint. I'll show you the leaves.

Well, it was getting late when I discovered how large it was getting and didn't do too much looking. I had figured out  what it was and told Tim. He wanted to know how I knew, as I'd only tried once to grow this and hadn't had too much  success.  I recognized the leaves and at a quick glance saw some little 'fruits' coming on. So, here's another hint....

Do you know yet?


 I wonder if it's too late for them to get very big. We have til somewhere around the last of September before the first killing frost. We'll have to see how they do.





The next day was Saturday so, with my morning coffee in hand,  I went to check out my volunteer vine. Not only had it grown up the tree but, had weaved it's way in and around the too tall, and desperately needing mowed, grass. As I poked around trying to decide if any of the babies would even make it. I spotted something.

There hidden in the grass was a very nice sized Bird House Gourd! Last winter, when we were working on my birdhouse projects in the garage, some of the seeds that we cleaned out of gourds, must have fallen on the floor and were swept up and dumped with the rest of the bark and wood chips. I had planned to let this pile break down a bit and use it for mulch around my trees.
I'm more than pleased with the size of this one already. It should continue to grow until frost kills the vine. I'm hoping some of the babies also get big enough for at least some smaller gourds.

The volunteer vines have been a lot of fun. Last year, it was watermelons. I ended up with five delicious ripe watermelons before it was done. The year before it was cantaloupe! Once, watermelons grew in Snoopy's field -Snoopy is Jayme's horse-  he managed to step on every one before we could harvest them. He ate them too. Which is how the seeds got there, we had often fed him our left over watermelons chunks!

Did I ever tell you about when I grew watermelons to sell? I had over 600 plants one year. But, that is another story.....

The Gift

Do we know the gift we have been given? Life, love, beauty. I  want to write about my gratitude for that. Often, as I look at the World around me and the seeming unfairness of it all, I could be discouraged that there isn't more I can do. Sometimes, I wish for wealth so that I could give to those who do not have. But, I am beginning to realize that wealth is not necessarily a gift or something to really be desired.

I have been reading a book called Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey. In it, are 13 short biographies of people who helped, in one way or another, to restore the waning faith of the author. One of these men was Leo Tolstoy. A famous Russian author who wrote such books as War and Peace and Anna Karenina. No, I've never read them, they are both very long and are not really my type of books. I have read several of his short stories such as Where love is, there is God. -by going to the link you can read it online.- It is a short little story of a poor shoemaker who has lost his family. One day he hears a voice tell him that Christ will visit him tomorrow, but is surprised to see it happen in a different way than he expected. I recommend reading it. Great story.
One of the lessons that Leo Tolstoy seems to have found in his quest in this life, was that money could not buy peace, contentment or even lasting happiness. He wrote several stories of Russian peasants who had found this elusive peace. It hadn't been brought about by wealth and material things.

Another chapter in Phillip Yancey's book was on a Harvard Professor named Robert Coles. He was also a child psychiatrist who wrote a series of books called children of crisis. In this series he interviewed ordinary people and often children. He was trying to gain an honest perspective of how people lived. In the first four books he focused on poor people or those who wouldn't be considered wealthy. The final volume called The Privileged Ones is about the rich and well off in America.
His conclusions are similar to what Leo Tolstoy found. Money does not buy us happiness. That those who were lacking in material things were by far happier and better adjusted to life. One of the reasons he felt this was so, (and this point is often ignored by his peers) was their faith. Many of the people who lacked wealth, that he interviewed, had faith in God and often pointed to Him as the reason for their peace.

As I was reading these biographies a verse from Proverbs came to mind. ~...give me neither poverty nor riches...lest I be full and deny Thee and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain. Pr. 30:8-9~
It seems, to me, that in our society, as more and more people gain in material wealth, they turn away from God. As if they do not need Him. Those who have just enough to get by, know that they do indeed, need Him and turn to Him for their source of security. In Him, they find peace.....

As I look at my life and the things that I do have, I become more and more grateful for the life that He has given me. We have never had a lot. Certainly, more than many in this world. Honestly, though, it has always been just enough. Never more, never less. We have always known, Who provided that. We have found peace in that. Things would get tight and we would worry. But in the end, it would always be enough and we wondered why we had gotten so uptight about it.

So, as I mull all these thoughts around, I look around and see such wonderful gifts. I find them all around me. In the little House Wren that sat on a fence post just last evening, singing his cheery little song, as if it were  for me alone. The Indigo Bunting that came and showed off his brilliant blue feathers to us, nearly every day for several weeks. In the amazing green and growing things I am surrounded by and so desire to learn more about. In that very knowledge of them, He has allowed me to gain.

We love where we live. The four seasons are perfectly spaced, each with 3 months of their own. Even now, as I write this, I feel fall in the air, slowly inching it's way into summer. God has given us a piece of his Earth. I watch the trees, flowers, birds and even the insects and am filled with gratitude for His over abundance.

I look at my family and how much they care for one another and for Tim and I. I look at my smiling grandchildren as they reach out their arms for a hug from gramma. My heart is filled and overflowing, with no empty spaces.

I hear his voice bring me comfort as He speaks through the Psalms of David. I think of the Shepherd boy  and once king of Israel, that wrote them from the depths of his heart. A man, not so different from us. A man, who had learned to find his peace, in God his Father. He found that peace, while watching his father's sheep in the wilderness. The words written so long ago, are still so fitting for our lives today. I find so much comfort and understanding in this book.  reading schedule of Psalms I often follow

I am overwhelmed with all that He has given us. It is a Gift.

~ Either we are adrift in Chaos, or we are individuals, created, loved, upheld and placed purposefully,   exactly where we are. Can you believe that? Can you trust God for that? ~ Elizabeth Elliot

Eden will bloom

The dew drops hang thick and wet on the grasses casting a silver sheen on the fields.
 The slightest disturbance will send them, dripping, racing into rivers down each blade.
I wonder if this was like the days of Eden,
when the mist went up from the Earth and watered it daily.
The days of that perfect garden, have long since faded,
but the thought of it's mysterious beauty still bring wondering.
Still bring longing...a longing for the garden, once tended by man.
Longing, for it's untainted goodness and complete lack of evil,
for it's beauty, simplicity....perfection.

A time, when man communed and walked with his Creator,
a time, when they walked in the garden together.
Perhaps they talked of the plants there,
as I talk with my gardening friends.
Perhaps, God told them of each one's mysteries
and the specialties that they possessed.
Perhaps, they just enjoyed the splendor of that place,
and being with one another.
Perhaps...

But then, the serpent came
and he deceived her.
Maybe it was love, maybe it was misdirected,
but he took what she offered.
The serpent had won, the one rule had been broken.
For the first time, they saw... and shame filled their hearts.
They hid from Him, afraid to face Him,
afraid to acknowledge their sight, to admit their wrong.
And so saddened, He sent them away.

Banished from perfection.
Imagine...  the beauty they had lost,
imagine... the pain they must have felt.
When He called their names in the evening,
man hid himself from God...  for the first time.
The feeling of abandonment, when the garden was closed to them.
The loneliness, when his voice no longer called for them.
When Adam felt the thorns on his fingers and sweat dripped from his brow.
When she felt the pain of giving birth and cried out for His mercy.

Did they know of His ultimate plan
His plan to bring man home?
How could they understand what He would do, How could they know,
that He would send Himself; His son; to be with us?
In the form of that tiny baby, she held in her arms.
He would come into the ever growing cruelty of the world,
where blood would soon be spilled, by man's own hand.
Where pain unspeakable existed.
How could He do that? Why would He do that?

His Creation, was so precious to Him.
He wanted them back, to walk with Him again.
He missed them, their innocence and unquestioning love.
What He had breathed into being, meant more than they could ever know.
They caught a glimpse of it, in the smile of the baby,
knowing that from their bodies, came this being.
This tiny one, this little version of themselves.
But, they could not know, what it was to Create,
to breathe into dust, the breath of life.

He had a plan, a plan of redemption,
A plan, to bring man back, to the garden,
to the days of innocence, purity, love and endless light.
Before this could happen.... evil must play it's hand,
It must come to the end of itself.
Man must see his need of Him,
He must see the darkness, within himself.
He had to understand just what was needed,
He had to choose to see, to acknowledge, to turn, to love Him once again.

At the right time, one day, far into the future
He came.
He was with us once again.
Not everyone could see,
not everyone would believe, that God had really come.
That He gave Himself for us.
for those, who dared to believe,
For those, who looked upon Him, as He breathed his last mortal breath
for those, for those.... it was enough.

They believed with such a depth,
that upside down, they turned our world.
They would give all, to tell this dying sphere,
that God had come.
That He had come for us,
to finish what He had begun.
The seeds had been planted
the seeds of the garden,
Where man can walk with God once again.

We feel His presence and are ashamed,
as He calls our names, ever so quietly.
He reaches out His hand and beckons us,
He speaks with us and comforts us.
We commune together, in our souls,
"Come home," He says "I've missed you.
Come walk with me, in the cool of the day,
let's talk of the garden I am growing for you.
The Serpent will pay his due....and  Eden will bloom once again."



copyright (c) August,13 2012 Beth Wagenius

Herbal hunting

This summer has been very warm. For a while it was dry and hot, hot,hot! Finally, after our grass actually turned brown for the first time,  the rains came back. Greening up our small part of Appalachia once again. It was a relief to me. I always feel parched and tense in dry weather. The rains have 'hydrated' me once again. They are also just starting to fill the rivers a bit too. We stopped and ate our lunch the other day at the Roaring River Park near Gainsboro, TN. Being near water and watching it's flowing motion, always soothes me. Must be that hydration thing again.

On another day we went to a different part of the river and found some Pipsissewa. I had found this last year but at the time did not know what it was. When I find an unusual looking plant or one I think I may recognize from browsing herb and plant field guides, I take a picture of it and see if I can identify it when I get home. This one, I actually put on my facebook page and some herbal friends  ID'd it for me.

Recently,  I purchased a new herb book called Mountain Medicine by Darryl Patton. It is about the life, herbal studies and remedies of Alabama herbalist Tommie Bass. I am enjoying this book, savoring it slowly, as I've waited a very long time for it. When I'm finished I'll write a review here.

Pipsissewa is one of the herbs profiled in this book. So, knowing where it grows in abundance, I went back and gathered a bit to try. It has many uses, but the one I'm wanting it for is a general Tonic. That just means an herb that helps to build you up, strengthen and restore your health.
This is actually spotted pipsissewa although I'm not sure why it would be called that. Those look like stripes to me...
Anyway, I've gathered some and have a tincture going. We shall see if I like this herb or not. I have a personal preference to try each herb singularly to see how they work for me. I'm not a big fan of herbal mixtures with a lot of different herbs. I do mix them together after I've tried them individually and know how they work for me. Others however, do fine with the mixes. It is a personal choice. I just rather like to know how each herb is acting on my system. Maybe, it's simply a curious research thing...

On our way home we stopped at the store to grab a few things for supper. In the parking lot was this perfect, but (sadly) dead eastern tiger swallowtail or is it an Appalachian Tiger Swallowtail ? I simply could not tell the difference.

I am just a beginning student of butterflies so I know very little. They are so very graceful and beautiful. You just can't help but smile when you see one flitting across the yard.

In case anyone was wondering I placed it on magazine cover that was picturing human cells. The coloring in the background seems to make the butterfly stand out more.
It was the latest copy of Acts and Facts from the Institute of Creation Research. You can get a free subscribtion and it is an interesting and informative magazine.

This is my favorite treasure I've found this summer. Mountain Mint! I'm sure it has always been here but this is the first year I recognized it, for what it was. I spotted it driving to work one day. I was driving and Tim was reading. -He possesses that unique ability to read in a moving vehicle, while I most definitely do not.-  He gets a bit worried when I start spotting herbs or birds while driving, however.
I was pretty excited when I drove by, as I was sure this was what I had seen. We stopped, turned around and went back. Tim, quickly jumped out and picked me a bit.  I could instantly tell by the smell that yes, I had found mountain mint. The next day I went out back for a walk in our woods and there it was. Just as if to say, "It's about time you found me."
This is an herb which is also profiled in the book Mountain Medicine. It is used for coughs, colds, sinusitis, bronchitis and even asthma. When you smell it you can easily understand why. It smells just like Vicks Mentholatum salve. It can be used as an herbal steam or taken internally. Just boil some leaves, turn the heat off, hold a towel over your head and the still steaming pot and  breath in deeply. (be careful not to get too close or the steam could burn you) You should start to feel your head clear right away. You could also make a cup of tea, drink it while wrapped up in a warm blanket and this should induce a sweat.
Or, you could just drink the tea. I haven't tasted it yet, but all of the mint family, of which this is a part, taste wonderful with plenty of fresh honey! My hunch is this will be strong flavored. I am anxious to try this next cold season. -Not anxious to catch a cold!- But, I'm always ready for the cure.



~ "I always did believe that God never did make no mistakes. He never made anything He didn't make a remedy for. The Lord's put something out there if we would only get out there and hunt it." ~ Tommie Bass

                           (the book Mountain Medicine was written about his life.)

Another try at religious persecution

This morning I just want to write a quick post about something that I think we all should think about. Everyone. I'm talking about Global Religious Persecution. I wrote a post about this a while back and took it down. I felt my disappointment in people was showing through in bitterness, for the seeming lack of compassion and empathy. I apologize to anyone who may have read that and felt my irritation. I realize, that for some, this subject may simply be too much. I understand the frustration of feeling there is so little we can do. We can pray. Prayer does make a difference.  There are also organizations that are fully committed to helping the suffering and working toward solutions. They are almost exclusively run on donations. I'll list a few a the end of this post. For my part, I feel my job is simply to remember them....it would seem, that is what I can do at this point in my life. So, I write and I remember.

Let me explain what I'm talking about. In America we have complete freedom of religion. We are allowed to worship as we so feel convicted. But, did you know that in over 70% of the world that is not the case? Most of the persecution towards religion involves Christians. Christianity is the most persecuted religious group in the world at this time. There have been more Christians killed for their faith in the last 100 years, than in all the centuries before combined.

In Nigeria, on July 7th of this year nearly 100 members of the Church of Christ were killed by an extremist Islamic group known as Boko Haram. This has been going on for over a decade. Some estimates leave the total number of Christians killed there at well over 20,000. This is Genocide.

It makes me wonder where everyone is? By this I mean, those who would indignantly say they would never have stood by while Jewish men and women were loaded into train cars, bound for the death camps of Nazi Germany. Where are those indignant people now?  It makes me wonder if maybe we might have been among those looking the other way, after all.
It seems we often judge others, such as the German citizens of that evil era, yet we find ourselves in a similar place, doing a similar thing. For myself, I see little difference between the atrocities of that day and the global persecution  of Christians...... Life is precious and we are all one blood, one race....sons of Adam, Children of God.


So this morning, I ask you to remember. Start there. Just remember them.

                                                 ~Silence isn't golden, it's deadly~



Open Doors USA
Persecuted Church
Secret Believers
world watch list 2012

A Butterfly and a Blog-oversary

Our Appalachia- A beautiful Butterfly  It appears my butterfly bush is working. Spicebush Swallowtail. One of my favorites.


Yesterday was Our appalachia's blogoversary. For some reason, I just happened to wonder how long ago since I had started this blog. I looked late last evening and was so surprised to see I had actually checked on the exact date! How coincidental...One year ago, I started this blog and this was the first post. I guess that I always had Nature and all of it's wonderful gifts from God, in my mind for this blog. I wish I had time to write a special anniversary post....but, I just don't today. Just thought the occasion should at least be acknowledged!

Have a wonderful day. Get out and enjoy the summer, the days have begun to wane once again. They have been for a month already.... Before you know it Fall will be upon us. That is my favorite season of the year. Enjoy today!

Naturalist?

I feel the need to define what that is. I guess maybe I should actually call it by another name. At one time this was the definition. Student of plants and animals Okay that sounds about right. I just love the idea of knowing how Nature works. I want to know the name of that plant, bird or even what insect in making that noise at night? I just want answers.
But, I felt the need to explain that the above definition is what I mean when I say naturalist. Today's modern definition means something different.
nat·u·ral·ist 

n.

1. One versed in natural history, especially in zoology or botany.

2. One who believes in and follows the tenets of naturalism.

nat·u·ral·ism

noun  (in art and literature) A style and theory of representation based on the accurate depiction of detail A philosophical viewpoint according to which everything arises from natural properties and causes, and supernatural or spiritual explanations are excluded or discounted (italics mine) (in moral philosophy) The theory that ethical statements can be derived from nonethical ones

So then, by that definition I would not qualify as someone interested in Naturalism. I believe in a literal interpretation of the Creation of the Earth, as recorded in Genesis. I am a student of Creationism. I have a long way to go to call myself anything besides a student. Really, do any of us ever get much past that? There is always something new to learn.

Maybe, I should come up with a new name....But, I'm just a bit stubborn about the idea that one can indeed be a student of plants and animals and believe in a Divine Creator! In our age there is much Scientific evidence to back up the idea of a Creator as described in the Bible. I find it almost insulting that I can't be considered a Naturalist unless I believe in natural history, according to the modern theory of evolution.

On occasion, in future blog posts, I hope to write about the things I'm learning. I love sharing information. I have met some of the most intelligent and interesting people on the Internet that have helped to teach me much about Herbal Medicine. I could never have hoped to learn even half, of what I have in the last couple of years, if people had not generously shared information. So, I'll be trying to return the favor. Hopefully we can learn together. This blog helps keep me on track. I suppose similar to the way a journal does. The only difference is the interaction. I will share links, books, magazines or whatever else you might be interested in. And I have added a new label 'Creationism'.

Besides, I really just have a need to write. I am always writing in my mind, as I go about my day. I need an outlet for that or I may begin talking to myself to get it out...

"Reading about nature is fine, but if a person walks in the woods and listens carefully, he can learn more than what is in books, for they speak with the voice of God."

~George Washington Carver - scientist, botanist, educator, inventor and former slave

A Peaceful Place

  

At around 5:30 ish Saturday morning I set out for my morning walk. I don't do this every day, but I should! It's good for us in so many ways.
 It's still a bit dark out, but as I walk it lightens. The air is damp and humid, the birds are singing, it smells fresh and cool. I think I've described this before, it's just such a perfect time of day. It is... my Peaceful Place.

We all need a peaceful place to go to when life is hard to understand. I know I do.
God has decided He ought to gift me an extra dose of empathy and mercy.... In our world, that can make for some dark moments. Moments, I think when others don't understand me. I sometimes wonder if I don't actually scare people with the intensity of what I feel. I just simply cannot look at evil and injustice without feeling something should be done. I really believe that we are the hands and feet of God and we have a job to do. I know that I'm not alone in this way of thinking, it just feels like it at times. When I feel frustrated and hurt for the victims, this is where I go to tell God about it. -As if He didn't already know.- Ah, but He listens and I am often inspired with thoughts and words to write. I'm encouraged once again, that indeed one person can make a difference, in their small circle, if nothing else.

Later, I decided to go see what was happening in my Woods behind us.- A lot of flora and fauna is packed into that tiny forest.-
 This is Poke. You'd never know such a pretty berry could be so controversial. Old Timers of the Appalachians have used this plant with discretion for many decades. It is more recently, that it has gotten a bit of a bad name. The early spring greens can be made into Poke Salat. They need to be prepared properly of course. 
 In fact at one time you could even buy them canned from Allen's canning company. The berries were used to make jelly, wine and of course dye. They will stain your hands very quickly and are also known as Ink Berry. The seeds are the poisonous part, the berries were juiced and used in that manner. It is good herb for cleansing your lymph glands.  
Caution! This can be a poisonous plant and I wouldn't recommend using it unless you have done your research. Here are two links for anyone so interested. Southern Herbalist Poke Salad  and  Green Deane's Poke Weed. 

This is winged sumac. I have at least two species of Sumac growing in my small forest. This is my favorite simply because of the way it has "wings". Such an interesting plant. 
They are simply gorgeous in the fall and turn the most beautiful red color.

Birds love Sumac thickets and I have a very nice one growing just the other side of my backyard fence. So it works out perfectly in my quest for feathered visitors.

I need to study it's medicinal value as I do believe it is used in herbal medicine. I am just not familiar with it.

It's been a little over a year since we decided to just let the field go. At that time our daughter had married and taken her horse Snoopy with her. We knew we couldn't keep up with the field in mowing, so Tim said "let it go". I was so worried about it getting out of hand, but in the end I'm so glad God did not answer my prayer to find a way to mow it. The birds absolutely love it. I have more birds in my backyard than ever before. 




I also discovered this Maple tree while I was back there.It is taller than me by a good two feet. In just over a year! Possibly longer, if Snoopy had by some chance, left it alone while he was grazing there. Trees that are naturally planted in the wild can grow amazingly fast. I need to see if I can ID which kind it is. It will grow up and add to the natural privacy fence. I am getting a nice lesson in how reforestation works in the Appalachians. 
Who needs Naturalist classes anyway, with such a great classroom in your backyard?  Although, I must admit, I would so enjoy them. I'll just keep doing what I'm doing. Field guides, websites, internet friends, books and more books. Good excuse to read more!

Now, this is back in my 'Old Growth Woods'. While, the field  is still a tangled web of Sumac, Tree of Heaven,  Blackberry brambles, Elderberries, Passionflower and much more, in this part, the undergrowth is very minimal. The sun just barely reaches down through the dense canopy of huge branching trees, it is cool and shady. I hear the sounds of many of my birds. In fact, a few were scolding me for entering their domain....ah, but it's mine too. We share.

 As I finally wandered back to the house, all was right with the world again. I had not made anything better, but I knew I would keep trying, in my small way. I would still feel grief and even be indignant, over the unfairness in life and for the terrible atrocities that I have finally decided to stop ignoring. I would still keep talking about it.

For that moment however, God had given me a kind of peace. Mostly, I watched and listened to the sounds of nature. In them, He spoke of a garden long ago. A gift to mankind. This is still our gift, if only a fraction of what he wanted us to have. No... what He wants us to have. Nature speaks of it's Creator, it speaks of a future and it speaks of hope. If we'll listen.

~The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy, is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be..." -Anne Frank 1929-1945 from her diary

A Mournful Song

This is a Mourning Dove so named because of the mournful cooing sound they make. I have many that live in the trees of my woods and are frequent visitors to my back yard. I often call them my little flock of chickens, as they scratch and eat the seeds on the ground around the feeder. I love the fawn color and  the graceful shape of their bodies. For some reason they remind me of deer.  Strange, I know, I guess it's the coloring and their common gentle grace.

I can empathize with their sad songs also. There has been something in me of late that mourns for a way of life that is slipping away from us here in this country. It's been on my heart and I don't know if I can express it or not. I feel the need to try.

Today in Colorado another American Tragedy has happened. I find it a bit coincidental that just as I was finishing a book called Rachel's Tears -the story of the Columbine School Shooting- this has happened again. When will it end? A question I'm sure many caring people are asking today. I don't think we'll find the answer either.

What I mourn for today, is the great loss of life that has been needlessly brought about by the violence of  men.  I've been lamenting secretly, silently and without a clear understanding of just exactly what is was, for some time now. An unexplained sadness in my heart. I wonder if it isn't maybe the slipping away of a society that, once upon a time, would have been unable to fathom that such a thing could take place. I am not that old, but I have watched that slide. I have seen the change. I believe it to be the ongoing corruption of what is right and what is wrong.

I don't have the answers and apparently no one else does either.  We have seen this violence before and everyone begins to debate the issues that could be causing it. Yet, nothing changes, time goes by and it happens again. We don't want to pay the price it would cost us to bring about a real difference. Whether it is the constant violence pumped out by Hollywood, violent video games, or just the general crumbling of a society with more money than heart and compassion....I don't have a definitive answer.

You see just a hint of what I believe coming out don't you? I won't delve any deeper. It's not going to change anything. The only thing that will, is if individuals change. To be the change you want to see. That is so cliche I know, but there is just so much truth packed into it. So simple, so true. I know that not everyone lives allowing violence to become a callous part of their life. I know of many people who have chosen the higher road.
People who have chosen to simply pull back a bit from the masses and pounding rush of society and try to live in peace. A simpler way of life. I applaud them. I have a strong feeling it will not be these people who commit the next terrible atrocity.

Tim and I were talking just the other day about the sadness of where we see things going. He made a statement something like this."The Bible tells us these things would happen, we knew it was coming." I felt tears threaten and sadly responded  "Yes I know, but I just never thought I'd have to watch it."

I hate to end on such a 'mournful' note. But there are people who are broken hearted today. A lost child, a lost mother....Someone's life will never again be the same. I lift them up and say a prayer for them. Won't you too? Maybe if we allowed a mournful song into our lives over things like this, even if it is not directly related to us.....maybe some feeling would come back to this thing we call "our way of life."

^~" A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.  By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” ~ Jesus

Montana Memories

Did I ever tell you about where we were raised and in turn, raised our children? No, it wasn't here, where we live now. Tim and I were both raised in the beautiful North Country of Montana. Also known as 'Big Sky Country'. I lived there most of my life and I still don't know why they call it that. The sky never seemed any bigger to me. Now, 'Big Mountain Country' I could have understood. Montana is home to some of the most magnificent mountains I've ever seen.
In fact, to this day, I don't feel at home in flat country. Although I see wondrous, peaceful beauty in the waving grasses of the prairie, they leave me feeling rather exposed and unprotected. The mountains are a type of security to me. I guess it just depends on where you grew up at. My mother says she feels completely at home on those prairies. -But she grew up on the plains of Nebraska.-

When we moved back to Montana after living in Arizona for over seven years, we nearly froze to death! I remember that first winter.....our bodies had acclimated to the southwest and when cold weather hit we were completely shocked at how cold it felt to us. I guess we had forgotten. Tim thought for sure he'd never make it through. Everyone was worried about me, as I've always had a hard time with cold weather. They really should have worried over Tim.

In our zeal for the country life we went to a bit of an extreme though and moved "way back in"....It was a tract of land that had been subdivided and was for sale at a good price. Tim and I were the first to actually move onto the property. Not a soul lived near us for over a mile. One day, we heard voices in the woods and it actually concerned and startled us. It was the cousins come up for a picnic at their property next door!

I remember not being afraid to sing as I went about my outdoor chores. -I  usually sing only in front of my children. I've been singing silly songs to them since the day they were born!- But there, in the woods and at that time, I could sing with no one to hear me but the birds. Surprisingly, they often sang back. My youngest daughter tells me she remembers me doing that and thought her mother had the most lovely voice she'd ever heard and when she grew up she wanted to sing just like that. Ahh, the innocence of children!

That summer we had no electricity, septic or running water. We pulled a camper out to the middle of the woods, set up our cabin tent and spent the summer camping out. We hauled water, used an outhouse, cooked over a campfire and lived "off grid". We listened to the coyotes singing their nighttime songs and I thought they must surely be right outside our tent. Tim would assure me it was just the way it sounded in the empty forrest. I would try to catch seeing them with my flashlight. He must have been right because, they were never there when I'd jump out and shine the light around.
I remember that summer we had some especially terrific storms. Inside of our tent, it sounded as if the thunder was rolling right down the valley aimed at us. It would echo off the narrow canyon walls and sit us straight up in bed! I think back now and am amazed and awed at the memory of it.
By the time our house came along in the fall we had gotten just a bit tired of camping! The weather was cooling rapidly and we knew we'd have to have a home with solid walls soon or find somewhere else to live. We moved in,  around late September or early October. This whole experience taught us much and assures me that we are stronger and more capable than we think we are and we could do it again if we had to. 

Tim and our son Jeff had a conversation once that went something like this... 

Tim-referring to where we presently live- : "Everyone says we live in the country. We don't live in the country, you can be at a Walmart in 15 minutes." 
Jeff : "Dad, this is the country, we were raised in the wilderness."
It made me laugh anyway. I hope it is with great fondness that he remembers our "wild country home".

It took us 9 months before we had electricity and over two years before the well and septic were completed.
Whew! No one in those survival type magazines mentions how inconvenient this can actually be. They make it sound so adventurous and exciting.  It is not for the faint of heart. It's work. Hard work. It is to be taken very seriously, in cold and wild country like Montana. Foolish mistakes can cost you more than you would want to pay.

We did it though. We took a piece of raw land and made it our home. Before we sold it and moved some years later, we had a home, a barn, garage and various animal pens. A small greenhouse along with some very nice raised garden beds that Tim fashioned with "hoop houses" over each one to protect our precious plants from frost during the short growing season. We did love that piece of land that the Lord loaned to us.

I had learned in Arizona to appreciate each place we lived for the good that was there. I did love those Woods and  my gardens, short season and all. I learned all the tricks to extending it just a few more weeks and did manage to harvest some lovely crops. Even a few small tomatoes thanks to the greenhouse Tim made me from old trampoline parts -he's very handy to have around-.....I wish I had pictures to show you.

We often wildcrafted in the mountains for herbs. The hills were just full of wild roses. Each fall, we found a favorite old logging road and hiked up it, braving the briers and picked  rose hips by the 'bushel'. I dried them to make tea and herbal medicine. In fact, when we left we still had so many, that they lasted nearly 5 years here in Tennessee. Although they were wild, there were still many different varieties. Now a days, I would have to try to ID them, but at the time we just picked them. There were hips that were covered with little prickly hairs and I wondered if they would be usable. I found out when they dried, the little prickles fell right off, making them perfectly useful for the bright red tea made from it. They came in all shapes and sizes ranging from small pea sized, up to that of a very large Cherry. They were so plentiful and no one else seemed to know that they were there. It was just us, the woods and the thorns waiting to scratch you if you didn't show enough care. The girls and I gathered enough for ourselves and my mother who by now also lived just down the trail and through the woods.... I made everything from tea, to syrup and jellies out of this wonderful and prolific fruit.

There was also a wildflower called Arnica Montana. I made an oil for bruises and sore muscles by steeping the fresh flowers in olive oil. They grew wild and abundant. Another one was Pineapple Weed a wild cousin to Chamomile. Once again we gathered and shared with our "oh so dearly missed grandmother down the trail." It was here that I began to catch herb fever and it was here that some of the most blessed changes began to come into my life. I do believe there is a connection between God, nature and emotional healing. If you will allow me the liberty of saying so. But, we must give HIM the credit for creating it and gifting it to us. I think that is also part of the process.

There were other herbs we gathered and wonderful adventures we had there. I hope that many good memories of this place have been made by all of us. I know, I have made my mind up to remember the good and leave behind the things not worth remembering. Don't we all have to do that? Life was not perfect there, we hadn't found a lost Paradise or anything like that. Winters were long and cold, money was tight, problems existed. There are things I would have done differently...

 Life on this Earth is like that. You do the best you can with what you have. You take the choices you have made and change the wrong ones, it's just never too late to change. You learn to let go of what you have no control over. You walk where God leads and let Him show you the way. You just have to be willing to say, "this is the wrong way, we need to go back and find the right path." It might mean some serious change and painful times but the path is there waiting to be found with God as our guide. If we'll just let Him.

"Teeming in the countryside, the world over, are medicinal herbs and edible plants; it shows disbelief in the power of God to pass them by." ~ Juliette de Bairacli Levy