The "Ninepatch"

The Amish are descendants of European Anabaptist's, who in the late sixteenth century were the radicals of their day. The Anabaptist's, including the followers of Menno Simons called Mennonites, risked their lives trying to change things, believing that earlier Protestants hadn't gone far enough in their reforms. They were named Anabaptist's because they were against infant baptism, believing that people should wait till they reached twenty and could make a conscious choice about their religion.

Jacob Ammann, the charismatic Mennonite leader for whom the Amish were named, went even further than other Anabaptist's in his demands for strict reform. In the 1690's, he questioned the enormous power and authority of the Catholic church, thinking there should be a clear separation between church and state. He criticized the vanities of the church, the ornate ceremonies, the luxurious clothing worn by priests, believing that something crucial got lost when the hierarchy of the church separated an individual from a direct experience of his God. Religion should be a felt experience. The Amish, his followers, saw themselves as God's chosen people and were taught that God had a personal interest in their lives.

Ammann's beliefs led him to seek a way for his followers to lead a good and decent life. He demanded a return to the plain and simple, Pious feelings and simple rural living should go together. He taught them to practice their beliefs. Worshiping in church on Sunday wasn't enough. Applying what they believed day in and day out was what mattered. Customs and traditions reinforced religious beliefs. "By their fruit ye shall know them," the Bible said.

Ammann's quite specific teachings extended into every aspect of daily life. Humility and modesty were valued, and he reinstated some of the earliest Christian rituals--such as foot washing--to remind his followers to be humble. He preached non-violence and told his people to refuse to fight in wars. Ostentation was a sin, a sign of false pride; since buttons were originally used as ornamentation, he insisted that only hooks and eyes be used. Ammann's intention was to keep the Amish separate and distinct. By remaining apart from the larger community, this "small island of outsiders" would be drawn together.

A ninepatch is the simplest quilting pattern, the one an Amish mother uses to initiate her daughter into the craft of quilt making. In theory, the concept is easy. Place one dark square next to one light square, until a grid of nine patches comes together in a tic-tac-toe pattern. No one is labeled an "artist" in an Amish community. That would be a sign of false pride. They're a deeply religious people, and humility is a trait that's valued. Things are made to be used, not revered.

How to fuse the disparate choices into one life? How to design a life with all the varied pieces---arrange and rearrange--and in the process create a feasible pattern to live by?

Patch #1 Valuing the Process/Valuing the Product

While I don't make Amish quilts (and I have quilted), I do enjoy my hand at skirting raw wool, washing it, carding and hand spinning my fiber from our sheep. This is truly a task to be savored as there is no chance for a hurried product. There is the skirting of the wool, (removal of all vegetable and animal matter), carding the wool for the making of rolags (a length of tubular wool, carded and ready for hand spinning). Once this process is done, I begin to hand spin the wool. I use the "inch-worm technique," namely drafting with my drop spindle. All work is important in this process, all work is of value honoring the process and the product. It's in the energy I find the pleasure, in doing and finding meaning in the work itself. For me it's all connected.

Patch #2 Living in Time

There is no need to rush to get one thing over so you can get on to something more important. It's understanding that it's not rushing through tasks to achieve a series of goals that is satisfying; it's experiencing each moment along the way.

Patch #3 Celebrating the Ordinary

It's the everyday things that give life its stability and its framework.

Patch #4 Home

The things I do daily are my focus, from feeding my sheep, to watering my flowers, harvesting and canning our vegetables from our garden, playing my guitar, cleaning our home, washing laundry and hanging it out to dry................this is MY expression of who I am, it has spiritual meaning to me.

Patch #5 Community

I share joy and hardship with others in my life. For instance, my very good friend Barbara of Fiber Rose Ranch, comes to my home monthly. It's our time to share lunch and a conversation while crocheting, knitting, and chatting over happenings in our lives. Another friend calls me for help with canning (she's new to this "craft"), sharing seedlings from my heirloom garden with a multitude of others, community work at Christmas. Community life is a natural extension of my home life.

Patch #6 Life as Art

One year, not long ago, I made my grand daughter Kiley a set of "Church dolls." These were three little dolls made of muslin, hand embroidered with hair and clothes tucked neatly into a tri-fold calico "wallet" with a hook and eye closure. These were dolls to entertain her while she sat in church, something to keep her occupied but quite. While it took me several years to make these dolls, it was one of the most joyous gifts I had ever given anyone. It was the beauty and practicality of the object that gave me joy, something especially for Kiley.

Patch #7 Limits as Freedom

When my expectations and achievements match, I'm content. Doing the best I can, and not questioning who I am, or where I belong brings me freedom. Having my limits, subtracting distractions, making a commitment to do well for each day, brings me a new intensity.

Patch #8 Power of Contrast

The startling balance of one kind of energy coexisting with a very different one. A simple hand spun and crocheted dishcloth to be used daily against a lavish dyed, and knitted woolen scarf. Two very practical items allowing usage of different energies. Or my plain, dirt pastures against the contrast of my vegetable garden with flowers and herbs in all it's vitality.

Patch #9 Choice

I've learned that the more choices I have, doesn't mean I'm luckier. There is a difference between having many choices and making a choice. Making a choice-declaring what is essential-creates a framework for a life that eliminates many choices but gives meaning to the things that remain. Satisfaction for me comes in giving up the wishing I was somewhere else or doing something else. It's living in the moment and reminding myself that nothing I am doing is wasted time.

While I am certainly NOT Amish, I admit they have many spiritual attributes to their lives that I admire. I've learned much about the Amish over the years, as their lifestyle has always intrigued me. I've even "threatened" the kids that if/when I become a widow, I will join the Amish community. Fortunately for the kids, they don't accept the "English outsiders."

Several years back, I bought my mother (who loves dolls) a "Faceless" Amish doll, made by the Amish. The eyes, nose, mouth, fingers, and toes are missing. Their bodies are covered with hardy unbleached muslin. Dressed in tattered, dark, old-fashioned clothing and bonnets they each have a distinct personality, the unique mark of the mother who made the doll for her child. For years, these dolls were not sold to the public, Amish mothers made these dolls for their daughters. Always, the same, no need to change or embellish or improve them. They just needed to be durable enough to withstand lots of use.

The Amish secret.................there aren't any secrets! They know there is nothing "out there," just the "timeless present." How they live reflects what they believe. Their life is art. Learn not to rush through life in order to get "the goodies." Learn that life delivers the goods, and it's quite different...........

"MG" the Outlaw Sheep

This is our darling "Grace," she was the second lamb born on our ranch if you count the first set of twins as one! Her mama is a Suffolk, her daddy a beautiful Jacob ram named "Patch." "Grace" has his gorgeous blaze down her nose but the hump on her back???? Neither her mama nor daddy have this congenital "thing."

"Grace" was born on March 13, 07 at 12 a.m. She weighed 8 pounds. When I found her she was under a feeder curled up in her lambing jug almost smilin'. Her mama was standing near-by. As I gathered my lambing kit from inside the ol' homestead (all the while excited we had our first ewe lamb!), I mentioned to "the man," "we have a new lamb get up!" When we both walked back out to the barn together, and entered the lambing jug, we realized something was terribly wrong with this little girl. When I knelt to gather her up in my arms to inspect her she couldn't stand, she was shivering (even though mama had cleaned her real well), her little legs would just collapse under her weight, they also looked somewhat deformed. After taking her temperature we knew she was in the stages of hypothermia, a life threatening disorder. We pulled her from her mother(which is very, very stressful for a ewe) and took her inside the ol' homestead to warm her up.

Dealing with a hypothermic lamb is a long, arduous task. First and foremost you must warm the lamb by putting them in a sink or tub of warm water, then we give our lambs an enema, this is an important step in dealing with hypothermia. The enema removes any meconium not yet evacuated from the gut of the lamb. Failing to remove the meconium causes dehydration and a spiralling downward of the lamb's temperature. The enema also helps to warm the lamb from the inside out. The next step is what we call Dextrose Therapy, preceded by a SQ (subcutaneous) injection of Vitamin B Complex, the Cal-Dextro we use is loaded with calcium, phosphorus, and magnesium. We had to inject the little thing with 2 cc per 1 pound of her body weight. Injecting many shots into a newborn is very difficult, but as a shepherd, you have to overlook the "youngness/cuteness" and go into the "saving" mode. This is not for everyone, shepherds are a special breed of people.

Our next step in this process is Vitamin Therapy, we give the lamb Vitamin A&D, Vitamin E, Procaine Penicillin and of course the B vitamins. Once we can start to see the little lamb responding to our efforts, we see if she can take warm colostrum milked from the ewe, placed in a bottle. Everyone knows how critical colostrum is to a human baby, it's the same in the animal kingdom, it's the best for them.

"MG" our Miraculous Grace, did indeed turn around and start responding, it took "the man" and myself nearly ten hours to pull her around..............but she did it, she had a will like no lamb I've seen since. However, she still could not stand on her own, her legs were "mufflefunked!" It was very frustrating for us, how was she going to go back out to her mother if she couldn't stand and nurse? How was she going to keep up with the others? There was only one thing I could do, I would have to keep her indoors in a crib, by the wood stove, and get up every few hours to let her nurse off her mother. "Grace" would cry (like any baby in the nighttime), I would get up, dress, take her out to the barn, tether the mama, and hold her on tit until she was full. After four days of this intense nurturing, she began to bare weight on two of her four legs. Eventually, she would put weight on one front leg but ever so lightly. It was then that I made the decision to put her out with her mama. I knew she would thrive better with her own than with us.

So..........I put our crippled baby out in the barn for good, it was one of the hardest things I've had to do. She had to hop everywhere mama went because naturally she followed. She hopped to nurse, she hopped when she'd first stand, she'd hop to lie down. It was also very hard for her to lie down with those two front legs crippled up, but she did it. After about a month our little "MG" started walking on all fours, mind you, you could still tell something was wrong with her legs, but she did it.

I can not tell you as a shepherdess how much joy and sadness raising sheep brings to a human. I naturally bonded deeply with this little lamb, she was my everything for a long time. I was her surrogate mother. To leave her in the hands of her own mother, GOD, and nature was hard but I did it.

"Grace" is still not a "normal" little ewe, she "Baas" differently than the others, she's small for her breed, she's shy and non-confrontational with the others, she's had to learn to look out for herself and she's done so very well. BUT, she's also a lil' outlaw which brings me back to my story.

Lately "Grace" has definitely decided that the "grass is greener on the other side." Every evening when I head out to the barn to feed I fill my cart with the BEST alfalfa I can find (which is a real challenge at times). I open the iron gate into the covered portion of the barn, fight off all the young lambs from this years crop, mamas, the Nubian goat,"Blue," and turn around to close the gate just in time to see "her heinous" stroll right out the gate into the big, free, yonder. I commence with the chore and let her go.

"Grace" has always come to her name, although she's not overly fond of lovies and hugs, and rightly so. She's afraid I'm going to give her a shot, an enema, a shearing or something "not so fun," but she comes to me. So when she's done having her little jaunt out in the BIG world I call her, she comes and loads right back into the barn. It's her special little treat and I allow it.

Now I've had a lot of people tell me I should just "put her down." I won't, I can't and I'm ever so thankful that "the man" knows this. It's a special bond the lamb and I share, we love each other, we respect each other, and I can't say you can get that in many relationships anymore.

"MG" will have a pasture, fresh food, fresh water, vitamins, shearings, the wild, for as long as she lives. She adds much to my life, they all do in one way or another, but she is one of my favorites.

The Shepherd's Lament

Now I lay me down to sleep

Exhausted by those doggone sheep;

My only wish is that I might

Cause them not to lamb at night.

I wouldn't mind the occasional ewe,

But lately it's more than just a few:

Back into bed, then up again,

At two o'clock and four a.m.....

They grunt and groan with noses high,

And in between a mournful sigh,

We stand there watching nature work,

Hoping there won't be a quirk:

A leg turned back, or even worse,

A lamb that's coming in reverse.

But once they've lambed we're glad to see

That their efforts didn't end in tragedy.

There's no emotion so sublime

As a ewe and lamb that's doing fine.

I'm often asked why I raise sheep,

With all the work and loss of sleep;

The gratification gained at three a.m.,

From the birth of another baby lamb-

How can you explain, or even show?

'Cause only a shepherd will ever know!

"You Say Tomato, I say Tomahto"

Ahh, those are much remembered song lyrics my daddy used to sing to us kids in our childhood, he had another one about a, " pickle in the middle, mustard on top," crazy the things you remember as a child.



One summer we took a vacation back East to visit with some of his family, he wiled the miles away with singing, he was a GOOD singer too, he'd been a choir boy as a child. One of my favorite songs he sang was "Rye Whiskey, he'd really give it his all............when he was done, I'd beg him to sing it again, he always did, he loved to sing.



That was also the most memorable vacation for getting "spankins' on the side of the road." Just tell me, who takes a vacation in an Electra 225 Buick with three kids in the back, designated barriers between one another, and think it's going to be a peaceful vacation.? I mean, just how many miles is it from Phoenix, Arizona to Green Bay Wisconsin, Lake Michigan, Chicago?? It's a long way, let me tell ya.



Steve (our brother) sat on one side of the backseat, me (the darling baby) on the other, and they put the oldest, Karen, in the middle............boy did she like that! Especially since she was a goodie two shoe and bookworm." She was always reading, she's still reading....................!



Steve and I would get bored, start pinchin' one another back and forth, across the front of Karen. On one occasion, "Miss Perfect" got caught elbowing the heck out of our brother just about the time that Dad looked in the rear view mirror................OH LORD, watch out Karen. That car came to a screeching halt on the side of the road, Dad told her to "get out!" As she was getting her butt whipped, another fine vacationer with his family in tow, in his luxury sedan, drove by and honked his horn as loud as he could, he gave Dad the equivalent to a "high five" hand. Then and only then, did we feel real sorry for sister Karen. So...............Steve and I vowed to behave for Karen's sake, didn't last long though. Seems every hundred miles or so we'd see steam come out of Dad's ears, the sedan would pull to the right and stop abruptly................we knew we were dead!



"You say Tomato, I say Tomahto," lyrics from 1937, George and Ira Gershwin to be exact, Daddy could tell you who wrote the lyrics, what movie they came from along with just about every other factoid you might want to know at the age of 7.



Daddy loved driving also, any chance he could talk Mama into loading up a picnic and heading out of the city he would. We always headed North, usually to water, flowing water. Daddy had a convertible, he'd roll that top down and we'd hit the highway (I'm actually surprised my mother went along with it, she had immaculate hair-do's at that time). Daddy made this incredible "picnic punch" when we'd go, we only had it on picnics, I'm not sure why, it just was.



Today, while canning my tomatoes, the "tomahto" song lyric kept popping into my head, that happens with me often, I guess it's because my daddy always sang to us. In fact, just the other day I belted out "Rye Whiskey" for "the Man" while sitting outside. I think he liked it.............I sure miss my daddy, I think about him often.



He was not a tall man, but he wasn't short either, he was just right. He had a jolly belly to him, I guess it was all the ice cream he ate. He had a wonderful full beard and a long, full handlebar mustache that he waxed daily. He wore a gorgeous top hat at special events, when he died, he passed it along to his best friend, Pat. Pat now wears that gorgeous top hat to special events.



You never, ever know when a person you love will perish...............leave ya bone dry and sad. I've lost many a loved one in the past sixteen years; a brother, a grandmother, my daddy, my brother-in-law, my dog "Gayla." I'm tired of losing loved ones, so remember to always tell those you love, just how much you love em' and do it often.

Home-Canned Tomatoes (Tamahtos)

4 pounds tomatoes

8 basil leaves

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

2 teaspoons kosher salt

Blanch tomatoes just until the skins loosen, about 30 seconds. Using a slotted spoon, pull the tomatoes from the hot water and place in chilled water. slip the skins off the tomatoes. Quarter tomatoes and pack into hot sterilized pint jars, stopping 1/2 inch from the top. Periodically, push down on the tomatoes so they make their own juice. Bury 2 fresh basil leaves in each jar and add 1 Tablespoon lemon juice and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Use a knife to release any air pockets. Wipe the rim very well, place hot sterilized lid on the top and seal with ring. Set them in a water bath and bring to a boil. Process for 35 minutes.

Marinara Sauce

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 large onion, coarsely chopped

1 medium carrot, thinly sliced

4 cups home-canned tomatoes

salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 Tablespoons unsalted butter

1 Tablespoon chopped fresh basil

1 teaspoon dried oregano

Heat olive oil in a large skillet. Add the garlic, onion, carrot and cook over moderate heat for 5 minutes.

Pass the tomatoes and their juices through a food mill. Add the tomatoes to the skillet and season with salt and pepper. Cover partially and simmer over low heat for 15 minutes. Pass the sauce through a food mill and return it to the skillet. Add the butter, basil and oregano, cover partially and simmer for 30 minutes longer.

My Daddy's Picnic Punch

(September 29Th, 1927-July 5Th, 1998)

Mix together, 2 cans frozen, thawed orange juice along with 1 can frozen, thawed lemonade juice. Serve chilled. Sometimes I think he may have added 1 can frozen, thawed pineapple juice also.

8th Annual Deer Springs Pig Roast

What a glorious day for a pig roast..................although we did get rain upon our arrival. We were attending the annual Deer Springs Inn pig roast. "The Man" and myself look forward to this event every year.

The sponsors of this extravaganza are Ed and Mary King, owners/operators of Deer Springs Inn Resort. We met this couple in the Fall of 1999. We stayed at their resort, which by the way, is approximately 7 miles of any beaten path, and off the grid..........(NO T.V., NO blow dryers, No electric lights BUT they do have wood heat, kerosene lanterns or solar lights, flashlights, running water, toilets, tranquility.... lots of it!) It requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle or a vehicle with chains in the winter time to proceed back into their place, summer time you just need water, time and the view (I've seen turkey, wild horses, elk, deer and black bear)

We really, really like this couple, Mary especially! She is a fun gal............witty, kind, loyal and an all around good human being. Her significant other, he's funny (sometimes), a kind human (sometimes), a real talker (all the time). So, as I was saying, we love to attend this function.

The criteria for attending this function......you must know the Kings or be in tight with someone who does. You also have to bring a side dish to accompany the pig BBQ. It's a fun network of people, some we've met during the pig roast, some we've met while staying at the resort, some we know simply by yakking with them throughout the day.

This pig(who's name was "Ed" by the way) is slow roasted in an indirect method. Ed(the man, not the pig) feeds charcoal and wood to this pig, which is wired to two heavy-duty grates, placed in a shallow (grave), I mean "pit," covered in walls of tin including the top, and slow-roasted for many hours. The atmosphere is terrific, the smell of pig roasting permeates the tall pines, which makes everyone salivate profusely, which is why we all drink a lot.

Now when this pig is done roasting, Ed and his entourage of "worker bees," (I mean friends), gather round to hoist the pig up, and out of the fire, and onto a table. This is when Ed subjects his enemies( I mean friends) to "pig pullin' ." Now I've had the honor of pig pullin for a couple of years, my mama has had the honor of pig pullin a couple of years..............this year it was time for some new blood! I nominated my son-in-law Toby, and our new neighbor (from S. Cal) Joe Hicks, I also nominated them early that day, before anyone arrived so Ed would know who to "pick on." Sometimes Ed listens to me......................most often NOT!

This job is NOT for the weak or tender................this requires asbestos gloves, a big bucket of water (to cool your hands down in the asbestos gloves), and some real strength. The "pig pullin' " begins, they pull and pull, place in trays, pull and pull and place in more trays......until the entire carcass of the pig is plucked clean like a vultures been at it..................then the good times roll, we get to eat!

Now these eats are some of the best in the world. I have to say, they outdid themselves this year, it was the BEST pig to date. It was tender, mellow smoked, juicy, just a real FINE pig. Top that off with some of Jack's homemade BBQ sauce, a lil' slaw, some homemade bread, doesn't get much better folks. Also.....................Connie's Sangria was out of this world (it was hidden behind the pavilion, behind a tarp, in a cooler, in the back, and off the beaten path). In fact, I'm pretty sure that not too many people knew where the Sangria was hidden except for Ed, Mary, myself, Connie's son, and Connie. Man is that some good stuff!

Well, I'm real sorry ya'll missed this shingdig, it's a "hoot" of a time.................until next year, bon appetit!!

JACK'S FAMOUS BBQ SAUCE

80 ounces ketchup

1 cup Worcestershire sauce

1 cup apple cider vinegar

1 1/2 cup brown sugar

2-4 Tablespoons celery seed

6-12 cloves garlic, minced

cayenne to taste

3/4 cup Bourbon (not Canadian Club)

Add all together except the bourbon and let boil for approximately 5-10 minutes. Cool. Add Bourbon. Bottle.

*You may want to halve this recipe as this makes a large batch for a large crowd.

Ye Ole Claw-foot Tub

The earliest plumbing systems ever discovered date back nearly 6000 years to the Indus River Valley in India where copper water pipes were excavated from the ruins of a palace. Fast forward 3000 years to the island of Crete where the ancestor of a pedestal tub was unearthed--five feet long, made of hard pottery, its shape resembling the 19Th century claw foot tub.

Up until the 1800's in the U.S., most water pipes were made of hollowed trees. Cast iron pipe imported from England had one of its first installations in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. By the early 1800's, cast iron production began domestically in New Jersey. In 1848, the National Public Health Act was passed creating a plumbing code for the U.S.

Almost simultaneously in 1883, both the Standard Sanitary Manufacturing Company (now American Standard) and Kohler began the process of enameling cast iron bathtubs to form a smooth interior surface. Kholer's first claw foot tub was advertised as a "horse trough/hog scalder, when furnished with four legs will serve as a bathtub." These tubs soon became mass-produced as they were recognized as having an extremely sanitary surface that was easy to clean, thus preventing the spread of bacteria and diseases.

As most of you know, "the man" and myself have been renovating this ol' homestead for three years now. When we will finish this project, is any one's guess. However, we did recently install a gorgeous claw foot tub in the partially/new/old bathroom. I say partially, because we only have a smidgen of tile layed, a tub on top of that, new paint above that, new bead board on the wall...........and that's it! The remainder of the bathroom is still in the works..........hmmmm. Anyway, I bought this tub two and a half years ago for "the man." Because we were trying to keep the dignity of the 1925 homestead intact, he wanted a claw foot, so I bought him one.

Now this tub has housed baby chicks, baby ducks, wool, dirt and who knows what else. However, a good scrubbin', new paint, new hardware, and we're ready to bathe. After finally installing the tub, checking for any plumbing leaks, etc. I was ready to fill er' up and hop in. Now this is were the story gets real interesting......................I pour a glass of chardonnay, ease into the nice, hot water, lie back and commend "the man" on his superb installation job. That's when it happened...............the tub went backwards, water sloshed all over the floor, and I'm hollerin' at "the man" to HELP ME!!!! He pulls me out of the tub, and tries to upright, the now downhill tub................full of water mind you. Somehow, ten minutes or so later we get it upright again, seems one of the ol' claws decided to hop right off that tub. My pride is bruised (literally), I'm wet, humiliated, naked..............holding my glass of Chardonnay.................when "the man" turns to me and says......................"nice save on the wine babe."

"Blue" the Late, Great, Chicken Chaser

Last evening, while enjoying the late afternoon, sipping on a nice glass of Chardonnay, our Dog "Blue" decided he wanted to play with a mean ole' Dark Cornish rooster! This rooster absolutely despises "Blue," as do his other two cohorts. Because of "Blue," these three roosters chase everything and anyone.

So "the Man" and myself, watch this pup tear across the yard with keen alacrity, nip the tail feathers of this rooster, turn on a dime and land back at point of beginning.........all with a smile on his face! You could just see him say to himself, "self, nice job, caught that darn rooster right off guard." This went on for about two seconds when rooster decided he wasn't going to play. "Rooster" runs, wings pinned to his side, head down (I gather to lower the wind resistance), and chases the pup........around and around the yard.

I am chiding the pup for disrupting our tranquility, as I'm laughing and snorting over the hilarity of this game. "Blue" was not to be cajoled to stop! Back the pup goes to resume the game with a hint of circumspect (kinda.....remember, he thinks he's Bolt), the rooster is lying in wait along with two of his buddies. The same thing happens, "Blue" tears across the yard once again with keen alacrity, ALMOST gets the tail feathers, turns on a dime and lands back at point of beginning. He's not smiling this time, in candor he realizes he has missed his mark.

While this goes on for a few rounds, the rooster is starting to get some licks in. He has managed to spur the dog not once, BUT twice. Tongue hanging, thirsty, wearing down, the pup gives it a few more shots...........to no avail, rooster is done playin'. So...... with a supercilious stance, said pup meanders into the orchard, where "the man" is watering fruit trees, leaving the game for now, and pounces into the tree well (full of water) and attacks the water coming out of the hose.

It's just another evening on the ole' ranch......................!!!!

Peaches and More Peaches

I have to tell ya, canning in the hot summer months is something else! This ol' house certainly DOESN'T have A.C., nor did it ever! One really notices how HOT it can be while canning over a stove, with an oven on low temperature, and NO windows open.

Now the reason you can't have any ceiling fans whirlin' around or windows open while canning you wonder? You'll blow the bottom out of a hot jar in an instant. Cleaning syrup from the cupboards, floor, and legs (instant waxing), isn't a whole lot of fun.

However, the task is behind me now for this summer. I've made peach halves in light syrup, peach freezer jam, and peach fruit leather, I'm "peached out." They will look nice tomorrow when I can wash the jars, label them, and store them in my cellar house. They will sit in the dark, cool cellar until I'm ready for a peach cobbler, peach halves with cottage cheese and a smidgen of grated longhorn, or just a bowl of cold peaches.

Used to be, when my kids were "wee ones," I would tell them we couldn't touch the canned goods until the "first snow fell." They would saunter off, head down, and sigh.........they knew it was summer, winter was a long ways off. It meant more to them then, they used to go with me to glean the orchards (with permission of course), my son Jared, would scale up a large peach, cherry, or apple tree like flint. His sister Jessica, was the "grounded one," she would catch his gleaned goods. Oh yes, those were the days............................I'm happy though, the smell of a good ripe peach is hard to beat and the memory of two little kids helpin' their mamma is priceless.

Peach Cobbler

1/2 cup butter

1 1/2 cup sugar

1 cup flour

3/4 cup milk

2 teaspoons baking powder

3 cups peaches

Melt butter in a 9x13 inch baking dish. Mix 1 cup sugar, flour, baking powder, and milk. Pour over melted butter. Cover top of batter with fruit.

Sprinkle remaining sugar over fruit. Bake at 350-degrees until batter is golden brown, about 30 minutes. Serve hot with whipped cream or home-made vanilla ice cream.

* You can use any berry, any variety, for this dish.