Good Words

Seeing then that we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession. For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. - Hebrews 4:14-16

Christ is our high priest - He connects us with the Father.  He knows our struggles and weaknesses and can sympathize because He is fully man as well as fully God.  Therefore we can confidently bring our problems and thoughts and fears to Him, and He will give us mercy and grace.  Prayer isn't something we have to do - it is a gift.

Awesome.

A Bushel and a Peck

OK, really, just a peck.  But a peck of apples goes a long way.  Here is what I have made:

Apple Tart:
This is made with phyllo sheets and is yummy, a very crisp flaky bottom with sugar and cinnamon and walnuts.  This actually didn't use that many apples, but was still very good, especially with vanilla ice cream.  Gone in just a couple of hours.  The recipe came from the October issue of Martha Stewart Living.

Apple Chips:
I have bought appple chips from the store, but they are really expensive.  There weren't too hard to make, but there I didn't really end up with very many chips.  Basically, you slice the apples as thinly as possible, simmer them for a couple of minutes in sugar water, and then spread them out on a parchment-lined pan to dry in the oven at 250 degrees for a couple of hours.  I sprinkled them with cinnamon as well.  They were good, but too sweet, like candy.  They stuck to my teeth.  Next time, I think I will skip the sugar water simmer.

Apple Butter:
This was shockingly easy to make and tured out wonderful so I will share the recipe in full.

1.  Core and chop 10 to 12 apples.  Some recipes say to peel the apples, but I left the skin on since that is the most nutritious part.  Put chopped apples in crock-pot.  Add 1/2 cup water.
2.  Add one cup honey (I used sour wood, which is very sweet) and 3/4 cup white sugar.
3.  Add cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and allspice to taste (I added lots of cinnamon and smaller amounts of the others)
4.  Cook on high approximately 4 hours.  Remove cover and cook on high another 4 hours (removing the cover allows the liquid to escape as steam and the apples cook down).  Stir occaisonally.
5.  Puree in blender and pour into canning jars.  I made 3 pints.

Apple butter is delicious on toast or biscuits.  And your whole house will smell wonderful while it is cooking.  I've still got a few apples left.  Any suggestions?

Living Deliberately

Here is what I have been doing:

Hanging out in Tennessee:

My dad's annual company picnic is in Pigeon Forge every year, and so my family rents a cabin and heads up there for the weekend.  This was our first year with three generations since my nephew came as well.  The picnic (at Dollywood, yee-haw!) was rained out (we have rain checks to go back later this year) but we still had a good time.  Actually my favorite part was sitting on the porch at night watching the lightning that came with the rain.  Jordan and I drove separately because we had an adventure to attend to on the way back and didn't want to force everyone else along.  We went to Tuckaleechee Caverns in Townsend, TN.  They were amazing.  Caverns are fascinating - the formations, the way your eyes play tricks on you, the way perspective gets skewed.  This one had a river flowing through and a double waterfall.  The "Big Room" has proportions bigger than any room in Mammoth Cave, KY.  We drove back through the Smokey Mountain National Park (stopping to hike to a waterfall, we couldn't help it, we are waterfall addicts), and drove through Cherokee, which never fails to both enrage me and give me hope (yay, they have the Cherokee language on all their street signs, boo, they have tipis and "real live Indians" that you can have your picture made with - oh, the exploitation). 

Knitting:

This is the vest I am making.  It has been put on hold for a while, since the other project needs to be done by December, but I am enthusiastic about it.  I am calling it the Villette Vest, since it has kind of a Victorian corset vibe, and also because the color reminds me of Lucy's gown of "purple-gray - the color...of dun mist, lying on a moor in bloom."

I am making a shawl/scarf/wrap at the request of my choir director, who wants to give it to her friend as a Christmas present.  The pattern is ridiculously easy - it's just a huge rectangle of garter stitch, but I am painfully slow at knitting, so it is taking much longer than I would like.  I like the color and material.  It is cotton but has a nice shiney glow to it.

Apple Picking: Jordan and I were back in the mountains for his grandmother's wedding (which deserves as whole post (if not an entire book) all to itself), and we went apple picking on the Blue Ridge Parkway as well.  There is an old apple orchard at Altapass where you can pick the apples off the trees yourself.  They were also having a special blue-grass concert and people were there clogging and two-stepping.  So much fun.  And I didn't have my camera.  Aggh.

We picked a whole peck of apples.  Mostly Jonagold and Winesap-Staymans, but also Golden Delicious and Virginia Beauties and Sweet Saylors and King Lucious.  I will be eating and cooking apples for weeks to deal with all these, but that's OK.  Apple pies, apple dumplings, apple crisp...

Picnicing on the Parkway: 
Every September my extended family goes to Linville to picnic and celebrate the September and October birthdays.  We arrive early in the morning when it is still chilly and make breakfast with eggs and bacon and coffee, muffins and turnovers.  We hang out all day, some of us hiking, some sitting around talking, reading, etc.  Then we have lunch.  This time we had burgers, hotdogs, barbeque, pimento cheese sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, mmmm.  A few of us hiked to Linville falls, including the nephew - his first ever hiking trip.  He's three months now.  I can't believe my parents took me hiking for the first time when I was six days old.  I don't think I had any choice about whether I would like the outdoors or not!

If you have never been to Linville Falls, definitely make the trip.  I've been approximately a hundred times in my life, but they never get old.

I love fall.

Fire in my Kitchen, Lightning in the Air

I can't believe I have waited this long to share this, but here goes: I set my kitchen on fire last week.  OK, so not the whole kitchen, just one of the burners on the stove, but it was still pretty traumatic.  I should explain that I have a deep and abiding fear of fire, that goes well beyond normal common-sense caution of flammability.  I trace it back to when I was eight and my dad, the ardent outdoorsman, tried to teach me how to light a campfire.  It was years before I could even watch a match being struck, and I still won't do the striking myself. I was close to ten before I would use the iron or toaster and very close to teenager years before I would use the stove or oven.  I still refuse to deep-fry anything, not only for health reasons, but because popping grease scares me.

Last Thursday night I was stressed and headachey after teaching, trying to throw stuff together so we could hit the road toward Marion.  I started a quick supper, stir fry, and put a pot of water on to boil the rice.  I noticed the burner was smoking, due probably to crumbs below the coil, but I didn't think anything about it until I heard a gentle whoosh and noticed that there were flames licking the bottom of the pot.  I attempted to blow them out (having done this once before several years ago), but they didn't go out.  They got higher.  Suddenly they were up above the top of the pot of water.  I am comforted to realize that I didn't fall apart then.  Instead, I went into process mode.  Here is a transcript of my thoughts:

-That's a real fire.
-I should turn the burner off.
-Blowing didn't work.
-OK, is it a grease fire?  No, OK, so water is alright.
-I need a vessel [yes, I thought the word vessel].  This bowl is too big, I will use this cup.
-It's OK, the hiss just means that the fire is out.
-Open the windows and door.
-That's the smoke detector, run and fan it vigorously before the fire department comes and the sprinklers turn on and ruin all of our possessions.
-OK, now you may fall apart.

I then fell apart very quietly, manifested mostly by shaking and the intense ramping up of my migraine.  Jordan came home shortly thereafter, and found that the stir fry was ready (sans rice) and a large puddle of water was dripping off our stove-top.  We managed to pack and get on the road.  We had only made it a mile from the apartment (not even to the interstate yet) and since I had asked Jordan approximately five times in the course of that mile if he was sure the stove was off, he turned the car around and we went back.  I went in the apartment and pulled the offending burning out.  I then touched every knob on the stove, tracing with my finger the indention that was pointed to "Off."  Then, I touched every burner with my hand to reassure myself that they were all cool to the touch.  Seriously, if anything like this happens to me again, I will be on an intervention show on A&E.

More Pleasant than Productive...

I had a wonderful Labor Day weekend.  I did no work.  I didn't think about teaching or my dissertation, although goodness knows I could have worked on both.  Instead, I went to the Farmer's Market.  I went to the park.  I went to visit my sister and brother-in-law and nephew.  Like I said, more pleasant than productive.

The park was lovely.  They have a greenway that criss-crosses through woods and over a lake, following the path of an old rail-road.  The bridge was rusty iron and worn boards that made a wonderful loud rumbling noise.

The park also has a borrow-a-bike program.  They are basic single-speed, reverse-pedal-braking, and not really suited to the hills that rise along the greenway path, but I managed.  I think I did about seven miles, standing up in the seat and huffing and puffing on the hills until I realized that I should just admit when I am beat and get off and push.

In addition to the lake, there were small ponds, like this one covered in lilly pads.

I almost fell in getting this picture, which would have been entirely unpleasant.  Ponds are pretty to look at, but not something I would want to be submerged in.

I liked the deep, tunnelly woods.  Although there were many other people enjoying the greenway, there were also lots of times when I had it all to myself.  A nice green-gold solitude.

After my legs had been reduced to mush, I retrieved my quilt, lunch and books from the car and spread out in the dappled light under a huge tree.  It was amazing.  Love it, love it.

For the Beauty of the Earth

I have been loving early mornings.  I have been assigned to teach at 8am this semester, and I fretted all summer long, knowing that it would mean dragging myself out of bed at an unearthly hour - one of the down-sides of a longish commute and a commitment to hygeine.  And even though I am only teaching two days a week, I know that if I allow myself to sleep in on non-teaching days, I will hate myself on the mornings I can't sleep in.  So I have seen 5:30am every day for a week.  And I have to say, it is beautiful.

I have started running a bit earlier, and Monday morning was so beautiful.  There was a fog lying low over the fields, and the sun came up molten red-gold.  This morning I wanted to try to get pictures, but alas, no fog.  There were other pretty things to see, however.

Lillies heavy with dew.

Over-grown fence-posts.

Morning glories.  I know these are kind of considered a weed and a nuisance, but I am fond of them.  In junior high, our beloved band director nicknamed us according to...I don't know, some kind of word association that occured to him.  I was Morning Glory Hallelujah, Glory for short.  And that is what I was called for three years.  I think he would call me that today.

Red berries.

I think these are nasturtiums?  I'm not sure, but I like this picture with the fiery flowers and the hazy white house in the background.

It's September, one of my favorite months.  I love the change of summer into fall.  Everything begins to look burnished and ripe.  Mornings get a bit cooler and I think of camping.  Geese will begin flying like arrows.  I don't think it's hard to understand that God loves us when we see what He created for us.  So many good things - the promise of salvation, the relationships with our family and friends, and golden, late-summer fields, covered over with orange and pink flowers.

For the beauty of the earth

For the Glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies:

'Lord of all, to Thee we raise

this our grateful hymn of praise

                                

                                   -Folliott S. Pierpoint, 1864

Conversations on Video Games

Jordan just got a new video game.  I should state now, in his defense, that he does not play that often.  He does have, I think, every Nintendo console ever built (with the exception of the Wii) plus a Play Station 2.  We also have, carefully stacked in clear plastic boxes in our closet, a myriad of games for each of those consoles.

His new game is callled Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance.  I asked him what it was about.  He said, "You hit people, get points, then buy things to hit more people with."  A strong narrative arc, as you can see.

Today he said, "We should go get a second controller, so you can play with me."
I said, "Ok, but I think we should also take turns reading Anne of Green Gables out loud to each other."
He said, "Mmmmm."

Right now, he is playing, making the little guy run around and, what else, hit people.  Every once in a while he gets tired of just having the guy run, so he does a few jumps.  The little guy swings both arms, and grunts loudly.  I think Jordan shouldn't make him work so hard.

He's not just hitting people any more.  Right now it is strange creatures that walk upright but have fur.  I asked, "What's that you're fighting?"  He said, "I dunno," as he blasted another with his shiny sword.

Anne of Green Gables may not have a lot of action in it, but at least all the figures are identifiable.