Posted in Blessings of Habit, Good ol' days, Health, Homemaking, Inspiring, Photos

I Like Pickles!

It was February, 15 years ago, when I began to write this, a cold misty day – my favorite weather, but I was ignoring it. My heart had attached itself to a small, glossy package of seeds entitled “Little Marvel Pea.”

Oh, how we love these, the best food every created! Each year my children searched store aisles with eager-eagle eyes and then the begging would begin and it would not end until I bought at least two packages.

That had happened in January and the seeds had sat on the table by my back door for over a month, proclaiming marvelousness each time I passed.

They are marvels because they have taught my children to love digging, planting, weeding, and sweating. Sowing and Reaping, the Parable of the Sower, and endless other lessons have been planted in young hearts because they will do anything for “Little Marvels”, briefly simmered and buttered, the earlier in the year, the better.

I’m so glad for what God can do through the simplicity of humbly acquiring real food for our tables.

I’ve been discussing pickles, though, with my friends, lately. Someone asked, “How do you make little, sweet, whole “Gherkin” pickles? My kids love them . . . ” There is such potential for blessing here.

Mom, teach those little ones also to love the simple act of acquiring them!

The answer is that first you buy cucumber seed. You will never find the right cucumbers at a farmer’s market. For the very small pickles you will need many more plants than usual because each plant sets only a few flowers a day. To get enough tiny cucumbers to bother with would take many days and the first-picked ones would wilt . . . so you need enough to be able to pick around 2 quarts at a time.

To accomplish this, plant about 25 seeds.

Now your neighbors will tell you that is too many, but they will really react when they see your whole cucumber patch in one neat row with no weeds.

Yes, plant those seeds in a row, about five inches between plants. Yes, ten to twelve feet of row would be just right. (Forget the neighbors!)

After they sprout, it is time to “subdue” them. Train each vine to follow the line of the row in which it is growing. At the far end, there will be vines trailing where none were planted, so plan a space for that. The concentration of leaves will shade out nearly all weeds and keep the soil moister and cooler. Also, the row scheme lets you walk, weed, hoe, till and harvest with ease.

Once the plants are in full production, pick them every morning. They’ll not be as uniform in size as “store bought” but will cost less. You may save them in an airtight container, refrigerated for a day, but not much longer. This will help you work around your busy summer schedule and provide for a bigger batch to work with each time you heat up your kitchen.

Recipes tomorrow.

Posted in Good ol' days, Health, Homemaking, Photos

Use Your Freezer, part 2

 

How to Put Up One-Quarter Mile of Corn

Before Fourth of July Fireworks

Good corn!
Good corn!

As I said, yesterday, you do not put that much corn in jars in the canner. That would take roughly 15 hours just in the jiggling, plus heat up and cool down times, and the other processing of shucks,silks, etc.

Nah. Not that.

We freeze it. Frozen corn tastes better, anyway, and for us, frozen off the cob is best, most like fresh from the garden.

Here’s how we did it.

My husband went to the garden with a wheelbarrow, picked the corn, shucked it right there, and placed it into the wheelbarrow. When one was full, he started on the other one. If it filled, too, he took out laundry baskets and buckets until all was picked and shucked. Later he would till in all the debris.

Meanwhile, I sharpened knives, heated water, and covered countertops with towels.

Once the first wheelbarrow came to the house, I began trimming, de-silking, and washing all that corn, over a sieve to catch the garbage for the chickens.

Whenever a found a totally perfect ear, I set it aside for the Pastor. That was one very important aspect of teaching children how to harvest that we never wanted to omit.

After the washing, the blanching could begin. I put seven ears for 4 minutes into a 16-quart pot of boiling water. Then I transferred them to a cold water rinse to stop the blanching action. While I blanched, all older family members carefully sliced the top 2/3 off the blanched and cooled kernels and then scraped the pulp from the remaining one-third, all over big wash pans or large bowls.

Some people do the cutting indoors, but that is messy to clean up. Others do their cutting outside, but that is buggy. A screened porch solves both problems if you can hose it off later.

I know people object to blanching because it is a warm job, but I’ve learned it’s easier if we aren’t overly dependent upon air conditioning. We do perspire some, but it is summer, after all, and I have found it doesn’t hurt a thing to do so. What makes it so warm is that the water will not boil with a fan blowing on it, so only exhaust fans will work.

Once the corn is cut, I pack it into the trusty ol’ boxes, label, and freeze.

What happiness to notice the boxes piling up on the countertop! What awe to watch your daughter learn to count while she sits beside that ever-growing stack of boxes! What fun to take the Pastor three dozen absolutely perfect ears of (you know it’s the best) corn! And what excitement each time you eat it, all the long winter, as wonderful as the day it was picked!

So the freezer has kept our harvest for us for years. Can it do anything else? Yes!

And we’ll talk about that tomorrow!

_____________________

photo credit: amcdj

Posted in Blessings of Habit, Home School, Homemaking, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom, Womanhood

Professional Women . . .

I found a quote that glorifies motherhood and debated whether it is self-glorifying. I decided it praises the office of motherhood, not any particular person, and is beneficial to consider, I think, so here it is.

I’ll be speaking at a home schooling convention this weekend and must finish my PowerPoint slides, iron, and who knows what else, these next three days, so you’ll excuse me if I’m absent, I know. I’ll likely have time to reply, but not to post. If you get too bored, do not forget to slip over to the new site: TheConqueringMom.com, and leave a comment or suggestion! Thanks!

 “A mother…by her planning and industry night and day, by her willfulness of love, by her fidelity, she brings up her children. Do not read to me the campaigns of Caesar and tell me nothing about Napoleon’s wonderful exploits.  For I tell you that, as God and the angels look down upon the silent history of that woman’s administration, and upon those men-building processes which went on in her heart and mind through a score of years;—nothing exterior, no outward development of kingdoms, no empire-building, can compare with what mother has done.  Nothing can compare in beauty, and wonder, and admirableness, and divinity itself, to the silent work in obscure dwellings of faithful women bringing their children to honor and virtue and piety.”  Henry Ward Beecher

Posted in Home School, Homemaking, Husbands, Inspiring, Scripture, Who's the mom here?, Wives, Womanhood

Will she be at home or does she work?

all women work
Woman working outside the home…

Never.

Ever.

Say this where I can hear it.

Nor type it where I can read it.

Or you will be corrected.

By me.

All women work.

Do not chuckle condescendingly and say, “It’s just a way of speaking.”

Lying is a way of speaking, and we correct it.

It is a way of thinking. No, actually, it is a symptom of not thinking.

Or, may I stay at home and not work?

Heh heh, it’s just a way of speaking. Heh heh.

Oh. Have a little headache?

Between the eyes?

So sorry. In a way of speaking.

Heh heh.

Posted in Good ol' days, Homemaking, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Wives

The Gift of Laundry

Laundry symbol hand wash
Hand wash only!

Did a bit of pioneering work today, and it was a fun challenge.

Basically, I had to haul water in a bucket to do laundry.

Oh, it’s not like it sounds. We have city water piped into our house and a faucet near the washing machine. But the hot water tank that feeds the washer goes out, now and then, and we find ourselves without hot water, back there, at inopportune times.

If we want to shower—our bath being connected to the laundry—we can use the guest bath, which has its own hot water. In fact, that bathroom is the only hot water source in the house during down times like this.

If I want to wash dishes, since the kitchen also is connected to the laundry, and I cannot use the dishwasher, I must haul hot water, from that other bathroom, to fill the sink and do dishes by hand. I was using a one-gallon pitcher. It takes about 2 ½ gallons to fill the sink nicely. It’s okay to rinse in cold.

However, I wanted to do laundry, so I found an old plastic scrub bucket that holds 2 gallons. That cut the trips in half. At first I thought of skipping laundry until tomorrow, but later, I asked myself, “How hard can it be? Millions of women have hauled water to do laundry, and that was uphill wearing long skirts.” I could do this.

The first trip across the house with a full bucket of hot water taught me balance. Heh heh.

When I dumped it into the washer, it all trickled to the space under the perforated drum that holds the clothing. What little bit that rose above that level quickly soaked into the clothes in the washer. It would take a lot more water.

I made about 8 trips with that bucket, across tiled and laminated floors. It was hard to feel patient and joyful, until I would remember those pioneer women and their long skirts, meandering trails, rocky paths strewn with slick leaves. Most of them were hauling cold water, too, that would need heating, next.

At least mine was already hot. At least mine was across a level surface. At least I did not have to wear all those billows of clothing.

After hauling the water I was in no hurry to drain it away. So I left the lid up and soaked that clothing for a while. I’m glad I did, for I got to thinking: That water was still hot and not dirty. If I could wring out the clothes in it, I could reuse it for the next load.

A familiar-looking basket of wrung-out clothing soon stood by my feet, and the next load was chugging along before I realized I was doing laundry the way my grandmother did before she got her wringer. I watched her when I was tiny, but I’d almost lost the memory.

Eventually I washed three small loads of clothing in one small load of hot water. What would have been sixty gallons of soapy water became only 20 or so.

I saw something, during this trial, namely, why my grandmother reused the water during laundry times. Even after all her laundry was done, there were still flower beds to water, and a porch to scrub.

She remembered hauling it up hill.

Read a great story that complements this idea, here.

______________________________

Image via wikipedia

Posted in Blessings of Habit, Homemaking, Inspiring, Photos, Wisdom, Womanhood

It Was a Gift

one of Joi's doilies
One of Joi’s Doilies

I used to live near a sweet and cheery lady named Joi. She and her husband were quite poor, he being a sacker in a grocery and both of them trying hard to earn college degrees, with four children in a two-bedroom house.Joi and I were friends and she was a constant amazement to me. She made every meal from scratch and did home canning. She crocheted doilies, sewed quilts, even ran soy beans through her blender to make soy milk. And then turned it into ice cream.

Somehow she had an abundance of cheer to compensate for all she did not have. Somehow, before the age of computers, she knew all about the health truth about oleo and butter. Before the age of herbal renaissance, she knew all about herbs. She played piano beautifully, taught piano lessons, and played for her church. I always felt somehow behind when I would visit her house.

Eventually she and her husband completed their degrees and moved to where the jobs were. I regret having lost touch with her, but in a way, I still feel the touch of Joi’s cheer in my life.

When it was my birthday, she visited me with a huge surprise. Humble and sweet, just like Joi, no gift could have made me happier that day. Wrapped in a towel was a huge loaf of warm, homemade bread. I had never seen any bread so big, and later learned she actually used the dough for two loaves and placed them into one bread pan. What a gift! Along with it, she brought a large bag of her own spinach, perfectly washed and grit-free.

We loved that sweet gift to pieces, literally. Every slice of the bread was a marvel of deliciousness and the spinach made a great addition to our supper that night. You may think it was an odd gift, but she knew what it means to think before you give something, and we recognized the rarity of it and the loving care that went into it. Imagine washing and washing all that spinach and then giving it away! Imagine the aromas of homemade bread floating through your house, but the bread going to someone else’s house.

It was a gift.