This Is REALLY The Last Batch

I keep saying with a contented sigh, "This is the last of it." I think I said that a week ago when I removed the last of the garden produce out of the sink and into glass jars and thence into the pressure canner. Since then I have smugly looked many times at my pantry shelves of properly preserved foodstuffs waiting for the winter months (when I don't want to run 17 miles to the market for produce). I kind of found myself short of bragging rights around friends because I had nothing more to do. Send in my friend, Butch.

Butch maintains a large and prolific community garden at our church (Lighthouse Assembly of God) in Harbor Beach, Michigan. He has a passion for vegetable gardening and when you ask him how it's going - better grab a chair and coffee because he has lots to tell you! He loves to grow food and give it away - to the food bank, neighbors, people at church. Anyone who wants to "u-pick" can go to Butch.

At the front of Butch's garden is an old green Rubbermaid tub with lid. Inside he stores bags and buckets for the gleaners. A few feet away a rusted shovel stands upright in the damp garden soil. It's cracked, silver-grey handle creaks with strain as your foot shoves the blade downward looking for booty. Ah, but the reward... Lots of red potatoes from giant to new - masterfully nurtured from seed planted last spring by my friend Butch.

Tonight - I'm generating more bragging rights for the weekend. I'm putting up vegetables from Butch's garden; red potatoes, pole beans, bell peppers, banana peppers, and fresh parsley to be dried.
...and a few last potatoes from Judy's and my garden (but they're a lot smaller than Butch's).

Living a Dream Come True - Without Fighting God

 There is no end of beauty where I live. If you like nature and the outdoors, then Michigan is a paradise. In two minutes I am "in the country". My town is comprised of First Street through Fifth Street and assorted cross streets, one traffic light, no grocery store (as of this posting), but a fire department, a fish and tackle store, a small marina, larger harbor, an exceedingly long pier and assorted unsophisticated eateries where small town friendliness is everything and culinary expertise comes in - well second... except for Smalley's Bar & Grille which has the United States best burger!

I thought I would post some of my favorite photos of life in utopia. There is an utter lack of sophistication in a small farming community such as this. What I have discovered is that where you live pretty much dictates your life's priorities - and I don't think it is supposed to work like that.

When I read the Bible, I understand that we are not to be "conformed to this world" and when I lived in a large urban area - I thought that phrase mean the BIG sins like sexual immorality - having a foul mouth - lying, stealing, cheating, etc etc. But now living in a non-urban area - I've discovered that "not being conformed to this world" has a realm of possibilities. For example, in Atlanta, my life revolved around my worrying about my weight, whether I had make-up on, whether I could afford high-quality clothes, keeping my car sparkling clean, getting my hair done in a high-end salon, and earlier - keeping the yard well-manicured, participating whenever a group of people had lunch together... blah blah blah. Now - I haven't washed my car in two months - we drive on dirt roads between fields of corn, sugar beats, and winter wheat. Nobody seems to understand the "healthy eating movement" - everyone is solidly built - and farmers all show the effects of a hard life in their lined faces - but neither they or their wives are keeling over from not eating sprouts and organic smoothies. In fact everyone around here over the age of 60 seems to be healthier than some urban people in their 40s. A subjective remark to be sure - but true none the less. Just maybe - to not be conformed to this world - means more than just avoidance of breaking the ten commandments or "lusting in your heart" after an attractive woman or man. Maybe it means something like getting off your high horse and stop trying to maintain a mask of sophistication. Maybe it means - it's ok to look like yourself instead of a Barbie doll with wicked cool clothes, a painted make-up face, and hair to dye (sic) for. Maybe it's ok to be a young woman in her late 20's getting rounder and softer after 3 or 4 kids and having a hard-working husband who loves her. Sorry folks but there is no zero-population, 2.0 kids in this part of the world. Here, couples seem to marry young, have several kids, and grow old together - all the while not washing their cars every week and letting their hair go gray (I'm working on it, Lord).

And here are my pictures of life in utopia...

Port Austin Farmer's Market

Lighthouse Road, Point Aux Barques, Michigan

Doe and Yearlings - Point Aux Barques State Park, Michigan

Autumn Fields

Hwy 53 - The Road to Bad Axe, Michigan

Leaf Piles - The Last Vestiges of Autumn

Cheers!

Still Learning After All These Years

After moving to a small farming community on the shores of Lake Huron, I decided I needed to obey the biblical injunction to "assemble" with other Christian believers.

I am by nature a reserved person preferring to stay at home and piddle around rather than to socialize. In fact it's become a rather significant life choice resulting in a lack of close friends. I'm not even sure I know what a friend is. The last one I had was in 1980 something - my friend Darlene. We are still friends though we spent several years out of contact. But she lives on the west coast and I am now in the mid-west. The distance is hardly conducive to maturing a friendship with all the gives and takes that friendship requires to be a true thriving relationship.But we do talk on the phone and keep up with each other's health issues and life challenges. I never fail to hang up the phone and think, "Gosh I wish we didn't live so far apart. I miss her!".

Back to my original thought - that of "getting involved" in a local church. Now here is the thing. I was introduced to another single woman when I moved here. It was fun getting to discover a new area and having someone to "pal" around with. But the days turned into weeks and gradually my  normal life's rhythm returned. Jumping in the car and taking off began to disrupt what little routine I had been trying to build. But my new friend - and rightly so - was confused by my withdrawal from social contact. I found myself constantly having to do the boyfriend/girlfriend break-up dance to the tune of "It's Not You - It's Me" - and tiring of having to justify why I don't answer my phone all the time (I usually don't know where it is) or why I don't call to cry on her shoulder when I'm feeling blue (because I don't DO that with anyone except my daughter-in-law). The more I was expected to stay in constant contact - the more I withdrew. But unfortunately, God doesn't allow us the luxury of withdrawing from other human beings so that we can pamper ourselves and do only what we want, when we want.

After starting to attend church, I looked for ways to be of service to the Lord. I don't feel any specific call on my life - "Therefore", I thought, "I'll just find something that needs to be done or where a volunteer is needed - and I'll do that for now." And I started volunteering all over the place; Working with young readers to improve their reading skills, offering to babysit for a single mother when she was stuck for childcare, participating in the Youth for Christ weekly evening get-together s for the local young people in surrounding communities, taking pictures of church members for the church directory, doing childcare during weekly bible study... and the list goes on. And I joined a quilting group as a way to force myself out of the house. All of these activities have something in common - they have forced me to leave the house - talk to people - and let others know me. And this is what I found - there is a comfort level in being unknown - you can slip in and out quietly without making real contact. But where there is comfort - there is also stagnation. You avoid accidentally revealing your insecurities - you can keep a mask over your face and avoid too close a connection. And you can keep from getting too close to anyone. Only the thing is that God wants sincere people - without pretense or deception. He calls us to expose our flaws and insecurities - and in doing so - we find healing in the acceptance of other imperfect human beings.

Moving On

Originally blogged sometime in 2013.

 
Seven years ago I was fired from my job. I was 52 and recently diagnosed with ADHD. At the same time I was having multiple health problems. Each day was more difficult than the day before just getting out of bed and dragging myself to work. Laying awake at night dreading the morning. God seemed so very far away.

First my huskies went to foster homes which later became permanent, the cats too except for one, my car which I painstakingly cleaned and polished was picked up and returned to the finance company, then my house was sold at auction. The best furniture went to my son and the rest went in storage. I laid on a mattress in the empty living room next to my last dog and stared at a wall while my friend and her daughter packed up what was left in the house. 

I tried working 9 months after my job loss - doing contract work. I was let go because of my health problems. I filed for Social Security Disability and was turned down so with borrowed money, I retained an attorney and we filed an appeal of Social Security's denial. It took 3 years to get a court hearing during which time I had zero income and had to borrow money for food, medication, whatever was needed.

Seven years later, the physical health problems have been pretty much resolved after 3 major surgeries. I lived with my oldest son for 4 years off and on, a year and a half was spent with a nephew, a year and a half with my sister, 6 weeks with my younger son. The emotional issues are still rearing their ugly heads now and then. I find it hard to lay the past to rest with all it's losses. In my mind's eye - I look for a time when I have my own home again. Room to move without tripping over debris stacked on the floor, desk top or rolling over something stacked on one side of the bed.  But it's time to move on.

Why I can't update my blog

The thing about getting older and dealing with the current state of internet technology is that I can't remember email accounts and passwords without my "password book" - which I can never find when I need it. I estimate that if anyone found that indispensable article - the world would know the unfortunate size of my under-panties in 13 seconds as well as my sisters MasterCard number and expiration date.

I originally started a blog about ADHD and the after-effects of the diagnosis at age 52... loss of job, home, dogs, car, etc. and the next 6 years spent living with a nephew, a son, and children while I tried to get back on my feet. Of course all of those things didn't happen just because someone told me there was a reason why I didn't think like other people - it just coincided with a number of health issues and was the proverbial straw that pushed me over the cliff - to mix metaphors.

Anyway, it took me 3 days of reading Blogger help files and attempting to remember all of my 33 email address accounts and passwords to find the right one linked to my blog. Fortunately for the rest of western culture, I finally got things hooked up and I am now back in the land of the marginal blogger.

Watched "Social Network" about Mark what-his-face who started Facebook. If I wanted to let my nasty nature have free reign I could blog a lot of vindictive stuff about other people too - however - being the hypocrite that I am I prefer to keep my nasty side under wraps and pretend I'm too nice to think the things I think but wouldn't dare put in print much less speak aloud. Speaking of which it occurs to me that the only things people like to read about are nasty things about other people...

Why is it - do you think - that reality TV for the most part is composed of people living together or in relationships of various sorts that absolutely squander their four-letter vocabularies when describing or just generally talking about their "friends". My two sons in their teenage years thought Jerry Springer was just the height of sophistication. I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief when they finally left the contrived trash of afternoon television for the evening venue of clean athletic competition - namely the WWF. Who could blame them after all - did anyone not love the gentlemanly behavior and athleticism of Stone Cold Steve Austin? But I digress... 

The Bionic Knitter

I'm definitely showing my age, I've finally decided. A few days ago I was horrified to catch my face at a 45 degree angle and the flabby thing that hangs under a chickens beak was hanging underneath my chin. I shuddered in horror. How in the world did this happen. Do i know anybody with $10K free floating around so I can get a face lift?

Going Home

2002

I laid my much loved companion and best friend, Kino, to rest last Wednesday. I couldn't sleep the night before knowing the hours with him were waning. He has slept on his bed next to mine for the past nine months - and woken me nightly to take a long, splashing, slurping drink from his whiskey barrel sized water bowl. (Where did it all go I wonder? My son would doubtless say his front lawn). I dozed a few hours toward morning.

Sometimes Kino couldn't go back to sleep (and therefore neither would I). I would listen to him pace between his bed and the bathroom floor where he would finally ease himself down - gingerly with a few whimpers - and then stretch out on the cool ceramic tile and sleep the sleep of the aging dog. When he couldn't rest, he would lay his muzzle on the bed next to my back and sigh warmly and moistly to let me know he wasn't buying the "I'm asleep" act I was putting on. We would leash up and grab the sling easing his failing hindquarters down the front porch steps. Pausing to sniff the warm night air, he would pull me toward the street so he could walk. Even with stumbling paws and faltering hindquarters Kino wanted to sniff the earth, lap up sprinkler water and enjoy the outside. We would turn back much sooner than he wanted for I knew that if we continued to walk he would be unable to get back home.

Water's Edge
August 25, 2010
Lake Lanier, Cumming, GA

Our time together was growing short and I decided in the morning to take Kino to the lake for a last outing. I had been unable to take him out much because of the heat and my own deteriorating condition over the summer. We headed to nearby Lake Lanier. Carrying camera, water, towel and dog from car to the beach had to be done in two trips. I needn't have worried that Kino would do the well-known Siberian Husky trick of suddenly bolting out of sight. His speed these days was akin to an arthritic old man shuffling his way across a crowded dance floor. We eased gingerly down the slope toward the inlet shoreline. The excitement and eagerness in his blue eyes made me wish I had braved the difficulties and taken him on more outings. He laid down panting in the shade of a tree but his eyes kept straying to the water. Up and away we stumbled together - two arthritic companions - he in his winter and me in my fall. Into the water he waded with me terrified that we would fall and both be unable to get back up. We lumbered slowly up and down the shoreline into the water - back to the sand and into the water again. We stayed an hour and a half taking rests and getting up to repeat the water stroll. How my heart ached as I finally struggled back to the car with my old buddy. As we drove away from the water I wept and begged God for peace and strength to do what must be done.

We made one last stop at McDonald's for Kino's favorite treat.  After a canine lifetime of watching his weight, what he ate today was irrelevant. During car rides over the last nine months, we had done this five or six times. It was usually one and a half burgers for both of us but I didn't dare try to eat any lunch. I suspected it would be several meals before I felt I could keep anything down. Kino however gulped his first burger down before we were back on the road. We arrived at Dr. Brook's office and I climbed into the back of the SUV so we could sit together. The second burger, strangely enough, wasn't of as much interest to him... but never one to turn down food - he ate it anyway.

Kino
August 25, 2010
Lake Lanier, Cumming, GA

I eased Kino out of the car and onto his ramp. A few people watched my beautiful, bright-eyed and seemingly healthy, Siberian Husky with the frail back legs. Side by side we sat on the grass next to the veterinarian's office. I placed his bowl down and he lapped up the bottled water we always carried with us. "I can't do this... I can't... I just can't...", I kept saying to myself. But time does not stop - neither do circumstances change just because we wish it so.

Kino and I entered our favorite veterinarian's office. The soft speaking assistant quietly asked to take his final weight. Kino couldn't stand on the scale's smooth surface and he dropped heavily with four legs sprawling in all directions. Placing the padded sling behind Kino's forelegs, I eased him back to his feet one last time and we moved carefully into the exam room. The staff had spread a comforter on the floor. We laid down together nose to nose  - I put my face next to his and rubbed  his satin-y ears. His youthful black mask and face markings had long since disappeared with age. His face was now snowy white like his chest and forelegs. Oh his cold wet nose! I was past worrying about tears or my lack of self-control. How can he just cease to exist? How can he just not be here anymore? It isn't right. This can not and should not be happening to us. How do I make it stop?

Dr. Brooks came in and bending down to pat Kino murmured "Hi there, boy". I told her I couldn't stay after all. I wouldn't carry away the last memory of my best friend lifeless. She understood and said she would give him a sedative and he would simply fall asleep in ten to fifteen minutes.

I left the exam room but couldn't leave the office. "He is still here, still awake for a few more minutes. I still have a few minutes left with him...", I thought. I returned to the examination room where he lay calmly . A telltale drop of liquid from the injection remained on his foreleg. Kino looked at me, panting calmly, still happy over his morning at the lake and the unexpected burgers. The minutes passed as I lay scratching his head and ears. His eyes began to look a little drowsy and his head nodded a little. He lifted it back up  and panted - even more quietly now - gazing back at me.  His eyelids started to close. "Kino-bear?" He rested his muzzle on the blanket, breathing softly. His eyes slowly closed - too sleepy to keep them open anymore. I kissed his beautiful, black nose, got up and opened the door. Looking back at my wonderful companion of thirteen years, I could still just see his chest rise and fall. "I'll always love you, Kino-bear and miss you every day for the rest of my life. Say 'Hi' to Rusty and Kalie. I'll be home with you all soon."

Going Home
Jan 2010
Cumming, GA