Peaches

"I'm Hungry!"
This is Maxwell's nightly response to my declaration of bedtime. I sighed. "How about a peach?", I asked. He consented and off I went.

Returning with a towel, a knife and the peach, I carefully cut him a slice. Max proceeded to eat the quarter-moon shaped portion as though it were a melon, treating the skin as a rind.

"No sweetheart, like this. Like an apple." I instructed, taking a vigorous bite through it all. Max looked suspicious, but gave it a try. He smiled and ate more.

The Peach bore a sunset-colored inner flesh with a complex tang. mmmmmm, heaven. I cut another slice for each of us. "What is this?", Max wanted to know. "The seed , honey.", I replied. "I want to plant it", declared my garden savvy three-year-old.

By way of distraction I explained that eating a peach was like eating the summer sun. Max liked this thought and he and I decided together that sun made the peach sweet, and rain made it juicy. By this point the peach was gone and I found myself on the way to the kitchen for another. (What a mom won't do for a pair of sleepy brown eyes!)
Again I cut two slices. But this peach was different. This peach had a creamy pale, center and firmer flesh. It smelled faintly of honeysuckle and the taste was, well, like honey. Max and I conversed about this new variety between slices. As I wiped the sticky juice from his lips he asked for yet another peach.

"Which one?", I asked, "The sun peach or the honey peach?". "Honey!", he requested. He never finished that last peach. Long before it was finished Max declared himself full and went to bed without complaint. As much as he enjoyed his late night snack, I believe I enjoyed it more.
-EJ

my home part one

Childhood has a unique purpose, it would seem.  Every child is a tablet, permanently etching  the sights, smells , sounds, and tastes of youth.  Magical moments are  captured forever in an unjaded, uncrowded, unspoiled mind.  The best memories (and the worst) of my childhood were etched  after leaving Florida and settling on the Southern Oregon Coast. 

How can I convey my love for the Oregon Coast? The magic and beauty of this place was imprinted on my memory when I first came at the age of 9.  Now , at the age of 39, it seems as though the  aura  and mystery of this area are encoded into my DNA.   

I love the warm, grassy fragrance of the country and the stringently clean smell of the oceanside.  I love the thickly Christmassy smell of the forests and even the muddy fishy odor of the bay at low tide.  So much diversity in such a small place- It is impossible to be truly bored! (in the sense of having nothing to do)

And now a few words about boredom: It is a gift. Its a gateway to discovery. It is a privilege every parent should afford his child whenever possible. Yes, that is utterly contrary to the way things work in the here-and-now. But something gorgeous happens when young children are bored.  Its as if a gulf of creativity yawns open inside them and  pours out.  They delight in the simplest, loveliest aspects of life and nature. Learning and play merge as one.  In short, having "nothing" to do becomes "something" to do! 

As a child, my brother, sister, and I had plenty of time with "nothing" to do.  Consequently, we made great memories. As toddlers, Timothy and Danielle loved a game they called "holding down the sun". In the last hours of daylight as the shadows crept up the yard and towards the house, they would prostrate themselves on the grass.  A child's  desire to hold onto the day.

We were poor and lived far from town, so the "twins", as we called them , were obliged to make their own doll clothes. Scraps of old material, papertowels,  even tissues would become dresses for Danielle's dolls. Timothy would fashion clothing for his favorite stuffed animal. They played for hours in this way.

I loved to collect eggs from the chicken coop. The warm, smooth eggs felt good in my hand as I pulled them from under indignant hens. Those eggs seemed like art to me. God's perfection in nature.

If I was in trouble(which was most of the time) the pastures were an enduring solace.  The sweet smelling grasses often grew waist high and made a convenient get-away. I would lie down in that grass and stare at the sky for so long that I would begin to feel a certain disequalibrium. The solid earth beneath me would pull me back again.

When the breezes blew softly over the pasture, the grasses riffled in waves. Down on the ground, in my secret place, I was a part of it. The wave would pass through me as though I were the grass itself. Oneness.  

pics, pics, pics

Since I'm suffering writer's block it's time to publish some garden pics. Included are pics of The LadyBug community garden(where we have a garden plot),Dante's corn plants, some of our harvested veggies, the infamously aforementioned sugared-violet cake, and more. 

My husband

"Oh great God be glorified, our lives laid down Yours magnified, Oh great God be lifted high. There is none like You. There is none like You."

Phil's  voice was beautiful as he sang in church this morning. The simple joy of the message was plain on his face.  As his voice blended with Greg's harmony, it was hard not to feel that same peace and contentment. 

Beautiful Sunday morning. 

-EJ

sad day

As much as I my husband and I would love to have 2-3 more children, we have come to the conclusion we are both too old to continue. We worry about how fair it would be to the child to be born to parents that might not live to see them grow up.

With that said, we had decided to do something about it. We have no insurance but the local health department had arranged everything free of charge. All we had to do was go see a doctor in Eugene.   We left home this morning and made the two hour drive.

Everything felt wrong from the moment we got there. I had a check in  my spirit almost upon leaving the vehicle.  The office we went to was surrounded by others in a sort of medical complex. Still, I thought it odd that the parking lot had clinic "attendant". Inside, we noticed all the windows were closed and covered with dark curtains. The room was silent, unhappy, and filled with young women. 

It didn't take long for Phil and I to become suspicious. When a girl exited the back office crying on the shoulder of a friend, we couldn't stay silent any longer. I approached the front desk and asked the older woman there if this clinic also performed pregnancy terminations. She replied yes.  As I nodded at Phil he got up quickly and left the building. "We won't be keeping our appointment today", I informed the woman. 

Outside, my poor husband was in quite a state. We both felt miserable and sick to our stomachs. We praised God for opening our eyes, ate a somber lunch and headed home. 

There is so much sadness I feel about this that I don't even know how to express it. All those girls were so young. Most of them had equally young boyfriends sitting next to them. It seemed to me they were making fear-based decisions with no rational thought process.  The loss of life was staggering. Phil and I would glady have raised any and all of those babies if the parents didn't want them. 

Don't hear me wrong. I am not passing judgement or trotting out self-righteous anger. But I ache for those girls. And for their babies. And for my many friends who so desperately want a child. So we came home and hugged our little boy very tightly. And our big kids too. There is nothing else to say.

entertaining royalty

Apparently I'm not the only one eating Oregon. According the local newspaper,  The king of Jordan was in the area motorcyling highway 101. He stopped to eat at a small cafe' nearby.  It was highly entertaining to hear that his personal security entourage' arrived a day early to scope out the tiny eatery at which the king intended to dine. 

What were they looking for, I wonder? The "dangerous" types around here run more along the lines of part-time  drunks , bored housewives,  and lonely old people. Anyone caught with their pants down  might just be forced to listen to Aunt Edna recount her gallbladder surgery.  shudder.

So what did the King of Jordan eat, since I know your DYING to find out? A hamburger and onion rings. If its good enough for a king, its good enough for me. 

-EJ

First harvest

Truth be told, I never really considered myself the gardening type. Not that I'm sure what the gardening type would be, if there was one. But it does bring to my mind  images of Teva wearing, granola-eating naturalists, or perhaps little old ladies in straw hats wearing flower print gloves. All kidding and stereotyping aside, gardening is my new passion. 

It all started with my husband and I complaining about gas and food prices. Four of our five kids are teens, three of the four teens are boys: We go through A LOT of food! Dinner at my house resembles a highschool cafeteria more than anything else. (use your imagination on this one) 

My husband had just finished a retaining wall out front with the intention of planting decorative shrubs and whatnot between the yard and street. My brilliant idea was to plant a garden and augment our food supply. Husband reluctantly agreed. (He still maintains our house looks like the Clampit's)

If you've never planted anything in your life , I highly recommend you try it. Nothing beats the thrill of seeing the first tiny seedling reach spindly tips toward the sun.  We are now eating salads at dinner every night made almost exclusively of our own greens.  Its a hoot to pop out the front door to pick lettuce for dinner!

The corn and greenbeans are doing well. The swiss chard is monstrous and bullying the greenbeans. The lettuce is really taking off and even the peas seem to getting taller. However, the green onions and okra look rather sad. Okra grows so well in the South its probably wondering how the heck it got into a yard on the Oregon Coast. I'm taking its lack of growth as a personal statement.  As for the green onions, who knows? But it is good, solid entertainment. Literally. I had a neighbor jokingly inform me that watching the garden won't make it grow faster.  Perhaps that's my cue to find another hobby. And if I do, you'll hear about it. I promise.

-EJ