Summah-time delicious......

Some folks know the difference between a tomato and a garden tomato.  It's the immediate taste of "garden" that fills the mouth and makes the wait worthwhile.  For me, there's no replacing the deliciousness of that ripe, juicy first slice or bite....and immediately, I'm back in my Granny Wade's country kitchen, not a day over ten and no care in the world except where the barn kittens may be hiding.  Now that's a powerful reason to grow my own tomatoes! 

We're having a bumper crop this season, thank goodness.  My home-canned ones are just about gone and the prospects of having plenty to put up for the winter looks really good.  They'll go nicely with all the green beans we have put up on the shelf as well.

The added blessing on those tomatoes comes from the fact that a dear, sweet neighbor gave me the plants....and he does every season.  He and his wife have a natural bend to generosity and share with so many of us here in the neighborhood.  We watch and wait for his strong tomato plants every spring.

This neighbor is also the source of another great connection.  Several years ago (as in a decade or so!), he came in late fall carrying a cardboard box full of tiny little grapes, so small that a handful would be the only way to get a good taste.  He asked if I wanted some "fox grapes" he had picked and had an abundant supply, telling me that his wife had "juiced" all she wanted.  Of course, I said yes and then proceeded to ask how to juice them!  Little did I know what a special treat the jelly I would make from the juice would be for another member of my family--my mama. 

That Christmas, I gave away little jars of the jelly in packages, but it was my mama's reaction that would be the dearest gift to me.  She lifted it out of her Christmas bag and thanked me as she held it up to look more closely, noting that it was "really dark and dense"--and then she said, "Gracious, is this fox grape jelly?!"  I couldn't believe she knew, and she couldn't believe what she had in her hand, telling me she had not had any since she was a child and her family had moved "off the mountain into town."  She's a rarity for sure in this day, having really lived in a log-cabin, played with crawdads in the creek, and romped through the woods, which was her backyard.  At the moment she eyed the jar and it dawned on her what she had, she hurried to the kitchen, got a spoon, flipped off the lid and took a bite, beaming with delight.  I'll never forget her face in those seconds as she slipped back to her younger days on Boauger Mountain for just a speck of time.  She gets her own personal jars first every year that I have grapes.  

It may be the fact that the past few weeks have been complex and demanding and a few slower moments with a garden tomato helped draw things to a different perspective, but the bite was surely amazing. We can certainly need that shift in the midst of stress and demand, but I am humbled by such a simple thing, knowing that it is my early experiences, just as it is my mama's, that enable that shift.  And those simple things are all around.  Take, for example, this beginning of an oak tree--a volunteer that popped up in the midst of my front flower bed, apparently having been tucked safely under the nearby dwarf bushes.

I didn't know that the early leaves were such a beautiful pink--so
delicate and furry!  I've never seen the very top of an oak tree before, and how gaze-stopping it is!  I'm sure there have been other oak sproutlings, but in the thiry-seven years I've lived here, this one was a first for me.

So what's a body to do but get out the camera and do some looking.  Maybe it was the light that morning or just that I had taken the time to see--I'm guessing it was a mix of both--but there were eye-treasures everywhere, like the little trailing geranium of the two-tiered bee-balm that stretched up in perfect glory.  They were delighting my being for sure.

Such surprising hues and form!  Where have I been??

So the "summah-time" moves quickly on.  My lilies have bloomed out, the garden is giving goods each day, my overload of work still waits, and my camera sits ready for the moment I need a break and a breath and a sense of the abundant simple blessings around me.  I'm thinking those blessings epitomize grace in my midst, and how thankful I am it's here.

When the wind gets taken out of one's sails, they must lie at rest for a bit.  On the evening of May 11th, my sails were resting, thank goodness, at the close of my school's graduation.  It wasn't that there were not still plenty of things rushing around my boat, mind you.  But I had just watched several students walk that stage who had been hard-pressed to get there, and it was a huge sigh and great gladness that whooshed that wind out to parts yon way.  Teaching at a community college (fair warning for anyone thinking on that possibility) challenges much more than just content agility and prowess.  Some of my students are the traditional 18 year olds--and a mixed bag in themselves as they come with good intentions, no intentions, or mixed intentions on what they should be doing as a college student.  The first few weeks of the semester with these young ones involves helping them to adjust to life away from high school.  Those who are ready, soar.  Those who are not wander around looking for sails.  Those inbetween ponder whether they want to hoist those sails or just look at how sturdy they are for awhile yet undetermined.

The non-traditional students come with myraid elements.  Some are married and working with children and extended family in tow.  Some are single parents balancing that plank of unsteadiness as they try to make ends meet and either work a full-time job at minimum wage or look for one as they manage college demands.  Some are folks who have lost their jobs as a result of plant closings or downsizing, and they enter that realm of "retraining" that most likely will involve much more than the job counselor let on as they signed up for a particular program.  They, too, balance families and responsibilities and choices as they navigate classes and a 15-week semester of them.

Some of those students are just coming for a good education.  They have a plan, and they follow it.

No matter which of those "types" they are, they move toward graduation, and it is indeed a marvelous day when they make it.  Our entire campus celebrates for them and with them as they reach that moment and we watch success stride the platform.  Sometimes the sigh is audible even through the shouts and claps.

On May 11th, I was ready for that sigh and the wind to die down and let my sails rest.  Those graduates were, thankfully and wonderfully, ready to catch the wind and roll.  It was a blessed exchange.

Now.....well, now I get to juggle summer courses, only at a much less stressed pace and fewer students, as I dig in (literally) to my garden and home.  The only word to describe this immensely neglected residence and yard is MESS.  My first day to actually pay attention to it was today, what with all the aftermath clean-up in my office.  I can tell you that my front yard garden looks much better--not done but better.  My stove looks amazingly shiny after I bowed to its need after breakfast.  I look in need of much water and soap.

But, there is a delightful part of the day, as my sails flutter just a bit in this switch of pace.  We had a delicious, albeit simple, supper tonight, and I made some bodacious cornbread with no recipe--just out of my head.  For the first time in some long time, that beautiful golden round flipped out perfectly from the skillet, ready and waiting for some equally delicious brown beans (pintos and kidney) I had cooked in the crock pot yesterday.  Take a look:

I'm telling you, it was delicious....just a bit of warm spices in the beans, and freshly chopped chives and onions......mercy.  I really don't know how that cornbread turned out so well.  Usually there are crumbling problems or it's too heavy or it sticks in the pan or it just doesn't have a good flavor, but not tonight.  It was golden and moist, with lots of nooks and crannies for bean juice.  Tomorrow morning, I'm sure some applebutter or butter and jelly will work just fine to go with breakfast.  I do love cornbread, and I'm especially proud of this one! 

Now just to be honest, I was in no hurry, having taken my time all day to "putz" around and do first one thing and then the other.  Isn't that, though, what a break is supposed to be?  Maybe it's the memory of just this kind of simple supper I had with my mom and sister as a child that makes it such a delight.  Mama never cut up chives for the beans, and she didn't add kidney beans to the mix, but the pintos and cornbread were absolutely the best.  She still makes the best beans, at a spry 85 years old!

It's that cornbread that gets me.  I pulled measures out of my head, hoping I was getting it right.  I fear I'll never make it this perfect again!  But the simplicity was real.  Here's the "recipe" if I dare call it that--I mixed 1 and 1/3 c. of stone ground cornmeal with 1 c. unbleached flour in a large metal mixing bowl, adding in 3 tsp. of baking powder, about a 1/2 tsp. of salt, maybe a 1/4 c. sugar, and after stirring that all together, I added 2 large eggs, beating them just a bit.  I didn't have buttermilk, so I used 1 and 1/2 c. whole milk that I had added 1 tbl. spoon of cider vinegar to make it clabber.  After adding the milk mixture to the bowl, I used a whisk to blend it all and then added 1/4 cup of melted butter.  The other half of the stick of butter was melting in the cast iron skillet that was in the oven that I had set at 400 degrees.  Once that butter was fully melted in the skillet, I removed it, sat it on the stove top, poured in the cornbread batter and returned it to the oven.  About 20 minutes later, my perfect cornbread was golden and sizzling, begging to be cut.  And it was delicious....and will be tomorrow!

Here's a little close-up--and it was as good as it looks!

Now the day is on to twilight, and there are dogs whining to be walked and a pair of socks I've been trying to finish since March.  They're the same ones pictured in the last post, and I'm working the toe portion now.....whew!  Projects aplenty lie all over my house, as does a whole armada of dust bunnies and unorganized stacks of.....stuff!  I'm catching up on some sleep, letting those sails come slowly from stillness to flutter to full swing and reveling in things both simple and complex that work out.