Nor His Squire On A Bay Gelding

Our church has Mid-week meals to keep attendance on Wednesday up and our members connected during the week. I sat with members from my Sunday small group, ate supper, discussed common concerns for aging parents, re-glazing very old windows, little league and ‘hey, who is that sitting across the CLC?’

When it got to be time for choir, I put my tray up and headed out the door, but a dear friend called out to me.

“Amanda, hey, darling! How’re you doing?”

I gave her a hug and replied, “I’m good.”

“Are you really?” She looked at me over her glasses. “Not just saying that?”

I smiled.

“No, ma’am. I’m really doing well.”

We chit-chatted about my children. She told me about her granddaughter.  Then the question came:

“Has that shining knight on his white stallion showed up yet? ”

I just laughed and shook my head and glanced up at the ceiling.

“No, ma’am. Haven’t seen him, nor his squire on a bay gelding! You know, when I tell God that I am lonely,  you know what He tells me to do?”

“What is that?” my friend asked.

“Go for a walk,” I answered. Then I gave her a wry smile. “But I guess I’m walking in the wrong place, ’cause I haven’t met anybody.”

As she always does, she told me that she would pray for me. And she meant it, too. I went on to choir practice.

Here lately, I’ve been thinking about my ideal man. As if there is such a thing. I’m not naive- not anymore. But a woman can dream a little, right?

I don’t really care what he looks like. I married looks first go-round (he’s lost them, by the way). Funny side note: years ago, one night at church, my then husband and I were talking to a gentleman and he said, “Your boys get their good looks from you,” he said to my now ex. In the next breath he continued, “I can see that because your wife still has hers!” Haha!

Anyway.

I want a truly kind man. A tender hearted man. No push over, but compassionate.

I want a man who has read the literary classics or at least something in addition to Sports Illustrated and the Market Bulletin. Not that there’s anything wrong with those publications, but if he could quote a Shakespeare sonnet,  I’d just about forget the rest of my list and give him a chance right away.

Next, I would love a man who could sit down at my antique upright, with the Werlein’s sticker on it, and play me a love song. Oh, honey! Again, musical talent and well read; be still my heart.

Light on his feet. Yes, dancing in the kitchen, after the supper dishes are washed and put away is on my list. And please, he will have to know something other than the loaf of bread. What? You’ve never heard of it? That’s what I called the one dance move the ex had. His arms around my waist, he’d kinda tilt from left to right, as we turned in a slow circle. I’d get dizzy-headed and ask if we could stop and turn to go in the opposite direction. I felt like a loaf of Bunny Bread in his big ole arms! Long loaf. Thin sliced. White bread.

Now, don’t think I want a man with hands softer than mine. The afore mentioned paints a tame picture. Nope, no siree. Rudimentary manly skills in the yard and around the house, if you will. Cutting the grass, unclogging the disposal, fixing a leaky bathroom faucet.  He’s going to need to know how to change the oil in the tractor, too. And if he doesn’t already possess such knowledge, be willing to learn. A well read man shouldn’t mind discovering new things, right?

A Renaissance Man! Yes! Renovating an old house has made me appreciate men with a certain skill set. Youtube’s great for garnering knowledge, but watching a man work- one who knows what he’s doing, especially-  live and in person, well…

But none of the above will do, without the most important trait and character anchor: my ideal man must be a man after God’s own heart. A true man of God, not just a pew percher.  A true disciple of Jesus, not just someone who knows enough Scripture to misuse. A man who can swim down deep in his faith, never be content to splash only up to his ankles in the shallows. Yes, a lover of God more than he would ever love anything  or anyone else.  Including me.  Deal breaker, if he doesn’t love God and honor Him by keeping his life holy.

Deal breaker. First there’s got to be a candidate. Like I told my friend; I haven’t seen a knight on a white stallion nor is squire on a bay gelding. But I have seen the One who loves me best and I am content with Him.

Blessings.

And Then The Murders Began

I was going to start this with the weather report, but recently heard that was the best way to kill a writing. I also recently heard that the phrase, ‘and then the murders began’ (credit to Marc Laidlaw) can really ramp up a story. So, here goes…

When I bought my farmhouse nearly a year ago, I was pleased to find established fruit trees on the property. Two may haws have been blooming and are now making their tiny, bright red fruit.

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Big may haw tree

On my hands and knees, I gathered the windfall and filled up my box. As I stood up, the thorns of the spindly branches grabbed at my hair. And then the murders began…

Ha! Oh, well, I tried.

I gathered enough may haws for two batches of jelly. If you pick this tiny pomegranate like fruit, be prepared to make jelly the same afternoon. May haws are delicate and turn really quickly. I made one canner of jelly today and put the rest of the juice in the freezer.

20170430_110304 Wash and sort your berries. Place in a big stainless steel pot and cover with just enough water. Simmer for about 25 minutes and let cool in the pot. When cool, take a cup or two at a time and make a pouch in cheese cloth. Squeeze out all the juice into a big bowl. Repeat till all of the may haws have been juiced.

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May Haw Jelly

4 cups of juice

1 tablespoon butter

1 box Sure-Jell

5 cups white sugar

What to do:

Have your jelly jars and lids sterilized and keep them warm. This prevents them from breaking when filled with the hot jelly and placed in the water bath.

In a 6 quart pot pour in 4 cups of may haw juice and the butter. Add the box of Sure-Jell. I use a wisk to make sure the pectin is mixed well. Bring to a boil that cannot be stirred down. At this point, slowly pour in the 5 cups of sugar. Stirring constantly, bring the mixture back up to a boil and cook for another minute. With a metal spoon, skim off any foam that may have formed. (And look, save it; slightly bitter, but still sweet enough to eat on crackers. I really hate wasting any of it. Skim it off to make your jelly jars pretty.)

Working one jar at a time, fill jelly to a 1/4 inch of the top of the jars, wipe off any spills and seal with the canning lids. Place filled jars into the canner basket and carefully lower into the water bath. The water should be a slow rolling boil. Process for 5 minutes. Carefully remove and let them rest on the counter, lined with a kitchen towel, to cool.

Label and store in your jelly cupboard. I know, you probably don’t have a jelly cupboard. Who does these days? Put in any cupboard that’s kept at a fairly constant temperature and away from sunlight. This jelly is a beautiful deep pink and it would be a shame to have it turn in color.

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This recipe made 6 half pint jars, with a little dish extra. We ate that on cathead bicuits!

Enjoy. Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen. And then the murders began…!