Saturday, September 27, 2014

Punkin' Time Again

It's Punkin' Time again in the South, and I'm a sucker for anything related to that most versatile of vegetables---
The grocery stores know it and take full advantage by helpfully providing me with ...

Pumpkin Cookie Mix -- check   

Pumpkin Bread --  check

Pumpkin Spice Coffee--- check--- oh, I forgot the Pumpkin Spice trip for sure!
Pumpkin Spice Sweet Roll--- check and into the freezer for that special occasion.

I resisted the Pumpkin Cupcake Mix, (but confess I did copy the recipe from FB that calls for a yellow cake mix and can of pumpkin and the check out lady said to use a spice cake mix instead of yellow but kindly offered that she had tried to find it in the store where she worked and I was shopping and they were all out!  Woe!)

Marketing is such a wonderful convention! Did you know that this year there are....

                 Pumpkin Spice Flavored Hershey's Kisses?   

Yep, (and FYI they also have Hershey's Candy Corn Cream Bar---but that's another subject).
And not to forget pumpkin porch decorations --- check---both traditional orange and retro white.

Yes, it's Punkin' Time again in the South and I'm ready.  Are you?  

Fall Farm pictures taken at:
Johnson Farms Fall Farm Stand
Corner of Hwy. 210 S and Old Stage Road
(just east of Angier, NC)

Mums, Pumpkins & Crafts

Thanks, Mary & Brian

A Tribute to James Whitcomb Riley

  When the Frost is on the Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me
I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

  There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
Ecclesiastes 3:1

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Granny's Pantry # 25 Thistles Among the Daisies

Luke 12:27 (NIV) says, “Consider how the wild flowers grow.”          
There’s a field just across from the lane leading to the High Rock house that spreads a perfect canvas for Davidson County’s flowers of spring and summer. My favorite is Queen Anne’s Lace. They grow uncultivated and untamed, but their delicate intricacy is astonishing.
Late summer brings bursts of yellow roadside daisies. Their proliferation and enthusiasm to fill as much space as they can with joyful color is a example to us all.               

A more sobering lesson, to me, comes with the small, white daisies of spring. They appear in the field without the drama of their later cousins; their presence is subtle, almost shy and unassuming. But in the field in front of High Rock, these lovely little flowers do not come alone.
If you stop to notice, there are thistles growing among the daisies. The deep purple thistles are taller, more colorful and more easily noticed. 

They are beautiful and threaten to upstage the little daisies, but their beauty is deceptive. They have been described as prickly noxious annoying weeds. 

Is this juxtaposition not a reality we encounter in our own lives? Thistles among our daisies.

While we love the abundance of daisies in our lives—the blessings, the good times and people that surround us---we can be sure that, this side of Heaven, there are also the thistles—tough times, hard places, sadness, sickness, and death.
To the visitor, High Rock was almost magic, a retreat hidden away, off the highway and back fifty years. There was quiet loveliness and nurturing in the stately old home place. It was a place to be happy and loved.
And I know now it was also place of hardship and long, hard work. For every birth there was a death, for every joy a sorrow.  Daisies and thistles. The ebb and flow of life this side of Heaven. We need not be surprised.       

Granny’s gone. Her standards of how to make life lovely for others every day live on.
Granddaddy’s no longer here, but the feel of his hands remains strong.
Uncle Brooks and Aunt Lorene have left us, but the family they started grows strong.
Aunt Ruthie sits in her chair and wonders where she is, but hanging above her is a canvas of beauty she created, and that beauty can be seen on all of our walls.
Mother is both strong and fragile. Her daisies are her children and her grandchildren. Her thistles were giving up Daddy and Janie for a little while, and the challenge she is facing now, with her usual resolve and bravery.    

                          Even at High Rock, there are thistles among the daisies.                Like most families, we have celebrated and we have mourned together.
                              High Rock is changing due to the thistles of life,
                            but we are finding new daisies among the prickles.
                    The good memories that grew out of Granny’s Pantry live on.












He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.  Matthew 6:45
…weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.  John 16:33