November

"November is a russet apple with a glint of gold in

it's rough brown skin,

 one dry leaf clinging to its blackened stem, 

 a brisk spicy flavor at its core. 

It is cider working in dark barrels,

 reddish brown sawdust blanketing the sills,

 amber-eyed cows chewing all day in the stanchions.

 It is stately fowl on yard parade in brown and gray feathers 

and red combs, and many brown eggs in the barn cellar nests at night. 

It is grey crocks filled with barberry sauce

 and great cubes of translucent pumpkin, 

scarlet cranberries drying in the open chamber

. A lamp or lantern held high in the dark dairy

 reveals a mosaic of jellies, preserves, shrubs, 

wines, bottled herbs and yellow cream rising in shallow pans."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

July

"July is the beginning of the year's prime of life...

The long days roll by on greased axles,

laden with tall grass, new-cut and drying in the sun,

the corn knee-high and ready for hoeing,

potatoes, squashes and pumpkins in bloom,

sweet peas climbing up chicken wire to cover the shed wall

with pink, white, red and lavender,

pond lilies starring every spring-fed pool of water

and filling a washtub under the dooryard tree.

The nights are short and the dark is thin and soft,

a-twinkle with  fireflies,

heavy with the heat of the sun 

which has scarcely gone down

when the east begins to brighten,

and rich with the smell of fruit and flowers and swamp

and the sea on the other side of the mountain."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

Porch #1

This is my front porch...

or is it the back porch...

maybe it is actually the side porch!

Anyway it is where I walk in when I

park my car:)

I just love a porch.

June

"All the smells of winter are washed away 

by the flood tide of the perfumes of June--

an incomparable blend of a thousand flowers

 caressed by the sun, 

of fruit springing from bud in the orchard,

 of roots thickening in loose, rich soil, 

of sea turn, swamp mist, running brooks,

 birch and pine. 

The outdoors comes in and there is no indoors...

Small children, barefoot, roam at will,

 wading brooks, peering into muskrat holes,

feeding small birds in the hollows of trees, 

following woods trails, digging sand banks. 

Women's fingers are pink-stained at night

from the picking and hulling

 which bring strawberry short-cake to the table."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

May

"May is the tender promise we know will come true.

If in the earlier months any of us has doubted that

God loves his children, every one, we doubt no longer.

The sun has come back and rises north of the mountain,

gently flooding the windows of the east chamber

 as it comes up, and casting a soft light

 on the brown kitchen wall

behind the supper table as it goes down.

The grass is green and growing and the cattle are out.

One night at milking time a 

new calf is brought up from the pasture.

The seed is in and the long rows of twin leaves rise from the earth.

The apple trees are in rosy bloom, the blossoms of 

wild pear and cherry like white torches 

against the dark woods and the stone wall.

Day and night the air is bright and sweet 

with the scent of budding fruit, 

the flash of wings, and the song

of birds building nests among the flowers.

The whistle of the whippoorwill is a bugle call to summer."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

March

"March is the daybreak hour of the year. 

The face of the earth is still dark but the shadow is lifting....

In the air itself we feel, smell, taste, see a change

 as delicate and tentative as it is undeniable and certain.

 Though hurled against us by the wind,

 its touch is as soft as the wing tips of angels. 

It's ethereal warmth, too slight for registry 

on the thermometer, seeps through our heavy clothing. 

Its fragrance has no name,

 being not from anything that is,

 but from all that is to come...

March brings a silent ecstasy, a still excitement

matched only by that of a woman 

suddenly pausing, hushed, incredulous,

yet sure she feels the first faint, 

fluttering motion of a longed-for child."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

Christmas on the Porches

It is so fun to do up a porch for 

the Christmas Season,

and I have 2:)

Right after I finished decorating the weather dropped
into the teens and the water froze in my
antique canning jars and they all broke:(

Funny story for my sister Faith...
I was out in the ditches again cutting branches
and berries. I was in the mud and water so deep
that I was kind of wondering how I was going to get
out. Just then the mail man pulled up, stopped
and asked "do you want to be in that ditch
or are you stuck?!"
I quickly said "no, I'm ok!" and he drove off
shaking his head, I just laughed
and laughed thinking of how crazy I must've looked.
(see post)
Up to my boot tops

Pumpkin Patch 2013

Here's to a gorgeous Fall day

and family

and kids who make everything

exciting 

and to Tessa who was 30

that day:)

Up to My Boot Tops in Water and Praise

Yesterday there was a short break 

in the drenching rain we've had for the 

last weeks and I suddenly knew 

where I was headed!

To the ditch!

This time of year is when I go foraging

for fall berries and stems to dry

for use in arrangements.

So I put on my rubber boots

and into the ditch I went,

which was so full of water it almost

went over my boot tops.

 As cars drive past and everyone

stares in consternation as to what a crazy 

lady is doing down in a ditch with 

a pair of clippers-I am in a moment of praise.

Here is where I feel so moved by 

God's creation, the color, the bounty,

the glory of His hand moving over land

and water to end a season in a blaze of

joy just as He begins each season.

I went joyfully splashing about

until my car "boot" was full to bursting:)

And then home to make my porches full of glory too,

and just in time as the rain began again.
It also helps to have new purple rain boots:)

Boating at Cresap Bay

Finally at the end of summer

we got out in Shad's boat

for a day at the lake.

It was gorgeous and so fun

to explore way back to the falls

where the cliffs tower over

and it feels so mysterious and quiet! 

Even Beckham enjoyed being outside!

The Mystery of the Apple Tree

As I walked the paths around Champoeg I happened 

upon an apple tree growing near the 

river and instantly my mind went to my parents

(for they are never far from my thoughts

and heart these days...)

and a day in my life I remember very vividly.

When I was a young girl,

perhaps around 8 or 10, my Dad was

clearing out some of the woods around our 

house. He put his head in the door,

munching on a little apple (his favorite snack),

and said casually that he had found a 

wild apple tree. 

My Mom tossed her apron on the table, 

called us kid's from wherever we were

spending a lazy summer day reading, 

with that particular excitement in her

voice that meant some wonderful discovery.

We followed her out to where my Dad 

had been working and found this little

 apple tree which we had never noticed

there before. It looked quite old

and very bedraggled but it had a few

little wormy apples dangling here and there.

My Mom's voice took on her story telling

pitch and she said

"Kids, what if this tree was planted by Johnny Appleseed?

Do you think he came this far west?!"

We all began to chatter telling what we had learned 

about Johnny Appleseed in school

and speculating on whether this might be 

one of his trees. Then Mom suggested

that we look for a special mark

somewhere on the tree that would indicate

he had indeed planted it.

To our great disappointment we found

nothing and began to lose interest in the search

 when Dad passed by and gave that wry smile

he often gave to Mom when she

was being fanciful and said

"It's just a wild apple tree, Martha,

from a bird dropping a seed."

Mom gave him that look that said

"why do you always have to be so practical?"

and we trooped back to the house.

The great thing about parents like we had

is that they both truly loved history,

Dad the history of Christianity

and Mom, history of all kinds, especially

American and Finnish. 

History was exciting! It was worth crying over

and retelling many times, it was more than 

words on a page, it was the best part of 

learning, and that is why when I walk

along a river and see an apple tree

I think of who planted it and when

and of my parents and how 

instilling in a child excitement over an

apple tree carries with it the excitement

every child should have

about the great country we live in.

Vineyards and Views

From my Champoeg campsite 

I did some exploring during the worst

heat of the day...

The Willamette Valley is stunning

with its verdant farm land,

hills of vineyards, old barns

and winding river.

 Olive oil tasting from press and olives

grown on the property, YUM!

Fresh local produce and friendly farmers

made every drive and stop a great experience.

Glamping At Champoeg

I found the perfect campground for a history

buff like myself and glamped there 

for a few nights.

Champoeg State Park in Oregon

is the site of:

First-Native Americans who 

canoed the Willamette River,

carefully preserved the environment,

farmed and fished, hurting no one...

Second- came the French-Canadians

who also used the waterway as a way to transport furs,

married into the local tribes and settled there

in what is called "French Prairie".

 Last- came the British traders and American Pioneers

with their wagons and home building and town planning.

When they were all flooded out of the town in the 1860's

the area became what it is today, a national monument

to an American story.

The townsite with street markers still lies quiet and still

beneath the Prairie sod and brilliant sky.

I walked along the many paths and trails and felt the 

real essence of those who traveled there in times past.

It's that prickly feeling on the back of your neck

as you imagine the quiet moccasins padding past,

the low voices speaking french, the jingle of harness

and swish of canoe paddle as the river flows 

silently by the foot paths.

Raggedy Garden, I found some history too!

You inspired me to go looking in my own neck

of the woods:)

For the Roses....

"For the roses that I gather,

for the thorns their stems contain,

thanks for both dear heavenly Father,

though the thorns have brought me pain."

 "For the trials on the journey,

for the cross that I must bear,

thank you God and stay beside me,

lifting me from dark despair."

photos's taken at 

Rose Gardens, Portland Or

by Karen

From Nothing to a Cottage Garden

Since moving to small house

in town I have been trying to make

the best of it...the lack of privacy 

has been different and the idea of

a long summer spent in a sad side yard

made ME sad, so...

I began with this

And after lots of hard work on many sunny

glorious days with sweat pouring down my face, 

I have something I have always wanted-

A Cottage Garden

 The ladder above was my Dad's and I treasure

it knowing that his feet climbed up and down

it many times through the years.

The potting bench was a free item that 

a thrift store owner begged me to take when I 

bought a few other things.

I finished it with a faux galvanized metal top 

and used a upside down shelf for the top.

A Country Drive

Today I needed to go and renew my

spirit and revive joy in my heart.

Nature always does that for me

 because it speaks so clearly of

The Creator.

 I did a loop in the car with my camera

down the country roads east of town

 Driving slowly and letting the spendor

of this fall day

ease away the worries and sadness

I can't see what is around the next bend

in the road, but if I watch carefully

I will catch a glimpse of the

One who goes before me...

 

I returned with

a quietness in my soul.