The Lenten Season and Maple Sugaring Time

March is a busy time for us. But, its a good time too.

I actually love Lent. If it is March that means it's Lent. And Lent means fish fry's at our church. We walk down to the hall every Friday during lent. The fish is great and the people are too. It feels like a real community. But, my love of Lent doesn't end at the fish fry's. 

 All of the customs of Lent help me to remember God more throughout my day. I pray a little more and it really sets the pace for the rest of the year. I've been trying to remember to pray even while I'm working on something. Sometimes when I get busy I forget. And they say that's when you need it most. I never would have thought I could learn to love a time that centers around fasting, prayer, and alms giving. But, I do. 

We just finished the first harvest of the year. March is maple sugar time. Every year we tap the trees in our front yard. We fill buckets full of sap, and when we get enough, it is all boiled down into syrup and sugar. Boy starts it outside but, when it gets to the syrup stage we finish it off in the kitchen. It makes the whole house smell delicious. This was a very good year for it. We have over six pounds of maple sugar in our cabinet and I have 1/2 a gallon of syrup in my fridge. It didn't all come from our trees. Boy and his cousin get extra sugar for us by volunteering at the county park. Our family is a little sugar crazy. We even went down to the Maple Sugar Festival in Southern Indiana.

If your wondering what on earth I am going to do with 1/2 a gallon of syrup, well I'll tell you. I'm going to eat it. It isn't just good on pancakes. Its good in yogurt, oatmeal, drizzled on bread, brandy (yeah, that's right) , and a new recipe I fell in love with called pumpkin griddle cakes. As for the sugar, most of it will be used for our group at various French and Indian reenactments that we do throughout the year. But, some of it will wind up on pork loins... And, some is going to go in my tea. Don't tell. 

 Boy does theater with the kids at school. The end of March means that it's showtime. It starts in November and he finished up just this past week. It means the end of lots of long workdays and long nights. I'm happy to have him back at home. 

The end of March also signifies that my daughter is going to be one year old. Amazing. 

The Great Thaw

I woke up late this morning and I could hear birds outside of my window. The baby was still sleeping beside me. I laid there listening. Something was wrong. The light in the room felt different. So, I got up and  pulled the curtains back. The snow had melted, leaving little white islands in a sea of brown mud and dead grass. The thaw WAS here.

A gray squirrel ran across the sidewalk, carrying something that resembled a chocolate chip cookie. I realized I wasn't wearing my glasses. He crawled up the side of a maple tree, found a branch and started munching away. I breathed in deeply, spring was coming, I could smell it. Binker woke up and I carried her from room to room, opening the windows. I wanted to blow the stale winter air right out the windows and let in a little springtime.

I can't help but, think of my husband. He works in a building that is sealed up. You can't even open the windows. The same stale air is recycled through the vents. Over and over again. Day in and day out. He works in a ziploc bag. It's inhuman, especially, on a day like today.

I realize my celebration is a little premature. I know better than to assume winter is over. But, I am so happy to get a little break from old man winter. And, just like the squirrels and the birds, I feel like I need to move. Something I haven't felt in awhile.

 I can smell spring.

Hibernation

This winter has been a strange one for me. I have often coveted a bears ability to remain inside through the cold. I could picture her there all warm and snug in her den. Not truly hibernating, but, just being dormant and only coming out on the warmest of days. Because, I'm now a stay at home mom, I've finally been able to do just that.
 No cursing the snowstorms, no cleaning off the car in the morning, and no white knuckled, butt clenchingly cold ride to work (my car didn't have heat). I love it. While the rest of the world wages war against old man winter, I can stay in my warm little house and watch the snowfall.
After all the rush from the holidays things have been quiet. We've all been working on our winter projects. Boy is finishing up a new piece of furniture for the dining room. It's a buffet! I can't wait until it's complete. I've been trying out some new art projects, reading, and trying to plan out next years garden. Binker is crawling now and she is quickly discovering the joys of solid foods.
But, before you hate me too much there are a few drawbacks. I'm alone with a baby, and sometimes a couple extra toddlers (I babysit), most of the day during the week. And because I spend so much time with little ones I've developed some odd habits. Like announcing to everyone, adults included, that I have to go use the potty.
 But, its a fair trade. At least for me. I'm happy for right this moment, snug and warm in my den. Let it snow.

A Confession for December

When I was a child I loved this time of year. I could recite the Night Before Christmas. I had tons of books about Christmas (and one about Hanukkah) and I would watch every Christmas Special. I would diligently study toy catalogues. And, I think, out of all of my school mates, I was the last to give up on Santa.

The day after Thanksgiving we made a big deal about decorating and putting up a tree (and an electric Menorah). I loved to decorate this miniature tree that I had for my bedroom and I had a tiny plastic Nativity Scene that came from the dollar store. I liked to look at the little plastic figures all snuggled together in that tiny wooden manger. That was about as close to religion as I got.
My family did not attend church, and we didn't talk about God unless someone died. My Mom explained to me that she had her own religious ideas but, she didn't want to impose them on me. She wanted me to be open to all beliefs and to find my own truth. I was told that Christmas was the day that baby Jesus was born. Someone even gave me a nativity pop-up book. And, I remember going to Church with my Grammy and Granddad one year for Christmas. I felt very out of place.
 I didn't see what any of it had to do with Christmas. Christmas was about family, decorations, parties, and presents. Anything religious was just too weird. When I was a little older my Mom got a real nativity set. It sat in the same spot under the tree every year but, it sort of got lost beneath all of the presents. 

After, Christmas was over, we would leave up our decorations until the Greek Orthodox Church celebrated Christmas. My Mom said it was out of respect for a couple of friends of ours who were Greek Orthodox. Then Christmas would go back into its box and get packed into the basement. And out would come the Valentine's Day decorations. 

As I got older, my fondness for Christmas seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer each year.  My Mom started drinking. So, my Dad hated Christmas. Because, let me just say Alcoholism + Holidays = Disaster. I worked retail for quite a few Christmases. When I worked at Linen's and Things the Christmas music came on at the end of October. I grew tired of the decorations. They all seemed tacky and riddled with glitter, that I then, had to sweep up off the floor every night. The last place I worked had Christmas Decorations coming in, in July. The whole store changed in November. People became rude. The aisles were a mess to clean up. And the hours got longer. I started to equate Christmas with greed, impatience, selfishness, mass consumerism, physical exhaustion and I got burnt out. I just started to get disgusted with the whole thing.  

 I hate Christmas. 

I honestly don't want to. I really tried to fight it. But, there it is. I. Hate. Christmas. 

I'm grown up now. I have a daughter of my own and, for her, at least,  I want to love Christmas again. I want to share my beliefs with her.  I know that means finding a balance between the secular and the sacred. Something with a little substance and a lot less glitter. And, I just know, the solution has something to do with that little dollar store nativity set. The truth behind that little plastic woman and her tiny pink baby.

Squash Living

PUMPKINS, BUTTERNUT, and ACORN SQUASH! With all of the excess squash around the house I've been up to my elbows in pumpkin innards and seeds.  I understand now, why these guys were so important for Native Americans, and later for the Europeans, who came to call this place home. They're easy to grow, they keep well, and they're suppose to be packed full of vitamins.
So far, we've eaten them in soups, we've baked em', we've mashed em' up like potatoes, and we've roasted their seeds for snacks. There is plenty more left too. So, the experimenting continues. I'm hoping to make some breads, pancake batter and biscuits. Oh, and I've also read you can add them to smoothies. But, I think I'll pass on that one. I am also going to pass on the pie, because my mother in law makes the best pumpkin pie. Here is a "recipe" I made up the other day:

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-Butternut Squash Mash-

 One whole butternut squash

Handful of Maple Sugar

Salt

Pepper

Palmful of Fennel Seed (opt.)

Wash squash and then chop the stem off. Slice the squash in half and then in half again. Remove any seeds or goopy stuff from the center (We use an icecream scoop). Then, rub oil onto the squash. Bake in the oven 350 Degrees until the flesh is easily pierced with a fork. Time varies depending on the size. Allow to cool a little and the skin will peel off easily. Place in a bowl with your spices and mash with a potato masher.   

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I know the measurements aren't very good but, that's just how I cook. I guess that's why Boy does most of the cooking. I'm usually the baker. :)

So, got any good squash recipes for me?

Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

My baby girl, she goes by many names. Including: Newbie, Sweets, Polka, Stinker-Binker, Binker, and sometimes Binks. As you can see, with parents like us, she's doomed from the start. Well, Binker has finally shown a preference toward something besides me. She doesn't like pacifiers, her thumb finds its way into her mouth once and a while but, it never stays for long. She has plenty of stuffed animals but, so far she doesn't show any favoritism toward anyone in particular. When she's upset she has always turned to me for comfort. I was talking with a friend of mine, and she said, that Sweets needed to find a lovey. A lovey is an object that a child becomes attached to. And, despite the silly name, I had hoped my daughter would find one.
So, it seems my little baby has finally found a lovey. It usually manifests itself in the form of blanket carrying or teddy bear cuddling. But, I never would have dreamt of this:

What the heck is it? 

Why, it's a puppy dog tail. Duh.

Piles of toys and she plays with this thing for hours. Not the dog, just the tail. What can I say? As I said, with parents like us, she's doomed to be weird. But, if baby is happy, I'm happy.

Neighbors

I love Trick or Treating. Even now that I'm an adult and I'm the one passing out the candy. Trick or Treating brings everyone out of their homes and into the night. As a child it gave me the excuse ring doorbells and knock on doors I normally wouldn't be welcome at. Perfect strangers would look happy to see me and give me candy.
I like to think we live in a pretty typical neighborhood. Although, it's quiet here. Our neighbors to the north and south of us moved out within months of each other. And that was when I realized, we've been in our current house for over two years, and I didn't even know the people living only feet from my house. I would see them getting into their cars in the morning, or letting their dog outside, but, we would just sort of wave at each other. I suppose I "knew" the people who lived to the north of us. We introduced ourselves one time. Our neighborliness only went so far as politely pretending we didn't see each other running our recycling bins out to the curb, wearing only our p.j.'s. But, the truth is, I remember their dogs name but, not theirs. It's easy enough to remember a name, especially if you hear someone calling it from their back porch often enough.

Now we've received a fresh batch of new neighbors. So, I've been determined to do better this time. When the first pair moved in I made a point to go over and introduce myself. I really wasn't sure what to do. Do I take a casserole? On T.V. there always bringing new neighbors jell-o molds and welcome baskets. I didn't have any of those things. I took the baby. Well, if anything she's a wonderful ice breaker. Complete strangers will stop me on the street, if I'm carrying the baby. Some of them will even talk directly at me, others will direct all the questions at the baby in a singsong voice. "And who are you? We'll aren't you the cutest thing. Are we crawling yet? And, oh, those eyes... " Etc. Etc. Anyway, the meeting went well enough. In fact, not only did they tell me their dogs name but, theirs too. And during our garage sale they brought me over a cutting from one of their cactus plants I had been admiring. Bonus.
Then, the opportunity came up to volunteer and go door to door, passing out information about the Leukemia and Lymphoma society, and to collect donations. And to my surprise, I took it. Door to door anything did not seem like me, but, it was the perfect excuse to introduce myself to my other neighbors.
So, armed with a new sense of neighborliness, I packed the baby in her sling and I went around knocking on doors. To my surprise, no one called me Ned Flanders and slammed the door in my face. I actually got a few donations. Plus, I've had some nice encounters with several of my neighbors since then.
A women who lives in the house down the street, brought a new outfit over for the baby. She saw it on clearance and she said she couldn't resist. My neighbors across the street have two little ones. They let me borrow a car seat one day, when I forgot to grab the baby's out of the car before Boy left for work. I felt like such a nerd going over there to ask them. The only thing that convinced me was a vision of my baby in the cat carrier. But, they were really sweet about letting me borrow it. The husband even helped me get it in the car. I was so thankful, I gave them a loaf of homemade bread when I returned it. A few days ago, they saw me outside raking leaves and they brought over a whole bag of baby clothes that their daughter no longer fits into.
Last week, the for sale sign came down in front of the house on the south side. This time I'm going over there with some homemade bread. But, I'll still take the baby.