Tag Archives: storage

Walking with Moses and rain.

my garden, poetry, Psalms, winter, , , , , , , , , , ,

This morning was frosty enough to make ice in my garden fountain. I wore a thick wool sweater to church, and kept it on until I got home again five hours later and changed into my firewood clothes. Both the supply of logs near the wood stove and the nice rack I have in the garage needed replenishing from the stacks outside. I bring in a dozen or so logs at a time to dry out, and to have handy when it’s raining or just dark and I don’t want to go out.

Opposite that rack I have tubs and boxes and bags of kindling and newspapers, a place to split the kindling, and a bucket for collecting ashes. I don’t see how I’m ever going to make room for my car in the garage, which has been a minor goal for a couple of years now. That space serves as my pantry and laundry room and tool shed, and holds all the sorts of things that my daughter Pearl says you have to keep in the garage if you don’t have a basement.

The little guy below came in with a load of logs; the young house guests squealed and their mother scooped him out of the fireplace corner into a dustpan. He was trying to fall out of it, so I picked him up and tried to hold him in such a way that the children could look at him for a bit. But they would have none of it, and just wanted him out of the house, so I let him out the back door into the rain. I hope it washed him of all the woody litter.

The pewter wise men have arrived, after journeying across the table in my entry, to take up their worshipful positions in front of the Christ Child. I’ve removed a small amount of Christmas decor, mostly the fresh cotoneaster berries that weren’t fresh anymore. The redwood branches and candles remain, because they have life left in them, at least for today. And the faux tree will last as long as I want it to, which is, until I have some mental space to give to it.

For now, I have too many other projects going on. Writing thank-you letters to a few grandchildren, cooking soup for our women’s book group this week, and maybe a two hour trip to see my niece — just in this week.

At the same time, I am working on new habits. For more than a week now, I have taken a walk every day, outdoors, not on the treadmill. This was the scene on the bike path less than a week ago; can you see the leaves falling?

Since then we got a big dumping of rain, and the leaves aren’t so pretty anymore. One day I walked my old two-mile loop and it was quite delicious, because everything — the trees and earth and grass, and especially the air — was wet and refreshing and not cold. I wore my rain jacket and was prepared for a sprinkle, but when I was still ten minutes from home I got fairly drenched. Excitement like this has been adding to my general winter happiness.

Even before I read an encouraging article about the value of memorizing things, I had been planning to renew my effort in the coming year to learn some Psalms and possibly other poems by heart. “The Great Forgetting,” by Ruth Gaskovski, about “How ‘critical thinking’ and outsourcing of memory are withering culture, and how to turn the tide,” is giving me a boost.

Last year — or even before? — I had started to memorize Psalm 90 and 91 (89 and 90 in the Septuagint), and then lost my focus. This year, so far, I have noticed how my memorizing project coordinates nicely with my improved walking habits. I have the psalms written on 3×5 cards and can practice them as I stroll along — unless it’s one of those rainy days.

Here are the first few verses I am working on:

Psalm 89 — A Prayer of Moses, the man of God

Lord, Thou hast been our refuge in generation and generation.

Before the mountains came to be and the earth was formed and the world,
even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art.

Turn not man away unto lowliness; yea, Thou hast said: Turn back, ye sons of men.

For a thousand years in Thine eyes, O Lord, are but as yesterday that is past,
and as a watch in the night.

Things of no account shall their years be; in the morning like grass shall man pass away.

In the morning shall he bloom and pass away; in the evening shall he fall
and grow withered and dry.

The poetry of these verses, the rhythm of their music and the depth of meaning, as I tell them to myself phrase by phrase, is so beautiful to my mind and heart. Glory to God!

The Prophet Moses

Beloved Jars

food and cooking,

Let’s see if I can write a blog post that is actually about something that happened today…a cold and rainy day on which we got a fire going. In April! Yes, those are Christmas lights in the picture. Until Spring has settled in more securely I will continue to enjoy them shining against the dark and dressing up my bare window.

The most satisfying part of the day was cleaning out the container cupboard. You’d think I grew up in the Depression, the way I save every jar and yogurt container until they are overflowing their space. No, it’s really because in the first decades of married life, I was always cooking army-sized quantities of soup or rice or whatever, and at times I actually used up most of those receptacles to squirrel away batches of Comfort Soup or pasta sauce against the days when we were too busy to cook.

During that period we also ate a lot of peanut butter, which resulted in me collecting these most practical glass jars, now true Collectors’ Items, I’m sure, because in this size, most food items these days are sold in plastic. Adams Peanut Butter was sold in approximately 2-quart jars that are more slender, and therefore fit better in the refrigerator, than what I have been able to buy as dedicated food storage containers. They were perfect, in the Old Days, for storing in the fridge enough soup for a large family. Or for cooling the stock before taking off the fat.

I’ve had them well over 20 years, and the lids aren’t even rusty. As you can see, I have begun using them to store dry foodstuffs. My kitchen is always evolving. But now, if these break or get lost, the younger generation can look here for a memory jog.