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Is that a bear behind me, or just a skunk?

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As I picked these with my boys, I felt like I was the Mom in Blueberries for Sal who lostblue21.jpg her child, but didn’t know it, because a baby bear was behind her making noise. But no bear, and no skunk this time. (You never do really know what’s lurking around here at the lake.) I love this book, because it reminds me of simpler times, and it gives that sweet-reassuring message to the child that “everything is all right, Mommy’s here.” And it gives the same message to the Mom — Sal is alright!

But, I feel even luckier to have these. blueber1.jpgThey are hard to come by this year. Many farmers explained to me that the blueberry farmers had sold their harvest to “foreign companies” who were drying them to sell. The going rate was between $24 and $27 for 10 pounds. A quart, at the farmer’s markets is $2.99. Like I said, I’m lucky to have the 8 pounds we have – safe in our freezer. They were $.55 per pound. Did I mention that I feel lucky?

I found this Blueberry Patch in a quaint Amish village — and they were selling them for $.55 per pound. And we fought the beetles and the sun and the unripe blueberries to get the ones we have.

This little guy, with the blue eyes, ate every single blueberry he picked. His bucket was

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empty. Later, he said, he hated blueberries. His plan was to eat them all so there wouldn’t be any more. I have no pictures of the kids picking – I was busy picking myself, and trying to pretend to look at each blueberry that they insisted that I look at because it was SOOOO HUGE. The whole time we were picking, Aunt Joyce kept saying, “We’re going to sell this country right out from under us…” She made me nervous. Is she right?

The u-pick farms are good for your kids — especially in this, “I picked these strawberries myself at the supermarket” culture. All winter long, you pull handful after handful out of the freezer. More benefits to blueberries, here.

You can find a national link to Pick Your Own Farms here. But many of the smaller farms (that have the best bargains) do not promote themselves. Check your county extension office, or do a search by state or country for pick your own fruit and vegetables. Here are links to the UK and Canadian pick your own fruit and vegetable sites. Or just get in the car with your kids, and drive through the countryside.

Oh, and what do we do with the blueberries? It’s a tradition here at our house to have blueberry pancakes every Saturday morning. Dad makes them. Here’s the recipe for blueberry cornmeal pancakes.

    More lake house posts, here.

Recipe for blueberry cornmeal pancakes.

Ingredients

  • 1 cup milk
  • 1/2 cup buttermilk (Or use yogurt, or add a teaspoon of vinegar to a 1/2 cup of milk. Let it sit until it curdles — a few minutes.)
  • 1 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1/2 cup yellow stone-ground cornmeal
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 – 1/2 cup ground flax-seed (always keep this in the freezer.)
  • 1 cup blueberries

In a large bowl, combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, flax-seed and salt. Stir in the milks until combined. Fold in the blueberries and let the batter sit for 5 minutes.Lightly oil a skillet heat over medium heat. When hot, pour the batter into little puddles. When bubbles start to form on top, it’s time to flip.

Where to get the blueberries? Try here.

I used to know people like this


jchurch1.gifYou know them too. The kind of people that do not make much of an impression on you at first — until they begin to talk. And then, the face you saw a second ago melts away, and then a spirit within them bursts forth to reveal some kind of joy and sweetness. And you could just sit, listen and watch how they navigate through life.

Including my 4 boys, the “just perfect” Bible School we found by surprise hosted only seventeen children. Only seventeen children. These teachers thought that seventeen children to have for a week was nothing less than an honor and a privilege. The teachers’ faces were lined with wrinkles, and they had watched many parts of their lives move on to become other things, including the past. Yet, they know how to live in the present. The $47 they raised for a fund-raising project was cause for celebration.

On Sunday morning, the town hang-out, Tom’s Donuts, has more cars in its parking lot than this church does. Tom’s is a morning-on-the-lake tradition that even my husband remembers from his childhood.

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This church sits right next door. So the church graciously offers its parking lot to the donut shop. In exchange, the church gets free donuts. Instead of shortbread, the boys had Tom’s Donuts for snack each day. The boys jumped out of bed every morning to get to Bible School on time. Do you think it’s the Donuts?

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I have no idea what the “doctrine” or belief of the church is — only that they believe that God’s children are precious little lambs. The only message I saw was one of abundance, patience and joy. And the way they handled time was soothing — they acted as if they had all the time in the world. I remember people like that.

There was an elderly couple that drove an hour each way to come in every morning to help. Someone else brought an overflowing tray of sweet cherry tomatoes from her garden to share for the picnic. I couldn’t stop eating them. She made sure that tray of tomatoes was in my car before I left that day.

At the picnic, the minister stood up and spoke, in a Santa Clause-loves-you-kind of way, “kids, these ladies thought real hard about what you would like. And they came up with some food that they thought you would all like. And, after the hot dogs, we’ve got lots of cupcakes for you too.”

His face kept popping into my head as I tried to go to sleep that night. He was the one who praised everything. So grateful, he was for the $47 in the offering plate, for the hot dogs, the sun, for the time we shared, and for the children. I couldn’t sleep — his words, the way he smiled, his kind voice, and his eternal optimism were playing out in my head. I felt ashamed for some of the petty things I complain about, and for all the things I cast aside without being grateful. Which one of his virtues do I need to cultivate? Where do I start?

Why is Bible School so important to me? When I was a little girl, my Bible School was run by sweet little old ladies, who loved all of us very much. Forty years later, I stepped foot on the grass at my Mom’s house, unable to catch my breath as I looked at her tulips blooming in the gorgeous sunshine. How could they possibly stand so tall and beautiful when the person who planted them was dead? My pain at that moment was the deepest I’ve ever felt. From there, I looked up to the top of the hill. There was a little red brick house. Inside was a sweet lady who sat me on her lap over 40 years ago and taught me songs at Bible school. She was still there. I ran up the hill, and knocked on her door, and there she was, waiting for me.

No, I really don’t expect any of my boys, as grown men, to run into the arms of their Bible School teachers. But, I do think their kindness and nurturing will stay with them, for a lifetime. And it’s good for my children to feel love from other people too.

And they did have a very unusual, and clever craft.

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(No, I don’t like the doily, the Styrofoam head or the hair either – but this is how they instructed the kids to make them — it’s what they had. A plain wooden ball would be find.) My Mom would have loved this one. Most churches are filled with old hymnals, stacked up on shelves in the basement. So, here, they are being turned into angels. It requires lots of precise folding and they work on this one simple craft everyday.

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The little ones are busy making butterflies, and lambs (and learning they are God’s special lambs) while the older ones are folding this little angel.

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I like how the dark red cover of the hymnal serves as the back drop for the angel, set against crisp black and white pages. Pretty cool. Any ideas to update the head and glitter would be appreciated. And I will have two of them. It was so nice to find some kind people around the lake — after, well, you know, the last experience.

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How to Make a Hymnal Angel

Here are the instructions onĀ  how to make this angel.

  1. Fold (# 50 PAGES) front and (#50 PAGES) back — by taking the bottom right hand corner and folding in half with the right hand corner touching the spine.
  2. The back pages will be folded with the book open, so folds go towards back. The completes the Angel wings.
  3. Fold remaining pages of the hymnal by taking by taking the upper right hand corner and folding in half with the upper right hand corner touching the center of the spine.
  4. The makes the skirt of the Angel.
  5. Folding must be accurate – as it shows on the front of the completed Angel and the book will not stand alone if not folded accurately.
  6. Next place a wood head (the one that is flat on the bottom) Glue in place.

How to make a Sailboat from Recycled Materials

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Sailboat ingredients:

  • Styrofoam egg carton
  • Stick
  • Old plastic tablecloth or vinyl shower curtain
  • Duct tape
  • Patience

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Instructions to make sailboat:

  • Separate the top from the bottom of the egg carton. Use the top for the sailboat, and use the bottom – the eggcups for seats.
  • Cut sail out of vinyl into a right triangle
  • Cut two holes in the top and bottom to push stick through. Insert stick in holes, and reinforce lightly with duct tape.
  • Cut slit in section of egg carton that is high, and will not sit in the water. Push stick through and secure lightly with duct tape.
  • Use the egg holders from the other side of the egg carton to add “seats” for Batman and Robin.
  • Be ready for complaints that “they don’t want it like this.”
  • Hide sailboat from child when he goes to sleep to avoid more whining the next day.

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Rainy Days

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The rain finally came. What a sorely needed downpour. We found two leaks in our new lake house. One leak covered the top bunk bed in water. An amazing, friendly handy-man came with the house. He can fix anything. He’ll be out today.

From inside the cottage, we could look down on the water, and watch the turtles come up for air. Soon, the rain came so hard that we couldn’t see the trees on the other side of the lake, or the other cottages. It was dark, and we don’t have much light inside the cottage, so I found some candles left behind by the previous owners.

How could I forget? I have boys. It became their challenge to see how far away they could stand and blow to make the flame go out.

The thing with rainy days is that it just makes the kids want to dance. They don’t want to snuggle in and have a quiet day. The trouble is with all of those rainy day craft projects, and snuggling and curling up to read those long chapters in our favorite books, is that children don’t always necessarily feel like sitting around doing those things when it does rain. Does the rain hit when they are the most hyper – or does the rain make them hyper? Whichever way it was — they drove me crazy. And that rainy day craft box hiding in the garage — I think I have no use for it.

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As this rain came with no thunderstorm, they soon found their way outside playing in the sand and water, in the rain.

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And then, they got wet, so they changed their clothes again, to get dry. And then, they went back into the rain.

And then the storm turned, and there was thunder and lightning. And we were all back together again.

We have no kitchen table to eat on, (we have a big picnic table on the deck) and the rain stayed all the way into dinnertime. So, I improvised. We only have two chairs, so I fed them in shifts, two at a time, at the library table.