Bottled fifty pounds of tomatoes the other day (19 litres). Diced, blanched, and dehydrated 17 bunches of celery from the garden. Made 2 loaves of zucchini bread to freeze, instead of just freezing the zucchini itself. Got 9 baggies' worth of green beans from the farmers' market this morning to blanche and freeze. Started harvesting the carrots. I love this time of year!
The shishito peppers have produced well, but the Mennonite stuffing peppers will be a challenge to stuff!
We were friends for 53 years. We met when we were in Kindergarten, had chicken pox together, sleepovers, and secret bacon fry-ups over a tin can in the backyard. We played ball with her poodle and lay on the family room floor reading Archie comics. We were baptized on the same day. She good-naturedly participated in plays I wrote and staged, and she helped me rip ivy off my parents' house and clean the rocks in my Zen garden. She was a server at my wedding reception and forgave me for not being around when she got married.
Sheri visited me often here in Canada, aiming to visit at least once in every month of the year. One year she went to St. Jacobs and the Mennonite market, and one year she attended the Fergus Highland Games with me. She never complained about the bizarre lodgings I plunked her into, and she enjoyed serving and working with me on whatever project I was in the middle of. We both enjoyed doing puzzles, and she was the type of low-maintenance friend you could sit and read with, with no expectation of having to talk. She liked lemongrass and Nancy Drew, while I liked mint and the Hardy Boys, but we could always meet in the middle. On her last trip in April, she spent half the time cooking health food for me and trying to convince me to go off sugar. She introduced me to The Chosen, and we walked along Lake Huron and visited a friend's newborn chicks.
I was in awe of the fish ponds and sports days and outings she planned for her family. We went to New York City together and saw Come From Away on Broadway and ate amazing pizza. We stayed in Park City one year, and the power kept going off. We talked about going on a spectacular trip for our 60th birthdays. She was always generously cooking up great adventures.
She's gone on this latest adventure without me, now. She passed away on Friday night, and Saturday I had to go to the Fergus Highland Games without her.
I believe this life isn't all there is, and someday I'll see her again. In the meantime, no doubt she'll be organizing angels into softball teams and converting St. Peter to cauliflower crusts. She's probably tie-dying heaven. But some of the colour has gone out of my world. I'm not quite sure how to navigate this new planet without Sheri in it.
Anyone who knows me knows I'm addicted to reading. What you may not know is I'm fussy about actual paper books and dislike e-reading. I don't even enjoy audiobooks very much, because the voice of the narrator never matches the voice I hear in my head when I'm reading. I love the feel, smell, heft, and sound of books.
Last night, books invaded my dreams. Not just one dream, but several, throughout the night. Details are fuzzy, but I recall one where someone told me the city of Guelph had decided to become the oasis and refuge for books (implying maybe books weren't safe elsewhere?) and I should move there. In one, I opened a physical-books-only bookstore and considered calling it either "Stick in the Mud" or "Hardcopy." (Which would you choose?) And I have a vague recollection of our old church we're renovating playing a role somewhere, but it had morphed in the dream and now had a big auditorium and crowds of people and I was to give a book reading.
I'm supposing all of this was triggered by the fact that I finally got the library book I've had on hold for ages, Susanna Kearsley's The King's Messenger. All I want to do is curl up and devour it, but alas, there are other demands on my time. If you haven't tried Susanna's books, please do. They're the perfect blend of action, romance, a whiff of the paranormal, intriguing history, and meticulous research. They're also clean, and she guarantees a happy ending. Which we could all use about now.
There was a sale today at the grocery store on British Columbia blueberries. It set me to reminiscing about the blueberry cheesecake my mom always made for our birthdays, a baked version with the thickest, richest, most wonderful layers. I've only made it once for my kids when they were small, mostly because it's expensive to make and also because it probably has a jillion calories.
However... I got to thinking about companies that purchase carbon credits to offset their carbon footprint. Wouldn't it be great if we could do the same with calorie credits? "I plan to eat half a blueberry cheesecake today. In compensation, I'll plant 40 blueberry bushes." And that would keep the weight from accumulating on my hips. Think it'll work?
After my latest post about opening myself up to whatever comes next in my life...I ran across a quote from Mariann Edgar Budde on Facebook that fits the moment so well!
"Dare to believe that seeds of new possibilities, invisible to us now, have already been planted in the soil of our lives, and they are slowly taking root. New life will emerge from the ashes of what is lost."
Following the little breadcrumbs being dropped in my path...
I have a routine every morning, where I get up, read my scriptures, have breakfast, check my messages, and then allow myself a little time on YouTube. Mostly I watch ASL training videos and some political commentary. Lately, though, I've been drawn to the decluttering and realigning-yourself-with-your-values videos. I've actually written a book on that topic, but it's good to see what others have to say and refresh my own views now and then. Sometimes it's just a reminder, but sometimes someone will say something in a new way that moves me further along on my own journey.
One year ago today, I was downsized from my job of 30 years. I've written in the past on this blog about that experience and coming to terms with the idea of being retired. My career/working life has entered a new phase. My hobbies are changing as well, moving from production and more toward fulfillment. Added to that, my 21-year contract with my publisher has come to an end and I now have complete control over what I write going forward. And not long ago, I was called as a ward missionary in my church, which will force me to come out of my shell to serve others more than I'm used to. So... almost every aspect of my life is undergoing a change.
They talk about being in a "season" of your life. I'm leaving old seasons behind, but I'm not sure yet what my new season will look like. It's still being defined. And so when it comes to decluttering, letting go of the things that belonged to a previous season, I'm left with the situation where I'm letting go without knowing what comes next. The inclination is to hang onto everything in case I need it for the next stage of life. But...
Maybe I should look at it as clearing out space so that there's room to accept whatever presents itself next. A sort of "If you build it, they will come" mentality. Make room for the new, even if I'm not sure what that new thing will be. It requires trust, and a belief that something new will come along. That that new thing will be good and happy and fulfilling. I'm not generally an optimist, but maybe I need to be in this case. Let go. Open my tight fists so that they're able to accept...and to give.
Must think about this some more... I feel like I'm on the edge of something. I just know I'm feeling more and more lately that the things I'm hanging onto belonged to the old me, and the future me will require entirely different stuff.
