Happy {After} Independence Day!

I had a fantastic Independence Day Weekend, and I hope you did too! 

I joined my family in visiting my grandparents in a little town in the middle of nowhere. It's perfect for doing my favorite Summer activities. 

We found a creek and went exploring. 

My grandmother was NOT happy about this next friend we made, possibly because he threw up a fish, bit my dad, and swam towards her legs. But I'm just guessing here.

(It's a young Northern Water Snake - not venomous, just mean-tempered)

And on the 4th we went exploring with my grandfather - we drove around back-roads for 3 hours, getting lost and getting found again and again until we were too tired to drive anymore.

We also stopped by the family well. My grandfather drank out of this well growing up, and his brother still uses the spring it's fed by - he just piped the water up the hill!

That evening we went to a concert-in-the-park and fireworks put on by the town.

I walked around the adjoining cemetery while waiting for the fireworks to start.

This little angel wanted to rock out as well.

It was a good show.

Our trip ended like it started, with one more day of running around in a (different) creek!

I pulled a drowning box turtle out of the water.

It was a wonderful, peaceful trip. 

Thank God for a Southern Small Town USA.

{Simple} An Update of Confusion

March was an insane month. I traveled, partied, watched, performed, competed, got sick, and felt overwhelmed. I wrote, erased, started, finished, succeeded, and failed miserably. I also remembered that I don’t function well with that much going on in my life.

Music City at night from 20 floors up

Many of my friends are go-ers. They have schedules that barely leave room for them to breathe, they plan more in one day than I can accomplish in a week, and they just go, go, go. While I am in awe of their ability to get things done, I can’t live like that.

Yes, we own a reel push mower

You can find “Simple Living Tips” all over the internet. Pinterest has thousands, if not millions, of boards dedicated to reducing stress, clutter, and worthless things from people’s lives. And that is awesome. But the only problem is, “simple” does not have one definition.

Anna, at Pleasant View Schoolhouse (one of my favorite blogs), appears to have the most ideal and simple life anyone could ask for. But her house has knick-knacks and children and cat hair. Modernists and neat-freaks would feel cramped and overwhelmed. (I, on the other hand, would be in heaven in her house! Vintage furniture! Sewing pattern! Music!)

Rose Beerhorst lives with several artist friends and makes her living by selling hand made rugs from her studio/house that contains very little furniture. That is pretty simple, but look at how loose and free everything is. An extremely structured person would freak out in that life! (I'd love to meet Rose some day- she seems like a very interesting and motivated chiquita.)

“Simple” has to change, depending on the situation and the person.

Keep Calm and Get Tan

I need a simple, scheduled, and free life. One where, if I wake up at six o’clock, I can get everything done by three. But you know what? That doesn’t always happen, and that’s where God comes in. He knows how much I crave a tidy house, no distractions, and a checklist that is completed every day. But He also knows that I need to be more humble than that. If everything is done my way on my time, I tend to leave important-to-Him things out because they weren’t as important to me.

A life that is so scheduled it leaves no room for surprises is also a life that leaves out room for blessings. A life that checks off every box, dots every “i” and crosses every “t” is wonderful, but where is the space for pulling over on the side of the road to help a mom change a tire? Where is the time for rescuing baby squirrels, or chasing a herd of run-away dachshunds (that was crazy)? Where is time to relax and pray?

I still live at home, and so I deal with four other people’s schedules and needs. And that can drive me up the wall. But God uses that as a blessing. Because I have to bend my “needs” around to fit theirs as well, I don’t get everything done. But I also have a schedule that is just free enough that the unexpected is always squeezed in.

An afternoon driving around trying to find a place with free wifi? Sounds good.

A morning “wasted” by an extra-long run/visit with a dear friend? I’m in.

You’re sick and need someone to watch your kids for a few hours? Call me.

Or, like today while I was writing this post, my bees decide to swarm? Who-boy, let’s go.

Squirting sugar water on the swarm to keep the bees calm until a professional bee catcher could come help me

Yeah. Simple is great, but it ain’t easy.

Misting swarm #2 with sugar water

So what is your version of “simple”?

Don't Fail the Family

Let me tell you a story.

It began when my father was a little boy, when he was still catching frogs and playing well into the Summer nights. His mother was given a recipe by a girl at work, a recipe that has since become a Very Big Deal. The recipe called for apples, it called for cinnamon, it called for sugar, and it called for a cup-and-a-half of oil. Egad.

When she mixed all of the ingredients together and baked them, it created a crumbly creation that has won over even the meanest of critics. Granny brought the cake out on special occasions, and it was always devoured. I can remember waking up to the smell of the cake in the oven, a warm scent that is forever stamped into my mind as a smell that belongs solely to her.

I love this cake. It is so valued that we keep the crumbs from the cake at Christmas in a bottle in the freezer to put on ice cream over the summer.

I would beg for the recipe, and every time she would find some way to distract me. Not on purpose, perhaps, but somehow that recipe never saw the light of day around me. Until this past Christmas, that is.

She pulled out her recipe box, “I don't even use these anymore; they're all in my head now. Here, I want you to have this.” Wide-eyed, I accepted the worn piece of paper. It had ingredients whited out, “I didn't like some of the stuff it called for, my recipe’s better.” And it had notes added in, “Just so you know what you're doing, until you learn it.”

I had it. The Apple Cake recipe was finally mine.

I framed it and hung it on my wall as soon as we got home from Christmas vacation. And I kept looking at it, thinking that I should try it, just to see if I could work the same magic that Granny can. But I never seemed to have the time or ingredients, so it hung there for months. Until yesterday.

Our neighbor rolled over in his electric wheelchair and gave us a huge bag of Red Delicious apples. The gesture was appreciated, but sadly, no one in my family likes those soft apples – we're a Jazz or Fuji family.

So I pulled my hair back and got to work.

A little of this. A little of that.

And a whole lot of that.

I put it into a well-greased bunt pan, because I don't own a tube pan like the recipe calls for.

And I let it bake, for a whole hour. Then it cooled for a half hour in its pan. I turned it over to cool on a rack. At that point it was midnight, so I called a friend to tell her happy birthday. Then I went to bed. (OK, fine. I snuck a few crumbs at that point.)

This evening, we went to my other grandmother's house for supper. I brought the un-tasted cake (except for those few crumbs.) We ate a beautiful meal of BBQ and roasted potatoes, then I brought out the cake.

My father had the first piece. I waited, holding my breath. “I am an Apple Cake connoisseur. I've been eating this cake since I was a little boy. That is an Apple Cake among Apple Cakes. Your Granny would be proud.”

Relieved I hadn't failed the family, I plopped myself down and ate a huge slice myself. And you know what? It really was amazing.

(I would share the recipe, but I think Granny would drive the hours it takes to get here and bop me on the head with her rolling pin. And if there's one lady I'm afraid of, it's my Granny.)

♥ sHe