Diametrically Opposed

 

It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.

Andre Lorde

I love staying connected with people via Facebook. It's a way to interact with people from my past and present in a way that wouldn't be possible from a solitary dirt road in south central Kansas.

But a friend and I were talking on Tuesday about the contentiousness we also witness on Facebook. There are people who feel strongly about lots of things - whether it's the current occupant of the White House and his second in command (yay or nay)... Covid and vaccines (yay or nay) ... racism ... the thin blue line. The list - and the "sides" - go on and on.

Of course, it's the beauty of America that we can disagree - even with our own government. But my friend and I were lamenting the seeming inability to objectively listen to another's point of view ... and then perhaps think about something in a new way.

I don't understand the animosity often witnessed if a Facebook friend or acquaintance disagrees with a post - or with a commenter who has a different opinion than the one they just shared. Most often, I mutter an opinion under my breath and then scroll on by. But there are plenty of people who will share their opinion ...and share it loudly and clearly and often.

 

 

I thought about this inflexibility as I wandered around my farmhouse yard this week. On Monday afternoon, I ventured out to take photos of the blooms that punctuated our yard with springtime color.

 

 The purple and white lilacs were just beginning to bloom.

Most were still tightly holding onto their blooms in their buds, but a few were peeking out to enjoy the sunshine.

 

Our redbud tree lifted its "arms" toward the bright blue sky. 

Colorful tulips were poised to greet any guests who might arrive at our front door ... and give us joy in the meantime.

 

I knew that if the weather forecasters were right, the overnight hours might spell a premature end to the riot of spring color.

 

My pear trees loaded with bountiful blooms would likely be wearing a white "sweater" by morning. 

 

And they were.

 

But the beauty was still there. I had an 8:30 AM district church meeting via Zoom, so I hurried with my radio report and blog post so I could venture outside to snap a few photos before the snow melted away with the forecasted sunshine. 

 

 

There was plenty of beauty in the pre-snow and post-snow landscapes. (I can find the beauty as long as it didn't hurt the wheat crop either Tuesday or Wednesday morning with the dip of the thermometer below freezing.)

 

But, the snow-covered blooms were undeniably pretty - even if it caused me to lament a possible outcome for my pear crop and the wheat.

And it again made me think about looking at things from a different perspective. 

 

We don't get harmony when everybody sings the same note. Only notes that are different can harmonize. The same is true with people.

Steve Goodier

 

As an amateur musician, this quote rang true for me (so to speak). I love hearing harmony. When I'm singing along to the radio in the car, I often harmonize with the singer. A few weeks ago, during a Palm Sunday service, I led the congregational singing from the lectern. It had been a year since the community's ministerial alliance had gathered for a joint service. The wave of four-part harmony coming toward me from congregation members from several different churches singing "All Glory, Laud & Honor" literally gave me goosebumps. 

 

Those congregations don't have the same views about every aspect of theology and polity. But you sure couldn't tell that as we sang those familiar songs in harmony.

It's something for me to ponder. I know it's a simplistic analogy. But maybe it's a start.

Backyard Pears = "Pear-fect" Salad

Not long after moving to our home 33 years ago, Randy planted pear and apple trees south of our house. He'd heard my stories about my Grandma and Grandpa Neelly's fruit trees. And though he never got to enjoy my Grandma's Green Apple Pie or her Pear Honey, he is a believer in planting trees for the future.

For some reason, the apple trees never flourished. But the pear trees have produced fairly well throughout the years. Sometimes, the pears never make it to our table. In 2010, while I was waiting for the bumper crop of fruit to ripen, every single pear disappeared. I'm not sure whether it was varmints or people who helped themselves.

Every year in April as the trees bloom with buds, I wonder if we'll send up with fruit to eat. The challenge with pears is to know when to pick them. I Googled that, too, and found a publication from Oregon State University Extension. (I love Extension.)

"To tell if a pear is mature, a general rule of thumb is that, while still on the tree, most mature, ready to ripen pears will usually detach when "tilted" to a horizontal position from their usual vertical hanging position. 

"Unlike apples, which are ready to eat from the day they are picked, pears must go through a series of changes before they can deliver their full splendor. Pears do not ripen on the tree to our liking. If allowed to tree-ripen, pears typically ripen from the inside out, so that the center is mushy by the time the outside flesh is ready."     

David Sugar, Oregon State University

Commercial growers refrigerate pears right after picking. So, for the past several years, that's what we've done. Randy picked some a few weeks ago and put them in a big brown paper bag in the basement fridge. He also left some on the trees.

I guess we should have picked them all. The bandits returned and not a single pear remains. This time, Randy's detective skills have deduced that the thieves were squirrels. He watched a squirrel race across the road with a pear in his mouth. I'm not sure they will "save" like acorns.

Thankfully, we still have some to enjoy. This week, I tried a salad recipe using our homegrown pears. So, whether you have pear trees in your yard or whether you have to purchase them from the farmer's market or the produce aisle, we recommend this tasty salad! Enjoy!

Pear, Walnut & Gorgonzola Salad

Adapted from Lemon Tree Dwelling blog

10 oz. mixed greens (I used romaine hearts)
1 large or two small pears, chopped
1/2 cup gorgonzola cheese
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts, lightly roasted
2 tbsp. sunflower seeds

Dressing:
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp. olive oil
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp. honey
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. poppy seeds

Combine salad ingredients in a large salad bowl. Combined dressing ingredients in a container with a lid. Shake well. Pour dressing over salad and toss. (FYI: I didn't use all the dressing for this amount of salad. Refrigerate the leftovers and use another day.)

Notes: There are some people in my family who find gorgonzola too strong. If I were making this salad for them, I would substitute feta. Another tasty substitute could be cubed sharp cheddar or white cheddar cheese.

The original recipe called for 1/2 cup diced red onion. I didn't have red onion on hand. If you like the "bite" of red onion, feel free to add it to the mix.

At Grandma's Table

Our air conditioner conked out on Wednesday. Thankfully, Thursday was a much cooler day, so I threw open the windows and cranked up the fans while we waited for the repairman.

But even in my downstairs office, I could hear the angel windchimes dancing in my kitchen window. Every twinkling note reminded me of  my Grandma Neelly. I gave her the windchimes for a long-ago birthday. She hung them between the living room and dining room, and they often tinkled as they swayed in the breeze of people walking the heavily-trafficked path in my grandparents' house. The chimes moved to my kitchen window when my grandparents' home was torn down last year.

Four generations: My mom, Janis Neelly Moore, my grandma Lela Johnson Neelly holding Jill Renee Fritzemeier, and me, a much younger version, on Jill's Baptism Day - December 1985

I was already thinking about my Neelly grandparents because I have several pears sitting on my counter. Along with a big garden, Grandma and Grandpa grew pears and apples. Last week, I picked pears from our trees just south of our house, and I probably picked them a little too soon. They are hard as little rocks. But, two years ago, I evidently waited too long, and they mysteriously disappeared.

I stuck some in a brown paper bag, and those are finally starting to ripen. I had some on a salad yesterday. But Grandma often made Pear Honey with their bountiful harvests, a sweet combination of pears, pineapple and sugar. It was one of my favorites on Grandma's table.

Lisa and me at a long ago birthday celebrated at Grandma's table with her homemade angel food cake

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not someone who cans food. I probably don't have enough pears to make this jam. And neither Randy or I need it anyway. But as the windchimes chimed, I had to dig out Grandma's Pear Honey recipe that I have stuck in my ancient 4-H recipe box. Not to make it, mind you. Just to see it and remember.

Not the actual recipe, but it shows my lovely recipe box!

Use the recipe at your own discretion. As it was given to me, it is pretty vague. It used the ingredients listed in recipe form below and said:

Follow directions on Sure Jell box. Cook a little longer with added pineapple. Doesn't sheet too thick off the spoon.

Well, that may have been all Grandma needed to make her pear honey, but most of us need a little more direction. Since I don't have any Sure Jell in my pantry, I Googled it and expanded the directions using that information. So who knows how accurately this reflects how Grandma made her Pear Honey? Just in case you don't want to chance it, click the link for a recipe from Paula Deen. It doesn't use any pectin.

As for me, I'll probably just keep dreaming about Grandma's Pear Honey and remembering the times I sat at Grandma's table. The memories are just as sweet as that tasty jam.

Pear Honey

4 cups peeled and chopped pears
1 box Sure Jell
2 tbsp. lemon juice
5 cups sugar
1/2 of a 20-ounce can of crushed pineapple 

Open the box of Sure Jell and add it to the pears in a stockpot. Add lemon juice. Stir together well with the spoon. Turn the burner on high to boil the pears and pectin, stirring constantly. Add the sugar, continuing to stir. Bring to a boil again and then stir for 1 minute. Add the pineapple and bring back to boil, stirring constantly. Remove the stockpot from the stove, and remove any foam from the top of the fruit. Pour into sterilized jars or containers. Process in water bath canner.

Mysterious Disap'pear'ance

It is the case of the disappearing pears. As I young reader, I loved solving mysteries with Encyclopedia Brown.

"Encyclopedia Brown Finds the Clues."

"Encyclopedia Brown Tracks Them Down."

This County Line farm wife does not.

Earlier this month, it appeared we had a bumper crop of pears hanging in the trees south of our house.

Even back in April, I was anticipating pears when the trees were loaded with buds.

But I guess my skills as orchard attendant are not much better than my skills as a gardener.

When I would come back from my walks, I would often check on the pears' progress. I picked a couple, and they never ripened. So I deduced that they should hang there longer.

(Photo taken August 5, 2010)

Then one cool morning last week, I decided it was the day for my bountiful harvest. If I got really industrious, I might even break out my Grandma Neelly's Pear Honey recipe. (I wasn't sure how I was going to can the jam since I don't have canning equipment, but a girl can dream, can't she?

The pears were gone. They weren't hanging on the trees. They weren't littering the ground. All but five lonely pears were gone.

I was perplexed.

Encyclopedia Brown was not available to lend a hand. Neither was his trusty friend Sally Kimball. So I asked my resident green thumb expert what happened to the pears.

He had seen some squirrels carrying pears away. Since we are conveniently located on the County Line, I guess they invited all their friends from both Stafford and Reno Counties. They either had a great summer picnic, or they have them stashed for the winter.

It's hard to believe squirrels could abscond with that many pears. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't polar bears or penguins.

"Encyclopedia Brown Gets His Man." I do not.

So much for my career as a detective ... or as a backyard orchard owner.

Randy says he didn't need the extra sugar he would have consumed with Pear Honey anyway. Well, there is that, I suppose.