Get Out Your Rainbow Colors

You, whose day it is, get out your rainbow colors

and make it beautiful.

--Traditional Nootka Song

It sounds like good advice on this Monday morning, doesn't it? Poor Monday. It never seems to be a welcome visitor.

But maybe we should welcome Monday with open arms, stretch our hands and our minds wide open and look at the possibilities for a new week.

Let's look the beauty of Monday in the face this morning. Let's not wish our lives away.

Walk into a day and week filled with endless possibilities. (And, admittedly, a big to-do list. But still ...)

C'mon! Grab your rainbow colors!

A Salute to Veterans

Homecoming parade, Manhattan, KS

October 28, 2011


We often take for granted
the very things
that most deserve our gratitude.
~Cynthia Ozick

It was at Byers Grade School that I learned the words to the Pledge of Allegiance. Every morning, we'd turn our eyes to the northwest corner of the room, put our little hands over our hearts and repeat this oath:

(I'm second from the left)

I pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America
And to the republic for which it stands
One nation
Under God
Indivisible
With liberty and justice
For all.

The memorizing came, I suppose, from repeating it every day. At first, you have to concentrate hard. You have to think about each and every word to make sure you get it right. There weren't many students in that first and second grade classroom. If you messed up, Mrs. Bond might hear you in the dozen or so voices.

Through the years, it could be like many things we say by rote. We may not truly think about the meaning. But there's just something about saying those words in unison with 50,000-plus people that makes me feel the words to the depth of my bones.

The Ceremony of Allegiance is as much a part of K-State football games as the coin toss. It gives me the chills - every single time.

So on this Veteran's Day, let's think about our allegiance and where it lies. It's not in the political skirmishes. It's not in the political posturing. It should have the same importance and pride that came when we finally remembered the whole pledge as we stood in our first grade classrooms with our hands placed firmly over our hearts:

One nation
Under God
Indivisible.

(Flyover at K-State football game, October 29, 2011)

On this Veterans' Day, I thank the veterans and the active duty service personnel who protect my right to say the Pledge of Allegiance. It's up to all of us to not just utter the words, but live them.

Truth in Advertising

"Nobody has to make a whole pie."

Perhaps it seems a bit misleading for an apple pie making day to be "advertised" in that manner. After all, why have an apple pie day if not to make apple pies?

Truth is, nobody has to make an apple pie alone. Bazaar workdays illustrate the maxim: "Many hands make light work."

Previous pie making experience is not required. And here is the proof.

Randy sliced and diced and visited with the best of 'em. (That will teach him to come to the church to do his treasurer's duty on apple pie day.)

It was poetic justice, in a way. Since Stafford UMC is his childhood church, he's eaten his share of UMW Apple Pies though the years. His mom was a mover and shaker when it came to bazaar doings. He seemed to become the mascot for the ladies peeling apples.

Fellowship Hall is aptly named on apple pie making day. The conservation flows as freely as discarded apple peels from 3 bushels of apples.

There are stations for all the needed steps: apple peeling, apple chopping, cinnamon-sugar application and butter dotting.

There's the pie crust mixer, the pie crust rollers and the finishing crew.

I think I was assigned nearly every job that day. So what does that say? I choose to believe it's because of my versatility. (But maybe they were desperately searching for a job I couldn't mess up too badly.)

After all, I was the least experienced person there (if you don't count Randy).

Then there were the pros like Ellen. She's made a pie or two in her 87 years.

So come buy a pie. Or buy some pints of apple butter. Or buy some of the cookies, quick breads, cinnamon rolls and crescent rolls I've spent the last three days baking. The bazaar is from 9 AM to 2 PM Saturday, November 12, at the church basement.

These ladies know how to make chicken and noodles, too.

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Sunrise in a winter wheat field, November 9, 2011

"The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful."

Wait a second. Let's review:

• No rain is frightful.
• Multiple 100-degree-plus summer days are frightful.
• Setting records for heat and lack of rain are frightful.
• Getting milo harvest done in two days is frightful.
• Being in an exceptional drought is frightful.
• Being short on winter feed is frightful. (See list above.)

So let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

I had a meeting in town last night. Huge, wet snowflakes pelted the windshield and clung to the pickup and road.

And just for the record, if my friends would have needed to drive to my house in the country for the meeting, they would have turned around and headed back to their "fire." (I love 'em, but it's true!)


But I come from hardy stock. And I'm the secretary. And there was actually moisture falling from the sky. So I persevered. (Besides, I was totally out of eggs after two days of marathon baking for the UMW bazaar, so a provisions run was in order. I have one more day of baking to go today. Recipes to come, but that's another story ...)

We ended up with 1.60 of total moisture. And while that is not a "drought buster," it is a blessing. You see, the "fire" of the summer wasn't so delightful for the fields, either. So, between the clunk of the windshield wipers, you could almost hear the chorus of "Let It Snow!" being sung by a thirsty earth. I'm good at singing harmony.

Tradition

Tradition can get you in hot water. It can also be as soothing as a hot "bath." It's that delicate balance that's the tricky part.

Sometimes people look at tradition as an impediment to change. We get comfortable in our old, comfy shoes, and we don't care if they make us look dumpy. We know a new pair would give our whole look an update, but they might squeeze our toes.

But tradition can also be a way to build the future, while honoring the past. Since 1923, the women of the Stafford United Methodist Church have organized some kind of fundraiser to support church missions. The first fundraisers were banquets, since the church basement was one of the larger places in town. Nobody seems to know when the annual bazaar started, but it's been more than 30 years (since I've been around that long)!

It's pretty amazing when you think about it: For nearly 90 years, United Methodist Women (and some men these days) have worked together to accomplish a common goal.

One of those long-time traditions is UMW Apple Butter. At the end of September, we again got together to make apple butter flavored with red hots.

When I first joined the workdays in the UMW kitchen many years ago, we started the process from scratch. We peeled apples and cooked them down to applesauce. Then we turned it into the brightly-colored spread.

But as lives have gotten busier and there are fewer helping hands, we now start with canned applesauce. I'm sure it was a hard transition to make for people who've been doing it the other way for decades.

But, in the long run, I don't think people can tell the difference. It's still our red-hot colored, cinnamon-flavored spread.

This year, the bazaar will be a little different. We won't have the "treasure" room or the used clothing room. But we will still have some of those hallmarks that make the bazaar the bazaar - like apple butter, frozen apple pies and chicken & noodles.

But if you come to the Stafford UMW bazaar on Saturday, November 12, from 9 AM to 2 PM, you'll still see tradition. It might even be wearing new shoes.

***

I always have to pick up a few jars of apple butter so that I can make one of our favorite coffeecakes. We had a Sunday School party after worship on Sunday, and I brought Apple Butter Coffeecake as one of my offerings.

Enjoy!

Apple Butter Coffee Cake

1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
2 cups flour
1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1 cup apple butter
1 cup dairy sour cream
1 tsp. vanilla
Topping (see below)

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs and beat well. Mix dry ingredients together, and add alternately with sour cream. Add vanilla and apple butter. Put half the batter into a greased 13- by 9-inch pan. Sprinkle with topping. Place other half on batter on top and sprinkle with rest of the topping. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes or until toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Topping

1/3 cup flour
2 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. cinnamon
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup chopped nuts
1/2 tsp. nutmeg

Combine all ingredients and sprinkle over batter.

If you want a "fancier" presentation, you may put this is a Bundt or tube pan. I usually put half the batter into the pan and sprinkle with half the topping. Then I use the rest of the batter and sprinkle on the remaining topping. Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes before removing onto a pretty serving platter.

I usually glaze the coffee cake with a thin frosting made of melted butter, powdered sugar, vanilla and a little milk. This time, I made a brown sugar icing by melting butter and brown sugar together until the sugar was dissolved. Then add powdered sugar, vanilla and milk to make a frosting glaze.

If you're making a Bundt or tube cake, drizzle the frosting in "swags," creating a decorative pattern. You will need to wait for it to cool a little before frosting, so the frosting stays in place and doesn't puddle on the plate.

I have a large tube pan. So I made 1 1/2 recipes for our Sunday School event.

When I make this recipe, I use the UMW Apple Butter. The red hot cinnamon candies in the recipe give our version the distinctive pink color. But you may use any apple butter. It just might not have that lovely pink tinge.

Beauty, Captured

How beautifully leaves grow old.

How full of light and color are their last days.
~John Burroughs

There's probably a lesson there, isn't there? Despite the fact that cold gusts will send them crashing from their perch, the leaves dance their way to their inevitable end, whether it's crushed underfoot or crowded into overstuffed plastic bags.

As I age, do I focus on the aches and pains? Am I consumed with the perceived slights? Do I get set in my ways? Do I resist change?

A change of perspective often helps us see things in a different light. Instead of taking my walk along the County Line one recent morning, I traversed the trail at Frank Anneberg Park in Manhattan.

Even though it was a wonderful weekend with my kiddos, worries from home followed me to Manhattan. But a brisk fall morning can help clear the mind and the heart, especially when it's wrapped in a brightly-colored package of autumn golds, greens and reds.

The challenge is to not get distracted by the obstacles in the path.

Instead, Lord, open my eyes to the light, the color and the blessings that would fill more sacks than the autumn leaves during this month of Thanksgiving.

I pray the same for you.

Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.

The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
--John Muir

Moonlight Sonata

Calls after 10 are not good. My mind flashes first to bad news.

And besides, such calls would usually wake me up from my pre-bedtime doze in the recliner. Last night, though, we had a church meeting, so I was still awake and watching The Mentalist, Randy's favorite show, via DVR.

I made Randy get up and answer the phone. (I did hit pause on the DVR because I'm nice like that.) So I was able to hear his end of the conversation, which went something like this:

"They have yellow eartags?"
"Where are they?"
"Yes, we have some cows over by the 4-way stop."
"They could be ours."
"I don't know how much we'll be able to do in the dark."
"OK. We'll be right over."

You heard the "we" part, didn't you? So did I. That was my cue to turn off the DVR, throw off my comfy fleece K-State blanket and go upstairs for work clothes. We headed for the farmstead, where we picked up the 4-wheeler, and Jake joined the procession in the other pickup.

We found the sheriff vehicle's flashing lights along 4th Street, but by the time we'd gotten our little search team activated, the deputy no longer knew where the spooked cattle were.

But as the deputy described them, Randy no longer thought that the cattle were ours. So we headed on to the milo stalks, where our cows wondered why they were getting visitors at 10:45 at night. (Whew! We just moved them to the stalks, and it would not bode well if they were already escaping.)

Anyway, while Randy was testing the electric fence, he got a call from another neighbor, who had found the five escapees in a field to the north. They weren't his cattle either. But who can resist a cattle roundup? (Yes, pretty much all of us could. We'd still like to be under our cozy fleece blankets at home, but we were there. And it's a neighborly thing to do.)

So we headed for the field where Leonard had them spotted in the high beams of his headlights. The plan was to herd them into a corral in the vicinity. (That homeowner came out after listening to the commotion and seeing all the lights. They weren't his cattle either, by the way.)

Randy unloaded the 4-wheeler. Jake & I watched the lights dance across the field as Leonard's pickup and Randy's 4-wheeler sashayed and weaved, chasing the uncooperative escapees.

Two of them leaped an electric fence. The guys finally succeeded in getting two of them to go through the gate lit by our pickup headlights. And we have no idea where the other one was. Or is.

So we loaded up the 4-wheeler and went home. And I tried unsuccessfully to turn off the mental loop of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

The End. (At least for us. Somebody has cattle to retrieve today.)