Photo Friday: Country Gentleman

Photo Friday: Almost Ten

Turn of a Century

A century. Ten decades. One hundred years. One thousand two hundred months. Fifty thousand two hundred weeks. Thirty-six thousand five hundred days. No matter how you measure it, it's a long time. And when it's some one's lifetime, it's worth celebrating!

We did just that today for Robin's aunt, Lavenia, better known as Aunt Beany to the family. Born one hundred years ago today, she is very much alive and doing quite well. Oh, she has some common old-age challenges: she uses a walker now, and has hearing aids (but doesn't like them; she told her friend they were "in the drawer" this afternoon!). When her family and friends gathered to share her special day they enjoyed talking with her

and browsing through her life in pictures.

There were two birthday cakes: one made to resemble her beloved Trimble's Knob, one of two extinct volcanoes in Virginia that just happens to be on her farm,

and one with candles to mark her 100 years.

Although Aunt Beany was happy to see her nieces, nephews, and cousins, the highlight of her day was seeing her friends from home (an hour and three mountains away), some for the first time since she moved to assisted living over a year ago.

It was a wonderful birthday party, for the young

and the young at heart.

"So, Lavenia, how does it feel to be 100 year old?"
"About like it did a hundred years ago...helpless!"

Living to be 100 years old is quite a feat, and being pretty much sound in both mind and body at that age is even more remarkable. Aunt Beany has been blessed with a mind and wit that are just as sharp now as ever. We're so thankful she could celebrate and enjoy her century mark with those who love her. Seeing that sweet sparkle in her eye, still there at 100, inspires me to do everything I can to age gracefully, hopefully being a blessing to others as long I'm around. I've had some good teachers, and if I make it to 100, I still have almost half a century to learn how.

One Sweet Day

What do you get when you combine apples, sugar, spices, friends, fire, and a whole lot of stirring? Apple butter, of course! All those things came together at our house on Saturday, and we ended up with a whole lot more than apple butter.

The fun began Friday afternoon, when friends showed up to begin peeling six bushels of apples.

Two mechanical apple peelers helped out considerably, but it was still a lot of work.

When all the apples were done, there was a huge pile of cores and peelings, which made quite a feast for our chickens.

In the wee hours of Saturday morning, Robin and his cousin, Bruce, started cooking in the sugar house. If the photo looks a bit blurry, it is. That's because I was still blurry that early in the morning!

Well before daylight, the apples were simmering in a one-hundred-year-old 30-gallon copper kettle over a wood fire, and the stirring had begun!

By the time all the apples were in the kettle, it was almost full to the rim!

Thus began a day filled with fellowship

and stirring

and food (keep reading, I'll explain)

and stirring

and stirring

and conversation

and stirring...get the picture?

By early afternoon, the apples had cooked down enough to add the sugar and spices. The aroma was delicious and the apple butter was almost done, but still there was stirring.

After another half hour or so, the time finally came to can the apple butter. It was easy to see where the saying, "Many hands make light work," came from. It took quite a team to get the 23 gallons of sweet apple goodness ladled into quart, pint, and half-pint jars while it was still hot.

And in the bottom of the kettle, two silver dollars, put there for good luck and maybe to help prevent the apple butter from sticking.

When the kettle was empty and the last jar filled, the popping of the jar flats as they sealed was music to our ears.

Making apple butter is a tradition all across this great country of ours, be it a family affair, a church fundraiser or a festival event. I can barely remember when my family made apple butter in our backyard in 1964. This photo of the women peeling apples is the only one I could find. That's my grandmother on the left, and next to her is my mother. The other ladies were neighbors, I think.

For our apple butter making, we incorporated some tradition by using Robin's grandmother's copper kettle and putting the silver dollars in the bottom. We might have even started a new tradition: curly fries for lunch! Someone had the good idea to put some potatoes on the apple peelers and fry them in hot oil. Boy, were they good!

All in all, it was a wonderful day, filled with some of the most important things in life: family, friends, and little hands helping big hands.

At our house last Saturday, we made more than just apple butter. Everyone, young and old, went home with a host of good memories. In more ways than one, it was a mighty sweet day indeed.

Slumber Party

A crystal clear Friday afternoon in September finds me waiting by the roadside.

Finally I see what I'm waiting for.

Although not my own, precious cargo indeed.

She's the daughter of friends and she's spending the night with us. First, an after-school snack,

the slicing of which is quite necessary for an eight-year-old mouth.

A quick change of shoes

and we're off on country adventures: gathering eggs,

picking tomatoes,

and loving on horses.

There are household chores too: getting the laundry off the line,

setting the table,

and helping make supper.

While she waits for Robin to come home, there is a little homework to do.

And after supper, there are eggs to clean

and more reading to do

and still more stories at bedtime.

Saturday morning brings her first attempt at frying an egg

and a walk with our Sheltie, Cheyenne.

When she asks, I'm glad I know how to French-braid hair.

I know because once upon a time many years ago my hair was long and thick like hers.

The morning flies by, the camera forgotten, while we putter at this and that. All too soon her mother arrives and our slumber party is over. What a sweet memory it is for me, and someday, perhaps, for her too.