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September 29, 2015

Pennsylvania Hills, Florida Skies


I grew up in the hills of Pennsylvania. My house stood about half way up a steep avenue; I had to go uphill or downhill to visit a friend, walk to school, or go to the candy store. And in order to get back home again, I had to do the opposite. Some days I would walk up and down that hill three or four times. Often, in the summer, I would play in the gutter during the rain, splashing in the water as it ran down along the curb. Learning to ride a bicycle was a challenge, and sometimes we kids would try to get up the hill by zigzagging back and forth on the street. But usually we just walked, pushing our bikes along the way.

Going to school in the winter required great athletic skill. Many kids loved sled riding on the slippery sidewalk, but I preferred to simply slide down the hill in my old boots that were worn smooth on the bottoms. I would get a running start to pick up speed and then, like a surfer, take a stance with one foot in front of the other and ski along the surface of the snow, trying to maintain my balance.

The hills were beautiful, covered with trees, and added a bit of mystery to the landscape. One never quite knew what was around the corner or on the other side of the knoll. The thunder of a storm would echo through the valley, bouncing back and forth between the hills on either side of the river. And the haunting whistle of a freight train rattling along the tracks in the hollow often lulled me to sleep on hot summer nights. I loved the hills.

And then I moved to Florida. Just a few feet above sea level, the ground stretches to the horizon without a hill in sight. Children can ride bicycles and skate effortlessly on the flat sidewalks. And roads go on forever with few curves and no surprises. But God gave us something here in Florida that makes up for the lack of altitude in the landscape. He gave us the sky.


The sky we see each day in this flat land is not just a light blue ceiling with a cloud here and there. The Florida sky stretches to the horizon from east to west, from north to south. And oh, what a sky!  The colors of sunrise are breathtaking, the clouds reflecting orange and pink and purple, and then in a moment the sky is blue.Sometimes it is so blue that it looks as though a child colored it with a crayon -- you know, that color that our teachers told us didn't look real. Sometimes little wisps of white, like feathers, stretch across the sky. Other times, puffy white clouds are scattered about like cotton balls. Storm clouds roll in out of the Everglades each summer afternoon, bringing rain that can be seen from miles away, looking like a curtain of gray. The downpour usually lasts about ten or fifteen minutes, and then the sun comes out again, bringing with it a beautiful rainbow, a reminder of God's promise. And when the sun is setting in the west, a person can look in the opposite direction and see stars twinkling in the darkening sky.


I thought I would miss those Pennsylvania hills. But God knew better. Instead of the majesty of mountains, I now have the splendor of the sky. And each day, I am reminded of the One who created it all.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. 
Psalm 19:1 






September 24, 2015

Mom's Apple Crisp


This week I made an apple crisp. It wasn't just any apple crisp. It was Mom's apple crisp, made with nice, tart apples and baked in the old square pan that she often used especially for this dessert.

Many times when I was growing up, dessert at our house was simply a dish of fruit. Usually, it came from one of the many cans that were stored on shelves in the cellar. A little serving of canned pears, or a small dish of fruit cocktail satisfied the sweet tooth sufficiently after a hearty meal. Sometimes we would each have a peach half, covered with milk. It always looked to me like a sunny-side-up egg, and when I cut into the slippery yolk with my spoon and took a bite, the flavor was delightful.

Sundays at our house were different. Usually after church we had a late lunch of roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy, and some kind of vegetable. And in the afternoon, Mom would make a dessert which would accompany a light supper that night. Sometimes she would make angel food cake. Gingerbread with lemon sauce might grace the table other evenings. But one of my favorite desserts was apple crisp!

Everyone loves apple pie, and Mom made delicious pies. But apple crisp is much easier to make and gives you the general taste while saving time and the frustration of rolling out pie crust. There are many recipes available for apple crisp, but this one is a little different. It is very important that you use tart apples, if you want a flavorful pie or crisp. I have yet to taste a store bought pie that is worth the money spent or the calories consumed, because the apples used in such products have no flavor or are much too sweet. My favorites for baking are McIntosh, which will cook down soft, or Granny Smith apples which hold their shape better. So without further ado, here is the recipe for Mom's apple crisp:

5 or 6 tart apples, peeled and sliced
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 cup flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 unbeaten egg
1/3 cup melted shortening
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Place apples in greased baking dish and sprinkle with brown sugar.
In a bowl, mix together with a fork until crumbly, the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and egg.
Sprinkle the flour mixture over the apples.
Pour over all, the melted shortening, and sprinkle with cinnamon.
Bake 30 to 40 minutes until top is golden.
Serves about 6. Great with vanilla ice cream! Enjoy!

September 22, 2015

Painting Posies


This past week I decided to try painting again. It has been a long time since I have put brush to paper, and the results prove it. But it was a start. I have been wanting to get out my watercolors again for quite some time but just couldn't seem to work up the nerve. After all, what shall I paint? Should I paint from life or use photographic references? If I use photos, is it ethical to use other people's work or must I only use pictures that I have taken myself? Should I paint in  my old style, carefully rendering my subject in detail, or should I try to loosen up my work and be more expressive? What if my painting is no good? Should I post it on Daily Divertissements for all the world to see, or would it be better to hide it in a drawer or simply throw it away? These questions kept me from taking action. So I finally decided to stop evaluating things so much and just dive in.

I pulled out a small d'Arches watercolor block and tore a sheet in half, making it even smaller. Some of my tubes of paint were dried out after years of neglect, but I was still able to use them. After all, they are watercolors; I just added water. My brushes have been standing in a jar on the counter by my kitchen sink, waiting patiently for me to play with them. A jar of marigolds sat on the dining room table. With fear and trembling, I dipped my brush into a glass of water and began my interpretation of the flowers. The result is far from perfect. But starting is the hard part. And I did it! For what it's worth, here is my watercolor rendition of marigolds:




September 16, 2015

Family of God

Yesterday was my baby's birthday. I didn't make him a cake or even sing "Happy Birthday" to him. You see, that "baby" is now a young man, in his second year away at college. But I know that he had a cake (or two) and celebrated the special occasion. His oldest sister, who lives a little closer than us, took him to a theme park for the weekend, and that was only the beginning. Because God has provided good Christian friends and a family that has made him feel welcome. He has a church home-away-from-home where he is able to use his talents to serve the Lord. And many of the people in our own church sent him birthday cards. He may have just four siblings, but his family is infinitely larger than that. He belongs to the family of God.

John 1:12 tells us, "To all who did receive him [Jesus],who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." No matter where we go, it seems, we find brothers and sisters who make us feel at home. We may have different backgrounds and interests, or even come from different countries., but we have one thing in common: the Lord Jesus Christ. Won't you join our family today?

September 15, 2015

Come Along With Me


My last post got me thinking. Is there something new that I would like to try? Or perhaps something I have tried in the past and given up on? So I sat down and made a list. It got rather lengthy, but here are a few of the things I thought of:
  • Japanese gardening. There is a beautiful Japanese garden in our area that always captivates me when I visit. It's actually a collection of historical gardens inspired by famous gardens of Japan. The pathway takes visitors through gates, over bridges, and alongside a koi pond. There are benches throughout the park that invite guests to relax and listen to the music of the bamboo as it sways in the breeze, the birds singing in the trees, and the waterfall that splashes over rocks into a glistening pool. There are stones in abundance -- stepping stones and boulders, raked gravel and dry rivers. Japanese lanterns and bamboo fences enhance the gardens with just the right touch. And there are trees and flowers and bushes, so precisely placed and carefully shaped that one cannot imagine anything more perfect. I would like to create a small Japanese garden in my backyard.
  • Bonsai. Another Japanese art form, bonsai is simply a tree in a container. The art of bonsai, though, is in cultivating and shaping the tree in such a way as to create a miniature form of a mature tree in nature. There are bonsai trees available in stores and in nurseries, but I would like to start with my own plants, using cuttings or propagating by air layering. 
  • Making mini fruit tarts. I know, it sounds silly. But I always see these lovely little treats in pastry shops, and I would like to try making them some time. I have a recipe for a large fruit tart. The trouble is that it would have be cut to serve, ruining the whole effect. A fruit tart must have its berries arranged just so -- otherwise, what is the point? Little, individual tarts allow the artistry of the confection to be enjoyed as well as its flavor.
  • A painting a week. Artist Duane Keiser started a blog back in 2004, in which he made a small painting each day and showed his work. A Painting a Day, it was called, and the resulting movement became popular among serious artists and amateurs alike. I am realistic enough to know that I would not be able to turn out a painting every day, so I would like to aim for one each week. It has been a long time since I have done any serious painting, but I think I will dig out my watercolors and get to work. Just getting started is the hard part...
So stay tuned, and let's see if I get anywhere with these ideas. I will try to post updates on my progress. Meanwhile, what things would you like to attempt? Come along with me, and try something new.

September 10, 2015

Try Something New


Yesterday I made a dress. It wasn't anything fancy or complicated, just a simple mock-wrap dress. I found the fabric on sale, practically just a remnant. There wasn't even enough of the material to make the dress, according to the pattern envelope. But with some wiggling around and careful placement, I managed to get the pieces to fit -- even matching the design pretty well!


It isn't perfect. Nothing ever is. But it turned out nice, and I was pleased with result. I made a few mistakes -- had to cut out one of the pieces twice and rip out a seam or two. But with a little perseverance and Mozart playing on the stereo, I managed to finish the thing. Sometimes sewing can be frustrating, but the sense of accomplishment I feel when a project is completed makes it worthwhile.

There is a quote by Albert Einstein on the little box that holds my pins:

"Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new." 

Wise words from a pretty smart guy! Sometimes it's hard to get started. Other times, it's just plain scary. If we don't try new things, we may not make any mistakes, but we won't learn or achieve much, either! Is there something new that you would like to try? Why not give it a go?  



September 8, 2015

Love Triangle

Thirty-six years ago, I married my high school sweetheart. We were just kids when we met. He was a trombonist in the band, and I played the flute. Little did we know then that we would still be making beautiful music together all these years later. The years have been filled with love, adventure, and many blessings.

But there has been a Third Person in our marriage right from the start -- a love triangle, if you will. That Person has been with us through all of life's ups and downs. He has shown us what true love really is. His name is Jesus.

It has been said that marriage can be likened to a triangle, with God at the top and the husband and wife at the two bottom points. As the two grow closer to God, they also grow closer to each other. That is because God is the author of love. In fact, the Bible tells us that God is love -- a concept that may be difficult to understand. There is a passage of scripture that describes what love is:

I Corinthians 13: 4-8  Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends...

Jesus demonstrated this love when He died on the cross, and He continues to love us even now. Won't you make Jesus the center of your life today?




September 3, 2015

Maple Tree Memories


Today I spent the morning pulling weeds in my front yard. With the Florida sun beating down on me and sweat dripping down my back, I smiled as I thought of the maple trees. Some of my fondest memories are of those times when I was a little girl, pulling up maple trees with my daddy.

Our house had three big old Norway maples on the property. One stood in front of the house providing shade on hot summer days, and the other two formed a room of sorts at the end of the backyard. They were beautiful trees. The shade they created was lovely, but grass would not grow under their branches. Instead of having a front lawn, we had a bed of ivy interspersed with wild flowers collected from the woods. I remember the trillium with its three petals smiling above three pointed leaves, the mayapple, whose flower hid shyly beneath two green umbrellas, and the jack-in-the-pulpit with its spadix standing inside a hooded cup. It was an intriguing plant. I could see how a person might imagine the structure to hold a little man, but my daddy was a preacher, and he never stood in a pulpit that looked like that. My favorite flower that grew in the front yard was the lily-of-the-valley. The dainty white bells would bloom in the spring, lined up on a stem just a few inches tall. And oh, what a fragrance they had! Sometimes I would pick a little bouquet for my mom and put it in a tiny vase to bring the scent indoors. And then there were the maple trees.

You see, as nice as those majestic shade trees were, they had a nasty habit of bearing seeds that insisted on sprouting and growing babies. Helicopters, we called the double samaras that twirled like propellers as they fell to the ground. Sometimes I would take one of the seeds, open it up, and put it on my nose. The sticky substance inside was made just for this purpose, and I would pretend to be an old witch, or Jimmy Durante, whose trademark schnoz made him famous. The maple trees produced millions of seeds, it seemed, and every one of them turned into a little tree. We couldn’t just mow them down, since they were growing among the ivy and wildflowers, so they had to be pulled up by the roots. My daddy would patiently remove them, one by one. He showed me how to identify the pesky plants and demonstrated the way to get the roots by pulling them from the base of the stem. We would remove the weeds and talk, as robins sang above us and the smell of fresh soil filled my nose.

The two giant maples in our backyard grew next to each other so that, together, they shaded a large area that we used in the summer as an outdoor room. The branches formed a canopy so dense that we could sit under them when it was sprinkling and not get wet. We kids would play games under the maple trees and camp out at night in our sleeping bags. Sometimes we would have picnics there or lift rocks to see what kinds of bugs were hiding in the soft humus. And on hot summer days, my daddy often sat reading in a lawn chair as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves and I picked raspberries nearby.

When autumn came, the leaves of the maples turned a beautiful golden yellow that lit up the neighborhood like sunshine. As the weeks progressed, the leaves turned orange and brown and began to fall, and soon we were crunching on them as we walked to school. Raking the leaves was great fun. We would make huge piles of them and, like children always do, get a running start and jump into the mound, laughing. There was nothing quite like the smell of those autumn leaves. That woodsy aroma had a way of conjuring thoughts of football games and apple cider, and reminding us that soon it would be Thanksgiving. And then would come Christmas ─ and snow!

The maple trees looked naked in the winter, standing there in the cold with their bare branches showing. The sun would sometimes peek through the overcast sky, trying to keep them warm, but they always looked a little sad, I thought. Unless it would snow. There was something magical about the snow. It always seemed to start at night while I was lying in my bed. Out there in the silence, the world was being transformed. I heard the sound of a car spinning its wheels as it tried to go up the hill in front of my house, and I knew that it was snowing. A quick peek out the window confirmed my suspicions, and I drifted off to sleep hoping that school would be cancelled the next day. When morning arrived, I threw open the curtains to behold the glorious sight. The ground was covered with a perfect layer of snow, marred only by a few tiny footprints from a bird who braved the winter weather instead of heading south. And each branch of the maple trees had a soft white blanket that glittered in the sun. Sometimes the snow would begin to melt, but then it would get cold again and icicles would form, decorating the maples with sparkling jewels.

Eventually the weather began to get warmer, and the maple trees stoically stood their ground through wind and rain. Then one day, as the sun shone brightly, little buds began to swell and then open. Tiny green flowers and shiny new leaves appeared, and before we knew it, the trees were clothed in majesty again. The robins returned from their winter vacations, built new nests, and filled them with pretty blue eggs. Soon there would be babies in those nests, mouths open, waiting for juicy worms for breakfast. The wildflowers would begin to bloom. Lawn chairs would be brought out for the summer. And my daddy and I would pull maple trees.

Welcome!

Welcome to Daily Divertissements! If you want to get away from the endless barrage of negative news and political punditry, you’ve come to the right spot. Daily Divertissements is a place where I hope to bring some rest for the weary. I will share my thoughts, ideas, and encouragement in the spirit of Philippians 4:8 -- Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (ESV).

So what is a divertissement? The most common use of the word is in the context of classical ballet. A divertissement is a group of short dances that aren’t necessarily part of the storyline but are added to the ballet in order to display the talents of the dancers, making for a more entertaining performance. The second act of The Nutcracker is an excellent example, with the Chinese, Russian, Arabian, and Spanish dances, as well as a number of others. As a former ballet mom, I am very familiar with this type of divertissement.

A divertissement may be thought of as a delightful diversion. One might think of frivolous or meaningless entertainment here, but I like to think of divertissements as pleasant or beautiful thoughts and activities that refocus our minds from the world’s woes to the loveliness of life. They can be as simple as morning coffee on the patio, surrounded by the birds and other wildlife that visit my garden. On the other hand, a divertissement may be an endeavor to create something of value, such as a new dress, a delicious dinner, or a watercolor painting. It could be the enjoyment of reading a well-worn book, playing my flute, or reflecting on the goodness of God.

There are so many blessings in life! Let us think about these things!