The first daffodils of 2024

I've been searching for a ray of hope and sunshine this past week. With the Lord of the Manor in the hospital once again, I've been struggling to hold "it" together. Running back and forth to see him, giving Deuce the necessary attention, taking care of household matters, and lastly, taking care of me is exhausting. I confess to increasing moments of despair. 

In the midst of it all, I looked out the window this morning. I mean I really looked out at the yard and the woods for more than to check the weather. I saw the early yellow daffodils blooming. And I cried. 

My grandmother consistently called daffodils Easter flowers. It used to annoy me, but I'd give a lot to be able to hear her say those words again. 

The hidden bulbs that push forth the sunny yellow flowers remind me that good things lie beneath it all and are working toward goals I can't fathom. 

Sometimes, I need to give those forces time to unfold the blessings coming my way.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, daffodils, Easter, blessings, rural living, gardens, country lifestyle, grandmother, hidden agenda

Apple Butter

The spouse requested apple butter, so I decided the best course of action was to make some. I have a copy of the Ball Book of Canning which contains a wealth of canning recipes that include two types of apple butter. I went with the traditional style. 

Making apple butter isn't difficult, and having a Kitchen Aid spiralizer really helps. That tool will peel and core an apple with the flip of a switch. It also spiralizes the apple and one quick cut down the center and you have apple slices. This will come in handy later today when I process the remainder of my apples in slices for pies and cobblers. 

I had a lot to do yesterday, so I cooked the apple butter in my large crockpot. That worked well, but I followed the recipe and therefore had too much water in the mix. I ended up with the crockpot on low overnight and processed the jars before dawn this morning. It took that long for the excess water to evaporate. But a longer cooking time did allow the apples to caramelize to a dark, rich color. 

As much as I'm enjoying stocking my pantry with homemade goods, it's a lot of work. I have a new appreciation of how hard my foremothers worked every year. I can go to a grocery store that, even in the year 2020, has food items on the shelf. I'm just not sure how long that will last so we're doing what we can to have food stores on hand. 

For my grandmother, who raised her children during the Great Depression of the 1930s, going to the store wasn't much of an option. She had to purchase flour and sugar, but fruits and veggies came from her own land. So did chicken, eggs, pork, dairy, and venison. Some years the cow would deliver a bull (steer) and they had beef. She canned all her meats in those days, or my grandfather smoked it. It was only ninety years ago but it was a different world.

So I'll think of her later today as I slice apples with a modern kitchen appliance. She did it all by hand with a paring knife. I live on a foundation she built with hard work and love. It's very humbling. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

 

The Strawberry Jar

It's nothing extraordinary to admit we like strawberries. Unlike a lot of people in the country, I have to admit I can't grow them. Or rather, I've not been able to grow them up to this point in my life. I'm not done with trying. There's always next year, and the year after, and the year after...

At some point in my life, my grandmother gave me her strawberry jar. My grandfather gave me seven strawberry sets of an "ever-bearing" variety, and I planted them in the jar. Nothing. The plants died just to spite me.

In subsequent years we tried again. We tried strawberries in a raised bed, which worked but did nothing to discourage the birds from eating the harvest. We tried making a tiered planter and covering it with a thin cloth. It stopped the birds but not the bugs. 

The bottom line is we've not given up. We acknowledged that strawberries are something that needed to wait until we were both home all day, i.e., retired. That time is just around the corner. I think our decision is to try the tiered bed again. If it still doesn't work, the tiers will look good planted in annuals. 

But what did I do with my grandmother's strawberry jar? 

My grandmother's favorite color was red. She was the first person to tell me to always wear red. (I've since learned my coloring is "winter," meaning reds, pure white, blackest blacks, and cool tones rather than pastels look best on me.) Mam loved red flowers, in particular red begonias (wax plants). And that has been my solution for many years.

Every year, the strawberry jar is planted with six red begonias with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme in the top. I do this as a remembrance of a woman who loved me well and taught me so much. The strawberry jar sits beside the walk, and so at least twice a day I'm reminded of her. 

I think it's a good thing. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor