Three Things I Love

  Well, so much for good intentions. I had an idea about doing this particular post every Sunday that somehow got sidetracked last week. But I am not sorry. With Dad Yoder's passing, I spent a lot of time going through the memory box I carry around in my head. I remembered the bleeding heart plant that Sadie and Steve gave me when my husband and I were living in our house in Temple Hills. It always bloomed at Easter. Tiny crimson hearts dripping from the branch, faithfully reminding me of that Greater Love. Now I have two bleeding heart plants. A white one and a crimson one. And just like the other plant, without fail they bloom at Easter. Whether Easter is early or late, they somehow manage to show up at the appointed time.

So that is my Number One Love this week: The Bleeding Heart. Mine are planted by the back door in the shade and are part of a larger shade garden that boasts a few hostas as well as other shade-loving perennials. I usually forget about them because the foliage dies back completely after the little tiny heart-shaped blooms that look as though they are dripping a single droplet of blood have had their day. There is not much to see in the summer, the fall, and the winter. But a greater hand is at work. One day those hearts are dormant and the next day the green shoots are bursting forth like little trumpets announcing that something wonderful is about to occur. It's like the good old-fashioned fanfare of an Easter parade. The treasures are being prepared for that glorious day. I love that about wildflower gardens. They have a rhythm and beauty all their own. And a surprising timetable. Just think about it. Easter. An Empty Tomb. A Bleeding Heart. And a Redemption that remains true through the ages. "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." 

Number Two: Milky Baby Breath. I already miss it. Since Little One has now progressed to eating three meals a day of regular people food (organic and hormone free of course and made, for the most part, with the freshest of ingredients), she no longer has that sweet milky baby breath. She's outgrown it, or it's been obscured by the other foods she now consumes. I miss that particular smell. It's an infant thing. And a breast-fed baby thing. But time is marching on in Little One's life and that's the natural course of life. But with another granddaughter on the way (courtesy of son number two and his precious wife), I am already looking forward to breathing in that sweet sweet baby breath while I hold and cuddle that Little Two. I intend to savor every moment, every smell. It's the smell of comfort, nurture and motherly love.

Number Three:  Boiled Peanuts. In case you all thought that I was getting entirely too mushy, just know that I only eat the firm ones. I am really picky about my boiled peanuts. Chilled. Salted. And Firm. Oh, and best served in a paper bag. If you are not from these parts you cannot imagine how attached Southerners are to their boiled peanuts. The thought of the taste for them can become an obsession. As I make my way home to Florida every couple of months, I have a few places where I know that I can get some good boiled peanuts. One of those places is Durbin Farms. Even though they are better known for their fresh peaches and seasonal fruits, I know that on the right side of the open air shed, there is a refrigerator that has boiled peanuts. Look on the second or third shelf from the top. There they are. Durbin Farms sells a cajun variety, but don't fool with it. Boiled peanuts are not meant to be gussied up. It's plain ole Southern fare. You simply take peanuts in the raw state (still in the shell, of course), wash them thoroughly several times, place them in an extra large pot of water, salt the water well and cook the peanuts until they are firm and tender, but not mushy. Drain the peanuts and refrigerate them overnight or until they are completely chilled. If you get desperate, you can buy a canned variety, but they are only to be eaten when you cannot find fresh boiled peanuts. However, the cans do travel well and do not require refrigeration which means that you should keep a couple in your pantry for one of those days when you just gotta.  One more peanut story: A few years back a girl from my hometown (see earlier post) married a boy from up North. His people came down to the wedding weekend where they were introduced to the notion of southern hospitality. Of course, boiled peanuts were served along with gallons of that other Southern standby: sweet tea. But the folks didn't talk about the tea, they just could not seem to get over the "wet peanuts." I never heard of such a thing. We all got a good chuckle out of that one.

Yum Yum!

These 'll do in a pinch