Apple Cidering

This week the children picked bushels of apples.

They wanted to make cider.

We hadn't made cider for one or two years.

Timmy pressure washed the cider press and the wooden slats.

While supervising getting the cider press parts gathered and cleaned and the apples ready to wash, cut and press, I also cut up enough apples for two apple crisps for supper for us and company,

and helped with Friday's school.

The children decided to make a train of apples!

Everyone helped to get ready for the evening of cider pressing.

Someone lit candles.

 We made cornbread and also cornmeal muffins made with our own Indian corn the children grew themselves. That is one thing we've grown successfully out here!

And we made two crockpots of chili.

Carrie gathered lots of jugs.

Our children and friends start the big job of cutting apples into halves or quarters and cutting out any really bad parts or squirrel bites!

It took about 3 hours of lots of hard work, but after a while this huge box was not so full of apples,
 
and the jugs were one by one filling up with wonderful, sweet cider!

Inside, a bunch of us were cutting and cutting and cutting. I was the self-designated washer of apples after a while of cutting.

 Three of the many gallons we got that night. Two of these went to the family of the friends who came, and more went to the Frenches.

 Loved this scene with one of our dogs!

 Did not love this scene after the last apples were done, and the dishes were still undone!

For a while after the work was done, there was no end of noise while Sam and Jonathan helped rinse the dishes for me while I washed.

Hannah and her friend Elizabeth decided to try to pick out piano songs together, on top of all the noise the other young people were making.

But it was happy noise, and they left a little after ten o'clock, which was perfect. 

Now that about 25 gallons of cider are stowed in two freezers, the children decided we need to butcher our last pig next week. But where, oh where is the meat grinder we hunted and hunted for?

Finally today it dawned on Carrie that maybe we had put the old fashioned grinder up on the kitchen cabinets as part of our old fashioned kitchen decor--and sure enough there it was--

waiting to grind up sausage next week!

Homing Pigeons--and Making it Home

My son Timmy has been working for a man who trains homing pigeons, and who rents them out sometimes for weddings or funerals. At such events, someone will let the caged pigeons go, 

a touching scene that represents comfort and hope and flying home to heaven,

and the pigeons will simply fly home. For such events, the man earns about $150, or twice that if he goes in person to let the birds go.

 That man was in the middle of training some young pigeons when my sister's family was here two weeks ago. He lets them out further and further from home. That Saturday morning, Rose brought a cage of young pigeons home to let go.

Hopefully they would fly the few miles home--seven or eight miles by road, but closer as the crow flies, or in this case, we would say,

as the pigeon flies!

It was so interesting watching those beautiful white birds flutter off, circle around and around to get their bearings, and then take off and disappear into the bright morning sky.

It took them a few minutes, but shortly, they knew where home was--

and off they flew.

Sometimes we feel like a caged bird--inside vessels of clay,

or cooped up in the house all day,

although, as mothers, we know by instinct where home is--

and that is where our family is!

But also as Christians, we know where Home is.

Our souls are fluttering inside these bars of clay, waiting for the day of freedom.

Sometimes, in the process of heading for Home, we get confused and disoriented by the distance, the clouds, or the brightness.

But give us time.

We have the Holy Spirit, a gentle influence like the instinct of the homing pigeon. 

Nothing will keep us from finding our way.

We just have to make it Home.

Jesus, be our Instinct, our wings, and our Guide. 

And when we have flown away, 

may every last person watching us go 

know that we have made it HOME.

Hosting My Sister Joella's Family

A couple weeks ago, my sister Joella and husband Craig and family stopped through for the weekend after a trip to Yellowstone from Pennsylvania.

While their family went up Pikes Peak, Rose and I had to doctor our goat that had bloat. Thankfully the goat improved and is fine again.

I made a crockpot of baked beans for a picnic lunch with Joella's crew. I like to add onion, peppers, and maybe celery. It really dresses up baked beans.

We met up at a park on Friday afternoon to eat a picnic lunch together, where a bunch of uninvited yellow jackets swarmed around us so badly that we all had to go off in different directions to try to find a peaceful place to eat. The yellow jackets were especially interested in the chicken!

Then when Carrie went back to her car, she found it had a flat tire!

Upon Timmy helping her change it, they discovered the tire was totally worn out, and it was a mercy it went flat while parked at the park instead of going 60 mph down the road!

Carrie and Timmy headed home ahead of the rest of us where Timmy experimented with a new recipe from his Taste of Cowboy cookbook and made upside down pizza.

It made a hit! That recipe is a keeper!

Saturday afternoon our two families decided to visit Cave of the Winds together. Here it is back in Williams Canyon.

What a fun tour inside the cave!

We did not believe the parts the tour guide told about how old the cave was, but otherwise, it was a fun and informative tour.

Some interesting formations.

Outdoors there were some really fun and exciting things to do, at a special discount that day. Craig decided to pay for all the younger boys to get to do the climbs and rides, and because Sam was along, the ticket man gave an extra 10% off because he is a fireman. 

Then Craig and Sam decided to ride the Terror Dactyl.

Craig saying his last goodbyes and "I love you," as he prepares to die.

Sam and Craig being pulled back up to the platform after free-falling and swinging hundreds of feet out over the canyon while the rest of us stand and watch. There was a video camera on the seat they were strapped in taking video of all their scared expressions and then showing it inside. It was hilarious!

I got a kick out of this sign.

Now it was the younger boys' turn to ride the zipline. Danny went with young Jonathan, Timmy with Ethan.

There they go!

Danny looking out over the canyon.

We rarely eat out as a family, but also do we rarely have family in for the weekend, and for a treat, the fathers treated the wives and children to a meal at La Casita. Hannah and Laura were little buddies.

Sunday morning the girls busily baked sweet rolls and served peaches, eggs, and sausage.

It was a delightful breakfast. But what I loved most was singing afterward together.

Timmy and Danny were going to be baptized that afternoon, so we asked them to pick favorite hymns to sing together.

Then there was discussion about the Scripture, which happened to talk about the baptism of John!

Then most of the young people walked ahead down the road on our way to church.

Since Joella's family had traveled so much, they preferred to go to a closer church than Denver, so we went to Bible Missionary Church in Elizabeth where the young pastor, whose parents are missionaries in Africa, likes to come in this cute old pickup.

Attending church in a log church with an old fashioned pickup in front and wonderful people inside made the day for Joella's family!

Sis. Tammy Hallam asked if their family would sing for us after service was over. The pastor, song leader and the Hallam's son had already sung a beautiful hymn during service, "God Moves in a Mysterious Way." It was very special.

That afternoon, the Bradford family helped with music at our boys' baptism, which I posted about a week and a half ago. 

Here again Hannah and Laura are sweet pals, hand in hand!

It was a blessing having Craig and Joella and their family here!

My Mountain Lion Experience

Here is a story I wrote family about our weekend in the mountains.

My Mountain Lion Story

By Anna

Well, since this is the most exciting part of the story of our weekend, it is a story by itself.

We decided to hike to Cathedral Lake, a lake at the base of Cathedral Peak, somewhere Jonathan had never been before. Figuring from the sign, we figured the hike from trailhead to lake was about 2 3/4 miles. That seemed doable although long (since it would be mostly climbing).

We had lots of time to enjoy God's creation, and we were going to stop and have devotions along the way or at the lake for our worship. It was sort of like practicing for what lots of people in the world do all the time, walking 3 or more miles to church over mountainous terrain. 

Anyway, off we started, carrying a few water bottles and a bit of snack, and wearing jackets. Soon we were shedding the jackets, though, and all at the same time reveling in each new beauty or sight along the way--aspen groves, clearings, meadows,

 mountainsides thick with evergreens and spotted with golden aspen, the leftovers of an avalanche,

a mountain stream, rockslides, 

shady paths, and then finally the last switchbacks that looked so steep that I had to turn back. I knew I could make it up, but I knew my knees would probably give out on me coming back down. It was a bitter disappointment to not be able to make the last quarter mile. Even Jonathan, who had plodded along very slowly with frequent stops due to his asthma and recent lung infection, kept going with Hannah and Danny...

 

 and made it all the way to meet the older ones who had gone ahead and arrived at the lake, though it took him about three and half or four hours.

I tried not to blame all the people who said the lake was just a little ways on up, just one more switchback (they must have meant after a good hike to get to the last ones), and so on. I turned back all by my lonesome, trying not to feel too terribly disappointed. I reminded myself that not making it all the way to the end of a mountain trail was not as important as enduring to the end of our Christian race. And so I started on down the rocky trail to find a shady spot to sit down and wait. I had to go a ways to find anything close to a comfortable spot to sit in the shade. But finally I spotted a nice cozy area in the shade off the trail where there was a rock and some kinnikinnik greens with berries. I sat there a while, enjoying the quiet and shade.  [This picture is actually Rose, but oh, well, you can pretend it is I about 15 feet from the trail.]

We had met quite a number of people on our way up who were already coming back down, and others had passed us. But by now, about 1 in the afternoon, there was nobody around. I sat there, thinking and trying not to feel sorry for myself for not being able to see this lake that different ones had told us was "worth it." and praying.

And all of a sudden I heard a hiss.

It was a loud hiss, and I didn't suppose a bear would hiss. All I could think was, "MOUNTAIN LION!"

I jumped to my feet off that rock, and the next thing I thought was how we had just discussed recently that if you came face to face by yourself with a wild animal like a bear, you should wave your arms wildly and make yourself as big as possible to try to scare it off. Well, the mountain lion was still out of sight, so as I jumped up and ran back to the trail, the only thing I could think to do was find a big stick to make my skinny little self look as big as possible. I grabbed the first stick I saw, which was a big branch with all kinds of little twigs on it, and I hurried onto the trail, knowing I now needed to make lots of noise so that the wildcat would think I was more than one person.

And, trying not to be so undignified as to scream, I started singing the first thing that came to my mind.

"Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee!" I sang as loud as I dared. 

And then I turned around to see if the mountain lion was following me.

There was no mountain lion, but there was a wide-brimmed sun hat a little ways up the trail on the hill, with a face and figure standing under it, staring at me.

"Oh!" I gasped, lowering my big stick. "I was waiting for my family and I heard a hiss!"

"I was wondering if we were scaring each other," the face under the sun hat said.

"I thought it might be a mountain lion!" I explained.

The sun hat's wearer thought a moment.

"I was blowing my nose," she said. 

So that was the hiss! And that was the mountain lion! And that is the end of my story.
*******

 

My sister Joella wrote me back with this poem, a play on the words to the song I had started singing suddenly to scare the mountain lion away:

In case you don't know the words to the song, here is the original verse:
Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shalt be!
Perish every fond ambition,
All I've sought and hoped and known.
Yet how rich is my condition.
 God and heaven are still my own."

Joella changed some words. Hence:
 

"Panther,  I my stick have taken,  

All to heave and clobber thee,

Destitute, alone,  forsaken,  

Thou from hence shalt run from me.

Perish every fond ambition

Mountain climbs are not for me, 

Yet how safe is my condition, 

I will loudly sing at thee!