Denise's Blueberry Patch

Summertime continues...

Estonian summer is incredible! Cool temps, lots of sun, green green grass in our yard, the forest and sandy beach nearby, and lovely rains and rainbows. Every day I thank the Lord for the wonderful gift of good weather in this part of the world, when stateside friends are paying AC bills for keeping cool in the sweltering heat. I'm not sure AC units are even sold here. I decided to post photos from a random pool of activity, rather than the usual essay.

Yesterday Olivia and I joined other moms for a walk in the Open Air Museum, a retrospective of old Estonian village life. I was thrilled to finally see it.  

Olivia and this little guy were on a serious mission! Both have recently "gotten their legs" and are sturdily running with everything they've got, in pursuit of a horse and buggy that passed by. I loved the fact that Olivia met her match in this endeavor. She left me in the dust many times.

After two hours of exploring and trying to keep up with the others, she and her playmate RoseLynn shared a ride back to the car in the wagon.

Earlier in the week, I discovered Olivia in a pail of rainwater that I had been meaning to dump out. Her lips were purple from the cold. Oops!

Matt finally got to painting the front walkway this week, and I'm loving it (honey I know you do too). Wood weathers easily in one season here, so despite the fact our house is a little under two years old, the wood had turned as gray as that on the rustic buildings at the Open Air Museum. We've been so focused on the back yard that the front entrance has been looking quite Beverly Hillbilly.

We're walking Imbi in our old neighborhood. She always starts out thinking she can't do it. And believe me, I almost think it's not a good idea myself. My mom warned me that stroke victims have impaired judgment that gets them into trouble; they think they can do things they can't. But then we get going, and it turns out to be a lovely time, and her emotions  improve with the workout and fresh air. Bath time is a different story, ha! It's my workout while she gets to sit and relax. On this last walk, the lady who bought our flat saw us and delivered a letter for me, from the US Social Security Administration. Oops! Gotta submit that address change.

It takes Imbi about 45 minutes to walk 500 steps, so am very thankful for the play areas nearby.

A garden venture of mine that appears to be going smoothly...pumpkin,
watermelon and potatoes. No oops...yet.

Back in the house, I discovered Olivia doing something I had not expected for a few years. At least.

The most wonderful times are at the beach. Matt and I noticed last week that there's nothing more immediately soothing and relaxing than taking a walk on the shore. All our hard work of the day is forgotten in the sound of the wind, the feel of sand in between our toes, and the always astonishing sight of blue skies and sea. 

All that's missing from this otherwise idyllic picture? A wave my hubby could surf on. :D

Red beans and rice

I begin with a quote from Edward Phelps, a Vermont lawyer who served as the second controller of the US Treasury, and one of the founders of the American Bar Association: “The man who makes no mistakes does not usually make anything.” It sums up my recent record of strike outs in everyday living. I set the bar so high for myself to be a good wife and mom, friend and daughter, and as a result, I could write a list into next month of all my goofs and failures. Sometimes just opening my mouth is a mistake.  So yeah, the road has been a little bumpy lately.

Regardless of what appears to be gold turning to dust,  a little perspective shows me that failure is actually a great teacher. I just don't step back to see it all the time. A good cry about a failed relationship clears your eyes enough to see that you are not a failure. The cake that turns out like a clay brick will bring you that much closer to knowing how to work with eggs and flour. Keep trying! People flunk the bar all the time, or the first pass at parallel parking, but they become good lawyers and drivers. Our judgment can fail us, but we still learn from the situation. Failure is not a reason to stop trying! It's a great teacher. Failure upon failure just proves someone is trying, that they are moving towards something, instead of the reverse, resisting opportunity. We actually do become better at stuff when we fail. It should feel GOOD to fail! So look around, do you know anyone who seems to be failing at lots of things? Or do you see people being successful at being very stationary?  I catch myself "railing the failing," in regards to my own efforts. When I worked in the corporate environment, I saved my railing for the leadership if I perceived their efforts as failure Hindsight? They were trying, and I could have praised their efforts. Instead, we save our respect and praise for the expert or executive or leader who isn't failing at anything, but not having a lot of impact either.

I failed to make a decent grocery list last week, so my frig was nearly empty this morning. It's stressful to think you have to be a success at mealtime. But today I didn't rail on myself for being neglectful, and instead focused on enthusiastically discovering what I could do with what I had. Kind of like that cooking show where the chefs are given three or four random items and compete to make the best gourmet meal. I always keep a bag of beans and some rice on hand for those just-in-case-there's-nothing-left times, as they keep for months.  I haven't been able to cook beans and rice to save my life, and so stopped trying. They always turned out blah, or too crunchy or too soft, or too much like chili. Never just right. But tonight...ahhh!! Two thumbs up from my husband. They were yummy! 

The only reason I chose cumin is that I have loads of it, and the cinnamon was a freak accident because I forgot about the cinnamon stick that got steeped in the teapot yesterday. I grabbed the teapot to pour more water over the beans before cooking them, and almost had a fit when I saw brown water coming out. But it totally worked. Who knew?! And did I say...healthy??

Ingredients:

bag of red beans
cube of chicken stock
cup or two of cinnamon tea (steep a cinnamon stick in a pot of water)
2T cumin, toasted
2T olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
teaspoon gray sea salt
2T green chili peppers and 2 cloves garlic, ground into a paste
black pepper to taste
white or light brown rice

Very nearly what I did:

Cover red beans with water and soak for six hours. Add chicken stock. Bring to boil, turn heat to low and simmer for two hours. In separate pot, toast cumin in bottom of pot for 2 minutes on medium-high heat. Add olive oil, garlic and onions and sauté for another 2 minutes. Add cinnamon tea, chili peppers and sea salt, and black pepper. Add red beans with the water they cooked in and simmer for another 30 minutes. Serve over white rice.

A guide for coordinating colors

Just a few photos this week of Olivia and flowers, my two increasingly favorite subjects; Olivia because she's my daughter, of course, but flowers because on so many levels the study of them has helped me. I'll get to that.

Olivia has the same tendency as I, to not want her photo taken...acting goofy, hiding, rolling her eyes...supporting my Aunt Judy's observation from last week's post that it must be hereditary. This was such a gorgeous wall, and she just would not work with the brief I'd given her (that's model-speak from my days as a makeup artist).

Instead she tested my already non-existent photography skills by walking back and forth.

Meanwhile, Matt was sharing thoughts from the Bible with Heigo and Märt, about the power behind the very words of God, as He "spoke" all created things into being.

Normally I'd sit and listen, even though they are speaking in Estonian, but Olivia had just spent 90 minutes sitting in a car and was not about to sit back down again. So I discreetly focused in on a more pliant subject, the carpet of grass I was sitting on.

A camera works like a magnifying glass. I haven't looked at grass up close since I was a child.  It teems with life, scent, color and movement. The God who spoke the sun and stars into existence also spoke the blade of grass and wee little flowers into being.

I have a difficult time coordinating colors in home decorating. Always have. Before marriage I saved myself the trouble and went minimalist and black or white wherever possible. But I LOVE color so much. I've never had a favorite color. When pressed I might say blue, or green. For me it's like asking a parent who their favorite child is. You just can't do that!

What I realized yesterday, after studying the few I saw, is that God has paired colors quite EXQUISITELY in every flower. I've been holding off on finishing Olivia's bedroom, i.e., because I have no clue what to pair with the lavender curtains and paint in her room. Some people just have a knack for home decorating. Me? I'm constantly rearranging furniture and changing out accent pieces and curtains, never quite sure if something 'works.' I've got some learning to do about structure, also. Yes, these are things I do care about! But here, I start to see how cream and green would be absolutely lovely against lavender.

I don't think I have the words to describe the joy I felt at this discovery; it was a real 'learning moment' for me.  I fell in love with the orange in a nearby begonia. I've always loved loved loved orange, but it's a bold color to try to decorate with. I remember once proclaiming to a friend, "Just go Orange!" as a metaphor for taking a risk. But looking at it up close, I see how brown and yellow just work so beautifully with it. And of course, the green backdrop. Green seems to go with everything.

There's a bit of orange in between the fuchsia and yellow petal of this violet. I never would have dreamed of putting those three colors together. Not in a zillion years. But God did. This helps me in planning the garden, also. It's been nothing short of exasperating to try to figure out where to put what colors where in our yard. I do feel a responsibility to utilize the actual land we've been given, and to not just plant grass. I've been reading blogs about agrarian lifestyles, herb gardening, and signed up for an global community gardening initiative just to keep learning how I can live more responsibly. We are never too old to learn. I know I want a big pink peony bush, but have no clue what to pair with it. Clearly, yellow or orange lilies would work well, or a low flowering hedge.

This tiny soft pink bud is paired with white and tan, and light lime. It's very subtle, doesn't have the impact orange does. So for color schemes that need to be scaled back to reflect something more demure, this would be a possibility.

The French are famous for their knowledge of companion planting. They call it associations des plantes, or infusion planting. The principle is simple, and based on necessity more than beauty: certain plants literally stimulate or enhance the growth of other plants because of the hormones they produce, or pests they deter, or bugs they attract for pollination, or a number of other factors. So when God spoke each plant into existence, he had a plan for how they could be paired, and gave us brains so that we'd be smart enough to discover it. Amazing! I know I want to plant winter savory as an edible hedge, now I need to "discover" what plants will complement it.

So back to the less-pliant subject of Olivia. I asked Matt to try taking a picture of her, but he didn't have any more success.  But that's just as well. I needed to go find more flowers to study with her!

 

A walk in our neighborhood

We haven't been much for exploring everything Estonia has to offer, like the castles and historic landmarks. We didn't even go to the Estonian Song Festival last weekend. No regrets, though, I downloaded Boston's July 4rth celebration instead and we watched that later in the week. Ahhhh! Memories! I still get a rush when I hear the Boston Pops end the concert with the 1812 Overture. And the fireworks....well, no one does it like Boston! Simply amazing. My mom was awesome enough to send me Dunkin Donuts coffee last week so I REALLY was feeling my east coast roots. Who says we shouldn't put down roots where we live? It works perfectly well to just pull 'em up and take 'em with you.

We are so content to just explore our neighborhood, the forest, or the local beach. We always return so refreshed, no matter how far we go. Last week we went walking, carrying a basket with chicken salad, red beans, and a jar of rhubarb compote for the neighbor who gave us all that crazy huge rhubarb. They actually call what I made "moos," because I only added sugar and cooked it on the stove top. Now, if I had added water, it would be compote. I've asked everyone here just to make sure. I still call it compote, though, as the English word doesn't seem to care if water is added.

On our way to Vera's house Matt got a rare shot of me. I don't know why, but I detest getting my photo taken! I'm not even looking at the camera. What's happening to me? Maybe Estonia is rubbing off on me. It's pretty typical for people to not be all crazy about getting their photo taken. You can get seriously yelled at. I was trying to get a photo of the McDonald's here once and a cashier nearly jumped over the counter. She may have grown little red horns for all the steam coming out of the top of her head. She was mad, wagging her finger at me like a fed up teacher. She did frighten me! Or maybe I don't like to be photogged cuz I haven't had a decent haircut in a year and I'm getting gray and squishy. Yeah, that's it.

Okay, now here's something you don't see every day, a couple of tin cans hung at the bottom of a chain link fence. It's a noise maker, for what kind of animal I'm not sure, but my guess is that the owner doesn't have the money to just repair that part of the fence. The neighborhood anti-mole solution is generally a beer can atop a stick. "We have moles, oh great! Now we HAVE to buy a case of Saku (local Estonian brew)!" Olivia could fit under there, so it's not likely an anti-theft device. Now see, this is something I could pull up a stool and sit in front of for a long time, trying to figure out the process of thought that led to it. But that's just me. I'm the girl who has never been bored a day in her life. Unlike some teenagers I know (cough, ahem).

And here's Vera. She didn't want me to take her picture later, so I'm glad I got this one before I thought to ask. She's quite a grand lady, and her rhubarb is insane. The rhubarb is that HUMONGOUS bush behind her, in front of the greenhouse. It's got to be the largest bush I've ever seen in my entire life. We grew up with rhubarb in Minnesota, Grandma Benson made many strawberry-rhubarb pies, but I always thought it was a low-growing kind of plant! This is definitely a contender for the Guiness Book of World Records, don't you think? I can't wait to see how her pumpkins turn out. She's got them on top of a composted pile about four feet high.

Vera's garden is a bit like what I imagine the Secret Garden to be like. Now that I'm mentally cataloging her collection, I realize the bulk of her plants begin with "P." Poppies, peppermint, pansies and peonies.  I can only aspire to be as talented with my thumbs. She gave me a huge container of poppy seeds, maybe a pound of them, and told how, in the Soviet times, people stole poppies and made opium from them. She then clarified those aren't the kind she has. I'm not sure what to do with a whole pound of them, but I'll google around and find something. She grows two varieties of strawberries, one tart and one sweet. We've really enjoyed being able to walk outside into our own strawberry patch every day and grab a whole bowl full for dessert in the evenings. Quite the luxury. I could get used to this country living!

Olivia had herself a little fun with a bucket of water in Vera's yard. That's what happens when you turn your back on children and pets. They head for the nearest puddle. All she needs is a bottle of shampoo and a rubber ducky.

Okay, so we went to Vera's house to RETURN the favor of the rhubarb. Not to get more stuff. But that's not how she works. She made Matt come back with the car and they filled the whole back with amazing, beautiful things. I don't even know the names of everything. Buried in this pile are four good-sized peppermint plants. My ULTIMATE favorite....peppermint! Can you believe it? God just loves me so much. And He knows we don't have money to buy stuff at the nursery for our yard, which is desperate for some prettying up. I mean, I've been experimenting with rooting rose and juniper bushes in potatoes to save money. There are about 20 pots lined up outside with all my clippings! That's another post though. Matt and I spent almost 1 1/2 hours in the rain getting all of Vera's plantings into the ground. We gave a bucket of pansies to our Russian neighbors, as their yard is about as rugged as ours. And I put the peppermint where the wife can share it with me. It feels great to be able to give. I guess Vera already knows that! I've half a mind to start a neighborhood co-op. All we're missing is the neighborhood tomato supplier. I've really gotten into tomatoes this summer. Did I spell that right? I always forget the rule when you add an 's.'  First Dan Quayle, then George Bush, now me. I'm pretty sure it was Candace Bergen who was the public scoffer over Dan Quayle's mistake, but I don't remember who was for Bush. It was a terrible thing to make a mockery of Quayle. Well, since the US is increasingly non-English speaking, he'll have the last laugh. Language is a tough one, I certainly can appreciate all the nuances and issues now that I've been the one who's had to get along in a foreign country. Hope it makes me more understanding and compassionate.

Vera's garden was just one highlight from the past week. We've been crazy busy otherwise, and it's hard to choose what to share. Especially late at night. It's past midnight right now. So it's not clever. It's not that interesting even. But it IS pretty, wouldn't you agree? Green green grass, pansies and peonies, the oddity of people, sunshiny days, a lovely little girl, a country gravel road, people sharing, eating of the fruit of the land, can life get any better??

Being a witness

We often are asked how we evangelize, so I'm posting a few pics of what we did on Sunday, mostly for the benefit of my nieces and nephews. It's quite complicated....NOT! We get in our car with a bunch of gospel tracts, pray, and distribute. Sharing the good news of Jesus is one of the ways we worship. I'm glad someone handed me a tract when I was in public school, because my whole family got miraculously saved! The boy who handed it to me didn't even say anything, but I'm pretty sure he singled me out; and not because I was pretty. I had rabbit teeth, crooked hair and was terribly shy.  

So for example, on Sunday we drove to a neighboring village with Estonian gospel tracts, "God's Simple Plan of Salvation." This type of tract distribution rather feels like being in a mafia for God, you have a hit man, someone driving the getaway car, and a lookout. Matt was the hit man.

I was the driver of the getaway car. Olivia was our lookout for puppies and bees. She kept napping, though.

If Matt sees someone in the yard, he'll get their attention because he doesn't like just leaving literature without being able to talk to them. The best hit men make sure their target has been hit, right?

The responses vary; sneers or jeers are quite common from young people. Older folks might engage you in polite conversation or just ignore you. If God is drawing someone to Him, and you are helping to make His Word known to them, that's evangelism as I understand it (Luke 24:48 "And ye are witnesses of these things"). I don't mean to make light of the job with the Mafia metaphor, but we are soldiers in the army in every sense. The job is to carry out the boss's orders. Once in a VERY great while someone will hand you a bouquet of peonies, which is the coolest thing EVER. 

A neighbor who Matt has shared Jesus Christ with before gave us CRAZY huge rhubarb. I haven't cooked with rhubarb in decades! It's a gift to have such generous neighbors. Another neighbor gave us radishes yesterday. But that's not the reward for being a witness for Jesus. That reward is in heaven, and we won't see it until we get there ourselves. 

Evangelizing is taxing. It is putting yourself out there on the front line of battle. We are doing it as a family more and more, with even Olivia joining in and handing tracts out. Who could say no to her? So by the time we get home it's time to just be silly, relax and have fun with each other.