Holy Zucchini, Garden Girl, Now What?

The question becomes, what do I do with a zucchini that is large enough to have its own zip code?  No need to tell me I should have picked it months ago when it was "just the right size," okay?  It was sort of hiding in giant leaves, alright so I saw it, but I kept thinking, "what am I going to do with a giant zucchini?" and it just kept getting bigger and bigger.  Not only that but there are two more not quite so giant ones to deal with, as well.  It's a happy little vegetable, maybe I will let it sit in the chair and chat at it.  Rather than the crazy cat lady (cats make me itch, I like zucchini better), I will become known as the crazy zucchini lady. 

How many cups of grated zucchini do you think I can get out of my 3 zucchini harvest?

I'm trying to figure out what to make from my bounty, and this is what my research has yielded:

Zucchini bread (love it, but perhaps not 232 pounds worth of the stuff).

Zucchini coins where you peel it, cut it in rounds, mine would be zucchini $20 pieces, and fry it--can anyone say 'grease face break out?'

Stuffed zucchini, okay, I could invite everyone I know and have them invite everyone they know and maybe we could gag down all my zucchini stuffed with sausage, carrots, onions, and garlic in a cheese sauce (that's how I like my stuffed zucchini).

 Zucchini casserole, such as zucchini, chicken, and rice; lemon zucchini pound cake (this one doesn't sound too bad, but why is it listed under casseroles...and it makes 16 servings, and it's just me right now...how many pounds would I gain if I ate 1/4 of a cake every day for 4 days, do ya think...but wait, it's a vegetable cake, that makes all the difference, I'm just sure of it),  herbed grilled vegetables--if I had a grill, I might try this one, too, the picture is beautiful...I think I lost the zucchini casserole thread and went somewhere else.

For right now, my happy zucchini is sitting in Mom's rocking chair (it actually sits taller in the chair than Mom does).  It's looking out the window and enjoying the view while I figure out what to do.  If you come for a visit, you're not allowed to comment on the zucchini in the chair unless you bring a recipe.  For zucchini.

zillions of cherries

My world has been changing these last couple months. The trees that fill my universe have gone from cold, empty sticks, to trees covered with leaves. Then one day, the orchards were alive with blossoms and the humming of bees working, gathering, pollinating, and making cherry tree honey. The hum echoed into my brain and played there in a loop of calming sound.




As the blossoms fell off, little green rocks started growing and soon the trees were covered in baby cherries. The magic that makes this happen is built into an ancient memory of tree and soil and branch and one day--baby cherries.


When I take my walks in the morning, I see a yellow transparency being replaced by the blush of summer. Pink will soon turn to red, then as the heat of days continues, each cherry will become a beautiful mahogany color--deep, dark red with the rich sweetness that comes near harvest. The perfect cherry is a bit crunchy and yet fills your mouth with juice and joy. I do not wish that moment to be here too soon. I feel sort of a breathless "waiting for the circus to arrive in town" anticipation which makes the first perfect cherry even sweeter, more appreciated, a moment to be savored.

As I wander around here in paradise, nature is moving at her own relentless pace. Rains come and the trees drink. Sun shines and the cherries grow, change color, and ripen. Night then day then night. Sometimes in my plan making, when I worry about some disaster or imagined disaster, when I lie in bed at night and can't sleep because of the possibilities in my future, or my perceived lack of possibilities; I think of the example nature grants me every day. Each tree continuing to grow life sustaining fruit because that is its mission. Therein lies its joy. I get caught up in the thick of thin things and forget sometimes that I'm just here temporarily. That I had a mission before I got here to this world, and it will continue when I leave. I worry and sorrow and fret and forget. Silly me.

The Lord has given me paradise to immerse my heart and soul in. He's given me the example of the cherry tree, fulfilling its mission because that is the right thing for it to do. He's given me the love and care of family, the joy of children, the fellowship of good friends, and the blessing of pleasant work.

My heart has been heavy of late with concerns over children and parents and my health and the daily details of life. But when I stop and sit under (or in) a cherry tree, I remember that I'm not the one that's really in charge. Heavenly Father is. If I can be still, hear His counsel, heed it and act, then I feel the peace of His abiding love seep into my soul, take away my fear, and lead me where I need to go.

Very simple, really. Not necessarily easy, but very simple.

Morning in Paradise

Life is about change, right? And so many things are in the process of becoming around me. My garden is sort of a microcosm of that idea, small plants and seeds grown large and producing wonderful treats for my table; tomatoes abound, green beans, green peppers, squash, and it looks like my beets and carrots are finally coming along. Autumn is in the air, the nights are cooler, the morning sun rises a bit later, the pumpkins are turning orange.

There was a huge, orange harvest moon last night, a bright red sunrise this morning, both reminding me that in spite of the temporary tornado I'm living in right now, there are constants that comfort and quiet the soul--that bit of order amidst the chaos which gives hope. The earth continues to turn, the seasons progress in their time, and I will continue to experience this moment, and the next, and the next. The love of family and friends, the growth of my own testimony that God lives, He knows my name, and He sustains me through all this; that's what keeps me going.

Carmen started chemo Monday and seems to be doing well. My Dad will hear about his clinical trial this week. We are all struggling with mortality around here. I looked at the moon last night and wondered...how many more full moons will my Dad enjoy? Does he wonder? I am comforted by family willing to listen to me and hold me when I cry while I work through this challenge.

I must go. I leave for work in a few minutes for more training. Hooray! My very own job.

May the good Father bless your day today as He has already blessed mine.