Sacred Gift

What was for Thursday-what's-for-supper?
Something I put in the crock-pot much earlier today because it was going to be a lively one!

 This stew is a meal on its own but bread and cheese is a nice side...

In the oven it's a four/five-hour stew but in the crock-pot it's an all-day stew.

Since the beef was pre-cooked I put it in the crock-pot at noon.

Also, because I have my own canned tomato juice
 I used it instead of the V-8 juice.(to be economical)

Not the same but still perfectly fine.
I also skipped the tapioca and sugar to keep it simple.

I love this yellow bean salad with all things beef!
This is how I preserve half of the yellow bean crop.

(I hope you can read it. I needed to retrace the faded ink of this recipe

 I brought from home 31 years ago)

Dressing for this bean salad;

A scoop of mayo

a squirt of Dijon mustard

1 tbsp. each of brown sugar and vinegar

2 tbsp light cream or milk

whisk dressing then pour over beans, chopped white or red onion and hard-boiled eggs...
(adjust amounts to bean ratio)

top with freshly ground pepper

it's such a friendly little word

a tender pick-me-upper

a warming, welcome-homeward tug

a hug. 

We call it supper

As we sit  'round to share a meal

Let's thank God for each other 

and never over look the gift

of gathering 

for supper 

Janet Martin

The Rural Truth

PAD Challenge 12: For today’s prompt, write a myth poem. 

Reinterpret a common myth, create a brand new myth, and/or mention a myth in passing.

Because there's so much to see and do in the country!

Some think that country-life offers endless monotonies

No malls, fine entertainers, restaurants, art galleries

Some wonder what we rural-bumkins find to do for fun

And while it may be true this life is not for everyone

I’d like to take a minute to debunk misconstrued myths

And perhaps change your mind about the way country-life is

The aisles/isles we walk are woodsy; skylines seem to have no end

Earth’s fashionistas grandly sport the latest, timeless trend

Where we become refreshed, not weary, on a spending spree

That needs no cash or credit; there is no admission fee

To the world’s greatest art gallery you will ever find

Wisp of wild grass etched on a canvas eth’real as the wind

And if we need to pause perhaps, to sit and rest a bit

We will be entertained by feathered choristers that flit

Among the dark and light of leaves where breeze-brushed sunbeams strum

The strings of willow cellos to the beat of shadow-drums

The food we serve is garden-fresh and at our fingertips

Bloom-bistros cater to the bumbling bee, tipsy with sips

The brook-beribboned vista, summer-steeped or autumn-drained

Or winter silver-white stirs sheer delight hard to explain

With never enough poetry or hours in a day

To spell all that there is to spell before it slips away

Where sweat and toil sweetens the spoil of hillside picnics, oh

And credits dot the big-screen sky after dusk’s colour-show

…and often we are dumbstruck by the grand simplicity

Such as the silhouette at sunset of a leafless tree

Or starry, starry nights where black and white the land, sleep-kissed

Is like a still-life painting set where time does not exist

But, just like anything, no matter where we choose to visit

We have to make the time to take it in
 or else we miss it

© Janet Martin

Collecting Echoes

This is the time of year when I start to concede that maybe 

I have too much junk many collections... 

My largest collections are

rolling pins ...

...enamel-ware

 and poetry books

...and oh, what pleasure they have added to the ordinary!

Collectors walk that fine line between pack-rat and passion😏

some day

when I die

they

will pile a wagon high

and people will come

and sort throught the conglom

-eration

of these pieces of 

love

...and the auctioneer will call

what am I bid

the pictures of

the living they did

  hidden from eyes 

as they surmise

the size of the lot

and contemplate the price

and someone says

maybe 'I could use that' 

and another replies, 

'yeah, this might be nice'

...for the hands have been stilled 

that once thrilled

with the warmth of honest toil

as they filled

dishes with dinner

(fresh-from-the-garden-spoil)

Folded forever,
the fingers 

that lingered

between pages

as they highlighted a line 

here and there

The lips have laughed 

and kissed the last

tears of tots
and teddy-bears

when the milk was spilled

...here is the apron,

oft flour-dusty

as pies were rolled and filled

Now the rolling pins are passed on

like wooden batons

to the next generation

for stories not yet told

'what am I bid'

cries the auctioneer

'going once

going twice

sold!'

("throw in an extra rolling-pin"

he tells the bid-spotter

"We've got a lot of them to get rid of

...and just for the sake of love

a poem book or two

The things people collect!"

he said)

...and if I could I'd say

'yes, it's true,

it's true

Soundless echoes of 

home-sweet-love

that once upon my

little life

I knew'

Janet Martin

..

Surrender's Reward

 I am still a student of surrender's full fruit...the heart seems to be a stubborn leaner/learner...

With all the snow around here we begin feeling a sense of Christmas cheer!

Why not start early to celebrate mankind's joy to the world!

Choose joy; it makes life bearable

And wakes in us the miracle

That works in us a wonderful

Sustaining benefit

The wailing wind that rails and flails

And startles us with early gales

Inspires courage, fills hope's sails

With joy in spite of it

Choose joy; the kind that comes from trust

For what is man, but God-breathed dust

Dependent on His Perfect Must

From whence kind mercies brim

Then, come what may, of high or low

For all we cannot see or know

Joy grips the grace whereby we go

And leaves the rest to Him

Choose joy; for hearts are prone to fear

And though we groan with sorrow’s tear

Joy draws the God of Heaven near

And grants strength for the day

Where circumstance can be so mean

But God is bigger, though Unseen

And true joy is learning to lean

On He who knows/IS the way

© Janet Martin

  Though you have not seen him, you love him; 

and even though you do not see him now, 

you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 
for you are receiving the end result of your faith, 

the salvation of your souls. 

1 Pet.1:8-9

...and then surprise!
this little reminder from Ann Voskamp in her joy-quest!
 

 

Inevitable, The Fall

These days when we stand for

What we believe unflinchingly

We are opinionated if

Popular opinion does not agree

And if we do not like the lawless nature

Of mankind

These days we are hateful and

A bigot with a narrow mind

These days to stand strong in the ways

That our forefathers blazed

Is to be out of touch

With reality and I’m amazed

At what many, many will

Flatter and applaud

Not knowing what they do not know

They laugh in the face of God

These days political correctness

Takes the place of morality

Where virtue once was honoured

 It has almost ceased to

Though sadly many do not know

The truth of Truth at all

Where blind lead blind, foundation removed

Inevitable, the fall

© Janet Martin

 "The lies of the progressive left and the hyper-liberal media are 

what is a serious threat to the future of our nation. 

The Bible tells us, “The Lord detests lying lips…” (Proverbs 12:22)."

Franklin Graham 

 Jesus replied, "You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.
Matt.22:29

A Small Sonnet on Season-change

PAD Challenge day 12: write a form poem
 (here’s a list of 100 poetic forms for reference),
and/or…Write an anti-form poem.

 (Form poem)

Sonnet 14 is an English or Shakespearean sonnet, 
which consists of three quatrains followed by a couplet. 
It follows the traditional rhyme scheme of the form: ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.

A week ago the world was brown...

and leafy-gold...

Now it is wrapped in a sequin blanket white and cold!

(lost camera found!:)

With thousands of acres of corn still standing

it's hard to welcome Old Man Winter with wide-open arms

Beneath starred sweeps and diamond-studded shawls

The garden sleeps; fall’s final flowers fade

Where eiderdown of heaven decks earth’s halls

And rooms beneath our skin are rearranged

In an attempt to adapt to the art

Of constant change that cannot change time’s ways

And all must learn to reconcile the heart

To ordinary ordinance of days

Where we should have emotions well-rehearsed

But somehow still are taken by surprise

Though season-tides have never been reversed

To satisfy the hunger in our eyes

Where hope is always reaching for the moon

And winter always seems to come too soon

© Janet Martin