Easy Apricot Jam (No Pectin)

While we were visiting Grandma, we loaded up a huge box of apricots from the weighed down branches of her apricot tree. We shared them with everyone we stopped to visit and still ended up with a LOAD of apricots.....and here we are, day 3 of making apricot jam.

The thing I dislike the most about making jam is spending money on pectin only to end up with runny jam. My second issue with making jam is the amount of sugar......oh my! I found a recipe than doesn't require pectin and then I cut the sugar in half and added crushed pineapple. Turns out, it was fairly easy and my husband (who can usually detect even a thought of reduced sugar) loved it. So, here it is.

Once the jam gets cooking things really move fast. The jam should be quite hot when put into the jars so the lids will seal as the jam cools, so it is best to have the jars ready and waiting. Wash the jars in hot soapy water, or if the dishwasher isn't broken, USE IT! With one batch, I filled 4-5 pint jars. Have the lids ready and just as the jam is about done put them in boiling water for about a minute, this also helps with the sealing.





Apricot Jam

~10 cups halved, pitted and slightly squished apricots

~5 cups sugar

~About 1/3 cup (15 tsp) lemon juice

~Crushed pineapple

(I used half of a 20 oz can, but you could probably use the whole can or leave it out completely. It just adds a little more sweet to make up for the reduced sugar.)

Put all the ingredients in this order into a large pot and let it sit for an hour or two. The apricots will start to juice, and when there is a fair amount of juice in the pot it's time to heat it up.

Option 1: Bring it to a boil on high, stirring often. Once it is rolling you'll need to stir it constantly for about 30 minutes. When it boils down to about half the original volume and is thick (think boiling jam) it's ready to pour into jars.

Option 2: Bring it to a boil on medium high, stirring occasionally. Once it is a consistent boil, keep your eye on it and stir often, for about 45 minutes. When it boils down to about half the original volume and is thick (think boiling jam) it's ready to pour into jars.

I also read that if you skim the froth off and save it as you go, it makes a yummy syrup for pancakes or ice cream. I saved it, but I haven't tried it yet.

Pour or ladle jam into jars, wipe the top of the jars with a clean, wet towel and put the hot lids on. I used a spatula to get the lids out of the water one at a time, but I hear there is a little magnet grabber you can buy to make it easier. Screw the rings on tight and turn the jars upside down for five minutes. Turn them right side up and let them cool. A good sign is the popping sound they make as they seal.

Beautiful Adventure

I am obsessed with my kids feet and the stories they can tell. The theme this week at iheartfaces is feet, what a great excuse to share my obsession. This is typical Sunshine.....she is always game for any adventure and she looks beautiful while doing it. The girl puts Fancy Nancy to shame.

Move your feet on over to iheartfaces.com.

Where's My Dog?

I jumped back, startled by it's aggression. I would have missed it completely if it would have stayed still. I glared down at it's ugly, hole digging, root eating, field wrecking teeth as it squinted up at my giant, boot wearing, dog calling, shovel wielding figure and leapt forward again. The blade split the dry ground as I deflected the irrational attack.

Where was my dog? This was her job, and she was good at it. Not me; one who scoops up spiders as they race across my kitchen floor letting them run free in the grass.....no, not me. Wasted time, water and crops are all the varmits had ever given; still, I would transport it somewhere else, but I din't think my neighbors would appreciate the gesture.

The gopher lunged once more only to be met again by my shovel as I whistled for my delinquent dog; furred furry, oblivious to the power I had.....obviously not power over my dog, but it had to know this was the end. It should be working to make a deal, at least trying to look cute and helpless.

My feet sweltered in knee-high rubber as I brought the back side of the spade down on it's head, and cursed my dog.

On Hold

Water came yesterday. We're scheduled for only 22 hours, but sweet Larry, the ditch rider told me to keep it 'til I've had enough. So we let it run across the field, trying to redirect, flood, soak, and fill. We shovel, and adjust, and hold hands as we walk across the field leaving over sized prints in the mud.

We woke early to make sure the basement was still dry, and then it was more opening, closing and opening of gates. My kitchen hides beneath piles, and Laser Boy runs naked; everything is put on hold when the water flows. Maybe one day we'll learn how to control this blessing, perhaps even make it run up hill, like good Mormons can; so they say.

Things finally settle and the last flow soaks into the dust and I remember what I missed, and wish I could have put everything on hold and been mountains away, to dig and place....to finalize and have a purpose to be in that spot, so far away; to sit and think, remember.....

.....and laugh, because she always did.

Action

This week's theme at iheartfaces is "sports in action". This summer we have taken a break from organized sports, but to this kid, anything becomes a sport....and his middle name is action. Here he is "rockin' the high dive". (His quote, not mine)

Check out the action at iheartfaces.com

The Atmosphere of Heaven.

Last Sunday I gave a lesson on reverence. What an eye opener it was for me. I have always tried to help my kids understand that reverence is more than just folding your arms and keeping quiet in church; sometimes with more success than others. I love what Margaret S. Lifferth said in a conference this spring:

"remember, if reverence is rooted in love, so is the teaching of it. Harshness in our training begets resentment, not reverence.......Remember that we are not only teaching a child his first lessons in reverence, but the child may be mastering his first attempts at self-discipline.......self-mastery is not only the root of self-respect, it is essential in inviting the Spirit to teach, confirm, and testify.”

With so much at stake it's not surprising that it has been said that, "reverence is one of the highest qualities of the soul", and that " Reverence is the atmosphere of heaven." (Howard W. Hunter) This intrigues me....atmosphere, that which surrounds every part of us, that which we depend on not only for our life breath but for the life of all around us. But if we must start somewhere, what better place than how we address Him whom we revere.

“Probably no other words in the Lord’s Prayer have been so frequently slurred and overlooked as ‘Hallowed be thy name.’ They lie … ,” as one writer said, “in the valley between the great name of God and the glorious Kingdom for which we are looking and waiting. We slide over them as though they were only a parenthesis and hasten on to ask for bread and deliverance from our greatest foe.” (Charles Edward Jefferson, Character of Jesus)
Jesus was careful to place the petition “Hallowed be thy name” at the very forefront of his prayer. Unless that reverent, prayerful, honorable attitude toward God is uppermost in our hearts, we are not fully prepared to pray. If our first thought is of ourselves and not of God, we are not praying as Jesus taught. It was his supreme hope that our Father’s name and station would be kept beautiful and holy. Living always with an eye single to the glory of God, he urged men everywhere to so speak, and act, and live, that others seeing their good works might glorify their Father in heaven. ~Howard W. Hunter

In the book "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan (free download for July) the suggestion is given to stop praying....take a minute and acknowledge to whom you are speaking. As Moses on Mount Sinai, was first commanded to remove his shoes before conversing with the Lord, we too should prepare our minds and hearts to commune with our Father in Heaven.

Since we are commanded to "pray always" we should be living our lives so that we are always prepared for His presence.

In Psalm 46:10, when the Lord commands us to "Be still and know.." it is more of a commandment for our soul than our physical self. Some of my stillest moments have during intense movement....running in the early morning. Speaking of exercise, David O Mckay said this:

"Meditation is the language of the soul. It is defined as ‘a form of private devotion or spiritual exercise, consisting in deep, continued reflection on some religious theme.’ Meditation is a form of prayer.“Meditation is one of the most secret, most sacred doors through which we pass into the presence of the Lord”

All this has reminded me of a common phrase used by a good friend. She would always talk of her "daily walk with God." The idea wasn't foreign to me, but the wording was a little different than I was use to hearing, I love it; stating so simply the deep principals of reverence. This month I am joining a memorizing group hosted by Ann Kroeker. She offers a challenge to memorize something bigger than you ever have, to make it your own. This month I have chosen Romans 8 as a portion of my goal. Verse one fits in perfectly with all this that has been on my mind.

"Therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."

Care to join me for a walk?

Baked Beans

I've never been a fan of baked beans. Mostly just avoid them at picnics, and have never made them for my own family. Then about a month ago, we had a little BBQ with my sister and her family and she convinced me to try hers.

YUM.

She didn't come up with the recipe, I think it came from a good friend, but in honor of her putting up with Hup's shenanigans while we were there, I will forever call them:

"Becky’s Baked Beans".

2 cans pork and beans
1 can kidney beans
1 can black beans
2 squirts of ketchup
1 squirt of mustard
½ cup brown sugar
1 small can crushed pineapple
1 green pepper, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1 lb bacon, cooked crispy

Mix all ingredients except the bacon together in slow cooker and cook on low for 4 hours or med for 2 hours, adding the bacon toward the end, since crispy bacon is the preference here. Watch it closely, you don’t want it to overcook and get mushy.

K, so maybe that's a lousy prize for all the things my son broke/ruined/wasted while we were there, but don't worry, I left her the prize of all prizes.....
something special just for her.....
something I know she will just love.....
in her basement.

(This may require a follow up post)

Still hungry? Click on over to Ann Kroeker, she hosts a feast every friday.

Deflated

I squat, digging out the morning glory, trying to get as much of the white stringy root as I can without morphing into a gopher. It's a temporary fix but chemicals are a no-go for my garden. I notice the buzzing has stopped and I look down and swat as I see the blood thirsty squito on my knee. Kids wail, reminding me that they need weeded too; neglected, lost in the twisted roots of the day, choked for nourishment.

I look up from the blood on my knee and see the van sitting in our yard, hobbled, helpless on the jack. The air still clings to the heat of the day and I stink like a man. A full sand box, piles of rock, stacked hay, and the remaining clothesline post lying on the ground are testament that my masculine scent didn't just come from doing dishes. My sisters and I used to make fun of women who didn't know how to work, or to back up farm equipment; this memory had blown through my thoughts a few hours ago, and now my stench refreshed the recollection.

Again there is quiet, this time it pulls me from my garden and into the seceret plans of my kiddos. I suprise them in their scheme and find them......cleaning; cleaning before they "party big time." We break out the icecream sandwiches instead, and they run back outside to the trampoline. I follow, but stop at the prostate clothesline post, it's bolts sticking up into the air. I can still here the whoosh from the tire as my husband observes, "Guess you didn't see the post," and I wonder if I could still back up a trailer.

Trek was fun, I knew it would be, why else would so many youth continue past the cringe of tennis shoes and a skirt just to experience this adventure? Maybe it also had something to do with the hunger. Not the life stealing, 4 ounces of flour a day kind of hunger the pioneers experienced, but just as real. Pres. Mcconkie hit it on the head when he said these youth are hungry for spiritual knowledge. Some of them have been living on so much less than 4 ounces a day that they are willing to "lick the empty flour sacks" just to get a taste. On this trip there were plenty of snacks to be had, and for those who came prepared they left with tummys full and future provisions. I just feel honored to have witnessed it.

I have to admit that I was adequately fed also, some I'm still chewing on. To be in a place that felt so alive with the faithful who died there was more powerful than I expected. While we were at Martin's Cove, the weather was beautiful. It has been a very wet spring and everything was lush and green, completely oppisite to what the pioneers must have experienced, except for the solid mass of rock that sheltered the cove on the east, and the wind....not the freezing, biting wind that brought that early winter in 1856, but the sound of it as it blew over the cove seemed to carry so much more than fresh spring air. Several times it stopped me in my tracks, listening for what I thought I had heard. Then, at the Willie Handcart Memorial site, as I pulled the cart with just my girls up the hill and passed between the men with their hats off and heads bowed, I felt physical pressure all around me, like every woman who has been left to pull on their own was there. The honor was for them, and I was just a decorative whitness standing proxy, amazed by their courage to do what had to be done. These experiences would have been enough but mixed in with all the history of faith and perserverence there was still time for my own questions to be answered as I felt His peace "distil upon (my) soul as the dews from heaven."

Of course I was snapping photos all along, these are just a few....I hope the music doesn't feel irreverent, considering the quarter mile swamp littered with cow pies we trekked through it seemed appropiriate.

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