More Peaches!

We're eating peaches as fast as we can around here.  I've been giving peaches away and a few people have asked me how to freeze them.  This link shows in detail the method I use.  It is easy and inexpensive.  http://www.pickyourown.org/peachesfreezing.htm

Before you can freeze your peaches, you have to peel and slice them.  This leaves a lot of left over peels and pits lying around.  I found a recipe for jelly that you make using these peels and pits.  I love this because you get more out of your peaches this way.  You don't have to decide if you want to use your peaches for freezing or for jelly...you can do both with the same peaches.

Here's the recipe.  This jelly is delicious by the way.  Even though your only using the peels and pits, it is full of delicious, peachy flavor.  And, the jelly is a really pretty color and looks pretty in the jar, so it is great for gifts.

Peach Pit Jelly

Ingredients:

2 quarts of peach peels and pits

1/4 c. lemon juice

7 1/2 c. sugar (yikes!)

1/2 tsp. butter

2 pouches (3 oz each) Pectin

Cover pits and peels with water and boil for 30 minutes.  Refrigerate overnight.  Strain 3 1/2 c. juice from the pits and peels.  

Combine juice and lemon in a large heavy sauce pan.  Stir in sugar.  Add butter.

Bring to a full boil, stirring constantly.  Stir in pectin.

Bring to a full rolling boil for exactly 1 minute.

Remove from the heat.  Skim foam.  Immediately ladle into jars.  Leave about 1/2 inch head space.

Wipe any spilled jelly from jar rims.  Close jars tightly with lids.  Process for 5 minutes in a boiling water bath.  (Basically, you submerge the jars in boiling water for 5 minutes)

Remove from water bath and place on a towel.  Leave to cool for 12 hours.  As they cool, you should start hearing the wonderful "pop" sound that means the jars are sealing.  

Label the jelly and store in a dry, dark, cool place.

Peach Cobbler

We are over-run with peaches this year.  Four years ago, we planted 4 peach trees in our back yard.  We love having peach trees.  Mark, especially, likes to be able to go out in the back yard and find something to eat.  Must be a man thing.  This year, we have so many peaches that we don't know what to do with them. I can't pick them fast enough.  In fact, you are supposed to thin them out before they ripen so that you will have a few big peaches instead of a thousand little peaches.  I tried my best to thin them out, but there were SO many...I picked hundreds of peaches and they still were not adequately thinned out.  So, a lot of the peaches are on the smaller side this year.  But, they are packed with flavor...something you won't find in your grocery store peaches.
In honor of our peach crop this year, I am posting the recipe for my yummy peach cobbler.  It is especially good made with fresh peaches, but can also be made with canned.

Peach Cobbler

Ingredients:

1 c. sugar

2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg

4 cups sliced peeled fresh peaches (canned will work also)

Topping:

1 c. sugar

1 c. all-purpose flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1/3 c. cold butter

1 egg, beaten

In a large bowl, combine sugar, flour and nutmeg.  Add peaches; stir to coat.  Pour into a greased 11 in. x 7 in x 2 in baking pan.  

For topping, in a small bowl, combine sugar, flour, baking soda and salt; cut in the butter until the mixture resembles fine crumbs.  Stir in egg.  Spoon over peaches.  

Bake at 375 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until filling is bubbly and topping is golden.  

Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Yield:  8-10 servings

Aidan

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about this little boy:

There's not much of this little boy left.  A little boy who used to wake up in the morning and say, "mommy, I want to play all day in the world."  When did he stop saying that?  A little boy who used to ask me a thousand questions a day.  Like, "Is God faster than a rocket?"  "Is God bigger than a giant pickle?"  and "How many people are in the world?  Can you tell me their names?"  "Did God make bad guys?"

A little boy who called his milk, "moo," and said, "lasterday" instead of yesterday.  When did he stop playing with toy trains all day?  When did he stop watching Thomas the Tank Engine?  We got those trains out the other day, he couldn't even remember their names.  He used to know every single one.  

When did he stop needing my help with getting a drink or a snack or taking a bath or getting dressed?  

I miss this little boy.  I wish we could go back in time for a day.  I would kiss those chubby cheeks again and rock him until he fell asleep in my lap.  I would snuggle on the couch with him and his teddy bear, Jackson.  I would give him a big sippy cup full of "moo."  And, we would watch Thomas.  I would answer every single question he could come up with, and love doing it.

I love the young man Aidan is becoming.  He loves to read, and play video games, and go to water parks.  He can swim and ride a bike and a scooter.  He is protective of his sister and loves to play with his friends.  He has traded in his toy guitar for an electric guitar, and he's learning to play.  I love the boy that he is now, but sometimes I miss this little boy.

Mothers

 
  In honor of Mother's Day, my post today is a tribute to mothers.  Maybe it's a little self-serving, since I am a mother--I should probably leave it to all the non-mothers out there to write the tributes, but you really cannot fully understand motherhood until you become a part of it.  Everyone agrees that mothers are selfless and hard working.  Everyone holds the role of motherhood in high esteem.  But, I don't think that those that haven't experienced it TRULY know and understand the sacrifice and the joy that comes with motherhood.

    Fathers love and sacrifice for their children.  But, it's different.  It's not politically correct anymore to say it's different, but it is.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying mothers are better, or more important...but it's different.  Motherhood comes with scars.  There are the physical scars...the stretch marks, the c-section scars, the dark circles under your eyes, the gray hairs, those little wrinkles between your eyes.   There are also emotional scars...when you're a mother, it's never just you again.  There is an emotional connection with your child (whether they want it or not) that you can feel...it's almost tangible.  You can cut the cord physically, but never emotionally.  It is like there is a part of you walking around in the world and you want so badly to protect it, love it, make everything okay for it.  You hurt with them, rejoice with them, worry with them (and for them).    You dream for them, and hope and pray.  You fully invest yourself in the well-being of someone else.  That is what is so beautiful about motherhood.  It is a picture of God's love.  It is a glimpse of how God wants us to be.

   Mothers have gone through morning sickness, pregnancy, swollen ankles, labor, delivery, all night feedings, and potty training.  We wake up in the middle of the night and pray for our kids.  Mothers must be experts on discipline, education, nutrition, illness, exercise, and matters of faith.  We rarely sleep, usually eat our toddler's left-overs while doing the dishes, we meet our friends for lunch at McDonald's, when we'd rather go to the sophisticated tea-room.  We go to t-ball games, guitar lessons, ballet recitals and boy scouts...when what we'd love to do more than anything is sit down somewhere quiet.  We teach our kids how to get along with friends and teachers and the grumpy cafeteria monitor. We often have to be the bad guy.  We take away toys and video games; we won't let them watch that movie or this tv show, even though "every other kid gets to do it."  We teach them to dress themselves, tie their shoes, brush their teeth.  We teach them their colors and how to manage money and keep things neat.  We teach them their letters and that God loves them.

     We hold them when they're scared, kiss them when they're hurt, snuggle with them when they're tired and spank them when they misbehave.  We do it all knowing that some day they will walk out our door for good to lead their own life.  All we can hope is that we've raised them well.  As hard as this job is, I know I'll be sad when it's over.  A friend of mine once told me that when you are a mother, the days are long, but the years are short.  It is very true.

   Finally, being a mother reveals to you life's greatest secret.  It is a secret that so few are truly able to understand.  True joy, true love comes when you stop doing what is good for yourself and start doing what is good for others.  That is the joy of motherhood...it is hard and tedious and painful, but it brings so much joy.

Sometimes, when I think about the scars being a mother has left...my stretch marks, my gray hair, the brain cells lost to sleepless nights, I ache for a younger version of myself.  But, if I get some perspective, I can see that they are badges of honor.   I should be proud, not ashamed.  They are reminders, that I have given of myself sacrificially for another human being, and that is the greatest thing we can do in this life.