How's the Weather today? by Shelley Hopkins

West Virginia snow and sleet, February.

         

   North Carolina on a rainy warm day, February.

South Carolina in January.

I have not written in a while, because I have been travelling.  I spent a week in NC with family, followed by a week in WV getting ready to move out of our house.  We left WV last June, and have been living in the warm state of SC, where we have enjoyed sunny days, heavy rain and wind, mosquitoes and extreme heat.  We left a lush green state and a house surrounded by green hills, and mountains.  Now we can enjoy water and marshes every day, but the grass and the pine trees are of a different shade of green, and the only hills I see are the bridges we cross over the wide rivers or onto islands.  The landscape is very different, but it is that very difference that causes me to enjoy and see the beauty of each place.

The biggest difference is the weather.  One January day here I took my daughter to the beach so she could swim.  It was chilly and cloudy, but warm.  The water was cold but my crazy child jumped right in, waded out into the waves and stood hip deep.  I was only able to enter the water ankle deep, and I was cold.  She screwed up her courage, dove under water and swam for a few feet.  She came up shivering, but the warm air cheered her, and she dove again.  This time she swam nearly a lap of a standard pool, then came out to stand by me.  We watched dolphins swim by, and then walked back to the car.  Her legs were red from the cold water, but she was energized and alert.  We stopped for coffee on the way home, and she talked a mile a minute about how good the water felt.  In WV there was snow on the ground.

Last week, February, we drove to WV to pack and to visit with friends.  It was a warm day here in SC although cold was coming.  While we were gone it got down to the low 30’s.  Heading north, we drove through snow, ice, and mist to get to our house, and in the morning we woke to a snow-covered yard.  My son had to scrape our car to go to church.  Later in the day I needed gas, and I stopped at a station to pump.  It was 19 degrees with a strong cold wind that was felt all the way to your bones.  I could not stand outside long enough to fill the tank. I was all the way back to my house before I was warm again.   I remembered how I enjoyed drinking hot tea, and sitting under blankets on the couch in the evening.  I missed the electric blanket that was already packed, and I piled on the comforters at night.  But I really enjoyed watching the snowfall, and driving through the mists and seeing ice covered trees.   When I returned to SC it felt great to be able to wear light jackets, and not to worry about gloves, scarves, hats, and heavy coats.  As I write this it is warm and extremely windy, 72, in SC, and raining and 39 in WV.

On the social media, facebook, I see every day someone complain about the weather.  I have friends all over the country and in several different countries.  Every day it is too hot, too cold, too rainy, too windy, too much.  Sometimes people will say, “what a perfect day.”  That translates as warm but not too warm, sunny, and perhaps a light breeze.  That is a perfect day.  To me, I enjoy every day that has weather, all types of weather, even the cold that can be so difficult day after day.  I love the wind, when the buildings shake and rattle, trees bend, and a wild roar fills the air.  That gives me a feeling of adventure.  I love the heat, real heat such as above 90 and 100.  That heat can sap energy, but it warms the bones and kisses the skin.  I like walking in the heat, then coming home to a cool house and a tall glass of water.  I love rain, especially heavy rain that fills the air, turns the sky a dark grey, and roars as it falls.  Too much rain can make you feel moldy, and listening to rain fall for 25 days in a row can make your head ache and ears beg for silence, as I found out once in Costa Rica.  Even cold is good; I really enjoy a brisk walk when it is cold, and the ears and nose stings.  The best part is coming back inside, drinking a mug of hot chocolate and enjoying the warm house.  All those extreme weather days can make a warm breezy sunny kind of day better, more enjoyable, and not dull.  I am grateful for weather, cloudy days that make the sky interesting, dark and grey days that are special and cozy, and cold days sitting by a fire.  Different landscapes, different weather, we need them all.  I am going to miss the snow now that we live in the south, but I will enjoy other types of weather.  I have to admit though; I will not miss having to take 10 minutes to put on hat, gloves, scarf, heavy coat, and boots, just to go outside.  But the joy of spring, warm days and green misty rains, all this is enhanced by the memory of the cold.  Never take the weather for granted, always enjoy each season, and know that if you don’t like today’s weather, just wait for tomorrow.  

Les Miserable and faith by Shelley Hopkins

                                       Les Miserable

My daughter and I watched Les Miz for the second time yesterday.  If we could we would watch it at least once a week.  We love the music, the story, and everything about this production.  I have cried both times.  This is one of those timeless stories that teaches, inspires and makes me want to be a better person, and of course, I wish I could sing.

I never read Les Miserable in school, and although I had listened to the soundtrack of the musical I really didn’t know what the story was about.  I knew it had to do with a man stealing a loaf of bread and being pursued by a hardnosed policeman. I was completely surprised by the message I took away from the movie.

In the musical the two main characters are Jean Valjean and Javert.  Valjean is the ex convict that spent 19 years in jail for stealing a loaf of bread, and Javert is the hard nosed policeman that searches for him over the years.  Each man tries to follow God as best as he can.  Valjean’s faith comes from an encounter with a bishop.  Like many ex convicts he finds it nearly impossible to find work or kindness out in the free world, and one night he ends up starving and cold in a monastery. For the first time he is welcomed, and cared for by the bishop.  But it is difficult to change his ways, and while everyone sleeps Valjean steals all the silver from the church.   He is caught and returned.  Valjean told the policemen that the silver had been a gift.  We all know that is not true, the reader, the crook, the police, and the priest, but the decision of the bishop is what changes the course of Jean ValJen’s life.  The bishop says that the silver was indeed a gift, but that Jean Valjean left so fast he forgot the very best, the silver candlesticks.  He bought ValJean’s life for God, with his silver and with his trust.  Not only is the man free to go, he has money to start over.  Most importantly, for perhaps the very first time someone has cared for him, sacrificed for him, and given him value.

 We aren’t told much about Javert’s past in the movie.  In one song, singing to Valjean, he says he was born in a prison from scum like you.  Javert has risen above his past, and has dedicated his life to God and his rules.  His most powerful song speaks to the stars, to order and law and to how those that don’t follow the order and law will fall as Lucifer fell.  That song sends shivers down my spine. 

Valjean makes a new life in a new town and becomes the mayor. As mayor, and as a now follower of God, Valjean encounters various opportunities to help others.  During this time Javert continues to search for the escaped parolee. It seems that Javert can only see his own evil, as he was born in a prison.  If he can purge the world of evil he will make up for his own birth, his own life of sin.  He does not seem to believe in redemption, or in mercy for himself or for others.  In his world no one is allowed to make mistakes, and that includes himself.   When the opportunity to kill Javert comes Valjean chooses to not do so, and this act of kindness and mercy is the destruction of Javert.  Not long after Valjean’s act of mercy Javert has another opportunity to arrest Valjean, and he is unable to do so.  He feels the strange sentiment of mercy, tosses his gun into the water and then he has to face the fact that he failed.  Instead of understanding mercy Javert only sees the law, the justice that he should render.  Instead of the love of God he only sees anger, and in his failure Javert throws himself off a bridge and drowns. 

To me Les Mis is the perfect representation of Christianity, of faith used well and used poorly.  Through the faith of the bishop many lives were changed, that of Valjean, of Fantine, of Cosette and of Marius.  Through the desire to serve the law many lives were hurt, and perhaps the one that suffered the most was Javert himself.  Les Miz is about redemption, of mercy and of grace.  Perhaps the bishop was the most important character, because of his one act many lives were changed, and yet I would guess that he never knew the impact he had.  He only operated out of his faith and love, his desire to do what was right. 

I went to a movie expecting to see a story of the French Revolution, and of abuses and the suffering of the poor.  I mainly wanted to enjoy the great music and visual effects.  What I did see was a movie that reflected the beauty and power of the Christian faith.  If more people understood Christianity that way I think more people would follow Christ.  

1 Cor 13:13 And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

beach and cake by Shelley Hopkins

Its funny how sounds and smells bring back memories.  Today after running a few errands and attending an honor awards for my daughter I decided to write on the beach.  Now that I live 15 minutes from the coast I feel like I should take advantage when I can, so on a warm January day I roll up my pants, switch my nicer shoes for a pair of sandals and find a place to park.  From the street through the path of myrtles I can’t see the ocean but I can smell the salty air and I can hear the roar of waves.  Immediately I feel the excitement and I remember the excitement I used to feel in the summers when we would vacation at the coast. 

I remember sitting in the band room on the last day of middle school, goofing off with my friends.  Our music had been turned in, instruments were put away, and we were just chatting.  All I could think about was the beach, the waves, warm sunshine.  The next morning my brother and I and my grandparents loaded up their Buick, and off we drove along highway 74 through Monroe, Pageland and the dry South Carolina countryside.  Granddaddy always pointed out the cotton fields, as if it was the first time we had seen cotton plants.  They were dry and brittle, but a few missed puffs of white still could be seen scattered across the plants, a southern snow.

We always stopped at a lone picnic table under a large oak tree.  This was not a rest top like you see on highways; this was a picnic table and a trashcan by the side of an old two-lane road.  And in contrast my grandma’s idea of a picnic was a little nicer than the peanut butter sandwiches I provide for my children when we travel.  My grandparents, my brother and I would sit around that old wooden table and eat fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and biscuits and drink sweet tea.  We would finish the meal with grandma’s homemade cake, a cake made early that morning and placed on the floor between grandma’s feet.

 Granddaddy always made us run around, get out the wiggles, and then off we would go through more small towns and dried fields of cotton.  When we could detect the decaying seaweed smell of the ocean, my brother and I would start yelling, jumping up and down in the backseat.  Granddaddy always had car contests for any trip we took. We were encouraged to watch carefully on any trip, trying to be the first to see whatever landmark he had chosen.  On this trip we were watching for the drawbridge.  At least until the bridge appeared we were entertained.  Sometimes we had to wait on the drawbridge, and to us that only made the trip more exciting, as if we were crossing the moat to a castle.  We would drive across the bridge that only moments before had been separated, the two sides pointing to the sky.  The beach I am writing from today still has a drawbridge, although it works a little differently with a lift and a twist.  Maybe that small tie to my childhood beach trips is part of why this Island is my favorite in the area.

My aunt used to own a small family motel on the beach, and that was where we always stayed.  The lobby had a sign in the window saying No Pets, and almost always Aunt Day Day’s cat would be watching us, her face just above that sign.  Check in was hard because all I could think about was my bare feet on the sand.  I could hear the ocean from the lobby, the hot parking lot, and while we carried our luggage to our rooms.  Finally we were free to toss off our shoes, cross the soft white burning sand, drop our things and run screaming into the ocean. 

Granddaddy would set up the chairs and watch us, while Grandma took a nap.  I never understood at the time how Grandma would want to pass up her first afternoon at the beach for a nap.  I never thought about the fact that she got up at 4 a.m. to cook our picnic lunch, bake a cake from scratch and frosting, all before I rolled out of bed, but I loved those picnic lunches under an oak tree with the soft breezes.  Great memories.  I only wish I had a picture of my aunt’s hotel, The Windjammer, to go with this post.  

pop tarts,home made by Shelley Hopkins

Perhaps one of the most unhealthy breakfast foods that I crave is pop tarts.  At least once a month I want those brown sugar bready treats, although usually I resist.  The calorie count is extremely high, the convenience food is expensive, and for a large family pop tarts are not an economical choice.  Even so, I still want them.

Browsing various blogs I came across a recipe for home made pop tarts.  Strange as it may be, I had never thought that a person in her own kitchen could create such a food, so I printed the recipe and quickly began cooking.  It turns out that the recipe is simply two homemade pie shells with jelly or cinnamon sugar placed between them.  The first time I made pop tarts I didn’t roll out the dough thin enough, but I still enjoyed their taste.  I filled half with strawberry jelly, and the other half with cinnamon sugar, my favorite.  The next week I took more time to roll out the dough, I filled most of them the same way and cooked.  I also filled a couple with cheese, pepperoni and mushrooms for a pizza snack. 

This is one of the most versatile recipes I have found, and every week that I cook it I plan to experiment with various fillings.  I have homemade apple butter in my pantry, fig butter, different jellies, and of course the left over cheese and veggie choices.  I am looking forward to trying different combinations.  The writer of the blog that I read also chose to freeze uncooked pop tarts for later breakfasts, but so far in my house these easy foods don’t last very long.  

Pop Tarts

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all purpose flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

2 sticks unsalted butter ( if you use salted butter leave out the tsp salt as they will be very salty)

4-5 Tbs ice water or more as needed

filling, fruit preserves, cinnamon sugar, apple butter, etc

Mix the flour, salt and sugar together in a bowl.  Cut up the butter into cubes and mix into the flour, using a pastry blender or your fingers.  Mix until mixture looks like course crumbs.  This is best if the butter is chilled.  Push the mixture to one side of the bowl and add 2 Tbs of water.  Slowly add all the dry flour on the side of the bowl to the wet flour, mixing and adding water as needed until a slightly sticky dough is formed.  Using your hands press dough together into two balls.  Place in refrigerator to chill while getting the pans ready for cooking.

Preheat oven to 375.  Line baking pans with parchment.  Dust the counter with flour, and dust the rolling pin.  Choose one ball of dough and roll out thin.  Cut into whatever shapes you want, realizing that you will need a matching top and bottom for each tart.  Place half of the cut out tarts on the parchment, and cover with the chosen filling, about one Tbs depending on the size of the pop tart.  Place the top tart dough over the bottom one and press together to seal.  Use a fork to seal completely.  Bake for about 15 – 20 minutes.  You can dust with powdered sugar or make a sugar glaze when you take them out of the oven. 

Glaze

1 cup Powdered sugar

1 – 3 Tbs Water or lemon juice.

Whisk together until mixture is like a glaze and pour over warm pop tart.

I have not done that yet, I like my pop tarts plain.  I made my tarts much smaller the second time but I think they would look good in triangles also.  Enjoy!

The pop tart in my picture is one of the pizza bites, a new favorite here.