Barns Continued

What in life endures, I am not sure, but as I drive down country roads and see the barns that dot the family farms, I know it is these barn weathered becons that do remain, and I am awed by their presence and captivated by their charm. They are as rooted in the earth as the farm families living near with stories to tell of those who tilled the land, and planted well the bread baskets of the world, and then perserved their crops in these barn hollowed lofts. Some stand facing the sun; others see rust colored sunsets as shadows creep up one side and down the other of their warn-weathered sides. They have outlasted the darkest storms, the heaviest winds, pelting snows, and have given refuge and safe harbor within for farm animals to grow: calfs, fouls, young kittens, and for down-and-outs, and for run-away slaves who in darker days had nowhere to go. They are housed hidden among rolling hills or stand hard upon flat, firm landscapes, while colorful paints and peelings catch your eye as you drive by. Some barns have messages to take to heart: "Jesus saves; Repent; chew mail pouch tobacco" in years gone by. How many years has each barn stood, I do not know and their future fate I can only surmise.....the year and date of their demise. But I know this for sure; they will remain and endure long after I am gone.

Barns

So what is it about barns that I love? Well for one thing; I love their history. I love the thought that they house animals, crops and grains which feed the people who make their living from the farms they cultivate and the animals they raise. I love the idea that they are different shapes and sizes, and also different colors, but I love the red painted barns the best. There is something so earth solid about barns; something about barns that say that is all you need to survive...a good sturdy barn. I love the fact that barns housed run-away slaves in their day, perhaps on their way to freedom, and perhaps were the places where one could take shelter from the cold, rain and stormy weather. I have had the opportunity to see many barns from the inside out here on the prairie in central Illinois, and the intricate, solid beams and criss-crossed planks are amazing to see. It is no wonder that barns last so long, as was certainly the intention when men built them. I love the idea of an old fashioned barn raising. What could be more heart warming than a community of farmers coming together to help their neighbor build his barn. Yes, I love barns, and all the history and folk lore that goes with them. I am not a four legged animal, but I think I could be happy living in a barn.

There is something so "green", earthy and satisfying about "putting up" your own tomatoes. I only have to read my February 3ed entry to know how much we love these jars of fresh tomatoes (i.e. sauce) in the middle of winter. There is absolutely nothing like the flavor of fresh grown tomatoes any time of year, but, ah to have it in winter...that is heaven. I learned to do this from Mike's mom who took care of everything on their farm including canning every kind of vegetable and fruit imaginable. Today we are moving back to the basics of eating what farmers grow all around us. We are lucky to live just a stone's throw (or about two miles) from a fresh farmer's market in the country, and we also have a very active farmer's market here in Normal, Illinois. Eating "fresh" has spoiled us. We can now tell the difference. This is one aspect of the "going green" movement that we love. I now have my process of "canning" tomatoes down to a science. It takes a few important kitchen tools, and some very exact steps. First I core the top part of the tomato (just a small cutting out of the tip); second, I drop the tomatoes into boiling hot water for about two minutes, take them out and peel the skin which comes off easily after this short boiling. I shed the skin while holding the tomato under running cold water as it is very hot. I then put these tomatoes into a large container (I use our large roasting pan). I chop up onions and peppers to go with the tomatoes, smash up the tomatoes and then stir in the onions and peppers. Salt a little. All of this goes into a large pot on stove to heat to almost boiling. Then I boil the canning jars with their lids; take them out one at a time and pour in the tomato sauce. I seal them tight. If you have sealed them correctly, you will hear a popping noise after a short amount of time to indicate, the seal is o.k. Now, I know this seems like a lot of work, but I did today's batch this morning, all before 10:00 a.m. But, I once told a friend of mine about this "putting up" of tomatoes and she said she also "put up" tomatoes. She said that she goes to the grocery store, picks out several cans of tomatoes, brings them home, takes them out of the bag, and then "puts them up" into her kitchen cupboard. Both ways are good; one just tastes better.