Tag: cold

Beautiful Beach Day

March 31, 2020

Beautiful Beach Day

I know by the time this gets published, we aren’t going to be allowed on our beautiful beaches anymore due to what my teens tease the history books will call “the corona shutdown,” but don’t judge us.

Anyway, after making sure you understand that my one-month of disabled computer leading to very-very late posts is what causes this to be published way after it happened…

We LOVE our beach days (usually evenings, it is surface-of-the-sun Florida, even in February and March). This lovely day was a perfect, breezy, sunshine day. Our beach was “crowded” today (aka, more than just three groups as far as the eye could see). We actually happened to know both of our distant beach neighbors!

The girls took our boogie boards and caught the tiny waves. They grew to some nice ones and a few surfers started dotting the decent ones past the distant sandbar (if you see a dark dot in the distance, that is a surfer).

The teens buried each other together so that their legs were “eaten by the hungry hippo.”

Thea thought the water was too cold. After Mommy tried to get her wet a few times, she continually raced back up to Daddy, the shade tent, and Mommy’s chair.

In the background you see Kimberly in a deep hole, the other legs belong to part of the kid squad trying to fill that hole with water using sand buckets in a bucket line! We laughed so hard as they kept shrieking “the water’s going down!” after each bucketful of water got lost in the thirsty sands at the bottom.

There were some very funny teenager-talk jokes passing around during the sand sculpture time.

Besides enjoying hours with my family – my absolute favorite activity in the Earth, the beach allows me to breathe like I used to. I dunk my head in the salty water, rinse my sinuses and after a half-hour or so, I can breathe like before the mold allergy. I love the beach. This is why I live in Florida. I am a surfer in my soul. I managed one wave where Lucas baby-surfed on me (I bodysurfed and he was clinging on) but he has learned how to bodysurf on his own and Thea isn’t ready for that yet!

I pray to be able to continue to live near these amazing sandy tapestries of God’s wonderful design where I can feel refueled and whole. We packed up, watched the sunset, and trudged back to our van.

We left our sanctuary and returned to “real life.” I refused the radio and we listened and tried to sing-along to uplifting fun songs.

Are we in uncertain times? Yes, but nature always makes me remember that God is in control and my job is to do what I am able to and leave everything else that I can’t control in His hands.

Thank you for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

The Coldest Day

When you’ve worked almost two years to get a harvest and a deep freeze threatens; you save the navel oranges! Jaquline’s Birthday Story

January 4, 2019

The Coldest Day

This is story of the coldest day for us in winter 2009-2010:

It was the second winter in the farm house.  We loved that house because there were twelve citrus trees, a huge ancient fig tree, an Asian pear tree, tons of mulberry, pecan, and oak trees, an old neglected trio of muscadine grape vines on the arbor, and blackberry vines in thickets around the perimeter fence.

We had worked feeding and tending each of the trees for almost two years.  Most had given us hearty thanks in the form of yummy, sweet fruit.  Well, the pecans actually were eaten by the over abundant squirrel population and one of the orange trees was sour so when we wanted lemonade we actually just popped off six of those giant sour oranges and made orangeade instead.  It was light yellow in color and except for a slight orange flavor; the girls thought it was lemonade!

There were two tangerines, one pink grapefruit, three yellow grapefruit, one tangelo, two small orange, one lime, and one sour orange tree that had given us fruit after the first winter.  Since it had been a mild winter with no deep freezes, the fruit was sweet and had set on the trees over spring as we harvested it in perfectly manageable sets.

Only the navel orange hadn’t yielded fruit.  Until this year.  It was so loaded we had to support the weaker limbs with stilts despite heavy pruning during the summer!  We were so excited because we’d been told it was the sweetest fruit but almost never had a crop.  It looked like we had accomplished our goal!

But this winter had only just started.

We’d already had almost a week of mild freezes – just enough for frost, but not enough to freeze the fruit.  Grandma Jeanette had called them “sugar freezes.”  Now I knew that was because citrus fruit needs five to seven days of light freezes to sweeten.  However, the one deep freeze could destroy the whole crop as it would freeze the fruit through the skins and rot them.  We had watered down each tree carefully just before sunrise after each of the light freezes, but the forecast said tomorrow, January 7, 2010, we would wake to temperatures below 28 degrees.  In our little area, we sunk two to four degrees below what the news said every time.

This would be a fruit-killing deep freeze.

And of all our citrus, the navel orange had the thinnest skin so would be the most affected.

I determined we would harvest all that fruit today.

We didn’t do school lessons, but immediately after milking the cow and feeding the chickens, we tugged the blue fruit bucket (a giant plastic washtub that held about 12 bushels) over to the tree and started picking.  I sent Christina and Rebeccah into the tree.  At 6 and 4 they were already experts at climbing through citrus trees avoiding the horridly sharp thorns.  They scrambled up and out to get the highest fruit.  We worked on for hours, singing and laughing.  And my belly contracted.  I was 41 weeks pregnant.

After her work was over, Grandma Joanne showed up.  Seems there’s this old wives tale that if you reach up a lot while you’re pregnant, your baby will be all wrapped up in their cord.  (Maybe so, as 2-year-old Kimberly, who was racing around tossing fruit her sisters plopped on the ground into the bucket, had been born with her cord around her neck.  I hung clothes out on a line her whole pregnancy.)  I told her I wasn’t wasting this fruit.  I offered her a bag.  She didn’t think that was funny.  We were almost done.  We were on our third bucket and there were only a few scattered edge pickings left.  Rebeccah had decided they were unreachable.  That was why I was on the ladder to get them.  Christina was busy, putting the last bucket’s goodies into some of the fruit boxes in the garage.

Using the ladder and 4-prong rake (the girls call it the hand-tiller or the fruit-grabber depending on which use we were employing), we managed to get all of the succulent fruit off of that beautiful tree.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.  For the first time I watched all three “Lord of the Rings” extended editions back to back in the bed as I tried to sleep.  Baby was coming.

Early morning on the coldest day of our winter of 2009-2010, Jaquline Ellouise Tart was born.

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Jaquline and Grandma Joanne – Jaquline is less than an hour old.

Christina and Louis made us sweet, fresh orange juice for celebration drinks!  (And yes, Jaquline was born with a cord so long the midwife and her assistant measured it to confirm it was the longest they’d ever seen – and it was wrapped around her neck “like a winter scarf,” according to our midwife but was too long to pose a risk.)

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Jaquline and Lucas with leaves!

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Jaquline with Daddy at a football game!

Jaquline will be nine in a few days… and the story of the navel oranges picked the day before her birth is one of her favorites!   She also loves the part about how she chose to be born on the coldest day that hit our house that winter.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Looking for Positive

April 18, 2018

Looking for Positive

Sometimes it is hard to stay positive. I’d like to believe that I’m always thinking about how whatever I experience is working toward God’s glory and find a positive attitude, but that just isn’t reality. It is still a struggle for me to not drop myself into negative thoughts, worry, and the downward, hard-on-myself spiral that leads into depression.

For instance: I just got out of a three-day hospital stay for what I consider the silliest thing ever – an asthmatic allergic reaction to black mold.

History: I’d been sick since the day after our van was busted in (February 19, 2018) with what I originally thought was a cold. March 1, I went to the clinic, transferred to the ER, and diagnosed with pneumonia. Major allergic reaction (common for me is body-covered-in-chicken-pox-like-rash) to my antibiotic after 9 days led to another clinic visit because it appeared to be affecting my breathing too. They did a breathing treatment and gave me an inhaler. April 3, I went back to the clinic because I was not being able to breathe again. Breathing treatment, felt great, finished my responsibilities for that evening and woke up on the 4th almost unable to breathe. ER again. New diagnosis – no pneumonia, mild upper respiratory infection. New antibiotic, steroid, and same inhaler with orders to use it more.

On April 12, I’d finished the antibiotic, the steroid, and the inhaler. The next afternoon, I went to the clinic because I was struggling to breathe again and was, for the first time, coughing up colored (infected) mucus. They did two breathing treatments and reissued the inhaler.

On April 13, about midnight, I was unable to breathe again. I could feel there was space, but the air seemed to get “caught” just at the base of my neck. I felt my heart rate racing. My head kept trying to make me panic. My mind and lungs felt like I was at the bottom of a wave underwater with the air in sight but no way to get to the air. I kept praying for God to open up my lungs. Louis came home and instantly took me back to the ER. This time I almost fainted getting to the door; I almost passed out several times but kept forcing myself not to because I thought it was “mental” and I should be able to “handle it.”

The admitting doctor said I had “septic pneumonia” (this meant the pneumonia had gone “septic” and traveled in my body) and was reacting to the double breathing treatment & inhaler. (Side effects were listed as heart palpitations, etc.) He issued an IV antibiotic which caused a severe reaction (fever, my whole upper body went red, my larynx swelled, etc). That was scary! So I ended up in ICCU. That wasn’t accurate, but it was their first guess.

The final diagnosis was an asthmatic reaction to black mold. The pneumonia had been cleared in March, but a “small” infection was still “sitting” in my upper respiratory tract. The pulmonologist (lung specialist) said it was a reaction to something that had entered my “life” in or before December. New pet for Christmas? Nope. But when we turned off our Air Conditioning to save money in November, we discovered as we lost the A/C’s dehumidifying effect that we had black mold in the rental house. We’d saved for a few months to get a dehumidifier (in February, just after I got sick with the cold/pneumonia) and dried the house up. All the mold was cleaned and gone… except for our bed mattress. We’d attempted drying and cleaning it, and thought we’d done it, but it was a foam mattress and therefore didn’t completely dry.

I HAD BEEN SLEEPING ON THE ALLERGEN!

That made perfect sense. I’d always felt worse in the morning, it’d clear up some at work, if I laid down for a nap (trying to rest so I could get better) I felt worse.

Louis burned the mattress. (He was mad that something so stupid had almost “lost me” and I was like “just throw it away” but it was almost new and he didn’t want anyone to pick it up and use it.) He winked, “the Bible says you burn mold.” Boys… and I couldn’t argue with that.

As I was feeling better (actually, all through this sickness), I kept seeing dollar signs every time a CNA, nurse, or respiratory therapist came in the room to scan my bracelet with a new medicine. We have catastrophic insurance, but that means we have to find $15,000 before our insurance will pay anything. The clinic visits were $75 each, and we had only just started trying to pay from the first hospital visit (so far, $1200, but there may be another bill from March). We had to save for a dehumidifier… we don’t even have money saved to move to another home. (Although, we like our rental house, but Louis says we’ll drop it in a heartbeat if my breathing issue comes back.) So, it was hard to see positive while in the hospital.

I had to try to stay positive; I kept reminding myself that God says a cheerful heart does good like medicine. (Thus, outside of a gem of a Matlock show mentioned next to the Sunday paper crossword, I didn’t want to watch the TV.)

Becca, one of my sisters, brought a book I devoured. It was “In This House we will Giggle” by Courtney DeFoe. One of the volunteers on Sunday saw me doing the crossword and brought three word searches with blank white backs!

WRITING PAPER!!

One was filled with the outline for number five in “The Devonians” series (probably will be called “Convincing the Council,” but I haven’t decided yet). The other two became my journal pages with notes, quotes, Bible verses, and thoughts from or inspired by this awesome “Giggle” book. The whole idea of that book in a nutshell is this: Mom, release your worry, perfectionism, and expectations to God and learn how to choose to rejoice in everything so you can set a joyful example and cultivate godly virtues in your children. I loved reading about someone who was like me. I read that book from cover to cover four times before midnight.

On the way to pick up the girls from college the next day, I listened to one of my favorite Radio teachers, Chip Ingram. God must be making sure this message gets through because Chip’s message was about giving everything up to God, accepting that in whatever way God chooses to heal us, modern medicine (God taught us that), unexplained miracles (I’ve seen those too), or health and nutrition changes (that’s my lifestyle anyway), the glory is all still God’s.

God is more concerned with our attitude during our struggle than the outcome.

This reminds me of a character in “The Robe” (great movie): She’s a cripple who is telling the Roman “infiltrator” about her journey from bitterness to joy. He says, “but why didn’t Jesus just heal you?” She replies, “then I would be expected to be joyful, wouldn’t I?” BOOM.

God has shown us what the underlying cause for my continued illness. Thank you Jesus! I can avoid it.

God has shown me that my nutrition was fine. (The Dr said my body had enough nutrition it should have fought off the infections easily, even my iron levels were good.) Amen!

I met a nurse who has a 16-year-old homeschooled son and that greatly encouraged me in my family’s homeschool journey.

God has led us to wisdom and we’ve removed danger before it affected any of the children or Louis.

God will provide a way for us to financially cover this bill (even though it’s like a year’s rent – I can trust Him to provide us a means to pay it off). Just like we trust Him for day-to-day needs, He will cover this one too.

This is my brother’s birthday and he’s coming down this weekend – and I’m so much better than I’ve felt since January! Thank you, Jesus! My throat is clear so I can sing, my ears aren’t clogged, and my nose is open so I can smell!

I am a vendor at the Family Fun Fest in downtown Saint Augustine on the 28th of April and I’m going to be feeling awesome instead of tired and run down! I have such a positive air of expectation about this show (have since we signed up in November) and want the girls to have fun! Thank you, Jesus!

I refuse to allow the devil to draw me down into depression this time. I will find blessings in this mess (there are many!) and praise God through it even when I don’t feel like it. Let the challenge to find positivity begin!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Chilly Hill Fun

Our fun outing to see the St Augustine boat parade at Castillo De San Marcos (rolling down the hill is their “best” part!)

December 10, 2017

Chilly Hill Fun

We’re usually busy on the weekends.  Because of an unexpected break, we discovered we could go to the bayfront to watch the boats parade by dressed up in Christmas lights.

So, Mom, sisters, cousin, and brother all gathered into the van (we had to go pick one sister up from her event to join us!) and made our way to the free “nights of lights shuttle” parking area.  This was my first time using this service, and it was fantastic!  We arrived at the bus stop (county health department) about 4:30pm.  The girls played “rock, paper, scissors” and softly sang along to the Christmas songs while Lucas announced the passing of every bus, big truck, and string of Christmas lights; usually adding “we on a bus, Mom!”  We were at the parking garage drop off & did the short walk to the fort to arrive just before 5pm.

At that moment, although it was Florida chilly (low 60s) the wind chill wasn’t too bad.  I kept reminding the girls to put on their jackets (which, like most younglings, they had tried to “forget” both at home and in the van).

Four girls and Lucas rolled down the fort hill (Lucas actually rolled in the flat dirt, much to the entertainment of his older sisters), ran about playing some version of “Tag” with any other child who crossed their path, and periodically bounced to the older girls’ perch on the bayfront wall asking, “are the boats coming yet?”

Kimberly, Jaquline, Jillian, and Anastasia spied a Fire Department boat with red lights and a Police boat with blue lights that appeared to be racing!  They each cheered for their favorite color – blue won.  But the red one stayed right in front of our spot so Lucas yelled “Hi, red fire boat!” almost every time he glanced that way for the next 20 minutes.

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Finally, the boats started to line up.  It was nearly 6pm and the temperature was reading low 40s with 30s wind chill!  The girls were huddled together like ducklings next to mom while Louis turned into an “emperor penguin” wind barrier.

The boats were beautiful!  (I have to get a camera that takes good night pictures!  Everything after dark was blurry.)   The first was a pirate ship!  The cannon from the fort fired three shots!  The girls claimed the pirate boat fired back… they were too cold to duck and cover.  Then came the gingerbread-cookie boats.  Anastasia and Jillian decided they tasted good and began to make chomping noises and say “yummy boat” in deep voices.  By the time the neon purple one circled to the far side, the girls were frigid and when Anastasia said, “can we please go to the warm bus?” Lucas added, “bye bye boats!” and we started back.

We also had to get Christina back to CAP before 8pm!

After the fastest .7 mile family walk with Louis timing (aided by a sturdy double stroller), we boarded the warm bus and sang songs while Jillian and Anastasia goofed off and Lucas reminded everyone about each boat he had seen.

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We got Christina back in time.  Before we got home, only Mom and Rebeccah were still awake.  So we will leave you as we snuggle with the sleepies on the couch and start watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” to end our perfect day!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

 

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