Pumpkins

Pumpkin Memories

October 29, 2022

Pumpkins


We love pumpkins.  You cut off the bottom, scoop out everything inside and scrape all the yummy meat out (save it for roasted seeds and pumpkin pie!), decorate it with a silly face, and put a candle inside – now it’s an amazing nightlight that smells oh-so-good!

The first pumpkin I opened up with Grandma Jeanette; she was teaching me how to make her pumpkin pie.  My Daddy had told us long ago that the reason for the perfect pale color in most commercial pumpkin pies was due to the company using a hard squash instead of pumpkin.  Pumpkin cooks darker than winter squash.  Grandma Jeanette used everything.  I loved learning things from her because I can’t stand waste.  She came from the generation and grew up using everything!  Nothing was ever thrown away.  I loved that.  

Anyway, back to the pumpkin.  She opened it from the top with a big knife.  I was expecting puree like when you open a “pumpkin pack” tin can.  Nope.  Stringy spongy looking guts with spots of seeds reminded me of thick orange spiderwebs.  Grandma Jeanette took all that stuff and scraped with her big metal spoon until the wall was very thin.  Stringy stuff and tiny shavings that looked like slivers went into a big pot with a little bacon grease in the bottom.  She had a really cool method of basically pulling on the strings and all the seeds practically fell onto a pan on the counter.  She picked a few out.  (I have never been able to duplicate that easy seed removal and wondered later if she picked a specific type of pumpkin!) Seeds got tossed around in an oil and spice mixture and roasted in the oven.  The big chunks of hard pumpkin wall (not the actual skin, just the “wall” scrapings from inside) got chopped into smaller hunks and tossed in the pot with the strings and shavings.  Water added to the pot.  It was covered and cooked in a pressure cooker for however long we were sitting and chatting on the couch while the seeds roasted.  

When the lid came off, the strings and hunks had blended into a watery orange soup.  Grandma churned that around with her blender (it got handed down to me years later and had been manufactured in the 40s!) until it was smooth and now it looked like a darker cousin of the canned pumpkin I was so used to seeing.  

Now that was pumpkin pack!  

When Grandma Jeanette did it with me that year, she made all of it into pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas as family and friends always gathered at her house.  She froze the ones to save for Christmas.  I loved the heavenly smell!  She taught me some tricks about the pastry dough.  She sometimes short-cutted by buying premade dough, which she would prick with a fork, paint with butter and sprinkle with a bit of sugar on the edges to give it a “homemade” taste.  For my scratch recipe, she showed me how to layer and roll so it would be flakey.  Cold butter shaved into the mix.  Don’t overmix.  Don’t over roll.  NEVER freeze your scratch pastry.  Always bake the whole pie and then freeze – but it’s always best fresh.  It’s super fast and easy to make anyway, so I LOVE making pastry dough from scratch.

This is why I am transported into happy memories when I see a pumpkin.  I remember bumping around the kitchen with little Christina, Becky, and assorted cousins in and out of the house as we laughed and I listened to Grandma Jeanette’s stories.  

When I cut a pumpkin, I make pumpkin pack, but I don’t bake 12 to 16 pies the same day.  I use the canning pot and tools (all hand-me-downs from Grandma Jeannette, we still reuse some of her jars as well) to can the pumpkin pack for later pies.  1 pint makes one deep-dish pumpkin pie.  1 quart makes 2 deep dishes or 3 flat pies.  I love the whole process!  My plan each holiday season always includes a pumpkin and pumpkin pack and from-scratch pastry to make pumpkin pies.  I tell the stories of Grandma Jeanette and Christina, Becky, and the cousins bringing critters (lizards, toads, etc) into the kitchen and being told how cool they were before being shooed “back where they belong” to “take them home to their families,” yes, that’s why I say that about insects and critters my children capture.  I tell stories of our family because it feels so natural to do that while I’m canning.  Grandma Jeanette taught me to can.  She gave me our tiny library of books and pamphlets about canning, storing Florida produce, and food safety (old publications that came from St Johns County, University of Florida, and Ball, Inc with dates ranging from 1928 to 1965).  

Louis carves the pumpkin shell with the girls.  They love it!  If you open from the bottom, you can replace the candle easier and you can sprinkle cinnamon on the top (while the pumpkin is upside down and let it sit to sink in) and it will stick and make the house smell so good!

Pumpkins make me think of family.  Pumpkins make me smile because of the memories I have and the memories I hope I create for my family.  What food makes you think of happy memories?

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

A Writer’s Character Secret

Writing is an outlet for emotional and logical discussions for me.  When no one wants to talk about what I want to work out in my mind, I write.  I write for relaxation. 

A Writer’s Character Secret

September 21, 2022

Writing is an outlet for emotional and logical discussions for me.  When no one wants to talk about what I want to work out in my mind, I write.  I write for relaxation.  It feels fun, challenging, and often makes me happy to be in my ”book worlds” I have made up. 

For me, my “book worlds” allow me to explore things I can’t in this life.  It’s like dreaming with my eyes open.  I switch from book in progress to book in progress – I am currently working on about 18 titles actively.  My mood in real life decides whom I want to step into in my brain.  I know where each of my characters are in the stories – I know where I left them.  Thus, I reread the last few paragraphs and dive in with whatever comes next. 

Like my teenage self – lots of writing done then.  I started when my father noticed I was “wasting” my school notebooks for stories, and he suggested I type them.  I had a shoebox filled with 3.5”disks containing three or four stories each! 

Imagine:

Her frustrations, emotions, dreams, adventurous spirit, and everything hidden deep within her as she worked her way through these books were laid out in her own stories tapped at a furiously increasing pace in MS Works on her father’s computer saved on a 3.5” disk.  Her first completed story was her take on a true abortion survivor story.  She became her characters.  Her characters acted out and solved the problems she was facing.  She talked and acted her characters and plotlines out while raking, mowing, or gardening in various locations.  She was Erakk.  Fighting to keep his character sound when faced with odd decisions he’d rather avoid.  She was Jordan.  Her desperate heart cry to be understood and learn how to teach bloomed from his soul in what was to become “Web of Deception.”  She was Kelly.  She was the girl struggling to lead and keep everyone together as their tiny band of outcast survivors developed a whole new world of peace and love.  She became Kelly.  The woman who mothers with an understanding she has gained from life and full dependence on Jesus.  She was Kalina.  She boiled with anger and frustration at not being allowed to do the things she desired with every fiber of her being and ended up learning that what she really wanted was only a small step in a journey back to what her elders had advised her to reach for in the first place.  She was Ethan.  An outcast in his own mind searching quietly for a sense of belonging he thinks he can make on his own despite the true reality that those close to him care deeply for him.  She was Jamie.  Facing challenges that feel too far above his age and making choices that defy the expectations of those above him; always choosing the answer of integrity and honor.  She became Philip.  Overcoming challenges in life that happened beyond his control yet bringing everyone along and pushing his family through to success in the end.  She was Jo.  Fiercely defending her sister from evils that trick the heart and destroy those close to her – blinding everyone except her.  She was Jason.  Defending his family from evils that weaseled their way into his family from years of incorrect choices by three generations behind him that build to forcing his father into being possessed into something he isn’t – now he has to choose to believe that the threads he holds onto are his father’s true self and force the evil away. 

The stories continue.  Some are finished.  Some may never be…

A writer puts himself into the shoes of his characters and wriggles his toes around.  We walk lifetimes in their shoes.  We put ourselves in each character we create. 

I always have a character in a book or series that I consider my shadow; sometimes it is the protagonist like Jordan in Web of Deception.  Sometimes it is a supporting character like Philip Duggar in Brantley Station Saga or Kelly in The Devonians. 

Oftentimes there are bits of me in each character.  Strange thoughts…

I know, crazy writer’s brain, but that’s what I feel.  That’s what it’s like to write for me. 

If you stuck through this one, thank you ever so much for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Fatherhood

June 17, 2019

Fatherhood

So, you know this huge thing called “Fatherhood?”

What comes to mind?  A parenting book I read when I was twelve (yes, oldest sibling perks!) said something like “the child’s view of God as a Father is directly impacted by their experience with their Earthly Father.”

Yes. So true.

I went into parenthood knowing this. (Songs like “He Wants to be Like Me” reaffirmed this giant responsibility.)

A Father is often the humor of the family too – in the photo, Louis had climbed to the top of the stump and challenged “Come Get Me!” … notice all the kids following!

Despite the failures that I’ve made as a Mom and that I felt repercussions of from my parents (they were AWESOME parents, but they weren’t perfect) – I understand the crux of all parenting: we are human.  We (Parents) are not Jesus and are not perfect.

Bingo.

That awesome thing called grace collaborates with the huge responsibility of parenting to create a vulnerable, praying, God-dependant parent capable of teaching the amazing love and grace of Jesus through their own transparency.

Let’s face it: most of the American culture makes fun of fathers.  (Ever seen the Goofy Salute to Fatherhood?) Even as early as the 1950s when there was still a bit of a patriarchal society present, cartoons and movies started to depict fathers as lazy, goofy, clueless bunglers who often caused more problems than they solved.

Although I laughed along with my Daddy at a lot of these early shots at the masculine father, I understood the bulk of media still left you understanding that the love and bond of a father to child was the glue of a family.  The unsung hero always was the silent sure strength of the God-following Father.

As time inched forward, the media continued to turn the American Father into a non-essential entity.

The opposite is true!

I consider myself a strong, independent woman when it comes to my life.  I am a Christian woman, but one of my strongest battles with myself is submission – first to my father, then to Jesus, and later to my husband.  I know this though…  I CANNOT be the mother I am without the encouragement and support from my husband.

If I had to do motherhood without my husband being my ultimate cheerleader and sounding board, I would have realized how unfit I am about three months into the first child.  I have the ultimate respect for people whose life circumstances have forced them to navigate parenthood alone.  I try to be an encourager to them and help those single parents in any way I can because I cannot imagine myself having that strength.

I am excited to be around my husband!  I was on a softball team (church, yes, I’m an athletic maniac but wasn’t on an actual team until I was in my late 20s and it was just for one season with my church family).  Louis was working sometimes 100+ hours a week for our family at the time.  The company I had just closed.  He’d never made it to any of our games (I took all the kids with me; they loved it and hung out with their friends & some of the church ladies who came to encourage us bounced my baby around).  One day he showed up and I was so excited!  (I was told I squealed like a little girl; don’t remember exactly.)  I love walking with him.  I am excited when we do something as a family – or when he’s going somewhere and says, “hey want to go with me?”  Because I know he likes his alone time.  I get way too much alone time at my office – I relish gym coaching because of the other encouraging women I work for and with and the chattering children I love.  I will chatter way too much sometimes.

Our church sermon was on how Fathers aren’t perfect (only Jesus is) and how their honesty and relationship is their connection with their children.  It’s the way to disciple.  We aren’t perfect, our children aren’t perfect – bingo!  Common ground.

I know how important real, honest, God-fearing Fathers are to the fabric of our family.  I know how hard it is to buck the media’s garbage portrayal of our roles and follow God’s plan instead.  I am so thankful that I have a husband who is pursuing God’s heart.  His passion for Jesus makes him a better husband, a better father, and a better friend.  He helps encourage me to pursue God’s heart.  (Told you I’m competitive.)  He isn’t perfect, but he is constantly improving.  A challenge arises and he rises above it.  He’s always leading in love and with a determined drive that is totally contagious.  His passion for Jesus, life, and family (okay, and sports) is encouraging.

And he doesn’t think he’s “so much” – he compliments and lifts me up consistently.  He makes me feel like I’m doing well despite whatever challenge I feel I’m failing.

At church, we pulled in on Father’s Day (neither of our fathers went to church as adults) and he comments, “wow, church is crowded on Father’s Day.”  Yes, at our church, the culture of encouraging each person to follow God individually, corporately, and in their family is persistent.  (I was afraid we lost that when our previous church folded.)  I am so encouraged that Louis has found a church with a culture of lifting up men as fathers; the vital leaders in their homes, encouraging and holding each other accountable.

Thank you, Jesus, for fathers who choose to take the hard road and follow you; they are raising up the next generation of world-changers.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next later…

~Nancy Tart

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