Part 2: Nuts I have known and loved

Georgia pecans

After college, I hitchhiked from Pennsylvania to Atlanta, GA for a summer with Mennonite Voluntary Service.  While there our MVS group travelled south 3 hours to Americus, GA to visit Koinonia Farm where Clarence Jordan and several others were trying to find ways that blacks and whites could live together.  They were snubbed, shot at, and boycotted—mostly by professing Christians.  They developed a pecan grove to support themselves by a mail order business.  I bought pecans there a number of times in later years.  In 2016, we travelled that way on our return from visiting family in Texas. We bought pecans there fifty years after my first visit. This picture comes from that 
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visit.  Can you guess what it is?  Answer at end of blog.

Texas pecans

When we visit son Nathan and family for several weeks in March, we usually travel several days west to the Hill Country of west central Texas.  On our return trip, heading east from Llano, TX, we discovered the “Pecan Capital of the World”! San Saba Pecan Capital San Sabo, TX  (A title also claimed by a town in Georgia).  Pecan groves, processing plants and specialty stores proclaimed the presence of pecans.  Of course, we sampled the pecan ice cream and bought some roasted pecan coffee with bits of pecans with the coffee beans.  One specialty was “cracked pecans”. Less expensive than shelled they saved a step over cracking whole pecans oneself.  Didn’t ask how they pronounced their specialty (“pe kahn” or “pee can”: (“But, some in Texas say, a “pee-can” is something one carries in their pickup truck for beer-induced emergencies.” — https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Pecan

Our granddaughter, Annabelle, and her father knew how much I liked pecans. They picked up nearly half a bushel of pecans near their Waco home and on the grounds of their church meeting house.  Pecans bore bountifully that year in Waco.  Many people were picking up pecans along the street and sidewalks.  Radio, TV, and newspaper warned that property rights extended to the street and nuts should be harvested along the sidewalks only with permission of property owners.  Apparently, people were going nuts over nuts.

I had been thinking about my history with nuts (all kinds) in late November as I crack nuts for Julia’s fruitcake.  She makes a double batch for family and friends.  She has been making the fruitcake for nearly all the fifty years we have been married. (Enhanced, of course, by the nuts I crack for them.) Hearing all the jokes about fruitcake makes me wonder what people have been eating.  Julia’s fruitcakes are almost good enough for me to marry her for them.

—————

The picture shows Koinonia Farms pecan tree shaker.

 

Nuts I’ve known and loved (Not a family history)

Nutty as a fruitcake.  Just nuts.  Why the use of this nutritious, tasty tree product for deprecating people?  As far back as the 1820s variations of this word have been used to describe people in derogative ways. Walnuts are high in nutrition, so the negative connotation of these sayings doesn’t make sense.  My nutty experiences in five states over more than 60 years have been mostly positive.

Hickory nuts

Our farm in northwest Illinois had walnuts and hickory nuts.  I just picked up hickory nuts until I tasted the bitterness of what I learned were called “bitternuts.” Bitternuts and pignuts looked similar were much more abundant, so I picked them first.  The bitternuts (didn’t know their name then) were thinner shelled, too.  But, they were bitter.  Best left for pigs. I soon learned that shagbark hickory nuts were the best.  Also, the trees http://ouroneacrefarm.com/hickory-nuts-foraging-pignut-shagbark-hickory-nuts/ says that pignuts are not the same as bitternuts.  Now I know that pignuts and bitternuts are different.  I did collect some hickory nuts to crack.  The flavor is great, but they are small and all I had to crack them with was a hammer.

Since walnuts were bigger and abundant, I switched favorites.  I filled five or six gunny sacks (burlap bags) of walnuts.  My father used the tractor scoop move them to the farmhouse where we had a hand-turned corn sheller.  This doubled as a walnut huller.cornsheller

After running the walnuts through the sheller, my father helped me dump the walnuts on the roof of a small chicken house a short distance from the trees near the house.  Just far enough for the Illinois squirrels not to challenge our dog for a race from to the chicken house or back to the trees.  When the walnuts were dry, I brought some to the house to start cracking them for cookies and cakes.  They were duds! I had probably 3 or 4 bushels probably all were bad.  No more walnut collection for me—well, until adulthood.  (I was in my early to mid-teens at the time.)

Michigan walnuts

Rosalyn was 8 and Nathan was 5 when they joined the walnut collection activity.  We were excited by the announcement in the newspaper that a walnut processing company would hull and buy walnuts.  We had a small trailer to load the nuts into.  Previous years I had dumped nuts in the driveway and used the car to smash the hulls.  Then we had pulled the messy walnuts out of the hulls and rinsed off the remaining flesh.  Finding a place to dry the walnuts out of the reach of squirrels was always a challenge. Ros and Nathan each kept track of how many 5 gallon buckets of walnuts they gathered.  I preferred to pick up at the neighbors where there was a special tree that had thin internal walls that permitted cracking out large pieces, sometimes complete halves of the black walnuts.  We filled the little trailer and the children’s labor rewarded them.   Ros was pleased that she was able to buy a red J. C. sweater that she had been wishing for.

Native Americans had learned about walnut duds.  Their technique for separating out worthless nuts was to put a wide basket in the bottom of a shallow, but flowing stream.  Walnuts were poured into the basket.  Bad walnuts were lighter and would float away.  Good ones dropped into the basket for recovery and drying.  Not having a stream handy, I dumped walnuts into a half-barrel and lifted out the floating ones with a sieve to duplicate this process.  The walnut buying company would hull my walnuts and buy back what walnuts, including the duds that I didn’t want, sufficient to pay for the hulling of the walnuts for my use.

The second year the children looked forward to earning more money with the walnut harvest.  We picked walnuts, computed the shares, planned how the money was to be spent. Then, off we went to take the walnuts to the huller. After the seven-mile trip, we could not find the huller.  Unfortunately, Dad had failed to check the paper for ads for the huller. Disappointment!  My memory is not good, but I hope I gave the children something for their work.  We hulled the walnuts the old-fashion way.  When I asked Rosalyn (now past young adulthood) recently about her memory of the walnut disaster, I expected some comment about a ruined childhood.  But, she didn’t remember the disappointment of the disappeared huller.  She did remember how pleased she was to be able to buy the wonderful sweater to go with the skirt her mother made her.

The Pennsylvania nut cracker and Virginia nuts

Julia’s parents had two “English” walnut trees that they had planted when she was small.  The seedlings came from trees near Gettysburg where Julia’s uncle lived. By the time I knew Julia the trees were mature and produced many bushels of nuts most years. Some years we were given (or picked up ourselves) a half-bushel or more. family-farm.jpg (The walnut trees are between the barn and the house.  Okay, so I found an excuse to sneak in a picture of the children and granddaughter.)

Julia’s father, Fred, recommended seeing Israel Peachey about a nutcracker.  Israel, an Amish man, whose wife was a reflexologist, lived off Long Lane, at Back Mountain Road, Belleville, Pa (in Kishacoquillas Valley) and made unusual nut-crackers.  The nutcrackers handled black walnuts easily (relatively).  “English” walnuts shell out with unbroken halves.  Mine cost around $30, an exceptional price, even in the late ’80s.nutcracker

We had moved to Virginia some years earlier.  Neighbors had black walnuts to give us.  For several years there was a walnut huller in the area.  Recently, friend Laurence brought me some walnuts he picked up.  He knew that after two back surgeries bending over to pick up walnuts too much of a challenge for me.  I was not ready to hull the walnuts he gave me, so pulled the plastic garbage can to the backyard.  Several days later I walked into the yard and found a large hole in the can.  Squirrels had chewed the hole to get the walnuts!  And, it was Laurence’s can!

Next post:  Pecans

Oranges and apples? Osage trees=good wood, hedge apples/Osage oranges= worthless?

 

Osage wood

The far border of the small pasture next to the house and barn on our farm in Illinois was marked by a hedge fence.  The hedge trees were growing (did someone plant them that way?) close enough together that even small calves could not push through the gaps between the trees.  Occasionally I was required to trim out branches that were hanging too far down.  Cutting the branches with a bow saw was hard work. Especially for someone in their early teens.  The wood was very hard.  Later I found out that it is the densest wood of any tree in the United States. Hedge trees have thorns making trimming them more challenging.  This was my first exposure to Osage orange. The Osage orange tree is native to the southern plains area of parts of Arkansas, Missouri, Texas, Louisiana and adjacent states.  I did a bit of research and found that Lewis and Clark brought the tree east.  Maybe the western Virginia osage trees came via Lewis and Clark.

I wanted locust boards for raised beds in my Virginia garden. My supplier didn’t have enough eight inch or wider locust boards.  But, he said, he had half a dozen hedge boards.  However, the price was nearly twice that of the locust.  I was about to leave when he said he had the hedge boards a long time and was unable to sell them.  But, I could have them at the same price as the locust.  I remarked how unusual it was to find ten-inch hedge boards, ten feet or more long.  The tree was standing in the middle of a field, he told me.  It was not in a fence row as had been most of the hedge trees I had seen previously.

When I told a former Kansas resident about the find, he said he had helped pull out fence posts that had been in the ground fifty years. The underground section of the post was nearly the same diameter as the above ground part.  Rot had little effect on the hedge wood.  In Virginia a friend had a line of osage trees.  Son Nathan and his wife, Karen thought a good use of the fruit would be to roll them down the steep, two block-hill in front of our house to see if they could hit the baseball field fence at the bottom.  After one or two rolls, they realized that, even though the streets were then empty hitting anything that might come along would be serious.  Maybe the oranges were worthless.

The osage fruit

 

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Not long after that, a visitor from Ohio said that they were selling hedge balls at their Mennonite Relief Sale (held to raise money for disaster and famine relief) as an insect repellent.  You can

Google the results of experiments attempting to validate this.  Even so, I found an ad on the Internet for hedge balls for $3 each as spider repellents!  So, I collected a box of oranges to take to our Virginia sale the first weekend in October.  I do not remember how many we sold at ten cents apiece.  The next fall I saw a vase ad in a furniture store flyer with three Osage oranges.  The vase was listed at $120!  We raised the price of our oranges.

Several years later the popularity of the hedge balls increased as people wanted them for fall arrangements.  The price went up to twenty-five cents each.  So, whether apples or oranges, the osage tree fruit clearly have value.

 

Pictures from

1 http://chattafabulous.blogspot.com/2013/11/low-cost-and-easy-thanksgiving-table.html

2 http://www.blimpygirl.com/personal-what-not/the-osage-orange-fall-centerpiece-done

 

 

 

“Loaves and fish” in the garden

Part one:  Canna lilies and blackberries. (These plus shiso, miscanthus and forget-me-nots brought unexpected blessings.

After moving to Virginia, I wanted small fruit in my garden. Blackberries were familiar to me—eating them at least—from boyhood on the farm. At the nursery, the plants were something under three dollars. Real estate in Virginia was nearly three times the cost of that in Michigan where we had sold our previous home. Money seemed tight in 1989. But I splurged on three plants. Over several years, by rooting plant tips, I had enough plants to fill the space allotted to blackberries.

Several years later our church started a food pantry garden. The blackberries at home continued to set new plants, so I transplanted to the new garden enough starts over several years to fill two forty foot rows. One year we picked three gallons of blackberries from the patch. I made a new friend who moved to the area who wanted blackberry starts. He dug out a half-dozen or so.

By 2002 I had moved to a new location and was having a grape arbor built. I asked the builder if he wanted some blackberry canes. I had transplanted enough to fill my new thirty-foot blackberry patch. He said someone had given him some. When he identified the donor, I realized it was the same person who had gotten starts from me a number of years earlier.

From my extravagant purchase in 1989, we have eaten nearly 25 years of black berries—some years the birds got more than we did. The food pantry clients and the workers in the food pantry garden had the joy of blackberries. Friends gave bushes to friends from the starts I had given them. The loaves and fishes had been blessed.

Canna lilies fall in the same basket. I heard that someone was setting some canna lily rhizomes at the curb. I picked up a box with maybe a dozen roots. Planted several in my small garden, the rest at the food pantry garden. After daughter-in-law Karen used the canna’s red spike in a flower arrangement, we started taking the flowers to Patchwork Pantry for clients with the gladiolus and zinnias. The spreading cannas were taking more space than we wanted to give them. The next spring, the youth pastor and his crew dug out several bushels of canna roots to take to the Gift & Thrift store. I went to the local garden store to see what they charged for canna roots, they were charging $2.25 for scrawny dried out roots. I asked about them and was told that the primary growers in New England had significant losses of their crop.  Ours sold quickly at $1.50.!

cannas-corn-e1505829159295.jpgCannas are tropical plants requiring protection or inside storage for the winter in Virginia. We have found that heaping dry leaves over the stalks (chopped down to 6″) to a depth of 20” to 30” prevents winter kill of the rhizomes. One year the cannas had spread too far, so we did not protect one patch. That winter was mild and the cannas survived. More rhizomes to sell!

We cleaned up our rhizomes and took those with several eyes to the Gift & Thrift. The ones that didn’t look good were put in the shade, watered until they sprouted. Then we potted them for sale. One of my helpers, a student formerly from the Ukraine, said they ate the rhizomes where she came from.  In my surprise, I didn’t know how to ask if that was part of the normal diet.

Another year we stored rhizomes in vermiculite for winter storage. Funds from the sale of six or so boxes of rhizomes helped fund a trip to a youth convention that summer. Last year our small patch of cannas thrived, growing to over 8’ feet. Some rhizomes were 2”x6”. The growth was so strong the roots pushed apart the boards of the garden bed (held by 3 deck screws). It was time to harvest the rhizomes. I supervised the digging of a 4’X6’ bed of cannas, we pulled many loose roots plus a dozen or more pots to take to Gift & Thrift.  This was the 20th year of cannas.  (Shiso and forget-me-not in part 2)

Adam’s tiller vs the microherd Or building soil God’s way

 

Soil building activists tend to be divided into two camps: some want to move stuff down and others want to build it up, although I suppose some of us have a dirty shoe in both garden beds. Here is how I explain to myself, and anyone who will listen, my approach.

Penn State helps promote an “Ag Progress Days” near Tyrone, Pa each August. One of the times (more than thirty years ago) I attended with Julia’s farmer father I went to a session on something new: no-till planting into a green manure crop. (Not sure what they called it.) The expert there stressed the importance of chemicalizing the green manure crop that was in place before proceeding with the planting. This was important to avoid depriving the new plants of nitrogen (and other nutrients) while the green manure crop was decaying/decomposing.

I wondered how that would work out in my more or less organic garden. I used a weed chopper and mower to cut down the rye I had planted. Then I spaded a shovel wide furrow into which I planted corn. Between the corn rows I dumped enough leaves to suppress any regrowth of the rye. As soon as the corn was six to eight inches, I pushed the leaves closer to the corn to suppress any weeds that might challenge the corn. I didn’t see any sign yellowing of leaves or stunting of stalks or any other signs of nutrient deficiency in the corn. The crop of sweet corn was normal. Didn’t plant a control plot since I was planting like I had in other years.

I had faith in the microherd (although I did learn that term until some years later). With the help of maintenance personnel of the local educational institution, I had been dumping a lot of partially shredded leaves on the garden for several years. I planted the rye because I thought the corn might need extra nitrogen! But with the leaves cover was heavy enough to keep the ground from freezing in the Michigan winters.  A healthy microherd had developed that was able to quickly go to work on the rye without taking nitrogen the corn might need. That’s my assumption. I do not have the biological knowledge to explain what has happened.

Tilling Adam’s way

What does this have to do with Adam’s tiller? My earlier thinking about the command to Adam to “till the soil” led to a vision. Due to my lusting after a mechanical device to ease my garden labors, I imagined a naked Adam violating virgin Eden with a mammoth, red TROYBUILT ROTOTILLER tearing that resistant sod into soft plantable soil. Rereading the Genesis passage reminded me that the couple had already been outside the garden at the time of the “till the soil” command. (Then was Adam’s possession of a tiller due to sin?) But, as explained to me recently, the word “till”, means, “care for”. When God is said to care for humans and this same word is used. (Off stage sounds of big red tiller fading.)

About this time in my life I was learning the Joy of Composting. Shifting compost was great exercise.   Bin composting was satisfying and somewhat useful. (See earlier blogs on “Composting and Grace” and “Three bags of leaves, two of grass”. I began to understand what I labeled “Ultimate Composting” (I was fascinated by all things Frisbee at the time) an imposing term for what others called “permanent mulch” or “lasagna gardening” or other terms. This is how I applied that understanding.

My current garden

Seventeen years ago we moved to a Shenandoah Valley ridge at 1300 feet with a southeastern orientation. Most topsoil had been liberated from the ridge before the slaves had been liberated from the area. The previous owner liked grass. We quickly smothered the grass with wet newspaper, leaves and some of the 15-30 gallons of coffee grounds per week I picked up from local convenience stores and a nearby college. A friend moved to a farm with an old barn with hay more than five years old. He would drive my pickup home and bring back a load of old hay. Julia said at one point that we had lots of hay in the back yard and only needed a cow.

We started spreading out these ingredients and had a good garden the second year. The third I began setting up raised beds with board sides. The steep hillside required some protection for the beds. Even with heavy mulch rain would shift everything down hill. Every year we have dumped leaves, some grass clippings (when we can find un sprayed yards) and coffee grounds on the beds in addition to much of the garden’s plant wastes. I am continually amazed at how much organic matter disappears into the beds. When you build up a microherd population, they work hard. The micro herd feeds the soil which the feeds the plants.

Building soil up

Finally we come to the wild claim that I know the way God does soil building.  This did not come by divine revelation.   I did not discovered on my own.   Many have contributed to what I have learned over the past thirty or more years of “organic” gardening. As a church-goer and follower of Jesus I cringe at all the things for which people claim God’s authority or attribute to God’s preferences. I do work at not demonizing those viewing soil building differently than I do. Double diggers puzzle me.  I remember creating straight lines of lovely black sod bottoms with the moldboard plow as a teenager less fondly now than I did when I mastered the skill.  My anxiety intensifies when I hear the sound of the ferocious mechanical devices churning through the soil cutting up the bodies and homes of the worms and the micro herd.

How has God been making new soil? In the prairies, grasses grow, die, decay and eventually become new soil. In the forest leaves fall, decay and become new soil. Trees die and turn to new soil. (Not sure what the natural rate of temperate zone soil development is.) God builds the soil up. Now, God is a bit slow. But, then, God has a lot more time to work. We don’t. That’s why we do in-the-garden composting, find combinations of ingredients to speed decomposition, do lasagna gardening or permanent mulching. Composting in bins permits faster building of new dirt to be added to a garden. Much of these “new” techniques imitate the “natural” process of soil building. (Machine aeration and mechanical turning of piles may represent a major extension of the natural processes.) Many of us see building the soil up and relying on worms and the microherd as man’s effort to imitate God’s way of building soil.

 

 

 

Two bags of leaves, one of grass

Learning about composting inputs

Can you imagine building a compost pile 8 feet high? That’s what I built my first compost pile. My memory might be a bit vague on that. The work was done more than forty years ago. Not too many years later I had a bit more space and my pile was only five feet by ten feet and not so high. I tried to shift these piles at least monthly between the southern Michigan spring thaw and the freeze in early December. Now, my pile may be turned only once a year. Along the line, I learned that I needed to balance “greens” (nitrogen) and “browns” (carbon). The input guide was two bags of leaves to one of grass.

Learning a bit

Now in my seventh decade and after two back surgeries I balance the compost inputs differently. First comes the collection area where we dump dry material until rain comes. Green material goes into the first bin. I no longer brag that I can compost anything and only collect chopped or small stuff. Friends bring me coffee grounds from the nearby convenience store or the dining hall of the local educational institution so that I have a strong nitrogen component. The first bin is usually full by the end of the summer. Then I find a younger person, often from a youth/student fundraiser, to shift to the second bin where I add slotted drainpipe to help the microorganism keep air-healthy and working. Progress from first bin to finished compost in the third bin may take more than a year.

Balancing compost inputs

Earlier the major input was my labor. Exercise was good. Now the major input is time. I increase the nitrogen input if possible to reduce the need for more time and shifting. I cover the second pile either to hold moisture and/or avoid leaching of nutrients. So, I have six or so inputs that I vary depending on the circumstances: carbon, nitrogen, water, air, labor, and time. Probably should add space. If I had plenty of space and an abundance of organic matter, I would start a pile and continue to add to the end of it. When the beginning of the pile was mature, I would start harvesting.

Composting inputs, Part 2

Composting at a Community Center

Working with the local community center with required a difference balance of inputs. Donations of vegetables and fruit were unpredictable. One might describe the quality of much of the fruit and vegetables at near the peak of ripeness when donated. The kitchen folk found using all these donations was a severe resource and time management challenge. The result was often a lot of spoiled fruit and vegetables. For a number of years a hog farmer had picked up kitchen trimmings. Unfortunately he was not as regular in picking up the trimmings as summer heat or freezing weather required. Our small garden needed compost. I had an idea that if horticultural therapy worked, then why not composting therapy. My motto was “If life brings you garbage, make compost.” (or, if you’ve made the mess, it still works). I had little success getting that message across, but we still made good compost.

Since we had an abundance of high nitrogen material, we needed to find sources of carbon. At first, the city allowed us to get partially shredded leaves at their collection site. Then they contracted with the landfill to use the leaves as cover for methane generating trash site. We started contacting tree-trimming firms and they provided us with wood chips to mix with the spoiled fruit and vegetables. A local butcher shop asked us to help remove some of the manure from their holding pens which turned out to be mostly sawdust. This additional source provided us with a good balance of carbon and nitrogen.

Workday procedure changes balance

Our community center hosts unemployed and homeless people and people doing community service instead of jail time. Tuesdays are workdays, so some labor was available for the composting project. There were five bins. 1. A materials collection bin (mostly carbon materials). 2. Collection bin (kitchen trimmings, plus bakery waste from a local business). Bins 3 and 4 were “cooking bins” with pipes added for air. Bin 4 was mostly finished compost from which compost was moved to the sifting machine.

A fifth pallet bin was used to store sifted compost under cover for sale. Using woodchips for carbon and bulking required extra labor, but two friends designed and crafted a rotating drum compost sifter to speed this process. A fuel tank from a Volvo truck, was cut open with a half-inch screen added inside,  Two windshield wiper motors turned the drum from Volvo trucks. A nearly exhausted Volvo truck battery drove the motors. Some of the compost was used on the garden. The drum rotated to sift out the wood chips and any stones and uncomposted clumps.  Sifting the compost made it more appealing for sale. Usually, several pickup loads, plus bags of compost were sold at the yearly plant sale.

The labor input was expected to be high here with each workday helping to shift and sift compost. That didn’t happen. So, to get air into the piles, we started adding pipes with holes in them and using a rod to poke holes in the pile (poking down from the top) when new pile first started to cool. Sometimes the piles sat for several weeks, other times, service groups would come in and the labor input would be high—higher perhaps than the process of composting would warrant. Infrequently we covered the piles to conserve water and sometimes to prevent leaching of nutrients during heavy rains.  On rare occasions we watered with city water while turning the piles.

Input summary

The inputs were the same in the different situations, the balance very different. The inputs were: 1. Carbon (browns–like leaves); 2. Greens (like—grass clippings); 3. Air (pipes, poking holes with rod); 4. Water; 5. Time; 6. Labor. (Of course, we didn’t have the mechanical power that is usually substituted for labor in larger operations.)

Why do I compost (in piles)? Why not do “ultimate composting”—composting in place—on the garden? I have been told there is scientific evidence for the superiority of this approach. Most of my home garden and the community center’s garden are generally covered with leaves or chips. When we lack these, we use unsifted compost. But, at the community center we wanted to have compost to sell. Sifted compost looks much better. Two additional reasons for bin composting: One, I like to have compost available to set plants in when I plant them, sifted compost to cover seed with and for making potting soil. Two, I like to make compost, to see the transformation of organic matter. See my earlier blog “Composting and the Grace of God”.

 

 

Dirty Trees

“Why would anyone plant catalpa (bean) and walnut trees in their back yard?” we asked when we saw the blossoms, beans, walnuts and stemmy leaves in our back yard. Just after we moved to 245 Union Street in April, the catalpa tree was ready to drop its blossoms. Later that summer the nine to eighteen inch beans occasionally dropped and with them catalpa worms (two or more inches long). The rest of the huge beans dropped throughout the fall and winter.

A black walnut, the other tree in the back yard kept a lilac from blooming and killed some eggplant and tomato plants that were just beyond the drip line (we thought) of the tree. We didn’t have time that fall to use the walnuts, so the leaves and the nuts were an additional nuisance.

We had two dirty trees in our back yard of our new home.

By the next spring, we were settled into our house. Neither the kitchen nor dining room had a good view. From the closed-in, but un-insulated porch we could see some flowerbeds, part of the garden and until the trees leafed out, the sunrise.  Because the two trees leafed out late the sun warmed the porch. During the spring the porch was a pleasant place to eat lunch. As summer neared and the catalpa and walnut trees leafed out, they provided cooling shade for lunchtime or for times when we could sit and read. That fall, also, during our breakfast time the sun shone through the leafless trees to the unheated back porch. That fall the walnut drop seemed less of a problem because we found a man with a mechanical walnut huller who would hull our walnuts and buy the ones we didn’t want.

So, over time, we realized the ‘dirty trees’ were a blessing. During the spring, they leafed out later than other trees. In the fall, dropped their leaves earlier than most trees. But we enjoyed their shade during the summer. We might have had the trees cut down (as did the people who owned the house after we sold) but as first-time home owners we couldn’t afford it.

How often have I just seen ‘dirty trees’ when I looked at people or reacted to events in my life? Do I focus on beans, bugs and nuts (“dirt”) and miss the gift of shade? As I thought about our changing views of walnuts and catalpas, I thought about how I have responded to the trees based on first impressions/outward appearances. Do I do this with trees and people?

For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7 ESV)