On being chips off the Old Rock

On a recent Sunday morning, we sang a chorus calling God a rock.  That surprised me.  I recalled the satisfaction my father expressed at not having to farm around rocks after he moved from Pennsylvania to Iowa.  The deep sandy loam soils of Iowa and Illinois where I grew up yielded few rocks.  Visits to relatives in the east left me wondering why people tried to farm or garden around the rocky interferences common there.  Rocks were what stuck up out of fields making plowing and harvesting difficult.  Later, living in southern Michigan, I often found fist-sized rocks, even some basketball sized rocks ground smooth and round and spit out by the retreating glaciers. They were a nuisance to gardening. I built a sifter to remove the rocks/stones from the garden soil.  I did enjoy collecting round smooth rocks and took a bucket of rocks with me when we moved to Virginia (as if Virginia needed more rocks).  But, calling God a rock, “an impediment to agricultural activity” seemed unworshipful.

I remembered the wise man built his house on the rock and the stories of David hiding in the rock (caves).  Of course, I had read about the Dead Sea Scrolls protected and preserved in “the rock”.  Maybe I was not understanding the Biblical metaphor, rock.

What images does the phrase “God the rock” suggest to you?  A pickup sized chunk of granite with wheels (“buy our truck”, “built like a rock” the ads said)?  Jesus the cornerstone? *  But Jesus said the wise man built his house on the rock, not on a cornerstone.  Can distinguishing between these images expand our perception of God?

A geological map of Palestine, shows the Biblical land to be a jumble of rock between the Mediterranean and the Jordan.  Swampy land between the sea and the hill country on the west and the Jordan River swamps to the east and the shifting sands of the Negev to the south contrasted with the solid rock of the central highlands.  Several commentaries tracing the origin of the Hebrew for “rock”, show it and “mountain” may be interchangeable.

Then I read:

He said: “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior– from violent men you save me.  2 Samuel 22:2

God, the Rock.  God’s people in Palestine did not think of God as an obstruction to farming and gardening or sign of eroded farmland!

be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.  Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me. Psalms 31:2, 3

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave more a firm place to stand.        Psalms 40:2

But the LORD has become my fortress, and my God the rock in whom I take refuge.  Psalms 94:22

A place of strength, safety, protection, a “firm place to stand”.

He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.  Psalms 62:2

Permanence and security; a cool place in a hot land:

Each man will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land.  Isaiah 32:2

What God is for us, we are to be for others.

Isaiah encourages us to be a “chip off the Old Rock”:

“Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness and who seek the LORD: Look to the rock from which you were cut and to the quarry from which you were hewn; Isaiah 51:1

They drank the same spiritual drink; for they drank from the spiritual rock that accompanied them, and that rock was Christ. 

(1 Corinthians 10:4)

To learn what the new nature of the Rock is, we turn to Jesus.  But not only is he our security, refuge, our strength,

As it is written: “See, I lay in Zion a stone that causes men to stumble and a rock that makes them fall, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” (Romans 9:33; see Isaiah 8:14; 28:16)

When we turn to God,

They did not thirst when he led them through the deserts; he made water flow for them from the rock; he split the rock and water gushed out. (Isaiah 48:21)

He made him ride on the heights of the land and fed him with the fruit of the fields. He nourished him with honey from the rock, and with oil from the flinty crag, (Deuteronomy 32:13)

Nourishment, refreshing water, security, permanence, refuge.  Where do we find these?  In the ROCK.

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ode to a pet rock

Rough times, rubbings

Sand scoured, wave buffed

Grinding fellow stones

Hard center

Christ solid;

Smooth, polished rock.

 

        *(In an earlier essay I sought to clarify the “cornerstone” image from the world of construction.  I pursued that topic when I came across a definition of cornerstone as “a largely ornamental architectural feature”.  I will post that essay later.)

Ascension Journey: A Lenten alternative

As the time drew near for him to ascend to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. Luke 9:51 NLT

 

Introduction

Lenten materials arrived in my church mailbox.  They included scripture references.  I wondered which New Testament passages would explain Lent.  Not finding any, I started asking questions and doing some research.  The passage above helped me raise questions.

Background

In the late Middle Ages, as sermons began to be given in the common language instead of Latin, the English word lent was adopted for the period before Easter. This word initially simply meant spring (as in German language Lenz and Dutch lente) and derives from the Germanic root for long because in the spring the days visibly lengthen. The original Greek term for the period is tessarakoste, for the “fortieth day” before Easter. This form is preserved for the period in Romance, Slavic and Celtic languages (for example, Spanish cuaresma, Portuguese quaresma, French carême, Italian quaresima).  Depending on the tradition the 40 days are calculated in different ways.  Sundays are skipped in the Roman Catholic tradition because they are “mini-Easters.”  Some have connected the fasting of Lent to an imitation of Jesus time in the wilderness (which would end possibly about the beginning of Lent).  Later, Lent “floated” to connect with “Holy Week” observances.  The roots of Lenten observance are believed by some to extend back nearly to the time of the apostles.   It is interesting to note that observation of Lent became part of expected religious observance after Christianity became the official religion of the empire.

Practice

Traditionally, church guidelines for Lent include prayer, fasting and almsgiving.  In addition, some people feel experiencing suffering during this time is important.  This takes the form of not eating a favorite food, for instance. (!) We know Jesus spent time in meditation and prayer. Luke tells us that he went out to pray “a long time before day”.  Other places we are told of Jesus fasting.  No specific mention of meditation is made but the words of Jesus various places, esp. John 14-17 suggest that times of meditation preceded the talks/prayer. Jesus gave up material goods and comforts even before the days leading to his death.  This is made clear by his words to the prospective follower:  “Birds have nests and rabbits their hole, but the son of man has no where to lay his head.”  I would affirm the blessing of these spiritual disciplines, not just for a period in the spring, but throughout the year.

Questions from my study

The question being asked is what is the nature of what Jesus did during his last days: forty-five to fifty days of Lent or the eighty days to the ascension?  I wondered why in the nearly fifty years that I had been a Christian I had never heard this question.  (I think during the first part of that period we had revivals, rather than Lenten observances.)  An internet search revealed that I could order an “I gave up Jesus for lent” T-shirt but little more.  Since the Mennonite Church emphasizes following Jesus’ example, it seemed appropriate to review the practice of Lent in light of that focus.  Many questions have come to me as I reflected on Jesus activities during his last 45/80 days.  What questions would you ask?

Luke 9:51 marks the beginning of Jesus last days on earth, those associated with Lent, Easter and the Ascension. Some see the transfiguration in Luke 9:28ff as the beginning of this period.  There are very few indicators of time elapsed in these chapters.  The NT writers are fond of the number 40, so it is surprising that Luke does not mention forty days (or 45 if weekends are included) or some time period. (Articles referenced below on the origins of Lent do not refer to Luke 9:51 and what Jesus did during his last days on earth.)

Last days’ activities

What did Jesus do during those last days before his death as he anticipated his ascension?  He clearly had a sense that this was a crucial time in his ministry. How did the pressure of his coming death and ascension influence his activities?  Surely the activities of Luke 9 through Luke 22 arose out of Jesus declaration in his first sermon (Luke 4).   Beyond that, Jesus, I believe, was preparing the way for continuation of kingdom work.  He began a new phase outreach by sending out seventy of his followers (chapter 10) to announce the coming of the kingdom. Once ascended, he would reign and provide intercession for his followers as they lived as they were created to live.  During the last days of his life, didn’t he continue to do what he announced what he would do? What indications are there that he simply prepared for his death? (Of course, he prepared for his death or the manner of his death at Gethsemane.) Just before the ascension declaration in 9:51, Jesus had told the disciples that he was going to Jerusalem where he would be killed and then raised from the dead.  Did he change what he was doing under the threats from religious and political leaders? To what extent is it true that the way he lived led to the cross; to the tomb; from the tomb to his exaltation as King?  Was this why Jesus came, to draw people to God, to establish the Kingdom of Heaven? to be acknowledged as king in the kingdom of God?

Conclusions

Much of the Christian church uses the period before Passion Week to anticipate Jesus death. Jesus, according to Luke, “As the time drew near for him to ascend to heaven, steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem.”   The question I am asking:  what does one do about the disconnect?

What does this suggest we should do to honor Jesus last days on earth?  Perhaps we should see the last days as he did.  We should be announcing the kingdom, doing the works of the kingdom, accepting the consequences of kingdom work and recognizing the vindication by God of what has been done through Jesus’ giving himself.   Then, praising God for raising Jesus to his right hand to be our intercessor.  I will be posting a list of readings from Luke 9:51 through Luke 24.  Later I will add scripture from Acts and other sources for the period leading up to the ascension.

The Origins of Lent, MARCH 31, 2014 BY BILLY KANGAS
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/billykangas/2014/03/lent.html#FcsZTBaACGK4XXs5.99

Accessed 1/29/2018

The Early History of Lent, Nicholas V. Russo, 2013 The Center for Christian Ethics at Baylor University, accessed 1/29/2018 through

https://www.baylor.edu/content/services/document.php/193181.pdf

The Beginning of Lent
“Like all Christian holy days and holidays, Lent has changed over the years, but its purpose has always been the same.”  TED OLSEN, Christianity Today, August 8, 2008

Accessed 1/29/2018

_______________________

Martin Luther King, Jr and me

 

or How I discovered the racist within

Diploma in hand, job plans up in the air, I stuck out my thumb to begin my journey from Messiah College to Atlanta, Georgia, for a summer in Mennonite Voluntary Service.  I was also beginning a more important journey:  away from racism.  Rides quickly took me to Frederick, MD, Washington, DC, and then near dusk to Culpeper, VA.  Rides disappeared with the daylight. So, I headed for the Greyhound depot and asked the ticket seller how much I would need to pay for a bus trip to dawn.  The agent said that Knoxville looked promising and near daylight the bus dropped me at the edge of the city for my next free ride to Chattanooga, TN.  From there a big car made quick work of the distance to Atlanta.  My ride deposited me at a phone booth in front of a restaurant.  There I could make a call to check on the cheapest way to Mennonite House, my home for the summer.

The cab driver to whom I gave the Mennonite House address said, “You don’t want to go there!”  Apparently, the police, concluding that they knew the one reason blacks and whites would spend the night in the same residence, had raided the house the previous night.  The restaurant where the cab picked me up made news several weeks later.  Lester Maddox, the owner (and later governor of Georgia), passed out axe handles to white patrons to help him keep non-whites from entering the restaurant.

I fought against racism at an ordinary summer camp with activities of games, crafts, songs and stories.  The difference was that we were the only white males that most of the children had seen who were not police or insurance agents.  We rode a public bus from Mennonite House across town to the camp in a Black ghetto .  One day on the bus, I realized that some of the people were young, some old, some bald, some with lots of hair, some lighter, some darker.  Individuals, not just members of another race.  I was surprised to realize that I was still a racist.  Not completely, of course.  After all, I had come to Atlanta to help deal with the problem of racism and its effects.

The journey begun on that bus continued and continues today, I hope.  During the summer, my heart was reshaped by seeing the “hate stare” at a suburban outdoor theater I attended in a mixed–race group.  Later I sensed the anxiety of a black friend who felt he had to duck down in the back seat as we traveled through rural Georgia to go birding.  Fears about some members of the VS group at Mennonite House traveling to Mississippi were fanned by the news that three civil rights workers were missing.  This was 1964, the summer of “Mississippi Burning” and other hot stuff.

When the VS term was over, the Southern Christian Leadership Council office asked if any of us could work for a week or two. They offered to pay my bus fare back to Pennsylvania, so, I nobly agreed.   I worked in the mail room in a basement room three levels below the offices of the important people above. During breaks from sorting mail and packaging books written by Martin Luther King, Jr., I took time to read some of his books.

Sometimes as I worked an interest–looking man walked by the mail room and up the stairs.  Only some weeks later did I realized that the man I saw was actually Martin Luther King, Jr.  I knew he had an office upstairs.  His hideaway office was near the mail room!  Perhaps I was still seeing people of color, rather than individuals. Perhaps I didn’t expect him to be working next to the mail room.

Even after 50 years, that bus-trip milestone in my journey away from racism surprises me.  My racist mind may have been re–formed by my Christian college experience.  But my diploma, my courses in psychology, sociology, history and social justice had not yet renewed my racist heart.  I remember that experience when I hear of “ethnic cleansing” and race-related violence.  I am reminded how deep-seated prejudice can be.  The journey has continued.  But, I still need to recognize the racist within, in spite of my commitment against racism, and to continue let the love of Jesus renew my heart and mind.

Revised from an essay published October 2001 in the Weaver, a publication of  Weavers Mennonite Church, Harrisonburg, Va.

Mother’s was best: Mush, pon haas, scrapple, polenta

 

Mother was a city girl. She married a farmer. So, when they moved to the farm after their marriage in 1937, I imagine she had many skills to acquire. She was new to gardening, canning and caring for animals.   By the time I was aware of what cooking was, she had been developing those skills for ten or more years. She had gotten a head start on cooking. Her mother was a short order cook in Harrisburg, Pa., a job she continued into her late 70s. After graduation from high school, Mother took a job as a nanny in the country not far from where Dad grew up.   Somewhere, Mother learned to make pon haas.

Learning to like mush

The pon haas Mother made often included chicken broth plus small scraps of meat.  I wish I had asked her about the origin of her recipe.  Wife, Julia, grew up with regular (plain) cornmeal mush.  Her mother would start the pieces of mush in a big cast iron skillet at moderately high heat while getting ready to go to the barn for milking.  Then she turned the heat under the skillet to low when leaving for the barn.  An hour or so later,  after the cows were milked, the family walked up the hill to a breakfast which included mush, always with apple sauce on the mush. To improve flavor of the corn, the ears of corn would be laid on the kitchen range’s oven racks at low temperature to lightly roast the corn.  When I came on the scene, I made several trays to put in the oven to make moving the corn ears around easier. After shelling the corn, the kernels were placed in 5-gallon tin cans in an attic over an unheated section of the house.  When more cornmeal was needed,  the kernels were taken to the Belleville mill for grinding.

Our children learned to enjoy the mush.  They visited their grandparents during the summer, sometimes by themselves, and with us on holidays.  Now, Julia maintains the tradition by making mush for them on our return to Big Valley (Pennsylvania) for the summer vacation.  Applesauce is always a required accompaniment.

Sweet corn mush and cornbread

One summer in Michigan, our sweet corn was going to mature later than we expected.  Before we headed to visit family in Pennsylvania, we asked our non-gardening neighbors to harvest and eat the sweet corn.  When we returned home about 20 days later, most of the corn was still in the garden!  We asked our friends about it.  They said “You have worked so hard to grow the corn, we thought we should leave some for you.”  The corn was in the dent stage, so I did not pick it.  A bit later I wondered about making cornmeal with the corn.  After letting the corn mature, we dried and ground the corn.  After cooking some of it, we tried to slice it for frying.  What a disappointment.  It would not set up–just crumbled.  But, it made a tasty thick porridge.  Later we made corn bread with the sweet corn.  The best cornbread ever.

Puddin’ meat

When we moved to Virginia, we learned from a native Virginian, Glendon, that his family didn’t make fried mush.  After butchering the family would have puddin’ meat.  This meat is made from various scraps of the pig as it is trimmed out during butchering. The meat is cooked down with salt, pepper and sometimes other spices.  Glendon’s family ate the puddin’ meat with hominy purchased from the store.  In other areas, the scraps that are used for puddin’ meat are combined with oats, flour, cornmeal or a combination of them and cooked until thick.  The porridge is poured into bread pans to be later sliced and fried for breakfast.  The fried product is called pan haas or scrapple.  Some of the terms used above vary by locality—spelling changes, too.  Related products of butchering are head cheese and souse.  I know nothing about these but what I have read in Wikipedia.

Polenta

This year I wanted to try different of version of cooked cornmeal.  A local organization, Our Community Place, had a fund-raising meal.  The chef for the meal worked at a local Italian restaurant.  One of the featured entrees was meat balls on polenta (porridge).  So, I tried making polenta. I used rich turkey broth made from several turkey carcasses after Thanksgiving. I sautéed the onion and garlic on top of the stove, then beat in the cornmeal.  Instead of using an oven proof saucepan for this first step, (see recipe below), I poured the polenta from the saucepan into a casserole dish, which went into the oven.  Worked good.  We enjoyed porridge for supper.  The next morning, I fried polenta for breakfast.  (I would have made the polenta while the family visited on Christmas vacation, but they would not hear of breaking the plain cornmeal mush tradition.) Recipe source:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/savory-polenta-recipe-1915949

Scrapple or pon haas?

The Thomas House Restaurant in Dayton Virginia may be one of the few eateries around to serve pon haas.  But, I would call it scrapple.  It is dark and strong flavored—mostly soft, but a bit crisp. The “pon haas” Mother made was light-colored.  She sliced it thin and fried it until crisp.  Thomas House’s dark, softer pon haas is tasty, but Mother’s light, crisp “pon haas” was something else.

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 
pecan-tree-shaker.jpg

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

 

img_0497-1.jpg

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