Tomato Stem Primordia, and Storm Damage

There used to be a large, lovely tree, where that bare, sawdust spot on the ground is...




Empty, empty...

My clothesline used to span the distance between trees in my back yard.





...and now it sits on the rail of the deck, as I contemplate a new home for it.

This pile of tree branches is larger than it looks in this picture.

This one is the size of a car...and we aren't done. My man spent all day yesterday, from early in the morning until dinner time, helping neighbors clear their fallen trees, as well as cutting down the tree in our back yard. Thank heaven for sons-in-love (and daughters) who helped.


Then, almost overnight, this gross looking growth came up on one of my tomato plants. It is stem primordia - a result of storm damage. The plant was blown around so much that a main stem was damaged. This, coupled with the over-watering from the storms and the high humidity, all those little growths you see are the plant trying to re-root, through the stem.

It looks daunting, but it is harmless. I will have to keep an eye on this plant, but with a little care (and some drying out, after the series of storms and heavy rains) it should be okay.

Stem primordia is a common problem, but when people first encounter it, they tend to freak out a little bit, thinking some awful pest has descended on their garden. I posted a picture of it as a public service...believe it or not, there aren't very many clear pictures of this on the World Wide Web. If this looks like your tomato plant, put your mind at ease, and give it a little less water.

After all the pictures of ugly-in-my-yard, I have to end with a few pictures of pretty-in-my-yard:

Front porch...




A sign points your way to The Cottage (its given name is Ceilidh Cottage), where you are welcome anytime...

Today's flowers...

bird house near the butterfly bush, in the butterfly garden...



Broken chimnea, turned into a planter...

flowers, flowers, and more flowers....

A crepe myrtle that managed to not be damaged...




robin's egg blue birdhouse, made by my oldest son when he was a boy...

The pond, and its waterfall...

The Riches of Summer

Just clipped from my garden, and shot on full manual mode - so please be kind to any over or under exposure...or blur...or lack of bokeh...I meant to stop down to a very low point, and forgot.

The Storm of Summer 2011

...that title reminds me of what is known in these parts as "The Blizzard of '93". My youngest son was born in the middle of the Great Blizzard of 1993, and yes, it is a dramatic story.



But I'll save it for another day.



Today, it is official with our city's power company that yesterday's storm caused the most power outages in the company's history...ever...including the ice storm when I was 16 years old, the Great Blizzard of '93, and various and sundry other natural inconveniences we've experienced in East Tennessee in the last fifty years.


Tim and I are feeling sobered and humbled. Because we know how we felt last night, as we drove through a city that was in near-blackout. There were patches of power here and there, but we drove mile after mile of total darkness, nary a streetlight or store sign lit. It was creepy.



We went to check on the church building (it is fine) and had to choose a third route to get there, because choice numbers one and two were impassable. Very large trees had been uprooted all over the city, and were blocking the roads.


We took note of how eerie it felt, and thought again/again of Joplin...Alabama...the flooded areas along the Mississippi river...Arizona fires...Japan...


We knew our storm, though it was violent and scary for a few brief moments, was a picnic and a camping lark, comparatively.



So we decided to treat it that way.

When the power went out, it was just Tim and I. Wouldn't you know it, just as we were starting to get ideas, TEN people ended up here.



Not. Even. Kidding.



Within an hour of a very violent storm followed by a neighborhood black out, my house was blazing with candlelight, nine adults and an infant were making themselves at home, and a man from Korea was playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with fluid beauty on our piano.



You only think I am kidding. I am not.


Then, board games were played by candlelight until well past midnight.



It got warmish, what with no air conditioning, but otherwise, once I got past the scare of the wind taking out three trees (two small, one large) on my street alone, one of them in my back yard...once I got past that, I adjusted quite nicely, and even found a way to read until the wee hours:


This is not a photo re-enactment. This was taken via cell phone camera, last night, well into hour four or five of our no-electricity-camping-in-the-house-post-storm-party.

An Evening With Friends

"Saturday night in Toledo Ohio..." (you'd have to know the man playing guitar...hilarious.)

Enjoying the after-dinner music...

A moment of worship...

Our dear and life long friend Neil, playing guitar. Tomorrow morning, he preaches his first sermon as the "official" senior pastor of our parent church, Trinity Chapel. Clem is to his right. Clem, a known and respected prophet in several church networks, is going to be our guest speaker in the morning at Harvest Church. If you aren't there, I promise you will wish you had been there.

One of the blessings of hospitality - make the guests sing for their supper. (My husband Tim - in the green shirt - is often asked to play and sing, when we are someone else's guests...he is happy to do it.)

Ending with a little James Taylor...

Rich relationships.

The conversation was incredibly wealthy.

As the sun was setting, our stomachs were full, our spirits were nourished as well.

A few snippets of the conversation:

Clem: "I have wiped the words "personal prophecy" from my vocabulary. God still speaks specific things to people, but no one fulfills their personal destiny apart from the corporate. It is all about the Kingdom, all about the church. There is no personal destiny all by yourself. Every prophecy, in that sense, is a corporate prophecy, because you will never see it truly fulfilled apart from the body of Christ in the local church where God wants you to be."

Neil: "Saturday night in Toledo Ohio..."

Tim: "I have been completely absorbed lately in expositing specific chapters in the book of Acts. New Covenant realities were so fresh and stunning, and the opposition was so fierce. Nothing has changed, in that sense, from then till now. "

Clem: "The church in every nation is experiencing restructure, in some cases deconstruction. The cross must be the vortex, the Gospel must be everything. Not programs, not spiritual gifts, not personal ambition. You will be deceived if apostolic grace is not your foundation. The church must relearn how to function in the middle of great crisis..."

Neil (singing): "...is like being nowhere at all..."

The Flavors of Summer - Bruschetta

Get you some vine ripened tomatoes...

Fresh tomatoes, three cloves garlic, a few tablespoons olive oil, some coarse salt, and some basil...and a baguette, to put it all on, later.

dice your tomatoes, mince your garlic, pour a few tablespoons of olive oil over it, sprinkle with your coarse salt, chiffinade your basil and toss that in...

mix well.

Slice your baguette, brush each slice generously with olive oil, sprinkle with garlic salt, and broil it until barely golden and crispy. Put the tomato mixture in little individual bowls, like salsa.

Top each. and. every. bite. of bread with the heavenly concoction in your own little personal bowl.

If you are me....make a meal out of it.

end of story

Oh For a Thousand Tongues To Sing!

O, for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise!
The glories of my God and King
The triumphs of His grace !
My gracious Master and my God
Assist me to proclaimTo spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name!

Jesus, the name that charms our fears
That bids our sorrows cease‘Tis music in the sinner’s ears
‘Tis life and health and peace!

He breaks the power of cancelled sinHe sets the prisoners free
His blood can make the foulest clean
His blood availed for me!

He speaks and listening to His voice
New life the dead receive
The mournful broken hearts rejoice
The humble poor believe!

Girls' Day Out

(left to right: Christina, me, and Lisa...picture taken this morning!)

I don't remember exactly what was being said when this picture was taken, but I can promise you...it was funny. Harvest women make me laugh so, so much.

If estrogen is your thing...if decadent French toast is your thing...or virgin Mimosas...or rich quiche or various fruits or girl talk or lots of laughter or cute babies or scratching the creative itch...if ANY of that is your thing, then Harvest is your church and we are your women.

I drove home today, feeling very poignant. I reflected on the whole morning (well into the afternoon) spent with lotsa girlfriends, of all ages - my own mother included. It had been so long, between grandson being born, our son's basketball, our other Marine son and his various weekend leaves home....between all that, and sickness, and other family celebrations, it felt like a mighty long time since I'd hung out with all the girls.

As I made my way home, I reflected on the fact - the pure fact - that most women don't have what I have. Many women long for a group of girlfriends with whom they can let their hair down, be real, laugh or cry till it hurts, or just sit and smile and knit.

(I tend to be a stoic...so I am the "smile and knit" type...with the occasional very loud laugh.)

Some women only experience this sort of female support system on television or in the movies - they think it can't exist in real life.

I'm the first to tell you that my gender can be mean, petty, petulant, competitive, dramatic, and bitter. But a safe community of women exists, I know because I am part of one. These women are W.E.L.L. (Women Equipped to Love and Lead) and their WELLness will bless and comfort and deeply impact your life and your day.

My home-girls. I love them. They are SO worth all the stickin' and the stayin' and the buildin' and the plantin'.