Sunday, October 23, 2005

Apple Sauce Day

I was greatly saddened when I wasn't well enough to attend the great Fairwood Apple Sauce Day. However, I decided to post here today an article about it that I wrote last year for school. Here it is to celebrate the occasion.

Ever since I was small, apple sauce day has always been special. First, on the chosen autumn morning, you enter the Main House kitchen where bushels of juicy red apples lie in heaps all around. Then comes the cutting. About a dozen people crowd around a long table, perched on stools and chattering away happily. My hands wet with water and juice, I grip a cold knife, slicing freely while grabbing a tart bite here and there. The apple slurps in protest at being dissected, the blade knocks the cutting board, and then a heavy plink is heard as the apple piece sails into the bottom of a monstrous pot. Soon these are overflowing, and a bible school boy nabs them one at a time and brings them to the black stove to boil. When steam is bellowing out from its depths, he gingerly picks it up with flowery hot pads and races to the next point. Here is the actual apple sauce machine in all its humming glory, and the privileged worker scoops the steamy mush and dumps it into a bowl-like object. Squishing it down a funnel with a plastic red masher, it’s hot work but can be fun. In a matter of seconds, bright pink apple sauce coming gushing down a slide to collect in a large metal bowl, while the pulp rolls ponderously out the side and drops to its end in a garbage bucket.

As each aromatic bowl is brimming, it’s quickly replaced with another and swooped to the counter nearby. This is where you go if you want to steal some of the sweet concoction in a cup. Here a bible school girl bedecked in an apron measures out mounds of sugar to pour into selected portions of applesauce, before funneling the burning mixture into quart jars, marking them, and sealing them. Soon endless rows of warm pink jars are lined up on a small table in the corner, as well as on the floor and on a cart, ready to be deposited in the delightfully musty interior of the Main House cellar. Although apple sauce day is tiring to some, it is evidence of diligent labor and hearty teamwork, which can lead to many happy memories.

The Harvest Party

The famous, well-beloved, and long awaited for harvest party arrived last night. It was a dandy time, with many a strange person attending, often unrecognizable. And this is the account.

First I will start with the list of attendees. Tin tin reclined in her chair next to her grandmother, with a large blue sweater, tucked in khaki culottes, and peculiar topknot on her head. Believe me, I can only imagine the problems Megan had with getting that glue out of her hair. Next a very white and elegant bust statue stood on its Greek pedestal, with ivy gracing Katherine's hair very authentically. A sober Shannon and Bria perched on their seats as I entered, with the former wearing glasses and a swimming cap to be bald, and the latter dressed very obviously as a serious farmer's wife. The pitchfork and black frame gave it all away, labeling them definitely as Norman Rockwell's American Gothic couple. Next a very scary TJ lounged next to Uncle Tim and Aunt Sharon, with a hideous, contorted pink face (he was wearing a mask today), a furry shirt, and red leather pants. Then sitting around appeared to be a hairy headed, shoeless super hero Andrew (or that's what he said he was), then a brown faced Adam in farmer's gear, with a long bit of grass in his mouth, and using one of his many amazing voices to tell us squeakily about his skunk Fluffy Face that he was holding. Andy was helmeted out as a cave explorer, and a crooked horned Davie also sat as an absurd version of the Beast, with Kerry as the Beauty, in her own lovely purple gown. Van Lora apparently was a Lady Fall of sorts, with leaves in her hair and a medieval green dress. Brandon and Mary's family were the Peter Pan troupe, with Brandon as John, Mary as Wendy, James as Peter Pan, Rachel as Tinker Bell, Jonathan as Captain Hook, and little Jeff with a purposefully too small shirt on as Smea. I myself was a version of GI-Jane, with my camouflage outfit, Craig's humongous boots, and a brown and green painted face. The third year girls came in last as a surprise to the music of Pirates of the Caribbean. Sara Lee came swaggering in as Jack Sparrow, Sarah Ann dashingly defensive as a perfect Will Turner (she would have made Orlando Bloom jealous), Elizabeth beautiful as the Miss Swan herself, the bald-topped Bethany as the poppet pirate, and Kimberly leering with her eyeball on a fork, proudly displaying her ability to cross one eye.

A white-faced Diane led us, posing as Homestar Runner. We began with a game that each of us played within our teams. Organized in groups of six or seven, everyone would sit in a circle and each person would have a chance to roll the dice. Whenever one of us got the number four, we would shout, "Four!" then grab a pair of slippery gloves and proceed to open the present in the center, layer by layer. The problem was that it was taped very well, and with the gloves on it made it very un maneuverable. Then often by the time you got the gloves on someone else would be crying out the terrible number and clawing for the gloves to get an opportunity. Our team took forever, so we were the last one done, but it was discovered to be a candy bar inside the many layers of wrappings.

The next game involved listening to music. Each team would bid, say five seconds, meaning they thought they could hear the song for five seconds and be able to know what it was. We'd have five seconds to listen, five seconds to discuss, then we would provide the correct answer, and receive points. If we failed to provide the correct answer, we would get negative points. Horror of horrors! Some of the songs were easy, but sometimes when all you heard was an introduction, it made it very difficult.

After this we had a relay race. Four chairs were set up near the center of the room with balloons scattered about them. We were supposed to run up, sit and pop a balloon, eat what we would find inside, then run back for the next person to do it. I went twice, and started first, so I frantically dashed up, and had some problems popping the balloon. Finally managing, I saw the flash of an eyeball rolling on the floor, so I scooped it up and popped it in my mouth. Chewing, then swallowing, I rushed back. Someone mentioned something about a wrapper, and I realized to my shock that I had forgotten the wrapper and had eaten it, wrapper and all! No, wait, I still had a tiny wad of tin foil in my mouth. After that Aunt Sharon had hilarious trouble of not being able to make her balloon pop, for try as she might, she had difficulty because she was laughing so hard. Luckily, she succeeded. My team lost, but someone suggested that we be an honorary team because I ate the wrapper. haha

Next we went into the kitchen. "Ooh good, I like games in the kitchen," Mr. H. said, recalling last year's shaving cream and cheese curl incident. Diane assured him that this game wouldn't be messy. This activity was a puzzle. We had a lot of ripped up pieces of a calendar picture and we had to fit them together and glue them on construction paper. The calendar was a Norman Rockwell calendar, and our team got the picture of the cheer leaders. We labored away, though it wasn't an easy job for seven people to work on at once, and managed to gain honor by coming in second.

Finally we had an ABC scavenger hunt, having to find an item for every letter of the alphabet. The game was over in a flash, though we had some problems with the letter X, but once again we managed second place, just squeezing behind the first placing team.

The games were followed by picture taking and many refreshments. Practically everything we ate was a fruit dipped in chocolate: including strawberries, kiwis, bananas, and apples. But of course we managed to eat other goodies too, chicken being one of them. The picture taking was also an interesting time, with Nate threatening to taking crooked pictures and laughing when Kimberly screamed at him. Also that time was featured by James getting terrified out of his wits when TJ began to crouch on the ground and approach him. It's bad enough for him to do it without the mask, but with it produced disastrous results, and I could hardly blame James for turning bright red and screaming. A valiant pirate rebuked the offender for giving him nightmares, and with assuring words that she would take care of him, Kimberly whipped out her fake sword and began to beat her cousin most appreciatively. But the damage was done. James crawled up on the couch behind me and sat there shaking, and it was all Bria and I could do to soothe him and tell him it wasn't real and he was just pretending. Still, if he hadn't be so frightened it would have been just too funny.

Apple Sauce Day

To my great sadness I managed to miss the great Fairwood Apple Sauce Day. However, last year for school I wrote a little article about that event so full of many fond memories, and in honor of the occasion I shall post it here today.

Ever since I was small, apple-sauce day has always been special. First, on the chosen autumn morning you enter the kitchen where bushels of juicy red apples lie in heaps all around. Then comes the cutting. About a dozen people crowd around a long table, perched on stools and chattering away happily. My hands wet with water and juice, I grip a cold knife, slicing freely, while grabbing a tart bite here and there. The apple slurps in protest of being dissected, the blade knocks the cutting board, and then a heavy plink is heard as the apple piece sails into the bottom of a monstrous pot. Soon these are overflowing, and a bibleschool lad nabs them one at a time and brings them to the big black stove to boil. When the steam is billowing out from the pot's depths, he gingerly picks it up with flowery hot pads and races to the next point. Here is the actual apple sauce machine, in all its humming glory, and the privileged worker scoops the steamy mush and dumps it into a bowl-like object. Squishing it down the funnel with a plastic red masher, it's hot work but can be fun. In a matter of seconds, bright pink applesauce comes gushing down a slide to collect in a large metal bowl, while the pulp rolls ponderously out the side and drops to its end in a garbage bucket.

As each aromatic bowl is brimming, it's quickly replaced with another and swooped to the counter nearby. This is where you go if you want to steal some of the spicy sweet concoction in a cup. Here a bibleschool girl bedecked in an apron measures out mounds of sugar to pour into selected portions of applesauce, before funneling the burning mixture into quart jars, marking them, and sealing them. Soon endless rows of warm pink jars are lined up on a small table in the corner, as well as on the floor and on a cart, ready to be deposited in the delightfully musty interior of the Main House cellar. Although applesauce day is tiring to some, it is evidence of diligent labor and hearty teamwork, which can lead to many happy memories.

The very unfortunate curse

I have had the very unfortunate curse of getting sick. It's a nasty virus that includes fever, aching eyes, swollen throat, congestion, and finally an unusual susceptibleness of being tired. It is rather insufferable to go day in and day out being sick every day, with what feels like bare inches of progress, but luckily I'm feeling much more like myself, my throat being less scratchy and less bass-like. Haha, don't worry. . . I could still sing higher than my brothers, but not very much.

Half wonderfully and half regrettably, I have been well enough to do a good portion of my regular school each day, but it would often take me all day because I would have to take long rests between every subject due to me feeling worn out at the end of each one. However, on the weekend, I did go on a little movie marathon, which was entertaining. Sound of Music was one I hadn't seen in a while, and of course Ever After, Sneakers, and Prince of Egypt are excellent ones as well. Monday was featured with good old Chicken Run, and most of the evenings have contained an Andy Griffith with my mother. So you see I have been well supplied.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

My life excitement overwhelms me

While I'm still writing about the subject of dancing, I found the other day that girls aren't the only ones that like to dance. As a matter of fact, I was helping clear the tables after dinner at the Main House when very suddenly I heard this blaring music of classical sorts blasting from the parlor! In my natural alarm I rushed to the dining room to peek in and see who it was, and low and behold were the bibleschool guys dancing. Hopping about in the dim interior of the parlor, I thought there was some sort of pattern at first, but then I saw that there wasn't. They would dance in a circle and then one of them would break off to do some spontaneous action of their own. It was a rather amusing sight to watch, but hey, who can blame them?

After this occurrence I was on my way home in the drizzly, chilly evening when I spotted Michael and Gabriel by the grape vine. When I greeted them, Gabriel pointed to the sky and said with a mixture of being excited and informative, "I just saw a leaf blowing down away from a tree and at first I thought it was Jesus coming down from the sky!" Quite a touching declaration, really.

So after this I soon went to sports and after that I went to observe the fascinating spectacle of fellowship meeting. This night was the festive activity of pumpkin carving and painting, and without too much ado they set to work in teams to dig out the slurping pumpkin pulp and scratch pictures in the face of the pumpkin. Of course the students were told that these were harvest pumpkins, not Halloween pumpkins, which meant you couldn't do any thing that implied evil things such as witches, ghosts, spiders, bats, or the New York Yankees. No, they didn't say the New York Yankees, but I still thought it was rather disobedient of Bethany to go ahead and paint the evil symbol on her pumpkin anyway.:D

Therefore the students came out with all sorts of ideas, from castles (taking away the bats removed their spookiness) to funny faces, from a cross to a man with a runaway dog, from scrolly designs to a happy fellow in a sailboat with the motto "Life is good" (the source of Elizabeth's designing inspiration was actually my shirt I which I was wearing from sports), they produced enjoyable carvings in all their orange glowing-ness. The pumpkin painters had fun too, as well as the modern art pumpkin person who had especial delight in pretending their fixture was bacon or some other such nonsense.

Yesterday I had my first art class, which I was very much looking forward to. We gathered at a homeschool mom's house, I met new people, and also got my first go at blind contour drawing, which I discovered I am terrible at. However, it's okay to be terrible at it because it's like drawing with your eyes closed so you're not expected to do super well, just learn how to awaken your right, creative side of mind. Then she set us to work to sketch some still life (a pottery pot and a couple pears, actually) and then a classical guitar. This was not so much as to teach us but to see what level our skills are at. We're probably going to critique each other's art next week. I finished last, but we then ended with choosing a picture of an animal that we'd like to draw next week. I'm not too partial to animal drawing, the fur not being my cup of tea, but I chose a frog that looked kind of fun and left feeling flushed and satisfied. My first real art training has begun.

Today I went on town trip. I was especially pleased to have all of my school done before I left, so I didn't have to worry about it when I got back. Anyway we went to WalMart and while we were waiting outside to be picked up the guys kept on laughing at something. A squeaking noise was emanating from one of their jackets, and it was soon discovered to be a bat inside that they had procured and were intending to keep. However our wait was a long one (twenty-five minutes over the pick up time) and eventually the tiny bat flew away, which is probably to the all around good of all, except the happiness of one particular lad, who kept grumbling how if they hadn't taken so long he could have kept his precious pet. In the meantime I got bored of just standing around, so I walked over to one of the curb islands in the parking lot and took a stroll on it. I ambled around and around and around, then switched directions and went the other way around. I tried to see how few steps I could take around, succeeding in about nineteen, then I would walk with one boot on the pavement. Next I walked in zigzags, then paced the length military fashion, then jogged the length. Pretty soon I got bored, even when one of the older men coming out of the store gestured that he wondered why I wasn't doing it more, and another older Walmart employee began to talk seriously to me about the weather, which was random. So I decided to be normal like everybody else and wait on the curb, and after a few more minutes the van finally came to our rescue. Phew! My life excitement overwhelms me.