What to make for dinner when it's hot out and you've been leasuirely enjoying a summer afternoon...

...reading a book/messing around with photoshop/watching the newborn kittens or, __________ ; fill in the blank with whatever you'd rather be doing than cooking.

I call it Mediterranean Tortellini, so now it is an official dish.

Thankfully I had enough ingredients to make it up:

250 g. bag of dried tortellini (last one in the the cupboard)
1 small onion, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 past-their-prime zucchinis languishing in vegetable drawer of the fridge, chopped
1 large red bell pepper, chopped
3 tomatoes
About half a cup of sliced olives
A couple handfuls of fresh basil leaves, chopped
A couple handfuls of pine nuts
canola oil
salt

Cook the tortellini and drain. Toss with a little olive oil to keep pasta from sticking

Saute onions and garlic in a little canola oil. Add zucchini and red bell pepper and continue to saute until vegetables are soft. Let cool a bit.

Add sauteed vegetables to the pasta and then use the same pan to lightly toast the pine nuts.

Add pine nuts, fresh tomatoes, olives, and chopped basil to the pasta and sauteed vegetables. Toss with addition olive oil and some salt--sea salt is best, if you have it.

Serves about four.

On the power of fine words and fine literature~

"Best to say we weren't a true literary society at first. Aside from Elizabeth, Mrs. Maugery, and perhaps Booker, most of us hadn't had much to do with books since our school years. We took them from Mrs. Maugery's shelves fearful we'd spoil the fine papers. I had no zest for such matters in those days. It was only by fixing my mind on the Commandant and jail that I could make myself to left of the covers of the book and begin.

It was Selections from Shakespeare. Later, I came to see that Mr. Dickens and Mr. Wordsworth were thinking of men like me when they wrote their words. But most of all, I believe that William Shakespeare was. Mind you, I cannot always make sense of what he says, but it will come.

It seems to me the less he said, the more beauty he made. Do you know what sentence of his I admire most? it is 'The bright day is done, and we are for the dark.'

I wish I'd known those words on the day I watched those German troops land, plane-load after plane-load of them--and come off ships down in the harbor! All I could think of was damn them, damn them, over and over. If I could have thought the words "the bright day is done and we are for the dark," I'd have been consoled somehow and ready to go out and contend with circumstance--instead of my heart sinking to my shoes."

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Sunflowers

Gathering Up a Few Book Notes

I have a tantalizing stack of books I'd like to read this summer and I recently gave myself permission dive into it, however, I made myself wait until I finished the last book of our Great Books/Ancients class: Virgil's Aeneid.

The Aeneid



This was my second time through the Aeneid, and while I'm sure I yet have much to gain from this Latin masterpiece (read by me in translation!), a second reading brought greater understanding and appreciation of Virgil's epic poem. Particularly, I learned to appreciate the 'Virgilian Solution', a sort of Virgilian "Back to the Future" in which Virgil sets his narrative in the Homeric past while making illusions to future events surround the founding of Rome and the rise of the Empire under the Emperor Augustus. Brilliant!

And, the boys and I enjoyed discussing the themes of furor, irresistible fury and unquenchable passion, as personified in Dido, and pietas, or duty, as exemplified in the life Aeneas. Are the two qualities mutually exclusive, or can there be any furor in pietas? The two books below served to heighten our understanding, and appreciation of this great poem.

From Achilles to Christ



Heroes of the City of Man



In George McDonald's fairytale, The Princess and the Goblin, Princess Irene becomes distraught to the point of tears when her good friend, Curdie, can not see, and thus, not believe in the princess's magical grandmother. As she comforts the Princess Irene, her wise grandmother also advises her:

..."'But in the meantime you must be content, I say, to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.'

'What is that, grandmother?'

'To understand other people.'

It is this humble position which Randy Newman, the author of Questioning Evangelism, takes in his practical and loving apologetic. Says D.A. Carson: "This book reflects a deep grasp of biblical theology and a penetrating compassion for people. How very much like the Master himself!"

Chapters 1-3 answer "Why ask questions?, chapters 4-10, address "What questions are people asking?", and chapters 11-13 explain why "Why are questions and answers not enough?" Newman demonstrates his winsome and way of answering such questions as "why does a God allow suffering?" or "why are Christians so Homophobic?" or "what is so good about marriage?" by asking further questions of his interlocutors, revealing presuppositions while at the same time engaging their hearts and minds. Highly recommended for all audiences and especially high school for college students.

Questioning Evangelism



The next book, a memoir written in the form of letters home by an graduate student studying Arabic in Jordan, was a light read I picked up just before our friends from Boise arrived for a first-time visit in Jordan. Since we've lived here for nearly 21 years I thought it might be good to get a fresh perspective of what is like to view life in Jordan from a new arrival. And while it might not be the first or only book I'd recommend to someone interested in Jordan, the author gave an accurate and readable account of life in Jordan just before the war in Iraq, and he insightfully summed up the concerns of the Jordanians he knew and talked with: the Palestinian Issue, marriage, and nationality.

Live from Jordan



The White Tiger was loaned to me by a friend who read it after watching the movie Slumdog Millionare. I haven't yet seen that movie, but I read this book, a first novel by Indian(raised in Australia) author, Aravind Adiga, which made it to the short list for the Man Booker Prize in 2008.

The White Tiger



I read this quickly--on a five hour flight from Amman to London. Exploring the social and class distinctions and inequalities of present day India by way of letters (hmm, I seem to be reading lots of books written in letter form. I'm reading another one at present) from a aspiring Indian entrepreneur to the prime minister of China, Adiga reveals more than a triumphant rags to riches story; he explores the darker side of Indian upward mobility as his protagonist ultimately justifies murdering his 'weak' employer in order to escape a life in which humans are not treated as such. This was an intriguing look at human nature in light of the changing social and economic landscape of contemporary India. Caution: some crude language and unsavory allusions. I wouldn't recommend this for my high school children.

Culture Shock Redux

This letter, from a dear friend who has lived and worked in the Middle East for about 17 years, is an (hilarious) answer to the question of whether or not one experiences culture shock even after living abroad for a number of years:

Haji on a Bike

If any of you suspected that I am close to cracking, this account may prove it. This Saturday afternoon, Raymond and I decided to do a bike run in prep for the triathlon two weeks away. Since we live on the side of a mountain with potholed roads we go over to the Jewish side to ride our bikes. On the way out of the Arab neighborhood, we pass an intersection that usually has a couple of professional begger boys who are more or less annoying. Anyway, today, the sight of a two foreigners on bikes was just too unusual for them. (Actually, in 17 years here, I’ve never seen a woman on a bike. I asked why and the answer was that it is considered a shame because maybe she is riding somewhere to have s*x. But since I was white haired, modestly dressed, and with my graying husband, I thought I could get by with it.)

Still, the younger of the urchins, probably about age ten, started chasing us and waving his plastic pipe. He didn’t catch Raymond in front but when I came by, he hit me with his pipe. This is terribly disrespectful here because of my gender, age, and guest status. I wasn’t hurt but I was mad. (Did I mention that we’d have a terrible week in our neighborhood). Also, while I may look like a white haired granny outside but inside there is this cowgirl from western Nebraska on her white horse raring to get out.

I told Raymond what had happened and decided to go back and confront the obnoxious kid. At first, when he saw me waiting for the light to change, he just laughed at me but when I started biking towards him, he started to run, still taunting me, dodging between the on coming cars. I just kept coming, dodging the same cars. Once we cleared the intersection, I had a clear path and started gaining on him. Now, I may be a granny but a 190 lb. old lady on a 30 year old metal Schwinn bike is a force to be dealt with. Going downhill, Raymond can’t even catch me on his light racing bike and lucky for me downhill is the way the kid decided to run.

The kid is not longer laughing and running as fast as he can. I’m getting closer and closer so he dodged into a side street but luckily it was still paved so I was almost on top of him by the end of another block when he darted to a side parking lot. Now while in my mind I was back on my white horse, the old bike didn’t take the sharp corner at high speed into gravel as well as my horse would have. I slid, skidded, and crashed. If the kid would have kept going across the field, he would have been free but in his panic, he jumped into a car waiting in the parking lot.

All of a sudden, this distinguished elderly gentleman dressed in suit and tie sitting quietly in his car has a screaming urchin in his back seat, a foreign woman on a bike crashing to the ground, jumping up, and jerking on his car handles. I politely asked if this was his son but he said that he had never seen the kid before. I explained that he had hit me. Meanwhile the kid is going into all the Muslim gestures for begging but I told him that he was a shame to Mohammed so he stopped and went back to begging the old man to save him from this wild lady with the flying white hair, the skewed bike helmet, the smoke coming out of her ears, the blood running out of her palms.

By now a crowd is starting to form. A car that had seen what had happened drove down and verified that the boy had hit me. (Raymond said later that they were Jewish security men and asked him “What are you doing letting her be here by herself?” Raymond joked that he was more worried for the kid.) Neighbors or passers by stopped. The kid’s big brother came. Raymond caught up with me and whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t take out on him what happened to Katrina’. That did sound reasonable but the school marm in me still wanted this kid to face the music for his actions so we wouldn’t have trouble from him every time we went through our intersection. I decided that I wanted to give him one whack on the backside like he had hit me. I am still very mad and teased him, “You afraid from haji (old lady)?” and “You shame your entire family.”

Finally his brother and the elderly man whose backseat was this kid’s fort forced his hands away from the lock and I opened the door, dragged him out, they held him and I whacked his bottom with the plastic pipe and then shook his hand. This was probably not the culturally appropriate way to handle this but needless to say, I had had enough. He was still calling me names but he was also shamed in front of the whole crowd. Later, we saw one of the self appointed negotiators and he said that the kid’s father had hit him which is much more culturally appropriate.

So I got back on my bike and with plenty of adrenalin left over, I put on a number of kilometers for the race which gave me plenty of time to think and ponder whether I am getting really too frayed from the stress here or whether this was just a symptom of being fifty and doing, saying, and dressing as I want. I’m still laughing at the kid who thought that he could outrun the white haired haji on a bike. Streaming down that hill I felt like the cavalry on my white horse coming to the rescue of right and justice with the William Tell Overture in the background. Raymond said that it could also be interpreted as the granny from hell on her Radial Flyer bike.

Whatever, this granny has a bent bike, bloody palm, sore shoulder, torn jeans and scabs on her knees now but it was worth it to catch that kid! I’ve made the street safe for old ladies on bikes. …even if I’m the only one.

Afterward: This "granny" is a true hero of mine. After raising three delightful children while running a bookstore with her dear husband in the occupied West Bank, she sensed God's calling to re-enter academia with a goal of becoming a university professor. She recently completed her MA at Jerusalem University College and is in the process of re-locating to Salt Lake City, Utah with her husband where she will be begin her Ph,D in medieval Middle Eastern studies. She is the recipient of The Maybelle Burton Graduate Fellowship, a three year grant offered to the most promising graduate student entering the Department of History's Ph,D. Program in any given year. I told her that this guy has nothing on her and that there is most definitely a book in this. Stay tuned.

Tottering in the Garden

My mid-winter vision of a pleasant summer garden in which I could work to create a small space of beauty, the kids could learn a bit about landscaping and gardening, and one could relax with a book or for a chat with friends, has been realized:

Seedlings were nurtured through cold winter months and as soon as the weather allowed, Active Son and Artist Son hauled in rocks from surrounding vacant lots to create a xeriscape flower garden in an area that was nothing but dirt and some fruit trees.

It blesses my heart to witness the inspiration Artist Son receives from the garden.

This year we have a garden cat. It is really very nice having a garden cat, and soon we'll have a few more as Kitty is expecting.

The Basil Garden provides enough basil for daily use--it's great on tomato, yogurt cheese, and olive sandwiches.

One of my favorite beds: salvia, petunias, bee balm, coreopsis, and lavender.

Tayta beautifully captured one of the many butterflies flitting around the Lantana.


Edit: A friend questioned my use of the word 'tottering' in the title as the word reminded her of toddlers or drunken people. Sure enough, an internet dictionary check yielded this definition:

a. To sway as if about to fall.

b. To appear about to collapse

I took the word from a favorite gardening memoir which I read years ago, soon after the gardening bug first bit:



Tottering in My Garden

The author, Midge Ellis Keeble, is Canadian so perhaps the Canadian use of the word denotes a meaning other than instability. Anyway, the her memoir is a delightful read as well as full of practical gardening advice. Highly recommended.

Classical Music~So much more than Arts and Entertainment

A couple of posts ago I mentioned our willingness to fore go a clothes dryer so that Oldest Daughter can take advantage of a great opportunity to work on her music with excellent teachers and musicians this summer. Last spring I sold my gold necklace to help finance The Violin; this was not really a sacrifice as I am not much for gold. It was my token Every-Woman- in-Jordan-Must-Have-A-Substantial-Gold-Necklace, given to me by my Dear Husband years ago, but the the times have changed and when he told me what he could get for it in the Gold Souk it took me about two seconds to say, "Sell!"

Through the years God has generously provided for our family, but as is true of most families, there are financial choices to be made, and we have made as many as possible in favor of music and art. I recently read this address to the parents and students of the 2004 freshman class of Boston Conservatory, delivered by Dr. Karl Paulnack, Director of the Music Division, was bolstered in all our past choices, and encouraged to press on in our support of the musicians and other artists in our home and beyond. I hope you will read the entire address.

Though I don't ultimately agree with Dr. Paulnack's conclusion that musicians can save the planet, I do think that music is a unique gift from the Creator God to humanity which can enrich our lives and give us greater understanding about God, His relationship to us, and to the world He has created for us.

Below I've linked to the two music works Dr. Paulnack mentions in his inspirational address. The final link, if you are still listening, is the beautiful third movement of five that Violin Daughter will be playing at her Strings Master Class later this summer. Enjoy!

Active Life = Inactive Blog

At least for me. At least for now. After finishing the marathon race of spring activities, and the end of school, Dear Husband and I headed to England for a week of training and upgrading in our overseeing roles; valuable and encouraging sessions and we even managed an afternoon trip to the British Museum. Upon our return home (the kids did great while we were away, enjoying fun time together) we welcomed our dear friends from Boise and four of their five children for a long awaited visit. We are having a great time together as we tour the sites of Jordan and Jerusalem: today we head out to the traditional baptismal site of Jesus, the Dead Sea for a short float and mud bath, and Mt. Nebo, the traditional resting place of Moses. Whew! I look forward to contemplative summer days of reading and writing someday soon...

Muffins for Music, Part V~Lemon Poppyseed Muffins

~Lemon Poppyseed Muffins~

Cream together:
1/2 cup butter (1 stick), softened
1 1/4 cup sugar
Add:
2 large eggs
1 Tablespoon grated lemon peel
1 teaspoon vanilla or lemon extract
1 cup sour cream
Mix together and add to creamed mixture:
2 1/2 cup flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Mix well and add:
2-3 Tablespoons poppyseeds

Fill muffin cups and bake at 400 F. Makes 10-12 muffins depending on the size of your muffin cups.

Tayta's tip: watch carefully and rotate muffin tins if necessary.

After they cool, glaze muffins with Lemon Glaze:

1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
(adjust if necessary)

Of course, you can double or even triple this recipe, which is what Tatya did when she made these each week for her bake sale.

Muffins for Music, Part IV: Finally, the Muffin Recipes

~Pumpkin Chai Muffins~

Well, I hope that no one will think we were trying to be deceitful, but the truth of the matter is that since we always substitute mashed sweet potatoes for pumpkin pack in all our baking recipes, these were actually sweet potato chai muffins; from a marketing standpoint we just weren't sure that would fly. But, you could reverse substitute pumpkin pack for our sweet potato substitution and then they would truly be pumpkin chai muffins. And, no, there is no chai tea in the muffins (people asked); the chai refers to the spiced glaze. These muffins were the moistest, the all around best sellers, and a particular favorite of the moms and dads. To make about 32 or so muffins Tayta used this recipe.

For perfectly formed muffins, fill muffin cups nearly to the top and bake in a 400 F oven.

After the muffins cool, glaze them with this:

Chai Spice Glaze
1 1/4 cup powdered sugar
2 Tablespoons milk
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
pinch of ginger
pinch of ground cloves
pinch of ground cardamon if you'd like and if you have some.

Tayta says you may have to add just a wee bit more milk if your glaze is too stiff.

(I'm off on a trip in the early morning so I'll have to post the Lemon Poppyseed Muffin recipe when I return.)

Muffins for Music, Part III: More Recipes

~Monster Cookies~

Tayta used my mom's beloved Oatmeal Cookie Recipe for these and we added colorful M&Ms.

Beat/Cream together:
2 cups butter (4 small cubes)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1-2 tsp. vanilla
Add:
4 eggs and beat until well mixed
Add Dry Indredients:
6 cups oats
3 cups flour
2 tsp each, salt, cinnamon, baking soda
Mix Well

Tatya used our trusty Pampered Chef cookie scoop, making each giant cookie from two scoops of dough. She added the M&Ms purposefully and decoratively after pressing down the cookie dough a bit into a round form. Bake about 10 minutes in a medium(350 F) oven but follow Tayta's baking tip: "Keep an eye on them until they are done the way you like them."

Variations: This is the same basic recipe I use for the giant cookies I make for my guys when they run the Dead to Red marathon relay. They can be made more healthful by and substantial by additions such as flax seed, walnuts, wheat germ, millet, raw sunflower seeds, raisins, dried cranberries, etc. Be creative!

Muffins for Music, Part II: The Recipes

Seven Minute Frosting

For all the baking I've done through the years I am surprised that I never discovered Seven Minute Frosting until now. It was perfect for the chocolate cupcakes (thanks, Betty Crocker) and held firm even in warm weather. Making the frosting was my small weekly contribution to the bake sale effort.

Ingredients:
1 cup white sugar
1/3 cup water
1/4 tsp. cream of tarter

2 egg whites at room temperature (important)
1/4 vanilla extract (optional)

If you have a stand alone mixer you can make this frosting easily and quickly, beating the egg whites while the sugar/water mixture is cooking. If not, beat the egg whites first, until firm, almost stiff. Cook sugar, cream of tartar, and water in a heavy bottom pan over medium heat, stirring. When it comes to a boil and 'froths' up, cook, still stirring, for about another 30-60 seconds. Remove from heat. At this point I put the mixture into a spouted cup so that I can pour it into the egg whites slowly in a narrow, steady stream, as the mixer is going. After you have added the syrup, continue to beat the mixture for about seven minutes, though sometimes less ( I have a strong Bosch mixer and maybe that makes a difference.)

Tips: The first few times I made this recipe I had a couple of failures but now it works every time. Make sure your bowl and mixer is clean, clean and your egg whites are at room temperature. Once when my frosting didn't beat up firmly I added about a third of a cup of whipping cream and kept beating. The frosting tasted more like whipped cream but the syrup stabilized it and it didn't melt.

Variations: I have substituted lemon juice and orange juice for the water to make flavored frosting. For the lemon juice, I think I used half lemon juice (fresh) and half water. Subtle and very nice.

Muffins for Music

A few months ago Oldest/Violin daughter called from college to tell us that her new and beloved Czech violin teacher wanted her to attend a particular strings master class
in the Czech Republic for three weeks this summer. A wonderful opportunity, we all thought, for Oldest daughter to work on her music under world-class instructors. Wonderful yes, but costly. We've long since resigned ourselves to the fact that the pursuit of musical excellence is not an inexpensive endeavor, but helping Oldest Daughter finance her first year of college left very little in the budget for such classes no matter how wonderful they might be. As we have so many times before, we encouraged Oldest Daughter to pray and ask God to provide the funds needed if this class was something she should pursue.

And we prayed too. How might the money be raised, even bit by bit? Baseball season was approaching and I suggested to Tayta (youngest daughter) that she might try doing a bake sale to help her big sister raise some money. Tayta, with a large servant's heart, a great love for her big sister, and a passion for baking thought it a great idea. I helped her the first week develop her product line, organize, and shop for ingredients, but after the first week she baked, glazed, and frosted almost single handedly (with very minor help from me, Artist Son, who artistically frosted the chocolate cupcakes, and Active Son, who loaded the van each Friday morning.) Each week Tayta baked about 200 items: a mix of giant cookies, chocolate cupcakes with seven- minute-frosting and sprinkles (oh so tantalizing--the little T-ball players really went for these!), Pumpkin Muffins with Chai Spice Glaze, Lemon Poppyseed Muffins with Lemon Glaze and Strawberry Muffins with Strawberry Glaze. Cookies were baked and frozen early in the week, extra schoolwork was done (well, sometimes) on Wednesday, and on each Thursday afternoon for 10 weeks the baking began in earnest.

We had no idea how well Tayta's fine baked goods would sell! By the end of the season she had a faithful following, some people waiting for her to arrive at the ball field so that they could buy their breakfast muffin. Tayta learned so much about marketing/human nature as well as honing her baking skills; she decided to let customers choose their own muffin and reported that everyone, even the adults, chose the biggest, best-looking muffin. And when business slowed down in the club-house, she loaded up a tray of her wares and with the help of some friends, took them to the stands. This sales suggestion, from a friend of ours, helped her to sell nearly every item, every week.


A couple weeks into the season, people began to ask Tayta how much money she was making: Tayta's profit was an average of $100 a week, for a net total of $1000 for the season~a third of cost of Oldest Daughter's class, including international airfare! This effort definitely qualifies Tayta for a place in the Little Sister Hall of Fame. Another third/plus was raised through a small garage sale--though we don't have a garage--, a little photography by mom, a gig or two, and an outside scholarship. The last bit, well, we don't really need to replace the dryer as it is always sunny in Jordan until October or November : ) We are thanking God for his perfect provisions~ never too little, never too much. And many thanks to all Tayta's faithful and encouraging customers; requested bake sale recipes to follow soon...

My Jewels

This fair Mother's Day I am reminded of a favorite story from Roman history, the story of Cornelia and her sons, Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus. Cornelia was the daughter of Scipio Africanus the Elder, defeater of Hannibal in the second Punic War, and thus, the memory of Scipio was formative in the shaping of his grandsons' goals of civic service and duty.

The Gracchi occupy their own significant place in Roman history, however it is the anecdote told of their mother, Cornelia, which has the most correspondence to my own life:

A rich noble women once visited Cornelia and ostentatiously displayed her jewels. After doing so, she asked Cornelia to show her own; Cornelia called her boys into the room and said,

"These are my jewels!"

My Jewels

Plutarch on Facebook, Video Games, and Television

Not really, but sort of:

"Caesar, we hear, on seeing one day some wealthy foreigners at Rome carry puppies and young monkeys around in their arms and petting them, asked if in the country they came from women did not bear children. By that royal reprimand he showed his disapproval of persons who lavish on brute beasts the natural love and tenderness we ought to bestow on human beings. In like fashion, we may reasonably criticize those who waste the instinct for learning and the love of seeing, which nature has implanted in our souls, by spending them on worthless sounds and sights instead of on things beautiful and useful. It is, probably, unavoidable that every external object we meet, whether good or bad, should by its mere impact, produce some effect on our senses; but we can all of us, if we choose, concentrate our minds on, or turn away from any object and shift easily to something we like better. We should, therefore, look for the best, not merely to contemplate it, but to be benefited by the contemplation. Just as those colors are healthful whose fresh and pleasant hues strengthen and stimulate our eyes; so with our mental vision we should fix our sight on things which by the joy they give it attract it to its own proper good. Such things are acts of virtue, which create in the minds of those who study them a strong desire and eagerness to imitate them." From the Life of Pericles

Plutarch, biographer and moral philosopher of the ancient world noted that he wrote not histories, but rather, lives. He likens himself to a portrait painter who works to reveal character by paying close attention to the face and particularly, the look of the eyes. So Plutarch chooses to dwell on the seemingly small, yet significant things in the lives of his subjects, things which he feels reveal the souls of these men, leaving their mighty deeds for others to chronicle. Through the ancient lives of Plutarch I am reminded that somethings never change, particularly human nature. And, as I dream of 'mighty deeds' that I or my children may accomplish I am reminded of the importance of small yet very significant choices that we make moment by moment, to set our hearts and minds on contemplating those virtuous things which will form our souls.

A Most Happy Birthday

Spring birthdays are best. I am biased, of course, but I've always enjoyed having an April birthday and now that I am older, I mean more mature, a spring birthday fits in nicely with my love of the outdoors, natural beauty, and wildflower spotting. And Sunday, my 46th birthday, was a perfect example of this convergence.

We didn't have many special plans for Sunday(church is on Saturday night and for us, Easter is celebrated next week, according to the Eastern church calendar.) : we headed to Hussein park in the morning for our regular run. The boys were already there, playing soccer with some other youth from church. After our run, one of the youth announced my birthday ("like" facebook!) and they all sang Happy Birthday to me. Very sweet.

Just before noon we poured tea into the thermos, picked up falafel sandwiches, and headed for the countryside, amazingly, just about 20 minutes from the edge of the city. It's hard to believe, as one drives through the dirty, gray, concrete and metal industrial area, that there are rolling green hillsides studded with rocks and wild oaks, and fields of green wheat intermingled with wildflowers of all colors just on the other side. Lizards sunned themselves on rocks, colorful jays swooped over the wheat fields and donkeys grazed along the side of the road.

We headed to the ruins of Iraq Al Amir to enjoy our modest picnic.

The ruins, located in the village, Iraq Al-Amir, were built during the Hellenistic period, circa 200 B.C. The most famous of the ruins (a small portion shown above) is the Qasr Al-Abid, or Palace of the Slave. Besides Qasar Al-Abid we visited some caves in the hills above and found the wall lined with small throne-like chairs, carved right into the side of the cave. We could imagine a council of dwarfs meeting in such a place!

The poppies and the henbane were looking particularly lovely.

Papaver Subpiriforme (Poppy)

Hyoscyamus aureus L. (Golden flowered Henbane)

So much beauty! But the serendipitous highlight of our little outing took place as we left the caves and headed back to Amman. We had just begun our journey back through the countryside when we rounded a small bend in the village. Directly to our left was a small rocky hillside dotted with Jordan's national flower, the rare and enigmatic Black Iris. In all my wildflower spotting adventures I had never been in the right place at the right time so as to see one and photograph it in its habitat. And here they were, right on the edge of the village!

I didn't even have to ask Dear Husband to pull over. There must have been a hundred or so irises, blooming in clumps on the rocky hillside. Their situation made it a little difficult to photograph them.

Iris Nigricans (Black Iris)

And, it just so happened that the elementary school across the road had just dismissed classes for the day so we soon had a group of friendly schoolgirls flocking around us, smiling, laughing, asking our names, and talking with Tayta.

They sang us a lovely little song about the small plants and when Dear Husband informed them that it was my birthday, they sang the Arabic version of Happy Birthday--same tune but the words translate: "A nice year to you, O beautiful one." Better than the English version, I think!

Later in the evening, friends came over, bringing pizza, cheesecake, and paper plates so that I wouldn't have any dishes to do on my birthday. A thoughtful touch, I thought. The icing on the cake was a nice long family chat, Oldest Daughter included, as we skyped with the web cam.

And as I look forward to my next year of life, it is the words of Moses, from Psalm 90, which comes to mind and heart:

So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.

Return, O Lord! How long?
Have pity on your servants!

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
and for as many years as we have seen evil.

Let your work be shown to your servants,
and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,

and establish the work of our hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!

Psalm 90: 12-17 ESV

Another view of things

Longing to enter the world of digital imagery, twelve year-old Tayta recently traded her savings for this little gem of a camera:



Canon Powershot SD1100IS 8MP Digital Camera

Recommended by a friend, this itsy-bitsy Canon is turning out to be a great first camera for Tayta. And judging by her first round of images, I'd say she shows some promise, particularly in her candid photographs of people.

Like a butterfly, she has been flitting from flower to flower in my early spring garden, practicing her flower shots. Hmm. I wonder where she got that idea? Pretty good, I'd say, for her first attempts.



Tomorrow we head for the hills of Ajloun in search of some wildflowers to photograph. Who knows, Tayta may be my first child who will actually want to learn the names of my flora friends!

Camping in Wadi Dana~just about my favorite place on earth

As a family, we don't do much camping, but there is one camping trip which is the perennial highlight of our year: Camping at the Rummana campsite in the Wadi Dana Nature Reserve with 75 of our closest friends. We started as a small group of families with small children about ten years ago and for the past four years we have reserved the entire camp (20 four-man tents) for this much anticipated March weekend. Food preparations begin in earnest about a week before we head to Wadi Dana as we attempt to simplify yet upgrade our meal repertoire every year. This year's favorites: Sesame Chicken Noodles for our arrival lunch and grilled lemon chicken and vegetables (Shish Taouk) and twice baked potatoes for our second dinner.

The Wadi Dana Nature Reserve covers an area of 320 square kilometers and is a series of wadis (valleys) and mountains which extend from the upper edge of the Rift Valley down to the desert lowlands of Wadi Araba. Since opening in 1993, the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature has done a wonderful job of highlighting this remarkable area, home to breathtaking landscapes, about 600 species of plants, 37 species of mammals, and 190 species of birds.

No cars are allowed in the reserve so we load all our gear into a large covered pick-up shuttle and rattle about ten minutes down the dirt road to the campsite. Sleeping tents (the teepees) are fitted with foam mattresses, sheets, pillows, and blankets.

But the large Bayt Sha'r (Bedouin tent) is where we spend most of our time hanging out, cooking, eating,

playing cards and "La De Da",

and catching a few zzzz's.

Early in the morning I have only to walk a couple hundred yards from the campsite to find a sunny rock on which to read and pray.

A Rock With a View

Though I usually stick to photographing flowers, I tried to do a little bird photography on this trip. Very little. Flowers are much, much easier. We were treated to the sight of a few different birds of prey majestically soaring over the valleys, enjoying the warm wind currents found there. I only managed to photography these two Bulbuls, though I saw and heard many other species, this being the time of year when many birds migrating from Africa to Europe for the summer months.

After enjoying some time alone and with God in the midst of his awesome creation, I rejoined family and friends on the patio for a Dana breakfast, prepared by the camp staff: fresh baked flat bread just delivered from the nearby Dana village, homemade yogurt cheese (the creamiest I've ever tasted), hummous, foul (broad-bean dip), sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, homemade apricot jam, and Dana tea--brewed with cardamon.


After breakfast and sunscreen, many head out on the various hiking trails, some gentle, some more challenging. The first morning, Dear Husband lead the way on a trail which took us scrambling around the edge of a valley.

There were caves to explore,

and from every vantage point, stunning landscapes to take in.



Even though the reserve was very dry this year, with very, very few of my flower friends in bloom, I was able to find a few spots of color along the way:

Helianthemum vesicarium (Sun Rose)

Ononis Natrix (Yellow Restharrow)

Afternoons are good for a rousing game of multi-generational ultimate football,

Climbing Fort B (not sure how this well-loved sandstone rock came by this name, but it has endured through our years visiting Dana. I remember when we first starting camping here, when the kids were little, it was a momentous occasion when one of the kids ascended Fort B for the first time),

Fort B

or just hanging out (or laying out) with friends. Plenty of rocks to go around.

Last year our camping weekend fell on Western Easter (we celebrate Eastern Easter in Jordan) and so begun the two year tradition of holding a Sunday morning service amongst the rocks behind the campsite. We sang, we prayed, we took communion, and the kids and youth performed a Resurrection play under the direction of Mr. H.

Soldiers guarding the tomb where Jesus' body is to be laid

Peter, John, and Mary outside the empty tomb.

Around lunch-time we pack our things, all of which smell of campfire smoke through and through. It would be hard to leave our favorite place on earth if we weren't so tired, dirty, and almost out of food!

Wadi Dana 2009