It Started with One
It says this is my first blog post......I hope I am doing this right!
Well, I finally bit the bullet and decided on creating website and blog. I have thought about blogging for quite some time. Yet seems by the mountain of vinyl, Cricut tools, acrylic paints, and other hobbies getting started is hard. I am hoping with my new hobby of blogging, I can actually finish something. So, the first step is always the hardest they say so hear it goes. Trying to decide on what to blog about is the one thing that kept me from starting. Politics, motherhood, being a daughter, raised in Arkansas, started hobby farming, learning new cooking methods, recipes and life hacks are all things one can say I could blog about that, but we all know a lot of those turn into heated debates in which I hope to avoid.
I was born and raised in Arkansas to two parents who loved each other through it all. I was the first granddaughter to my paternal side of the family and being raised around boys made me tough. Although at the time I felt I was a target or blunt of my brother, our cousins and neighbors' mischievous adventures, as time went on, they have had a great deal in shaping me to who I am today. Tough, but soft hearted, free speaking, yet respectful, and now I have the best protectors anyone can ask for. I instilled some of the things I went through into my own daughters. As time went on, my husband (who was raised by sisters) I realized the tough lessons, tricks and shenanigans weren't just experienced by myself but him too.
My girls! Oh, how proud I am of all three. My momma (God rest her soul), referred to them often as "my girls" or "the girls". Ages 22, 20, 16 have all grown to be smart, hardworking and respectful young ladies with no consideration of the gray hairs that have come on in my hair (which my husband says he doesn't even know my true natural color.... he never will). Daughters/sons, raising kids causes those gray hairs, wrinkles, and the laugh lines we wear proud. Over the years, I have learned how not to make things so hard raising kids, learned to cook from family and on my own as well as set example for them.
Since my eldest two daughters have moved out, I am left with a lot of time at home (minus the travel softball with my youngest). One thing that always intrigued me but haunted me was jelly and jam making. I remember savoring every bit of homemade strawberry jelly made from the harvest of our fingers picking in a strawberry field outside of town. I do remember the process and old pressure cookers that I can still hear the rattling of the weight and jars during processing. Since I have time on my hands and did some research, this intimidating process has come a long way since I was a child standing in a chair overlooking the kitchen counter, watching every pour, stir, and sealing my mom did preparing that sweet spreadable fruit I was caught eating by spoonful frequently. This past summer of 2022 I decided to give it a try. In the last few months, I have processed over 60 jars of variety of sweet and savory flavors. Now I'd be jammed this maybe something I can do!
So, starting anything is a process and hard to take that first step but this first blog post was that first step and you made to the end.... or I at least finished that first step.
