{"id":6025,"date":"2014-08-15T14:53:33","date_gmt":"2014-08-15T14:53:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/prayergardens\/?p=6025"},"modified":"2014-12-28T02:46:01","modified_gmt":"2014-12-28T02:46:01","slug":"beet-red-and-farm-life-guest-post-from-michelle-dawn-jones","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/prayergardens\/2014\/08\/beet-red-and-farm-life-guest-post-from-michelle-dawn-jones\/","title":{"rendered":"Beet Red and Farm Life, Guest Post from Michelle Dawn Jones"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p><figure id=\"attachment_6027\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-6027\" style=\"width: 300px\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\"><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/289\/2014\/08\/beets2.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-6027 size-medium\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/289\/2014\/08\/beets2-300x228.jpg\" alt=\"beets2\" width=\"300\" height=\"228\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-6027\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Image compliments of Michelle Dawn Jones.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/p><p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">A delightful story from Michelle Dawn Jones, a mother and farmer in <\/span><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">Canada<\/span><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">I love beets. Pickled or plain they please me. I like the greens too. My husband professes a dislike for beet greens, a fact which I can\u2019t quite get my head around. This winter, sing the bags upon bags of beet greens in the freezer, we shall find our way to his stomach by so many circuitous routes that when we are gone he will miss us. I smile knowing at some point he will read this and think himself forewarned. Determined do I rise to the challenge.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">I did up beets for the freezer this week. Beets aren\u2019t like beans, rinsed and tidy. Beets come with dirt and grit and infinite red juices. I can only wipe the oozing red pink from the counters so many times without remembering my mother over a boiling pot of pink.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">It was Halloween, a definite NOT holiday for us. My mother the minister\u2019s wife had helped the church get an All Saints Day party off the ground instead. Kids were asked to go as a character from the Bible. My mother suggested I go as <\/span><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">Lydia<\/span><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">, the seller of purple, and promised to make me a purple tunic. By make, she meant dye a sheet and towel the appropriate color and wrap it around me. I can still picture us standing in the aisle at the drugstore reading directions on different colors of purple Rit dye.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">At home in the kitchen, my mother stirred my sheet in a canning pot of water and dye, less than impressed.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">That\u2019s not purple, it\u2019s beet red. Could have made this color myself for free, she said.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">We dried the sheet and towel, and dressed me for the party. All along the way she muttered about throwing in a few beets for free and $5 for something that could hardly be called purple.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\"><span style=\"color: #000000; font-size: medium;\">I didn\u2019t mind the wrong colored garments so much as being twelve and wondering if I really belonged anymore at something for little kids, but being twelve turned out to be an advantage. The woman assigned to run the evening, leader of all games and parties, upon whom all eyes would be fixed at all intervals requiring direction . . . being twelve, it was hard to miss the horror in my mother\u2019s eyes when they saw each other. My awkwardness changed to absolute delight as our host\u2019s bright red lips and ample bedecked bosom jiggled over to greet us. A fifty something, slightly overweight church lady host, enthusiastically dressed as Rahab, the prostitute. I gazed at her very fine impression of a hooker and felt glad indeed to have agreed to come. Thirty years later, I\u2019m still slicing beets and smiling.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\">\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\">See more from Michelle at <a href=\"http:\/\/countyroad21.com\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">County Road 21<\/a>.<\/p>\n<p style=\"margin: 0in 0in 0pt;\">\n<\/p><\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A delightful story from Michelle Dawn Jones, a mother and farmer in Canada. I love beets. Pickled or plain they please me. I like the greens too. My husband professes a dislike for beet greens, a fact which I can\u2019t quite get my head around. This winter, sing the bags upon bags of beet greens [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1932,"featured_media":6027,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[29],"tags":[662,663,167,235,551],"class_list":["post-6025","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-faith-and-gratitude","tag-beets","tag-county-road-21","tag-farming","tag-memories","tag-michelle-dawn-jones"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Beet Red and Farm Life, Guest Post from Michelle Dawn Jones<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"A delightful story from Michelle Dawn Jones, a mother and farmer in Canada. I love beets. Pickled or plain they please me. I like the greens too. 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