Lack of Words?

I never thought it possible, but I’m finding I’ve been short on words lately. In blog world, that is. I don’t think I could ever run out words for writing entirely.

I write a monthly column for a regional paper and have been writing about my experiences for that lately. Between updating facebook statuses and the column, I feel like I’m lacking blog stories!

And to be frank, I think I forgot I had a blog over the past week or two.

Update at our place:

Fall harvest is over. A neighbor offered to help pick corn last weekend. Rain was in the forecast for Monday, so Joe decided we had to finish. By Sunday evening, we had our two trucks filled and the neighbor’s three, all waiting for the local elevators to open Monday morning.

What a great feeling to have something done.

This week, Joe has spent some time trying to catch up on paperwork. Our hired men have been repairing existing fence and building new electric fence around stalk and stubble fields for our cow herd. In the coming weeks we will start moving cows out to fields to graze.

Monday we will start weaning calves from those cows and deliver some to the feedlot. At that time they’ll be given vaccinations and electric i.d. tags. We’ll also evaluate heifers (females) to determine if we want to keep any of them to replace old cows.

We’ll have some industry workshops to attend next weekend. It will be nice to get off the farm for a while!

I get to be home for a few days before going to wean and work calves. I’m very happy. Our house is a mess. I’m having a Pampered Chef party for a friend this weekend. I now have some serious incentive to get my house clean: guests!

In case I’m not back before then, have a great weekend.

 

 

Fall Harvest

We had some rain this past weekend. It was a nice break for the guys who had been working late every day, drilling wheat, cutting beans and picking some corn. It was a nice break for me and the kids too; we were missing Joe. We also needed the rain very badly.

We had header troubles on both of our combines. The exact same breakdown on both of them, which is rare. Fortunately, it happened Friday evening, just before it started raining.

A week later, the guys are back in the field, cutting soybeans. We had a total of 1650 acres of soybeans. We have 600 to go. They picked some corn while our beans ripened another hot and windy day, then went back to beans again. They picked 100 acres of corn. We have 400 left to go. We also have 550 acres of milo to cut, and have hired someone to cut our silage. We just have to pack it in the silo as they bring it in. (The silage is for our cow herd. We’ll start feeding them in February.)

Andy, our hired man, has been drilling (planting) wheat. Joe is planning on having a total of 1800 acres of wheat. Andy has 250 acres left to drill.

We raise non-hormone treated cattle (NHTC). We do not raise hormone-free beef. There is no such thing. We are fine with implanting cattle. However, we found a niche market and are taking advantage of it. The European Union prefers to purchase non-hormone treated beef. We get a premium for our calves when we sell them. We’ve spent a lot of time selecting bulls with good growth traits and have been replacing cattle we initially purchased years ago with cows we have raised ourselves. We’re finding that paying closer attention to sire genetics and cow production is paying off. We’re raising bigger calves. We also raise angus cattle. (The best, in our opinion.)

Sometime in the next few weeks, we’ll be making time for our annual NHTC audit, then will be weaning calves from our 300 cows. At that time, we’ll deliver them to a feedlot where they’ll be fed to harvest weight.

As I said in a previous post, this is the craziest time of year for us, but we enjoy it. Beautiful weather and lots of productivity. I’ll have Ag in the Classroom next week. The coodinator of a local ag organization and I go into 4th grade classes and teach kids about agriculture once a month.

I also have a niece and new nephew to go visit and our whole family will be going to a wedding at the end of the month! Hopefully we get a lot of work done so Joe will feel better about leaving!

Hope this finds you all doing well. Enjoy the beautiful weather!

 

The Can Can Girl

I decided to conquer one of my greatest fears this September: Canning.

I didn’t do it alone. I had wonderful friends who, via facebook and email, talked me through it.

The first “friend” who helped me was Paula Deen. No, I don’t know her. Not personally, anyway. However, I am a facebook and Food Network follower. She posted a recipe for “Sweet Georgia Peach Honey” with easy instructions. I decided it was time to give it a try.

I bought a lug of peaches and went to work. Not only did I actually survive it, but I also enjoyed it. And it tastes good! FYI, there is no honey in it, and it does not taste like honey. It does look like honey and is sweet and thick and kind of citrusy. It’s yummy!

Another friend of mine posted that she was making peach butter. I asked her to “recipe me,” and went to work again. Score! It was even better than the peach honey! If you’ve ever had apple butter, it’s like that, but made with peaches.

From that point on, I was addicted.

I canned sliced peaches and pears. Hot pack. According to my friend Lynette, it’s the process that’s most recommended. I trust her. Whole-heartedly. I believe she read it in a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. I would imagine any basic cookbook (i.e., Betty Crocker) would also have great instructions. My husband’s grandmother also uses the hot pack method, so that is forever what I will do.

I highly recommend you find the instructions from someone more knowledgeable than me! However, just so you get an idea of how easy it is, I will say it’s simply a matter of finding a “recipe,” sterilizing jars & lids (and keeping them hot), peeling/coring fruit, slicing, placing into the hot syrup, bringing to a boil (peaches only come to a boil; pears have to boil a few minutes), ladling into the jars, wiping the rims, placing the lids on, putting them into a hot water bath for a length of time determined by jar size, and letting them cool, making sure they seal. (Lids pop and once pressed in the middle cannot jiggle up and down — and it may take a while, so don’t get too impatient!)

I think I was mostly scared of canning because of “The Pressure Cooker.” Come on… a pot with a huge gauge on it? That’s intimidating! To do acidic fruits and/or jellies, you don’t even need one. You can process them more quickly in a pressure cooker if you like. I believe you WILL need a pressure cooker if you decide to can meat or some other food that is less acidic. PLEASE look it up before diving into canning a food. I just used a large stockpot to “process” the jars. (Meaning I simmered them in boiling water to help seal and further sterilize the jars.)

I did several quarts of pears and peaches, then began asking what else I could make on facebook. A couple of other friends of mine highly recommended pear honey. I highly recommend it now, too! It’s amazing.

Here’s my friend Shelia’s recipe for pear honey:

Servings: 12 to 16 half-pint jars
Prep Time: 10 min
Cook Time: 30 min
Ingredients:
20-ounce can crushed pineapple with syrup
16 cups (about 6 pounds) peeled, cored, and chopped pears
10 cups sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice or 4 pieces ginger

Directions: Mix all ingredients and cook until pears are tender and mixture thickens, approximately 30 minutes.  Pour into hot jars and hot water bath for 10 minutes.

Pears and apples make great dishes together. Pear apple crisp is pure heaven.

I knew I had to make pear apple butter. And pear applesauce.

I ran my pears and apples through a food processor until they were a very chunky applesauce texture for both the butter and applesauce. I cooked the butter down until it was a fine chunky texture. I added lots of cinnamon and sugar to the fruit to make the butter. I even added a little pumpkin pie spice to give it added depth of flavor. It was amazing. Earthy, rustic… and the texture made it all the better.

For the pear applesauce, I didn’t add as much sugar. Good sweet apples won’t need much sugar. In fact, you should be able to make applesauce without sugar. However, I added some, along with a good amount of cinnamon. Even though things need to be sterile so your family can eat safely, you can still taste your food to make sure it’s just how you like it! I did! Just get a clean spoon each time you dip…

My family LOVES my pear applesauce. I do, too.

See the yummy chunks? It doesn’t get anymore homestyle than this!

Finally, I made plain old apple butter. In a crockpot. I’d heard of crockpot apple butter before, so I googled some recipes and picked the one that most suited my taste (and pantry). However, I tweaked it some. Once again, I ran the apples through the food processor before putting them into the crockpot. At the end of the day, they were cooked down very nicely, but I decided I wanted it to be smooth like the kind you can buy at the store. I have an immersion blender. I heart my immersion blender. It’s so fun. And it made my apple butter smooth as… well, butter. Here’s a pic of it in the pot.

My father-in-law thanked me for the “sample” I shared with him and my mother-in-law. It was gone in just a few days, from what I understand. I guess I’d better send over another sample for him.

My pantry is full of wonderful goodies for fall and winter. And I learned that I am capable of canning. It was work, but it was fun work. Way better than cleaning or folding laundry! If you have something you’ve always wanted to do but have feared, just try it!

 

I’m Still Here

Hello. I just wanted to say I’m still here! Things have been a little crazy lately. I’ve been writing a grant for an organization I’m involved in, I’ve not been feeling very well, and I just haven’t had the heart to write while worrying about a young relative who is ill right now. I’ve been spending a lot of my time praying for her instead.

If you’d be willing to say some prayers for her too, we’d really appreciate it. She’s happy and really doing pretty well, but her family is still awaiting answers and healing for her. Please lift her up in prayer to ask God to place His healing hands upon her, to give her parents strength as they await test results and to give the doctors wisdom, clear answers and compassion. Thanks, friends.

I’ll be back soon… probably to share some photos and words on my recent adventures in canning.

Take care until then.

 

 

Farmers: We’ve Got Connections

My husband Joe and one of our hired men were moving equipment from an alfalfa field today when the manager of one of our local elevators called Joe on his cell phone.

A fellow farmer was traveling home from town and saw some cows out on the highway. Some deputies were there, trying to figure out who to contact. He stopped by the local grain elevator just a few miles away to see if Don might know who they belonged to. [Side note: if you want to know anything around here, you go to the elevator or the service station.] Our bred heifers pasture on a place along the highway. The cows were out not far from this pasture, so Don thought they could be ours.

Joe made his way back to the farm with the baler, where he met our other hired man. They loaded up 4-wheelers and headed over to round up heifers. When they arrived, the two deputies from the sheriff’s office were still there.

They weren’t our heifers.

Joe started making suggestions as to whose they might be. Ed was Joe’s first suggestion. After a little back-and-forth with dispatch, the officers determined they had no idea how to get ahold of Ed. Ed wasn’t answering his home phone.

Joe said, “I’ll get ahold of Ed.”

He opened his cell phone and made a call to the place where Ed works. They gave him his cell phone number. Ed did not answer. In the meantime, Joe decided he’d call some of the other neighbors so they could at least rule out a few others just in case.

He called Brent. Brent didn’t think they were his and his brother’s, but he’ll send brother Brian over to look. Then Joe called Steve. Steve didn’t think they were his, but apparently his conscience got the best of him and he headed over just to make sure. Joe called Sharilyn. She was out of town, but said she’d call her husband, M. He arrived shortly thereafter. Then Ed called Joe. Yep, he thought it sounded like they were his, and he’d be there shortly.

Joe dismissed the officers.

They were fine with that. They were just hanging around to make sure the cows didn’t need to be driven to the other side of the road, in which case, they would stop traffic.

Ed arrived in the midst of a “coffee shop” session. There sat Joe, Andy (our hired man), Brian, M and Steve swapping “I always get this call when I’m out of town” stories. Ed didn’t answer his phone when Joe called because he was in the shower getting ready to head to his granddaughter’s volleyball game.

The guys all helped Ed get his cows back where they belonged so he could get to his granddaughter’s game.

This is just one example of why it’s so great to live and work in rural America. We’re a community. We watch out for each other. We all do business alongside each other, often times even with each other. We can get ahold of someone when the law can’t! We’ve got connections!

 

Book Fair

Our elementary school hosts a “book fair” every September. New books are brought in for kids to peruse and purchase, along with other “goodies.”

I usually send some money to school with each of my kids so they can purchase a couple of books. This money is typically accompanied by a note saying which books I’d like them to purchase. I usually send a couple bucks more than they’ll need so they can drop the spare change into a jug for their classroom to compete in a contest to win books for their class and a pizza party.

I’d recently gotten some cash at an ATM. All I had was $20 bills. I gave two of my kids their money to spend during their library time today. I instructed them to purchase a couple of books and bring home the change because I was sending more than usual. I would send some change with them for their classes tomorrow.

My youngest came blasting through the door when he got off the bus, tattling on his brother.

Garrett: “Reid didn’t buy books with his money!!!”

Excuse me?

Garrett: “He bought toys with his money!”

I looked to Reid. He produced a cell phone-looking eraser from his backpack. I asked where his books were.

Reid: “Mom, you didn’t send enough money for me to buy books after I got this (eraser) and this (pointing to his backpack).”

“What exactly are you pointing to? What is THIS?”

Reid: “A pointy finger.”

My temperament was quickly moving to an agitated state. I was envisioning a foam “fan finger.” No… it’s even better.

It was a sparkly plastic wand with a white gloved hand on the end, pointing.

It was literally a pointy finger — on a steeeeck.

Cell phone eraser and a pointy finger -- on a steeeeck.

“Where’s my change?”

Reid: “Mom, you only sent me ONE. There wasn’t enough money to get a book or bring change!!!”

“First of all, I sent you ONE twenty dollar bill. That is like TWENTY ones. Second, are you telling me that pointy finger cost like $15?”

I am holding it now. I flip it over to look at it.

A price tag.

$3.99

He purchased a $2 eraser and a $4 pointy finger. Add a little tax. He should have had what, $13 left?

“WHERE IS MY CHANGE?”

Reid: “I put it in the jug so we could win the pizza party!!!”

“Oh. My.”

The pointy finger is mine until Reid earns it back: the whole $20. So, I’ll be using it myself until then.

And believe me, I’m going to get my $20 worth out of it. People will be sick of the pointy finger at my house.

“Excuse me, Joe. Could you please reach that off the top shelf for me (pointy finger)?”

“Reid, you go pick up your dirty clothes right now (pointy finger)!”

Random stranger, asking directions…

“To get back to the highway, you’ll need to head south down this road (pointy finger), then head west to that road (pointy finger), then head south again on the next road (pointy finger).”

Oh yes. I’m going to get my $20 worth.

I’m thinking I should frequent auctions for a while. With my kids, perhaps? What a nice bidding finger it would make…

Ada purchased books with her money. Oh, and an eraser for herself too. (I’ll let that slide. And Reid can have his eraser too. But the pointy finger… that’s mine for a while.) Garrett goes on Thursday. I’m going to send him with $20 too. I’m pretty sure he’ll follow instructions perfectly after seeing my reaction today!

Moral of the story: Oh, who are we kidding? They’re kids; we’re parents. None of us are perfect. And no situation will happen exactly the same way again. I’ve learned; he’s learned (along with my other two, thanks to him). I’ll certainly be more cautious and more specific in the future, but it’ll be up to him to practice better judgement. Moments like these will stick in his mind to help him make his decisions.

 

Wardrobe Wars

I have three kids in school. We have battles over what I think they should wear and what they think they should wear fairly regularly.

Our worst fashion foe in the house? It’s not our 10-year-old daughter. And it’s not my youngest. It’s our 7-year-old SON, who wants nothing more than to farm the rest of his life.

It shocks me as well.

It’s been ongoing since he was in kindergarten. In the last weeks of school that year, I remember Reid accusing me of “dressing him for picture day every day.” I did no such thing. Jeans and tees. That’s all I ask. Preferably (okay — adamantly) ones without holes. I’m not talking marble-sized holes. Reid wants to wear the jeans he wears “to work.” The ones he’s worn to farm every day, knees worn from kneeling in the driveway or on the shop floor to help Joe work on things. We’re talking completely and totally BLOWN OUT knees. And they have to be faded as faded can get.

He’ll spend way too long looking for “faded jeans” each day. Faded jeans which really don’t exist in our house. I do my best to find a few pair in a lighter wash for him, but in his size and where we shop, it’s just not something readily available. We keep trying to explain to him the more you wear and wash a pair of jeans, the more faded they get. He’s just not willing to go to that kind of “work.” He only has 5 or 6 pair of jeans that really fit him which I consider appropriate to wear to school. He’ll go through the same 3 or 4 pair of jeans for quite some time in the mornings, tossing them aside, expecting me to give in and allow him to wear his work jeans to school.

I simply won’t budge. I’m a believer that if you want to do a good job and be successful, you should dress for success. No, I’m not going to send my kids to school in suits with power ties. I just expect them to wear clothes which are clean, comfortable and properly maintained so he can feel good and concentrate on his education. I don’t want him looking down at his blown-out knees, a physical reminder of where he would rather be! (I’ll post a little more about this another day.)

Yesterday was picture day at our elementary school. I had a couple of shirts picked out for the boys to wear, and Ada was content with the shirt I’d suggested she wear. When I made a last-minute suggestion to Garrett (youngest) that he wear the other shirt I had out because I thought it would fit him better than the other (which had apparently shrunk), he said, “I’m okay with that.”

But Reid — Reid was a whole other story. He fought me from the moment he saw the shirts I had picked out. He was determined to wear one of the shirts I had the boys wear last year ( because they looked more farmer to him). I explained that I’d prefer he not wear those because I wanted to be able to distinguish each grade’s pictures from the last. We finally compromised on another shirt similar to the ones I’d picked, but chosen entirely by Reid.

Some battles aren’t worth fighting. He still picked something decent looking. It was time to let it go.

What if something happened on the bus ride, like an accident? Does it really matter that he didn’t wear the shirt I picked out? No. What matters more is that he knows his mother will at least listen to his requests and compromise when necessary. What matters most is that he didn’t walk out the door with both of us angry or frustrated with the other.

That said, I still won’t allow him to wear his blown-out-knees jeans to school. That’s a battle I’ll fight, and he’ll concede to because he knows I’m right. I know he knows because he never leaves upset over blown-out knees. Most generally, Joe and I are good at repair efforts after disagreements so no one leaves the house upset. Too many times, after someone has lost a loved one unexpectedly, I’ve heard a friend or family member say “the last thing I said, was ________ before they left. I wish I’d said something nicer — told them I loved them.”

We don’t want to have any regrets.

Make sure YOU won’t have any regrets either.

 

Farm Shows

My husband and one of our hired men headed to a farm show for the day.

In the twelve years we’ve been married, I think he’s only taken off a day to go one other time. I started pushing last week for him to “just take a day and go,” because he works all of the time. Even though he’ll be going to talk, well, about farming, it will still be a day of rest and enjoyment for him.

I was folding clothes while he waited for Craig to arrive this morning. I had five tall stacks of folded clothes around me when he walked through the room.

Joe: “Would you like me to start carrying these upstairs?”

Me, confused/surprised: “Uh, only if you want to.”

He did.

When finished, I also heard him taking out the trash and picking up things in the kitchen. That’s when it occurred to me.

He’s feeling guilty for taking a day off to go “have fun” while I stay here to work today.

Bless his heart.

He probably thinks I feel a little badly because I’m not going!

Yeah, right.

Don’t get me wrong. I know there are plenty of exhibitors there that I would enjoy visiting, but here is how I see things going down if I attend the show with him:

I’ll follow Joe and Craig for the first 45 minutes. In that time, we will have seen the first two exhibits — that is, if we haven’t already run into someone from our hometown. (In that case, we’d still be just inside the entrance talking to someone we saw yesterday while out at lunch, or will see tomorrow at the service station.)

After 45 minutes of standing in one area, my blood pressure rising and feeling like I’m going to burst out of my skin if I have to listen to someone talk about the details of how something works (because there will be questions which reiterate the points over and over again), I’ll decide it’s time to take my fate for the day into my own hands and go see the farm show by myself.

I’m not a lingerer. It has to be something pretty special for me to linger beyond a couple of minutes.

I’ll see the whole enormous spread in an hour — maybe an hour and a half.

Joe will be on the fourth exhibit by then.

And I’ll have to sit in the pickup for the next six hours.

Not happening.

No, I’m not heading to the farm show. I will be working on some “catch up” work. Around the house, in the office and for a library board I sit on. Then the kids will come home and we’ll start getting ready for school pictures tomorrow.

That’ll take much of the night. I have a 10-year-old daughter.

 

 

I Love Fall

My favorite season of the year, hands-down, is fall. I love the brisk cool air that starts making its appearance in the mornings, I love dressing up my house and yard with hues of oranges and golds, I love the excitement of high school, college and NFL (Go Packers!) football lingering around the corner, and most of all, I love living and working in rural America in the fall.

My husband, Joe, and I farm and raise cattle in America’s heartland. This fall we’ll have about 2,000 acres of corn, soybeans and grain sorghum to harvest, about 2,000 acres of wheat to drill, 270 calves to wean and deliver to the feedlot, miles of electric fence to build around corn stalk and milo stubble fields, 300 cows to move to those fields for winter grazing, and three apples of our eyes to continue helping with homework, nurturing and teaching life’s lessons to.

I know it sounds a little crazy. How can we look forward to the upcoming season when there’s so much work to do? Those who farm and ranch already know every season brings on a lot of hard work. Fall tends to be the craziest because of the varying production phases that are all happening in the same time frame. My husband enjoys fall because he views it as the “most productive” season. I’ll give him that. However, my real reason for loving fall on the farm is slightly more romantic than his. Simply put, it’s beautiful – but not just in the “pretty fields, lovely weather” kind of way.

It has taken some maturity to see the fall farm season as something other than mere hard work and productivity. But my first revelation occurred last year. As my children and I traveled along our highways and rural roads one cool Friday evening during fall harvest to take meals to the field, I found myself almost swelling, if you will, at the ambiance of our surroundings. I know… you’re probably thinking “ambiance on the highway?” Absolutely.

I’m a very visual person and typically notice scenery as I travel, but admittedly, I’d traveled these roads so many times I thought I already knew what I was looking at. Some of you may know what I’m talking about. There’s neighbor John’s field of soybeans. Oh, and there’s the spot where he probably answered his cell phone while planting (crooked rows). Even when someone is actually out in the field when you drive by, it can still just look familiar. However, travel these roads after sundown during fall harvest, and everything just comes to life.

We met lit-up truck after lit-up truck, hauling the fruits of their labor – soybeans, corn – to grain elevators. We passed fields with combines, tractors and grain carts and, of course, more trucks. The fields were beautifully aglow from the lights of the machinery, families working into the night, even after the elevators close so all trucks are filled, ready for delivery as soon as they reopen in the morning. Occasionally we drove by a neighbor drilling his last acres of wheat into the ground, anticipating – and praying for – a bountiful crop next summer. At times, we were even blessed to find these scenes on both sides of us as we made our way through the county.

I tend to get wrapped up in lists of work to do and don’t always take the time to – forgive the cliché – stop and smell the roses. I’m sure I’ve witnessed scenes like these before, but I guess I’d really never taken the time to really process what I was looking at beyond “there’s a tractor,” or “there’s John.”  That night, the Lord must have placed his hands upon my stubborn head and turned it to the fields we passed, whispering to my heart to look at what we’re doing from a different perspective. It was beautiful!

As we approach this fall season, I’m more eager than ever, not only to witness with my husband the results of hard work and a lot of prayer, but also to take in the beauty of rural America and of what we do. We raise food. We do it to the best of our abilities. We do it with great faith, and we do it with a desire to be stewards of God’s creation.

Whether you’re on the farm or not, let the Lord place his hands upon your busy or stubborn head and help you to see the beauty in what’s going on around you –whatever season it is!

 

Baby Shower Mania

This year our family is blessed by the addition of two new lives. One arrived in July, the other arriving in October. I’m thrilled. I’m done having babies, but I have somewhere to go to get my baby fix, then return home to a good night’s sleep.

Both family members are experiencing parenthood for the first time, so I was involved in throwing showers for both of them. A friend of mine posted some pictures of a beautiful diaper cake. Finally! I could see what a diaper cake really was! And it wasn’t cake at all! I want to do that!

I helped throw a baby shower for one family member who was expecting a beautiful little girl. (And beautiful she is!) A week ahead of the shower, I dove right into attempting to make one. I wanted plenty of time to figure out the best way to do it. I finished it that afternoon. Here it is:

It was a lot of fun. I purchased a box of size 3 Huggies diapers and rolled them into a tight little log, tying them off with white curling ribbon you can purchase on large spools. I put small round bundles of diapers together and then tied them. I made another bundle, tied it, then placed a “layer” of diapers around the small bundle and tied those around it until I got the desired layer size. I just stuck in the travel-size bottles of soaps & lotions, bottles, spoons, socks, washcloths, etc. It took half the box to make a cake this size. I’m not crafty. If I can do this, you can too!

I recently gave a shower for another family member who will be having a son very soon. I put blankets in this one. It was tough. The blankets were too fat if I rolled them short enough to fit in the diaper layer. So, I found a way to stick them into the layer below them to make them thinner. Note: It made the cake stay together better! If you have patience and the right tools to cut a dowel rod to slide down the middle of your cake, please do so. It will hold the whole thing together better.

Here’s the boy cake. Not quiet as ornate as a little girlie cake with flowers on it. But I still loved it:

The ribbon around the layers is actually two different ones. I placed a narrower ribbon over a wider one. I also stuck some puffy baby stickers on to dress it up a bit since I didn’t feel I could go the flower route with a little boy on the way.

I used a stapler a lot to attach the ribbon on the first cake I made. On the last one, I used a combination of double-sized fabric tape and glue dots. Don’t stick anything to the diapers… mom & dad will need those!!!

I also made some favors for this shower. If you can’t tell, mother-to-be is quite fond of brown and blue together, so everything shower-related was also brown and blue.

If I have time, I like to make candle favors. I just purchase votives. Sometimes I place them into a glass holder, sometimes I don’t. I found these little brown boxes at Hobby Lobby in the wedding department. I bought blue ribbon to tie them off. I found the poem online. I’ll type it below the photo in case you can’t see the print.

The poem:

Here is a candle for you to light once the stork has made its flight. With the flicker of the flame, say a prayer in baby’s name.

I tied the votives with ribbon, but it’s really not necessary.