Jared
Jared

Jared

Blueberries, Blackberries, Strawberries, Raspberries…. and a Kiwi

In recent months cooking hasn’t been high on my project list. Too many wonderful adventures have distracted me from taking time to cook and lack of an oven has put a damper on the options available.  When asked to prepare a dessert for a lunch party on a spring Sunday afternoon I had to stop and think about what was in my repertoire of recipes that fit the occasion.

So with a little imagination the combination of fresh berries came into mind, especially after seeing the raspberries for sale. Who can resist buying fresh, plump, soft, and choice looking raspberries from the grocery store?

Oh, and did I forget to mention the strawberry was hand dipped in chocolate?

Spring Has Sprung and Summer Has Come

Summer is here, regardless of what the calendar may show. In the course of a single night the large trees went from having only buds to visible green leaflets. To me it was a quiet and peaceful morning but obviously natures clock was ringing loud and the trees responded to the season’s call.

Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing by Charles Wesley

Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my god and King,
The triumphs of his grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of your name.

The name of Jesus charms our fears
And bids our sorrows cease,
Sings music in the sinner’s ears,
Brings life and health and peace.

He breaks the power of canceled sin;
He sets the prisoner free.
His blood can make the foulest clean;
His blood avails for me.

Look to the Lord, who did atone
For sin, O fallen race.
Look and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.

See all our sins on Jesus laid;
The Lamb has made us whole.
His soul was once an offering made
For every human soul.

To God all glory, praise, and love
Be now and ever given
By saints below and saints above
The Church in earth and heaven.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!