Bug Juice

Yesterday evening Franks mom pulled her family by the ear to pick raspberries. There are a few things I learned about picking raspberries.

1. never...NEVER forget the bug spray. I must be getting somewhat immune to mosquito bites because I am not itching anywhere today, but it was pure torture to be bug food for 1 hour (that is about how long we lasted).

 2. Guys are bigger complainers than girls when it comes to picking berries and swatting mosquitoes. Frank and Philip complained the entire way there and were the first ones moaning of bug bites. Every few moments one would exclaim "Oh man! This is taking forever! Can we leave yet?"

3. Just because there are a lot of bushes and berries, doesn't mean it's a great place for berry picking. Bushes can be 'moldy' and berries can be tiny and EW! full of worms! Between Frank and I, we got a nice bucketful of worms with berries in them :S

Because the berries were so wormy we couldn't just freeze them like one would normally do, so Fia suggested I make 'saft', or juice concentrate from them. I actually happened to find a recipe online and it didn't look too hard so I went ahead and made blue-raspberry juice last night. It came out pretty good, if I do say so myself! And while boiling the berries I could skim the worms as they floated to the top of the batch :P  If that makes you squeamish, just don't ask for juice when you come for a visit! ;)

There is one thing about living in Finland as a housewife. It is advised that you harvest as many berries as your freezer can hold to take you through the winter. So far there are blueberries (I may need a few more liters though) Cloudberries, eventually I will have raspberries (picked from my own back yard, and hopefully NOT wormy!) and lingonberries which will be picked in the gloomy months of Fall. Lots of vitamins for those winter months! My measly 5 liters (a little over a gallon) of blueberries (which are actually smaller berries that we would call bilderberries) is nothing compared to what others pick in a normal season. I have heard of some having 50-100 liters (12-25 gallons) in their freezer for the winter! We will make things like saft, fruit soup, fruit sauces, pies, fruit salads, and sprinkle the rest on oatmeal... berry delicious! ;)

Oh for the love of babies

I have an announcement to make... I am NOT pregnant! ;)


Not that I wouldn't like to be or anything, but I keep getting those knowing looks anytime I have a complaint of headaches or upset stomach or tiredness. Franks sister Fanny tries to be subtle with her "WHY does your stomach hurt?" and "Why are you so tired?? hmmmm?". Just yesterday I was a bit tired (it was about 11:30 and Frank was still not out of the summer house sauna with his dad and Toffe) so I relaxed on the couch; my hand unconsciously laying on my stomach. Fanny sits beside me and stares for a bit before asking in a hopeful voice "Are you feeling sick? Why are you holding your stomach?" Of course I could be reading too much into it, but I just have to chuckle because my own sister doesn't even try to be subtle. Any time I talk to Victoria one of her first questions is "Are you pregnant yet?!". Oh the joy that babies bring!

I started thinking today of a precious scene I saw this past weekend (that is where I got the topic for this blog post... a bit random, I know). Jonas and Maria recently had their 5th boy, and a darling little guy he is! The amazing and wonderful thing about babies is that every new addition is just as beautiful and cherished as the last. I watched as the eldest of Jonas and Maria reached into the pram and picked up his new brother so tenderly, that one can hardly say that boys are not effected by babies. I witnessed such a look of love  and protectiveness in big brother's eyes when he cradled his baby brother and held him close that it made my eyes get moist and made me see boys in a whole new light. What a great thing it is to have a big brother! What a great thing it is to have a little one :)

I remember in third grade my parents made the announcement that baby number 8 was expected the next Fall. How excitement filled the house! The look on my dad's face when he made the announcement, the grins on my brothers faces, and the content look on my mom's face when she looked around on all of the joy it brought. It was supposed to be a secret from the rest of the world, but that minor detail escaped me somehow. Although I was not told we could tell people the news yet, I also don't remember anyone telling me not to tell! The next day at school I was eager to share the great tidings with my friends and teachers. And since it was Awards Day at school, I also shared it with my friend parents and my aunt and cousins (I guess it wasn't a secret after that!) From every teacher I got the exclamation "Another one?!!" I am sure they didn't understand how baby number 8 could be so exciting, after all it should be old hat to our "humongous" family. Only someone who has grown up in a large family, or is raising one can fathom the great love that multiplies rather than divides! Every new baby is a gift from heaven. Every new baby is there to bring more happiness, laughs, smiles, and love to the entire family. 

On a side note, we did not know what gender baby number 8 was until later, but I prayed and prayed for it to be a little sister (being stuck in the middle of 6 boys made it hard to appreciate brothers at the time!) and please could it perhaps have red hair like me! When Marika was born with a fluff on red on top, I told my mom that she was exactly what I prayed for... And after that I never had an excuse to complain of little sisters and sharing rooms :P "You prayed for her!" is the famous admonishment anytime I complained about little sisters messing in my stuff, and later big little sister taking my clothes and sleeping in my bed while I was away... so, moral of the story is; be careful what you pray for! ;) (Kidding!)

"Why this is very midsummer madness!" -William Shakespeare

It wasn't quite mad, yet it wasn't quite the normal weekend either. Normal? There is no 'normal' weekend here. In fact, I have been living in perpetual spontaneity since we moved here! There hasn't been a week where we went to bed at the same time, or where I woke up at the same time, yet. Sometimes when I go to bed I think "man, I can't wait till Fall, so that the days are evened out again!" But I know that it will never happen. Anyways, back to the subject; Midsummer weekend.

Midsummer evening was a Friday night, and most people had the day out of work. We spent ours at Franks parents summer house with their family. Not really doing much, just eating out doors, enjoying the sunshine, and me pretending to be a kid again. Not growing up going to the summer house every summer and free day, I don't quite have the memories that everyone else has. The memories that make the summer house a glad retreat from every day life. A place to go and reminisce, and just be glad simply because of the fond memories attached. For me, I get slightly bored sometimes, so I have to make memories for myself. I always have this itch to go explore places like I did when I was a kid. Climb on rocks, pick flowers, look into all of the nooks and crannies. Wade, fish, find baby birds nests...  So, in the pretense of amusing Fanny (who really does need amusing quite a bit) we head off and do all of the things I long to do. Midsummer evening, we clambered around a cluster of rocks and I picked wildflowers for my midsummer crown.

That evening Franks aunt and uncle were invited over for coffee. So what do they do? they float their entire summer house over to ours (no joke!) Actually there is a story behind the floating summer house. They are not allowed to build anything permanent on the land they own on an island (some gov't regulation) so, until they get permission for that in about 20-60 years (if ever) they have done all kinds of creative "non-permanent" things on the land. For a while they had a huge mansion of a tent until if recently got  a hole in it (?). That is when Kenneth (Franks Uncle) decided to build his floating summer house. Something sturdy they could live in, yet not actually have it built onto the land.

Saturday Frank helped his dad build a deck/dock at the summer house, and it was more relaxing, trampoline jumping and later sauna and swimming. Sunday was church services at a local park on an island called Köpmanholmen. The small island was surrounded by boats, big and small, and packed with people and children. The services were so peaceful, with the lull of the preachers voices, and the rustle of the wind, and the singing of the birds. The sun was high, and the air was so warm. It was a beautiful day to be out on the sea, which is exactly what we did afterwards. We piled into two boats and motored our way out to the edge of the Ostrobothnian archipelago to have coffee on another island and simply enjoy God's creation. I will remember that sunday, because it was the first time this summer that I was on the sea and was not chilled by the wind. Frank wishes I would go out on the boat more with him (and more willingly) but I try to explain that it isn't the boat or the sea that I don't like, but being cold. Oh, how I hate being chilled! If everyday were as warm as that day on the sea, I would be out there every day. One random thing I learned that day also; I saw a mamma duck with the most ducklings I have ever seen in one badelynge, with probably 15-20 ducklings! I pointed it out to Uffi, and he explained that another duck had abandoned the ducklings and the duck I saw had adopted them for her own, and that it wasn't unusual with that type of duck. Pretty cool!