HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Cover by Harvest House Publishers Inc.
Cover photos Perkus, enviromantic, Julia_Sudnitskaya / iStock
Published in association with the literary agency of WordServe Literary Group, Ltd., www.wordserveliterary.com.
THE MADE-FROM-SCRATCH LIFE
Copyright 2016 Melissa K. Norris
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Norris, Melissa K., 1981-
The made-from-scratch life / Melissa K. Norris.
pages cm
Includes index.
ISBN 978-0-7369-6534-7 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6535-4 (eBook)
1. Home economics. 2. HomeReligious aspectsChristianity. I. Title.
TX147.N825 2016
640dc23
2015021173
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To my husband, who has fully embraced this way of life and my forays into making everything from scratch (even the flops), and supported my dream of being a writer when I didnt believe in myself. This wouldnt be possible without you.
Contents
Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.
J OHN 15:4-5
Growing your own food is rewarding on so many levels. I think everyone should try to grow some of their own food. You may not have been born into a gardening family, but I promise you, you can become a gardener. Of course, theres a learning curve and there might be frustrations along the way. In fact, if you dont run into some sort of conundrum Id be surprised. Anything worth doing will make you forge on ahead and over problems, and gardening is no different. This chapter contains my best tips for helping to curb those pitfalls as much as possible. Like anything in life, youll continue to learn more every year you garden.
Each area and climate zone will have its own unique challenges and requirements. We wont cover everything here that you may come up against, but this will give you a good base and hopefully highlight areas for seasoned gardeners to look at as well.
V arying shades of green and brown, like a crocheted afghan, lay out before me. Birds twittered. Our chickens scratched the spring grass, searching for a tasty bite. All seemed normal in our small section of the foothills.
Two days before, a devastating landslide had ripped through one of our neighboring communities. Homes were swept away, lives ended, loved ones went missing among the old-growth trees that toppled and snapped like toothpicks in mud.
We live in a small mountain town, though by saying town , Im being generous. We have a post office, a gas station, and a bar. Thats it. The nearest stoplight is 40-plus miles away. And we like it that way, we really do.
A volunteer fire department also serves as our ambulance crew and emergency medical technicians. They respond to every emergency in our areamedical, fire, or anything else. My husband is one of those volunteers and an EMT.
Saturday morning his pager went off. We were in the middle of pruning our grapevines, but were used to the interruption of the beep and static from his pager, followed by a message explaining the situation. When he left, I never dreamed what he would face or what would unfold in the following days.
The report came in of a mudslide covering the highway. Apparently there was a roof in the middle of the road. Wed had a mudslide take out our power and close the highway down about five years ago. I envisioned the same sort of thing.
This wasnt the case. Upon arrival, a sea of mud over 16 feet deep covered the road and valley. The mountain had been sheared off, leaving a gaping wound of raw dirt. Homes were jumbled among the wreckage. People were buried beneath the broken mountainside.
My husband and his team were some of the first ones in on the east side of the slide. In order to keep above the mudflow and avoid needing rescuing themselves, they had to step on logs or other bits of debris.
For two hours they rescued and recovered people from the ruins. Then the slide became too unstable, and officials evacuated them from the area they were working.
News started trickling in about the severity of the slide. We could only get snippets of details. This was no small mudslide. Almost half of the mountain had slid. Waves of mud, logs, trees, and water over a square mile wide slammed into more than 50 homes. In places, it was over 20 feet deep. The landslide was so large, it actually stopped the river. Talk of flash flooding and evacuations began.
People were being pulled from the wreckage and airlifted to hospitals. Reports of a baby and child being rescued filtered through.
I tried to leave the computer, to go about our day, but like a hummingbird to syrup, I couldnt stop checking the news. The only prayer I could push out was a sporadic, Jesus, please be with these people. Help them.
The phone rang. It was my husband, and I gripped the phone. How is it?
Not good. The river is backing up, and the areas not stable. Theyre evacuating us from this area of the slide. I dont know if Ill be home tonight. Dont hold dinner; put the chickens up. My phone battery is dying. I love you.
I love you. Be careful.
He disconnected.
I sat there for a moment, unable to put down the phone. What was happening? Were the rescuers safe? Not only was my husband on the rescue team, but my neighbors, people I grew up with, lifelong friends.
My children asked when their father was coming home. They know when Daddy is out on a call, hes gone to help someone, but these calls usually last no more than a few hours. It had already been five.
What should I tell them? How much should I share? The urge to gloss it over tempted me, but the need to be honest was bigger.
There was a big mudslide, and Daddy went to help pull people out of it. Its really large, and a lot of people need help.
My four-year-old stared at me. Then we should pray to Jesus.
Her words rippled over me. Id been worried about how they would react, but evidence of the faith I prayed would grow in them shone through like the August sun. Youre right. We should.
My children and I held hands, a small circle of three in our living room, and we prayed out loud. We prayed for safety, for guidance, and for protection. They went back outside to play.
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