That Which is Invisible (or Nearly So).

While clearing away the winter debris from my flower garden, I found a little hyacinth, perhaps only four or five inches high, poking its bloom above the soil.  Inside one of its flowers a fat bumble bee squeezed and struggled in conquest of what minute amount of nectar might be gained from such an early bloom.  He was the first bee of the season, and I was overjoyed to see him.  I hope he zips home and tells his fuzzy brethren where to get the goods.

I could hardly wait to run upstairs and write about what I had seen.  I wanted to share my experience with someone, anyone, everyone.  

The little fellow had buzzed away before I could grab a camera.  I thought about searching Google Images for a stock photo of a bee inside a hyacinth bloom.  But, you see, a stock photo will never look like my bee or my flower.  

My own garden isn't like most that people post pictures of online or write about in magazines.  I live in the high desert at an elevation of almost 7000 feet.  We have such a short growing season, and so little water, that coaxing flowers, fruits and vegetables to grow is a huge task.  Those from more agri-friendly locations scratch their heads at my determination to plot out a bit of green where, by nature, only scrub junipers, rabbit brush, and sage appear.

So, here it is, my little hidden hyacinth:

And, here it is peeking through the mess:

Before I cleared away the accumulated debris of winter atop the hyacinth, both it and the little bee were invisible.

Author and religious detractor,  Delos McKown once said, "The invisible and the non-existent look very much alike."  I'm sure his intention was to say that one can fancy to see God where He doesn't really exist.  I love this quote because I believe quite the opposite.  

Romans 1:20 says, "For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse,"  When we fail see past the debris and garbage of our lives, which covers the invisible beauty of God, we dully believe it doesn't exist. 

Donna's Signature Dish

This evening I am making a recipe that rarely makes it on our menu.  Let me be the first to admit that it's a little old-fashioned and unusual.  It's Salmon Loaf.

Often, any recipe with the word "loaf" in its name entitles the modern cook to discount it, but hang in there with me.  Our family loves it.  In fact the only reason I am making it tonight is because my daughter requested it for her birthday.

It's special to her because not only is it delicious, but also the cost of salmon makes it a little precious for our average food budget.  It is special to me because it brings back fond memories of a dear lady named Donna Erwin.   Salmon Loaf was Donna's go-to dish for every new mother whenever ladies from our church would bring dinner.  I suspect she chose it because it was easy to make ahead and to freeze.  When each of my children was born, I could count on Donna, who always arrived with Salmon Loaf and genuine care.  Eating it now brings back the feelings of excitement, nurturing and hope which accompanies the birth of a new baby.

Other church ladies blessed me with a variety of dishes over the course of my four children's births, but this one is different.  I could always count on it.  Home cooked meals are nearly always appreciated, but the smells and tastes of signature recipes like Donna's Salmon Loaf can bring memories to life more surely than a photograph.  Thank you, Donna, wherever you are.

Salmon Loaf






2  large (1 lb.) cans of salmon, juice included, but bones removed
2 cups cracker crumbs
1/3 cup of minced onion
3 eggs
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1/8 tsp. black pepper

Grease a 9" X 5" loaf pan.  Mix all ingredients and press lightly into pan.  Bake 325 for about 1 hour, 10 min.