Over the weekend, Husband saw that the last warm days were upon us, and cooler weather is ahead. He got the idea that he wanted to move his reading chair from beside the window to a more sheltered spot, in the dining room. And he was, with good reason, not fond of a temporary move I’d made while he was in rehab when I needed a desk for all kinds of medical paperwork – I had dragged little desk into the archway, partially blocking traffic flow.
Now, I’ve written before how I love to re-arrange the furniture. This was very unusual for Husband to initiate, and for me to follow, but it actually worked this time! If you’ve done this before, you know there is no way to move just one piece of furniture. We spent most of Sunday afternoon and eve pulling things out, dusting and cleaning, trying one position and giving it up for another. ALL KINDS OF FUN. We realized at one point that the TV, located near the computer, had to stay put if we wanted to continue watching via streaming. But when we were done, every other stick of furniture in the living and dining rooms had found a new home.
I wish I had a “Before” photo, complete with the renegade desk. But these “After” photos are the end result, with which we are well pleased.
What motivates you to make (any kind of) a change? If you live with others, who instigates a change in your surroundings? What would you most like to change about your dwelling space?
Rainy and cool today… talking lows in the upper 30’s this week… might get a frost yet. Or a freeze in the valley’s.
Ducks are good.
As of Wednesday, I’m still waiting to get my soybeans out. There’re not too many soybeans out in the fields yet. People are surprised when I tell them mine aren’t done. The neighbors who will harvest mine are working in the neighborhood; they’ve got a field right across from one of my fields so with the nice weather predicted for this week I would expect by the time you read this, soybeans might be done. Fingers crossed and the creek don’t rise. It’s out of my control; they’ll get them when they get them.
Things are busy in my real job world and I’m almost stressing out over them. Got the college show to open on the 28th. Got an open house for the remodeling at another theater scheduled for the 6th of November and I need to get those bathroom stalls installed. Plus class. Plus “life”. It’s enough to push a man to drink.
Doing a local field trip come Monday in geology class. It’s hard to do field trips during Covid. Everyone drives themselves… Trying to fit 3 or 4 stops into 2 hours. I predict it will be like herding cats, but we’ll see. Just a 1/4 mile up the road from campus is an exposed hillside of St. Peter Sandstone. And a little bit further is some other rocks and then there’s a spot I specifically keep asking the teacher about because of the layers and colors in this exposed hillside. Isn’t it amazing to realize these rocks are a BILLION years old and that the layer of darker rock on the top was put there 60 MILLION YEARS AGO?? MAN!! That just blows me away. I know just enough from class now to be dangerous. I’m just beginning to understand that rocks can change and become other rocks. Pressure or erosion and now it’s a different rock. Huh! I just thought they were rocks. I’m far to old to remember all the terms, but it’s interesting.
Last week and we talked about finding things and that reminded me of some other stuff we’ve found in the woods or in the fields.
November 1st one year, I was going in to do some plowing and down one of the field roads was a car. Tires were gone, stereo ripped out, one of those “key Keeper” things the car dealers used to have on the rear window was in the back seat. I called the deputies. Seems like if you find a car before it’s reported stolen, they don’t know what to do with it. They contacted the owner. He had consigned it to a dealership to sell and it had been stolen off the lot. But it was still his problem at this point. So now it was considered ‘abandoned’ and the owner had to hire a tow truck to come and pick it up.
One time a friend was leaving and a few minutes later was back to say there was a car tipped over in the woods but there was no one around. I drove up there to see it and it appeared from the tire tracks they had been fishtailing up the road, lost control, hit a bank and tipped the car over. There was just a little bit of blood on the door frame from pulling themselves out, but no one around. This was way before airbags or cell phones. I waited, Kelly went back and called deputies. I saw a car come in, see me, and back away again. I don’t recall what all became of that. There’s been several situations of me chasing people out of the fields. Twenty years ago, before we put the gates on the end of our driveway, it was worse. With the gates, they didn’t have a place to hide and trouble moved on.
Just yesterday I noticed someone over at a rented field, vehicle tracks off the road, made a loop through the soybean field, and back on to the road. Sigh. Could be worse; could have made a lot more tracks through the field. This will only amount to a few bushels. Dad always told the story of kids driving through the hayfield. Except they lost the license plate in the field. Deputies were able to track them down. Somehow dad arranged that their punishment was for them to come out one Saturday morning and help clean calf barns using a pitch fork. He said they were good kids, and they were just screwing around. But stay out of the fields next time.
We got to know some of the sheriff deputies pretty well. One night Kelly saw several cars come down in the yard, turn around and go back out. Well, that pretty much means ‘Party’ so she called deputies. I was coming home and from the highway I was seeing this line of car headlights coming out of our driveway. What the heck?? Eventually I could get in and there were 3 deputies. There was a party down a field road, out of sight, and the kids had just tapped the keg when the deputies showed up. Officer Kirby was pretty excited about breaking up the party. Of course, the kids took off running and the officers told them, ‘We got your cars, you may as well come back.’ I think everyone got a warning that night. And I found plastic cups all over the corn field that fall.
TALK ABOUT BEING PUNISHED. As a kid, As an employee? Or punishment given as a parent or employer.
While Husband and I were toiling away in Brookings laat weekend helping our son and daughter-in-law settle into their new home, our daughter and a friend were having an adventure in Hollywood.
In August, our daughter won two tickets to the filming of a Dr. Phil show. Airfare from Tacoma to Burbank was pretty cheap, both young women are single, both are social workers who think Dr. Phil is just awful, so what could be more fun than to go to California to the filming?
Daughter and I have been too busy this week for her to give me a full account of the trip. All I know is that the filming of the show took six hours, Dr. Phil doesn’t take a trauma informed approach to his interventions, and they got to meet a member of Motley Cru. She still thinks Dr. Phil is awful.
What TV show would you want to see filmed? What talk shows did like or not like growing up? What goofy adventures did you have as a young adult?
Sad news yesterday with the death of Paddy Moloney, the founder of The Chieftains. He was 83.
I was woefully ignorant of traditional music until I moved to Winnipeg in 1980 and went to the Winnipeg Folk Festival for the first time. I never saw the Chieftans live, but their influence on folk and traditional music is immense.
One of my favorite Chieftains albums is one they did with Nancy Griffith and Roger Daltrey. The following is a video of the whole live performance at the Belfast Opera House in 1992. Do watch it all. It is magical. My favorite part is at the very end with Nancy singing “Ford Econoline”.
I remember hearing the story about Derrick Bell, the harpist, who was criticized by some classical musician colleagues for going off and joining “some tatty folk group” when he joined the Chieftains. So glad he did! We need more “tatty folk groups” like the Chieftains.
Ok, Baboons, let’s hear some of your favorite traditional music of Ireland and the British Isles.Why is it so appealing?Have you ever played the pipes?
Our son and his family just moved to a town four miles outside Brookings, SD. Brookings is a university town with a population of 22,000 people. The town to which they moved has around 800. They commute to their jobs in Brookings.
Brookings is in the middle of the prairie. It is not industrialized. The nearest larger towns are 50 miles away. Both are pretty modest in size. We are talking sparsely populated. Son and Dil insist that the air in their new little town is noticeably cleaner than in Brookings. They adore the quiet. They love looking outside and seeing the stars. There is very little light pollution. Unless they fence their yard, any gardens they plant will be eaten by deer and raccoons.
We are so happy for them in their new digs. I think their assessment of the air quality may be a little bit exaggerated, but it is nice to see them enjoying their life. They are so proud of their new home. I grew up in a small town downwind from beef and pork processing plant, so I know how important air quality can be to life satisfaction.
What are your favorite indoor and outdoor smells? What are the most polluted and cleanest places you have lived? What constellations and stars can you identify?When are you most likely to kvell?
Now that the dark is hanging around a bit more in the morning, I don’t really notice the outside work until I step onto the back porch. Last week, I left the house early, about 6:15 a.m. and as I pulled out of the driveway realized that there are a lot of fog. Living in the city as I do, this is an unusual occurrence and combined with the dark and traffic-less streets, was quite eerie.
As I was driving along (pretty slowly), it made me think about how often I’ve seen fog described in poetry. Of course, the most famous is probably Carl Sandberg:
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
And I also remember a couple of different fog poems by Sara Teasdale that I like:
Gray Fog
A FOG drifts in, the heavy laden
Cold white ghost of the sea—
One by one the hills go out,
The road and the pepper-tree.
I watch the fog float in at the window
With the whole world gone blind,
Everything, even my longing, drowses,
Even the thoughts in my mind.
I put my head on my hands before me,
There is nothing left to be done or said,
There is nothing to hope for, I am tired,
And heavy as the dead.
White Fog
Heaven-invading hills are drowned
In wide moving waves of mist,
Phlox before my door are wound
In dripping wreaths of amethyst.
Ten feet away the solid earth
Changes into melting cloud,
There is a hush of pain and mirth,
No bird has heart to speak aloud.
Here in a world without a sky,
Without the ground, without the sea,
The one unchanging thing is I,
Myself remains to comfort me.
A quick search on the internet turns up tons of fog poems. I haven’t done any research whatsoever but I wonder if there are more fog poems than thunderstorm poems or sunshine poems?
Then as I kept driving, I realized that I don’t know one darn SONG about fog.
For one thing, I am amazed that a walnut tree could be so prolific. I am also pretty impressed by the tenacity and single mindedness of the squirrel. I truly can understand this from the squirrel’s point of view. I don’t know what it is about having fresh produce, but every time we swear that this is the last tomato or eggplant or green bean we will pick, Husband and I automatically start to think of new ways to use them or preserve the ones that still are coming. We give what we can to the food pantry, but they are only open two days a week.
Husband picked a bunch of Spanish Giant sweet red peppers yesterday, and swore that he was going to pull up the plants. He didn’t, though, as he decided that would be wasteful. So, here I am, watering the garden again as it is going to be in the 80’s this week, because the peppers and tomatoes are loaded with fruits yet to ripen. The lack of a killing frost has made the garden last far longer than usual. I made two spanakopita on Saturday using up three pounds of our garden spinach leaves. There is a feverishness to harvest. Sometimes I think we are nuts with our garden. I lay the blame on our parents and grandparents.
How did growing up with Great Depression-era parents impact you? When have you been industrious? Got any good squirrel stories?
Kinda quiet around our farm. The neighbors are all busy and working like crazy, but it’s quiet at our place.
The stuff I write about our farm, it is exactly that, just ‘Our’ farm, it’s certainly not how everyone is doing things or the way anyone else does things. I had someone at the theater comment that they figured I’d be busy farming. No, since I have the neighbors combine my crops, I just wait for them to get here. I try not to get impatient about it. That works best when we have these nice fall days. If the weather starts to crash I have to work harder to stay patient and remind myself it’s out of my control. The neighbors have been doing this for years; they’ll get to it when they get to it. Might be a couple weeks yet if the weather stays nice. Might be November if it’s not.
Corn can stand out there for months without too much damage. Oh, the deer and raccoons get more, but some guys leave it stand until Spring (if they don’t have the animal pressure). But soybeans aren’t so tough. They need to be harvested before we get too much snow. The stalks will break and, depending on the weather, they may not dry out again. The big farmers are going hard on soybeans now, and I know some have already finished and moved into corn. Because you never know when this nice weather will end.
Soybeans go fast; yields are generally 40 – 80 bushels / acre. They don’t need to be dried, so two combines in a field, one dump cart, a couple trucks, haul, dump it in the bin, back to the field. Nothing too it. (Fingers crossed and it all goes well).
Corn takes longer; yields might be over 250 bu / acre. More trucks, more hauling, usually drying time and expense, and it’s just more involved. And if it’s raining or the fields are muddy or something breaks down, it takes longer yet. You just never know. And that’s why the big guys are rushing now even though it seems early.
I have so few acres, they’ll finish my beans one day and corn another. Sometimes my guys fill all their stuff at home, then come over to my place late in the day, fill all the trucks and carts, and finish the next morning.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have my own combine. I saw one at an auction once that sold for $2000. But I’d still need a bean head and a corn head and trucks or wagons. And time. That’s the biggest thing, time. So, I’m really OK waiting for the neighbors to get it. They’ve never missed a crop. One year it was so wet and muddy they had to wait for a freezing cold day to come back and get into one field which was too muddy otherwise. But they always get it. Good neighbors’ matter. (I saw three combines sell at an online auction this past week; a 2005 model sold for $36,500, a 2000 for $34,000, and an older, well used one for $7,600. No heads included. Those sold for $15,000 for the corn head and $12,500 for the bean head. Add another zero at the end for brand new stuff. Roughly.)
As we were talking about enjoy fall on the blog, lately Kelly and I spend some time in the evening sitting on the steps outside the garage. We play with the dogs, watch the chickens settling in, watch the ducks, and just generally enjoy the quiet and the smells and the time.
Kelly tries to get a walk in after work. It’s getting harder as the daylight shortens. The dogs though, they love the walks more than Kelly does. Just once she’d like a walk by herself. The three dogs go nuts when she starts off. Barking, fighting (playing), knocking over the little old Granny dog, Allie. It’s a little bit crazy they’re so excited. And if Kelly lets them out the front door, then she sneaks out the back door, it’s only a matter of time before they sniff her out. She could be up around the corner and out of sight, but they’ll find her. Last night they were circling the house making sure they didn’t miss her. She said it was like being stalked by wolves.
Anything you’re anticipating?
Do you like to walk? What’s the farthest you’ve walked? Got the app showing your steps?
Good grief. Is it pumpkin spice season already? Is there no product that is not marketed at this time of year without pumpkin spice? Coffee creamer. Pancake mix. Syrup. Oreos. Cookie dough. Chocolates. Candles. And of course the ubiquitous muffins, lattes and breads. Even if I liked pumpkin, this is just an onslaught. Every year!
Tell me what you like about autumn. (Or don’t like.)
I’m almost to the final chapter of my adventure with the Forestry Department of Minneapolis. Back in April, we came home to see our two ash trees in the very back of the yard splashed with green lettering. Someone had painted our trees. Having lived through the city’s Dutch Elm debacle (plant thousands, wait too long when it’s clear something is amiss, cut down every one regardless of health, give citizens little to no notice), I was pretty sure this was the end of our ash trees. Despite knowing for the last two years that this was coming it was a little sad nonetheless.
The green paint was followed by a form left on our front door stating that the city required the trees be removed (of course at my expense) and that they would be collecting quotes from various tree services on our behalf. I called the Forestry department twice when we didn’t hear anything for a few weeks; at the end of the second call, the department representative made it all too clear that I was to await the letter than would eventually show up and not to call again.
All summer I’ve looked out the back to see my green-trunked trees, impatiently waiting for the Forestry department to get on with it. Finally the first week of August we got a letter. The city had to get a special quote because of where our trees were located on the property line. At the end of the letter they listed two different quotes. One was for $3,500. The other was for $18,000 – this is NOT a typo. This time when I called the city, I got a more helpful person. She sighed when I squawked about the 18 grand figure and said she wished that the companies would just say they didn’t want the business. I was a little concerned that some computer somewhere would assign this company to me but she said I could fill out the postcard that accompanied the last letter with that request. I told her that I would like to get my own quote – and after a bit, she acquiesced and said I could write that on the postcard as well.
Well, my tree guy came in at half the price (of the lower figure) and is including grinding out the stumps. They were here yesterday and the whole job, including avoiding all the powerlines and doing all the clean up took less than two hours. I’m still in shock about the $18,000 quote.
Trail Baboon 