I have been sketching from old photos, which has been interesting. Learned a few things, had some catharsis, wasted some time. Made me think about all the places I have lived.
1. Sebeka, in home my parents built, still standing, much changed. (44-45)
2. Superior National Forest, dozen miles north of Isabella, a shack torn down long long ago. (45-48)
3. Two Harbors, the farm. All buildings now gone. (48-63)
4. Chicago, dormitory. (63-64)
5. Chicago, apartment in old house. (64)
6. Minneapolis, apartment building very near U hospital, replaced by medical building. (65)
7. Minneapolis, apartment building, now I-35W. (65)
8. Minneapolis, apartment in old house, now I-35W. (65-66)
9. St. Paul, apartment building, Marshall Ave. east of Snelling. (66)
10. Minneapolis, Prospect Part, apartment in old house. (66-68)
11. Lindstrom, apartment in old house. (68-69)
12. Two Harbors, house on North Shore, header photo. (69-97)
13. North Mankato, century-old house, which we updated. (97-07)
14. Mankato. association home, worst place for us to live. (07-10)
15. Mankato, current apartment, from which I think I need to move.
Is 15 above the average for 77 years?
This is our house, or shack, over my shoulder, north of Isabella. I was an industrious thumb-sucker until age 4.5 when I announced I was done. And I was. My father and uncle, back from the war and a angry at the world, my uncle having spent more than two years in a stalag, took jobs in a logging camp. This was a trial for my mother, the bugs, the dirt, the cold in the winter. And her mother with twin teenage boys lived next door; my grandmother was my mother’s trial in life. It was a trial for me, but I have no memory of it. My uncle’s two daughters were nasty to me, have been nasty and miserable all their lives. I never crawled because they would not let me. Are they still alive? No idea.
This was the farmhouse, again behind me. It was not a promising place, but my father rebuilt, wired, plumbed, added on. Re-sided, with asbestos siding in fact. But it was at the upper reaches of poverty, which never seemed that way at all. There is a hint of the poverty and my mother’s frugality, if you look carefully.
How many places have you lived? Any stand out for you?
The other day, when we were talking about ads, I had the tv on for a bit in the afternoon and I looked up just in time to see a young woman sporting a pair of jeans that were definitely flared at the ankle. I actually backed up the ad to confirm I had seen it correctly. Not only were the jeans flared out but the word “flare” actually flashed across the screen. After fifty years it was a little hard to believe that flare jeans have become retro.
I called YA to confirm that flare jeans are “in” but she was very quick (and very vehement) in pointing out that it’s just a little flare that is in, not the huge wide flare jeans that were popular back in the 70s. I remember the outfit that I put together for the first day back of sophomore year in high school. Wide faded flare jeans with a “Make Love Not War” sweatshirt and a watch with a huge white wristband. I thought I was the cat’s meow. During the time that flared jeans were popular, I altered a few of mine by slitting open the leg and expanding the flare with bright patterned material. All the rage!
YA tried to get me to promise not to purchase any flare jeans for myself. She said “just keep your seventies memories to yourself.” I’m pretty sure I should be insulted but I can’t quite figure out how.
Husband is single handedly taking on puppy duty while I am in Minnesota this week. He told me he napped a lot Monday after I left, and then went to a local pet store, where he said he spent a small fortune on things for the dog.
Kyrill is the sweetest little fellow, but is only 4 months old and having teething issues. I have found puppy baby teeth on the floor. He wants to chew everything. He also wants to be close to us and play constantly. It is hard to get things done, especially if you are his only caretaker. Husband told me he bought all sorts of interesting chewy things and toys for Kyrill to keep hm busy. Husband said his plan was working well. I can only imagine the clutter of dog toys on the living room floor. Our home is certainly dog centric, and I suppose you could say we have a very spoiled puppy. Husband was the same with our children. I remember getting after him to stop constantly playing with our son and daughter when they were little, and to let them figure out how to entertain themselves so they didn’t expect an adult to play with them all the time. Of course, they rarely chewed up the furniture or the electrical cords.
As an only child, I always resented comments from people that I “must” be spoiled since I had no siblings. I didn’t get everything I wanted, and I had to entertain myself quite a bit, and I guess that is why I expected our children to do the same. I know I can’t expect that of the puppy. I am grateful that Husband is cheerfully being a single dog parent this week, even if it means that when I return, I will have a dog with definite expectations for me.
How do you like to “spoil” people and other creatures? What expectations have your animals had of you?
Our grandson is 4, and is at that stage where, if he takes an afternoon nap, he can’t go to sleep for the night until after 10:00, and if he doesn’t nap, he is a real pill until bedtime.
When Son and his family visited over Memorial Day weekend, we put on a vinyl recording of Beatrix Potter’s The Tailor of Gloucester narrated by Meryl Streep, with music by The Chieftains, for grandson to listen to one afternoon. Son listened to the same recording when he was a small boy, usually at bedtime. I was tickled to find Son and Grandson sound asleep on the sofa shortly after starting the recording. They didn’t even get to the part where the Tailor sets free the mice that Simpkin, the naughty cat, had imprisoned under the tea cups, before they dozed off. I have always liked Simpkin. Grandson was so tired after traveling to us that the nap didn’t interfere with his usual bedtime.
What helps you sleep? Who is your favorite Beatix Potter character? What do you remember about naps as a child?
I’m always confused by the array of claims on the packages as I walk down the toilet paper aisle, with enticements that I can really get a great deal if I only buy so and so’s product. “18 of these rolls = 82 smaller rolls” announces one Charmin package, while the next Charmin package claims “24 = 108”, and yet another insists that “12 = 48”. Cottonelle, on the other hand, goes for broke claiming that 12 Family Mega rolls = 128 regular rolls.
I just can’t get the math to work. I have taken enough statistics classes to know how to lie with numbers, but I just can’t figure out how the companies arrive at these claims. I wonder if they used another product quality as an enticement? “This package will fit under your bathroom sink and leave enough room for the iron and boxes of tissues and cleaning products” or “These rolls will fit in your toilet paper dispenser without getting stuck because they aren’t too big in diameter.” Now, those are claims that resonate!
What advertising gimmicks are you susceptible to? How good are you at doing math in your head? What are your favorite or least favorite ads or commercials?
Crops are in. Finished up Monday, Memorial day. Just had a few acres left so I got to run the big tractor myself. Of course with Bailey; she never misses a ride. Got a flat tire on the digger, won’t be too hard to get off and fixed.
I went up to plant and had Kelly meet me later with more seed. There was a little confusion about where she was meeting me. All my fields have numbers and I have maps of the fields in the tractors and a photo of the map on my phone. And she knows I was going up the road to start planting, but I would be ‘Above the barn’ when I was ready for seed. I texted her something about meeting me at the gates, which, I knew was a pretty vague statement as there are gates all over the farm and the one I meant hadn’t exactly been a gate for 15 years, so I shouldn’t have even called it that. To add to the confusion, the FSA office numbers the fields one way, and the Co-op has decided to number them a different way. So, I have two maps to keep track of who’s calling what field what number. Anyway, we found each other. Here’s the last pass of beans to plant.
Corn is all emerged, soybeans are coming. I’m worried about the first field I planted because we got a hard rain after that and it really crusted over. Some beans were coming up, but the fields planted a week later look about the same as this one. I finally made the decision to drag that first field. Last week I mentioned how I like to drag them, but I knew these beans would be coming and I wouldn’t want to risk breaking them off with the drag. Well, it seemed like less than 50% had emerged, so if dragging it breaks up the crust and the rest emerge, I’d be ahead, right? We’ll see what happens or if I need to replant.
Now’s the time we’re watching all the fields closely to be sure everything is emerging. If there’s any issues and we need to replant, it needs to happen as soon as possible. It’s already late for most crops. The Co-op has been out scouting for weeds in order to know what to treat for. I’m looking at germination and seed placement in the corn. At the rate I plant corn, a planting population of 35,000 seeds per acre (determined by which gears I install on the planter- to adjust the speed of the row units), in 30” rows, there should be a plant about every 6”. And if there’s not, why not? Did the seed not germinate? Did the planter miss it or drop a double at the next place? Seed placement and germination are critically important to the final yield. In the perfect world, all the kernels would emerge within 36 hours of each other. A kernel that comes out 4 days later than its neighbors will be behind all year and will not make as much grain as the others. There are examples of flagging and marking the plants from emergence to harvest, and the plants that come out later never amount to as much as the rest. It’s fascinating! Next week I’ll measure out 17’6” (that’s 1/1000ths of an acre) and count the plants to get final stand populations.
Remember, the corn grows out of the kernel, which remains in the ground. Soybeans, the seed comes up as it emerges. I just geek out over all this!
GDU’s are 487 to date, +71 over normal. Won’t be gaining many this coming week… rather cool forecast.
Oats is growing well and the rows are filling in.
Had another oil leak, this one in a hose in the tractor. All I could tell was it was dripping underneath. And if I got down there, not sure I’d be able to get back up. And you can’t see anything anyway. I called John Deere and a nice mechanic named ‘Cutter’ came and fixed it. A hose for the power steering. From the hydraulic pump in the rear of the tractor, under the cab, up the dash to the steering wheel. He pulled up the cab floor and removed a lot of other stuff to get it done. Haven’t seen the bill yet. Somewhere between $100 and $10,000 I predict.
I have two, 250 gallon bulk oil containers: One holds hydraulic oil and one holds 15W40 engine oil. I just ordered another 100 gallons of hydraulic oil. That will last me a couple years. Didn’t ask the price of that either. It just is what it is.
Chicks are really enjoying being outside. Ducks are still hanging in there although one of the black ones has a sore foot. And there’s one of the creamy white ones trying to hook up with a female mallard. She already has a mate and he dutifully tries to chase the other guy off. This creamy one, he does have a mate; she’s sitting on the nest. Hmmm, little inter-breeding going on there in the first place. Wonder if he’ll be a good father?
We have ducklings! Mama (one of the mama’s. It seems to be a community nest) was out in the yard with 9 ducklings this morning. Kelly had a good idea to just put her in the pen with the chicks. The kids are so small they can get through the holes in the snow fence for now, but they also won’t go too far from momma, so they should be OK. This protects them from dogs, Or falling in a hole, or whatever momma might get into. So we’ll see.
Meanwhile there’s STILL a white duck and brown duck sitting on a nest so I don’t know what’s up or who’s hatching next.
There was a dead raccoon in the field the other day. Turkey vultures were circling. And the next day, a dead turkey vulture was there. They may be vultures, but they’re not cannibals. Which reminds me of a joke. Two actually. Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”.
We were in Medora, ND last weekend to hike in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It was a busy weekend in Medora, as the 36th Annual Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering was being held in the community center. We didn’t attend this year, but we did several years ago. Cowboy poets, singers, and musicians perform, and lots of poetry is read aloud.
There are many cowboy poetry events all across the western US from, ND to CO to TX. All the poets we saw in Medora were or had been working cowboys, and their poetry reflected their experiences working cattle and being out on the range. The National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, NV seems to be the most famous, and was started in 1985 after Willie Nelson got funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Themes for cowboy poetry include ranch work, cowboy values and practices, western landscape, references to the past, and issues with modern , urban life. Most cowboy poetry rhymes. There is very little free verse. Here is a classic example by an anonymous poet:
Oh, music springs under the galloping hoofs, Out on the plains; Where mile after mile drops behind with a smile, And to-morrow seems always to tempt and beguile,— Out on the plains.
Oh, where are the traces of yesterday’s ride? There to the north; Where alfalfa and sage sigh themselves into sleep, Where the buttes loom up suddenly, startling and steep,— There to the north.
Oh, rest not my pony, there’s youth in my heart, Out on the plains; And the wind sings a wild song to rob me of care, And there’s room here to live and to love and to dare,— Out on the plains.
Another example by an anonymous poet.
The bawl of a steer To a cowboy’s ear Is music of sweetest strain; And the yelping notes Of the gray coyotes To him are a glad refrain.
And his jolly songs Speed him along As he thinks of the little gal With golden hair Who is waiting there At the bars of the home corral.
For a kingly crown In the noisy town His saddle he wouldn’t change; No life so free As the life we see ‘Way out on the Yaso range.
His eyes are bright And his heart as light As the smoke of his cigarette; There’s never a care For his soul to bear, No trouble to make him fret.
The rapid beat Of his bronco’s feet, On the sod as he speeds along, Keeps living time To the ringing rhyme Of his rollicking cowboy’s song.
Hike it, cowboys, For the range away On the back of a bronc of steel, With a careless flirt Of the raw-hide quirt And the dig of a roweled heel.
The winds may blow And the thunder growl Or the breeze may safely moan; A cowboy’s life Is a royal life, His saddle his kingly throne.
Saddle up, boys, For the work is play When love’s in the cowboy’s eyes, When his heart is light As the clouds of white That swim in the summer skies.
What are some of your favorite poems? Do you like rhyme or free verse? What topics would you write about if you wrote poetry about your job or profession?
In late March-early April, Husband and I started our pepper and tomato plants. I knew we would be gone most of April, so I made sure that the timer on the grow lights was functioning well, and we only went down to water and thin seedlings. I often feel tied down by the garden. A friend came to water when we were gone.
Most years, I would check on the plants obsessively, making sure everything was perfect for the plants. We pride ourselves on being successful gardeners. Well, this year it didn’t happen.
The peppers were pretty pathetic this year. We grew five kinds, mostly sweet varieties, and they just wouldn’t grow. We have enough of them to have a variety, but they are so short and puny!
I had to buy San Marzano paste tomato plants because the ones I started just died after germination. The Brandy Boys are good, as Husband fertilized them as they were languishing in the backyard as we hardened them preparatory to planting.
I always dismissed claims that you should talk to your plants, but this year makes me think I can’t travel in April or May just so I can cosset my seedlings.
What is your most dismal failure? What is your experience starting seedlings or growing a garden?What ties you down?
We have had hot water heater issues for the past two weeks. I noticed that the water was getting cooler and cooler a couple of weeks ago, and phoned the home service company that we pay for every month with our utility bill. I had never done this before, as we don’t have a lot of appliance repairs, and when it involves plumbing, I have always phoned a local plumber who does great work and who we have known for 35 years. I thought I could save some money.
I was told by the home service company that all the local contractors were booked out for two weeks, but they would find another one from nearby. Well, “nearby” turned out to be a guy from a little town north of Bismarck, more than 100 miles away. He arrived the next day, which was a Saturday, fiddled around and replaced a couple of parts and relit the pilot light, and that was it. So far, so good.
Last Saturday while our son and family were visiting, I noticed that the water was getting cooler and cooler, and saw that the pilot light had again gone out. This time I phoned our local plumber, who came over at 7:00 pm after he finished another job, relit the pilot light, posited a couple of theories for why it was happening, and told us to phone him if it happened again. He had a feeling that it would, but wasn’t sure. It indeed happened again on Monday, which was Memorial Day. Well, we phoned the plumber, who was again at another job, and he came over, replaced the one part the first plumber hadn’t replaced, and now it seems to be heating up just fine.
It is truly wonderful to see someone who is living out his/her vocation like our plumber is. Our plumber loves what he does. He comes on holidays. He is kind and competent. He is honest and reasonable. I doubt I will phone the home service company again unless the furnace goes out.
Did you ever feel you had a vocation that you had to fulfill? Who do you know who is living out their chosen vocation to the best of their ability?
Today is the first day of “Summer of Love”. Ten years ago, the owner of my company unveiled a summer employee appreciate program. The main components are no dress code (seriously – the printed instructions say “if you can’t get arrested wearing it, it’s good”), 7 half Fridays off with pay, food trucks on Wednesdays and dogs allowed on Fridays. There are usually three summer concerts as well on the big lawn of Building One, complete with snacks and beverages (of the alcoholic sorts). Most years we’ve received t-shirts or hats. It’s a lot of fun.
For opening day of Summer of Love I’m in shorts and one of my State Fair t-shirt collection. YA actually went to the Memorial Day Mini State Fair yesterday. Friends had gone the night before and said it was more robust than last year. But in looking over the website, it didn’t look that much more robust to me, so I passed. I don’t need any pretend state fairs… I can’t wait. (I already have tickets for this year – bought them in January.) YA has reported that the mini state fair was exactly that – mini.
And, of course, zories (flip flops). To get ready for spring and Summer of Love, I got my zori bin out and straightened it up and re-organized it by color. My current zori count is 45, although unbelievably enough I don’t have any red ones; the red ones bit the dust last summer. Guess I’ll have to make a trip to Old Navy soon!
Trail Baboon 