Category Archives: Family

Pilgrimage

“Alexa please tell me the meaning of ‘pellegrinaggio’.”

I was reading a book of poetry by Barbara Kingsolver (How to Fly in Ten Thousand Easy Lessons) and came across “pellegrinaggio” as the title to the first poem in a section on a trip she made with family members to Italy.

Pellegrinaggio

At the end of the long-bowling alley lane
of a transatlantic flight, we crash and topple
like pins in the back of a Roman taxi.
split or spare, hard to say what we are but
family, piled across one another: husband
and wife, our two daughters, his mother
Giovanna who has waited eight years
to see what she’s made of.

Her parents, flung out from here like messages
in bottles, washed up on a new shore and grew
together. Grew celery for the Americans. Grew this
daughter who walked to school, sewed a new
cut of skirt, and became the small interpreter
for a family. They took her at her word but stamped
a map called home on a life she believed would end
before she could ever come here to find it.

What other gift could we give her? But now our taxi
crawls like a green bottlefly through the ear canals
of a city, it is half-past something I can’t stand
one more minute of, and I wonder what we were
thinking. We all might die before we find a place
to lie in this bed we’ve made for her. Beside me
she sits upright, mast of our log-pile ship in this bottle.
Made of everything that has brought us this far.

Alexa coughed up a very thorough definition (pilgrimage) and then surprisingly asked me if the information she had given me was useful.  I said “Yes, thank you.”  YA came into my doorway and asked me why I do that.  I wasn’t sure what she was referring to so she said “why do you always say please and thank you when you’re asking Alexa something?  You know it’s not actually a person?”

I DO know that Alexa isn’t a person. However she does represent the work of a lot of people and is certainly programmed to sound like a person.  I’m not sure when I started saying please, thank you and no thank you when interacting with Alexa.   In this world that seems increasingly abrasive and mean, it just feels nice to me to be polite, even if I’m the only one if affects.

And to my credit I actually rarely say thank you – only if she is waiting for an answer, such as her wishing to know how her definition of pellegrinaggio played out.

Do you have any little quirks/habits that others give you grief for?

Hopping

The weekend Farm Report comes to us from Ben.

Hasn’t been much farming happening at our place this week. It’s tech week at the theater. So, all day every day there.


We got almost an inch of rain Wednesday and Thursday so that was really nice. Haven’t got my corn out yet, even though they had thought maybe Sunday and then he said maybe Tuesday but they’ll get to it one of these days. The weather doesn’t really hurt it at this point, I mean as long as we’re not talking blizzards or anything, the corn can take some rain.

The header photo is a view we haven’t had in twenty years. Kelly has done such an impressive job cutting and clearing all the buckthorn on this hillside. Once she got done working from the top down, I cleared some of the bottom of the hill and she started from the bottom up. It’s a good workout for her and it’s so great to be able to see all the way through again!

I did get all the hydraulic hoses replaced on my chisel plow a couple weeks ago.

I opened the big, fancy, new, garage door and backed onto the concrete and replaced or turned over the shovels so they all have good sharp points on the bottom. Two bolts in each, and I was smart enough not to hold it with my thumb as I mentioned a few stories back where I sliced open both thumbs doing this job. You might have to tell me things twice, but you don’t have to tell me three times. A couple of shovels were broken off, so I replaced those. There’s a point on each end that will wear off. Sometimes you can just turn them over and use the other point. They’ve got a slight twist to them so they either throw the dirt to the left or the right.

I was short a couple of bolts so I picked them up one morning, and then while home for an hour one afternoon, I finished all the shovels and now it’s ready to go once the corn is out.

I really like having the concrete in the shed and outside, and what I’m learning about having concrete is that it’s always dirty. I’m beginning to realize why the farmers with these concrete shops all have floor sweepers. Trying to keep it clean is an ongoing battle. In the shop, at this point without the fourth wall and the dirt floor just outside that, I use a leaf blower and just blow all the dust back out on the dirt. Same thing outside, although sometimes I use the lawnmower and drive back-and-forth with that to funnel the dust off one edge. Soon I’ll be buying more tools to keep it clean. Power broom? I’ve got shop brooms, they’re boring and too much work. Industrial vacuum? Drivable floor sweepers?? Industrial vacuum!!

Hopefully once I finish the wall and keep the door shut more it won’t be as dusty in the shop, but you can see from the photo that when I’m working on something I might bring a lot of dirt.

Speaking of buying more tools, the soybean check is in the bank and I’ve been shopping. (Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to the bills too.) I bought a few more deep well, impact rated, metric sockets to finish off the rack. Twenty mm – 26mm

And I ordered the wifi bridge so I can send the wifi signal from the house to the shop, and then put my remote thermometer and camera in there, and get the wifi thermostat hooked up, and the wifi-garage door. 😊

Also, I always get a couple new pairs of work boots with the soybean check. My lousy feet, I wear out a pair of shoes in a year.

The first college show is Saturday at 2 o’clock. “Still Life with Iris”, by Steven Dietz.

Sunday is the final open house at our old Haverhill Township Hall before the Rochester Fire Department uses it for a training burn. More on that later.

Next week we have two shows per day at the college with the final show on Saturday the ninth. I hope to be home working on my shed in the afternoons. This weather isn’t going to hold forever.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO CONTROL THROUGH YOUR PHONE?

Gateway Arch

When  I was nine, the St. Louis Arch was completed.  Not the whole she-bang (viewing room, elevator, greenway, museum) but the structure of The Arch.  It took 2½ years from breaking ground until October 28, 1965, when the last piece was put in place.

Although my family was actually living in Jefferson City at the time of the completion, we were St. Louis folks through and through.  The Arch was a big deal back then and we had been down to the site a couple of times during the build; it was exciting to see the two legs each inching up. 

As a child it seemed impossible to me that they could build each leg separately and actually have them meet in the middle.  The day that they put the last piece in place, joining up both legs, it was big news and as a family we watched it on television.  Here’s a short version:

At the time there were a lot of folks who thought once they put the last piece in place, The Arch would just fall down.  My father was not in that camp, asserting every time it came up in conversation that it would be an engineering marvel.  I guess he’s right – it’s been standing 59 years now.  Growing up mostly in St. Louis, I’ve actually been up in the Arch about a dozen times; it was always on the agenda when folks visited from out of town.  Since it’s my “home-town” monument, I’m pretty proud that it’s still standing!

Any monument you think is particularly impressive?  Or not?

Leaving The Leaves

Monday afternoon I saw our neighbor across the street mowing his perfectly manicured lawn and removing every single leaf that had landed on the grass. When he was finished, there wasn’t a single leaf on the lawn. He loaded the leaves into the back of his pickup and hauled them to the city bins. He can’t tolerate anything that takes away from the green.

Most of our front yard is a vegetable garden, so we don’t rake there or in the back yard. I swept the leaves that landed on the front stoep and sidewalk into the garden so we could go out in our socks and not get them full of dried leaves. During the night we had a very strong wind, and in the morning there were as many if not more leaves on the stoep and sidewalk. Neighbor’s lawn looked like it did on Monday afternoon before he had mowed. It was covered with leaves! He was out there again on Tuesday repeating what he did on Monday. There are still lots of leaves on the trees around his property and the neighborhood. He’s going to have a busy time until the leaves are all fallen.

I suppose our neighbor thinks our yard is a mess because we leave the leaves in the flower beds and garden, we leave the perennials uncut to promote pollinator hatching, and only cut back the peonies, daylilies, and irises. Sometimes our next door neighbor comes over and rakes in the flower beds on the north side of our property because she feels guilty that our flower beds are full of the leaves from her ash trees. We tell her that the leaves will decompose and insulate the garden, but she can’t let leaves lie, either.

Rakers in your neighborhood? Did you jump in leaf piles as a kid? How do you prepare your lawn or garden for winter?

Who’s In Charge

As psychologists, Husband and I are familiar with behavior modification. We are both pretty adept at changing the behaviors of others. It dawned on me yesterday, however, that we have met our match in our Cesky Terrier and the finesse with which he has modified our behaviors and what a creature of habit he is.

Every morning, Kyrill wakes up when Husband’s alarm goes off. He then jumps on me to make sure I know that the alarm went off, and then he waits on the bed in great anticipation for Husband to get dressed and take him for his morning stroll. I stay in bed. When they return, he jumps back into bed with me and won’t get out of bed until I get up. He barks at me if I stay in bed too long and he wants his breakfast. After our breakfast, Husband and I sit in the livingroom and read aloud some short devotionals and drink our coffee. That is the cue for Kyrill to have vicious and vigorous tugs with his Wubbas. He accompanies me anytime I go into the bathroom, and brings the same pink ball with him every time. He tosses it at my feet and expects me to try to grab it no matter what I am doing. I am never fast enough to grab it. Certain whines mean different things. One means he wants a share of the ice in Husband’s glass. Another means he has lost his pink ball, and to please help him find it. Whenever I step out of the bathroom in the morning, ready for the day, I get a glance from him, while he waits in anticipation for me to say “Go outside”, after which he runs to the back door to be let outside.

We go along with all of these and countless other expectations that our dog seems to have for us. Whenever I sit on the sofa he insists he has to sit in my lap. He expects to do the pre-rinse on our ice cream bowls and sits at our feet while we eat. He whines if he thinks we take too long to finish. We don’t cater to his expectation that all socks are his to steal and chew up, however.

Who modifies your behavior? How have animals changed the way you do things and live your life?

Bah! Humbug!

Continuing with a Halloween theme today. I notice that the people around town who are really into Halloween have their yards decorated, their inflatables inflated, and their pumpkins carved. Then there are the houses like ours that sport no pumpkins or decorations of any kind, We typically don’t do much for Halloween. In any event, I will be away in Dallas on the 31st, Husband will be home with the dog, and we have decided that he will close the blinds, leave the lights off, and not hand out any candy. It would be too hard with only one person at home to hand out candy and manage a hysterical terrier whenever someone came to the door. We will be Halloween Scrooges. This weekend I plan to bake frosted pumpkin cookies and brown-butter maple muffins for the children next door. They always come over to trick or treat, and we will give them the goodies on Sunday.

Last weekend we saw the most gruesome, yet remarkable Halloween decoration in the parking lot at the grocery store. A really rugged looking guy drove up in a red pickup with an enormous skeleton taking up the whole bed of the vehicle. The skeleton was seated, and yet its head and shoulders towered at least five feet over the roof of the truck. The feet stuck out over the back gate of the pickup bed, and there were dog skeletons lying across the main figure’s ankles, looking as though they were leaping. A smaller, human skeleton lay draped over the big skeleton’s arms. The whole tableau was held in place by thick orange straps. The guy was driving all around town with this. It could have been a float in a parade, if there was a Halloween parade in town. I would love to know what prompted him to do this.

What sorts of Halloween decorations are you seeing? Do you decorate for Halloween? What kind of tableau would you imagine constructing in the back of a pickup?

Heatin’ Up

Today’s Farming Update comes from Ben.

It’s that time of year that the butter in the kitchen is hard. I haven’t turned the heat on yet, even though we did have a hard frost earlier in the week. 21° at our house. I had pulled a few plants into the garage, unhooked the hoses, and I have the pressure washer in the feed room with a bucket over it, which is good enough for now. Starting to think about what needs to be picked up and moved before we take the next drastic turn into winter. But I’m not gonna talk about that. Yet.

Got the soybeans out on Saturday.

The yield was a little below average which is what most guys were saying. And the prices are down to so that’s not helpful. Remember, prices are all based on the Chicago Board Of trade (CBOT) and then the local elevator subtracts an amount called the “basis“ to cover their costs like shipping and operational expenses, which gives me the local price. Every morning at 6AM, I get an email from DTN (I don’t know what that stands for) and the subject line at least tells me if corn is up or down for the day. Most of the time that’s all I need to know because I don’t market my grain throughout the year, other than maybe a few thousand bushels that I might hold onto until March or June (depending on the yield, the price, and if I can pay all my fall bills)

I think all farmers are using operating loans of some sort for all the spring inputs, and some of those are due in December, so I just sell everything right away. Typically harvest time is when the price is lowest, but if I store grain at the elevator I have to pay for storage. I don’t have bins at home and if I did, I’d still have to dry it, keep it in condition, and ship it, so there are always expenses. The best local price is hauling it to the river. Around here a lot of guys deliver to Winona or ethanol plants but they’re talking of hundreds of thousands of bushels.  Even if the price went up a dollar, my 5000 bushels, that difference, isn’t gonna make or break me. It’s hard to justify storage and the time it takes to make a difference. And that’s why I sell everything in the fall.
Remember, every farm is different, and everybody does it their own way. Farmers may not have a lot of cash, but we have good credit ratings!

So- corn on Friday was $4.06 on the CBOT, and soybeans rallied $.20 to $9.88, they were down yesterday because it rained in Brazil. Remember it’s a global market.
At the local elevator, the basis on corn is $.43, the basis on soybeans is $.65, meaning the local price is about $3.65 for corn and $9.25 for soybeans. Soybeans in November 2025 are priced at $10.32. I could contract some soybeans for a year out and make a dollar more, however even this year I had less than 2000 bushels so it’s really not that much money. And If I don’t produce enough to cover what I contract, I have to make up the difference. I always say, a few more zeros on both sides of the equation and we’re talking real money! There is a lot more to marketing that I don’t know.

I have a heater in the shop! We had to do some redneck engineering to move a pallet rack, and Kelly and I had to coordinate hand signals for part of it. No one yelled, and we got it moved. Only once did she have to give me a hand signal of her own…


The thermostat isn’t hooked up so it’s kind of hotwired, and it’s powered by an extension cord hanging off the wall at this point, but I have a heater in the shop!

Still got the four ducks. And they can all fly!  

DO YOU TALK WITH YOUR HANDS?

GOT ANY HAND SIGNALS

Surprise

I received news from Ancestry this week that I am sure has made my father and his father turn in their graves. Ancestry did an updated genetic analysis using new data techniques. Despite that fact that my last name is Dutch (Boomgaarden), and that the family immigrated from Ostfriesland, just across the River Ems from Holland, there has been a long standing legend in the family that the Boomgaarden’s are really French, and are the descendants of Huguenots who fled to Ostfriesland in the 16th century due to religious persecution. They could sometimes begrudgingly admit that they were probably a little German, but certainly not Dutch. They had a lot of animosity for the Dutch Reformed Church and the way they were treated by the Dutch authorities when they lived in Ostfriesland because they were Anabaptists and followers of Menno Simons. That animosity continued even when they settled in Northwest Iowa in the 1800’s and lived amongst hordes of Dutch immigrants.

The old analysis suggested that the family was mainly German with some Swedish and Norwegian thrown in. Those Vikings got around, you know, and invaded northern Germany and the Netherlands. The new analysis indicates that my father’s genetic make up is 68% Dutch, 7% Danish, 1% Baltic (Estonian, Lithuanian, Latvian), 1% Central and Eastern Europe, with the rest German. Not one bit of French ancestry to be found! It makes the most sense of any of the previous analyses.

I don’t know the science behind these Ancestry analyses, but I can hardly wait for the science to become more and more precise. Perhaps it will eventually turnup some French DNA, but I am not going to hold my breath.

Ever had a DNA analysis? Any unsupported legends in your family? Was there ethnic animosity where you grew up?

Found!

The other night Husband was preparing to use his Neti pot after cleaning his CPAP hose. There were any number of things and implements and Q-tips involved in the processes, and when he was all done, he couldn’t find his hearing aids, which he had purposely taken out. I guess you can’t wear hearing aids when doing what he was doing.

We looked all over, in every room and drawer. I had him retrace his steps as best he could as he had got all the things he had needed for his tasks. He mentioned that he had gone into the bathroom I typically use when he got the Q-tips. I didn’t see them anywhere on the counter, but something caught my eye when I glanced in the bathroom waste basket. Sure enough, there they were!

Husband has lots of numbness in his fingers from carpal tunnel. He must have gathered the hearing aids up with the rest of the cleaning supplies and inadvertently tossed them, too. I felt like I imagine a detective feels after a successful solution to a mystery. I should add that despite his health issues, Husband is a busy and active guy.

When have you felt like a detective? Lost anything recently? Read or watched any good mysteries lately?

Nostalgia

I returned home from South Dakota last week to find our refrigerator filled with some odd foods. There was a huge coil of liverwurst, a new bag of cornmeal, and fluffy biscuits. These are all things I dislike. I asked Husband what was up.

It seems that while I was gone he had a sudden longing for the foods of his childhood, particularly the foods of his family from Eastern Ohio and West Virginia. Their foodways were quite Appalachian, with a great love of cornmeal mush. His Ohio forebears were also butchers and made lots of sausages, hence the liverwurst. He insists he got the liverwurst because he wanted to make sure he had an adequate red blood count. Sure, sweetie.

I don’t get particularly nostalgic over food, unless I consider my Aunt Norma’s chicken. That was always a treat, and I have learned to master it so it tastes just like hers. Daughter is nostalgic over my pasta sauce, which she thought for years was my own creation until she saw the recipe online realized it was by Marcella Hazan.

I don’t know if I should consider it a compliment that, if Husband couldn’t have my company, he found solace in cornmeal mush. Oh well, there are worse things, I suppose.

What foods, activities, or things do you get nostalgic for?