It has been nice since moving to our new town to run into people I remember from growing up here. One comment I hear from many people is “You sure look like your mother!” That sits ok with me, although I hope their memories of her are from decades before she died at age 91. I know the move has taken its toll, but I hope I don’t look ancient.
A photo of me at age one year shows me looking a lot like my dad. As I aged, my face grew less round and more elongated. Now I look like my mother’s side of the family, especially my Hamburg great grandmother’s family. The women were tall. My mother’s mother was 6 feet tall. My dad was several inches shorter than my mom, and I hit the mean in between their heights.
Our children look like my side of the family, but with Husband’s curly hair. Flat feet run in both my and Husband’s families. Both our children inherited that. Both are tall (Daughter is 6’1”, and Son is 6’4″). Our grandchildren resemble their East Indian mother, although both are going to be quite tall. Son lamented that he looks like the 16th century Dutch guys in the paintings in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Sometimes you can’t escape your genetics.
Who do you look like? What traits have you inherited?
Yesterday Husband and I successfully closed out a small retirement account he has had for years. The occasion marks a finale in business actions we have been deluged with for the past 14 months.
When I say “we” I really mean “me” since I am the one who has handled the bulk of address changes, registrations, and monetary decisions needed with our retirements and move. I am so sick of dealing on-line and over the phone with faceless beings, automated “helpers”, and pressing the needed number on the phone keypad to get my work done.
For some reason I was dreading this final transaction more than any of the others. I kept putting it off, finding more pressing things to do instead. It left me sleepless, and gave me bad dreams. I think the issue was that Husband had to do the bulk of the work on the phone, and that left me feeling out of control. I really didn’t want the control, but that is the essence of anxiety, I think. I am a master of avoidance.
Yesterday’s transaction went without a hitch. I am so relieved! Now it is just a matter of getting everything to our accountant to do our taxes. All I need to do is mail it, since I collected everything needed. My new task is to find the next thing I need to worry about.
This past weekend has been one of fun and simple excess. My birthday is February 1. Son’s is February 10. We decided to celebrate together this past weekend.
Son had arranged a Valentine’s Day treat for his wife in Sioux Falls including a live production of Moulin Rouge at the Washington Pavillion and dinner at a really exquisite Italian restaurant. We watched the 7 year old and the 6 month old while they were in Sioux Falls. We celebrated with birthday cake when they returned after dinner and the musical. They all spent Saturday night with us.
Son and I agreed that we wanted a German/Central European cake to celebrate, and he found a lovely recipe for Schwartzvald Kirschtorte. It was a fairly easy recipe for an experienced baker, and I baked the three cake layers on Friday. Grandson and I assembled the cake on Saturday afternoon after I had made the massive amounts of sweetened whipped cream, excessive chocolate ganache, chopped dark, sweet cherries, and kirsch syrup that completed it. Grandson loves to bake and cook. He really loved licking the spoons. It was a 9 inch cake that served 12 people. The header photo is all that is left after we all had second and third helpings on Sunday. It was a decadent cake..
It was also decadent to spend so much time with grandchildren. Granddaughter frequently fell asleep in our arms after her bottles. She smiled and blew raspberries and cuddled. Grandson was so excited to play basketball and Scrabble with his Opa. He also got to roast marshmallows in our fire pit on Sunday morning. How decadent is that?
What is the most decadent thing you’ve eaten or done lately? When was the last time you took care of a baby?
For the holidays, YA gave me a marvelous (albeit completely unnecessary) gift:
Since the discovery that I could get Libby to work through my hearing aids, my reading has been up a bit and I was happy when I had hit 14 by January 31. I was thinking that maybe it might be a banner year.
Another gift that I received this year was also an unnecessary bit of fun. When I visited my friend Susan in Madison last year, one of our conversations was about television and all the shows we liked. I mentioned that I loved a lot of the British shows that I could find and that I wished BritBox wasn’t so expensive; I’m just not willing to pay anymore for tv in our house than I already do. When I opened the envelope from Susan, I expected a gift card; it turned out to be a coupon for two months of BritBox paperclipped to $22 cash. I laughed and laughed.
I launched the two-month gift on February 1st. I took the book counter photo yesterday morning. Not one book added since January 31. That’s because I am flippin’ LIVING on BritBox – part of my psyche says I should get as much seen as possible while I have this two-month gift. Death in Paradise (Season 15), Vera (just a few shows…on the edge of too dark for me), Ludwig (the whole first season – can’t wait for Season 2 later this year), Hamish Macbeth (only a couple of these), Poirot – Death on the Nile. I’ll stop here. So far I haven’t wandered off the murder mystery path, but I’m sure I will eventually.
It’s actually really enjoyable since I’m pretty good at skipping shows I don’t like. Heaven knows there are enough available. I turned off Riot Women 10 minutes in; ABC Murders lasted about that long as well.
Truly the only regret I have about having this two months is the hit it’s taking to my reading. Truly, if it weren’t for cds and Libby when I’m doing errands in the car, I wouldn’t be reading at all!
Do any of your hobbies/past-times fight each other for your attention?
In 1986-1987 Husband and I and our son lived in far southern Indiana in a place nicknamed “The Athens of the Prairie”. We were only there for a year while Husband did his 12 month psychology internship, We were at 624 feet above sea level there.
I flew to Luverne with my son in the summer of 1987 to leave him with my mother while my dad and I drove to western ND to find a house to rent. Husband had just secured a full time job there. Luverne is 1463 feet above sea level. Winnipeg, where we moved from to Indiana is at 700 feet above sea level. Dickinson, ND, where we eventually moved, is 2460 feet above sea level. I remember being amazed at how different the sky looked in Indiana compared to Dickinson. It was as though I could pluck the clouds out of the sky in ND. We lived there from 1987 until 2025.
Husband and I are noticing differences between living in a tallgrass prairie in Luverne as opposed to a mixed grass prairie in Dickinson 1000 feet higher. The weather, humidity, and vegetation are much different. Jim Brandenburg, our local celebrity nature photographer dedicated about 1000 acres of tallgrass prairie just north of town as a nature preserve. It is named “Touch The Sky”. Look it up. It is wonderful. Much of the Twin Cities, by the way, seems to be in an oak savannah. Look that up.
Where are the highest and lowest places you went to. Ever read Giants In The Earth? Look up The Athens of The Prairie.
Last month Husband and I became members of the ELCA Lutheran Church in our MN town. It is the church I grew up in, and the church we were married in. We had been members of the ELCA Lutheran Church in our ND town since 1987. Although they are both ELCA churches, they are quite different from one another. Both churches have women pastors, I should add.
Our MN church was founded by Norwegians. The ND church had German and German Russian roots. The ND church is quite formal, with a liturgy sung/chanted by the pastor. There is very little talking as people are being seated and wait for the service to begin. The congregation relies on the choir to lead the singing. The music is quite formal and traditional. It is definitely what I would consider “High Church”.
Our MN church currently has no full time choir since the 90+ year old choir director died and they haven’t found a replacement for her. There is a good organist. People talk and laugh and drink coffee as they sit in the pews and wait for the service to start. We were very much involved with the choir and handbell choir in our ND church, and it is different for us to be in the congregation and not in the choir loft. While the order of service is the same, the congregation is much more involved in the service, and sings very loudly. They also sing in tune, which is wonderful to hear. There is a worship music team that plays contemporary songs, although the old hymns are also sung. It is definitely what I would consider “Low Church”.
I admit I prefer a more formal service and music. One of my favorite memories is attending a very full Solemn Evensong service at King’s College, Cambridge and being seated in the choir loft right next to the baritone section. It was wonderful.
It is a comfort to be back in my childhood congregation. There will be choir that sings Palm Sunday and we will participate in that. There used to be a handbell choir but not enough players at the present time. and there was quite a lot of excitement expressed when I mentioned that Husband and I were ringers. It may be only a matter of time that we are church musicians again.
Even if you don’t believe or attend, are you High Church or Low Church in how you live your life?
After three months in our new home we finally found enough energy to hang pictures.
Our “Boommate” will be moving in with us in a couple of months and we needed to get the pictures out of her space downstairs where they are all stacked against a wall. Our new home is bigger than our old home, but has less wall space for picture display since there are many more windows. Part of the hanging process involved deciding which ones we will continue to store in the furnace room. Husband decided he didn’t want any of his old family pictures hung. That made things a lot easier, as some of them are pretty big.
For some reason I make Husband anxious by my picture hanging method, which involves careful measuring and centering. He worries that the pictures will fall off the walls because the nails and/or fasteners will rip out of the drywall, and wondered why we didn’t secure them in the wall studs. I explained that the hangers pictured in the header photo are very secure and that none of our pictures is so heavy as to require securing in a stud. I think he believes me, but still is anxious about the whole process.
In a tribute to our famous local photographer Jim Brandenburg, we hung all his nature photos in the dining room A large John Coltrane poster graces the area with the piano and Husband’s guitar and cello. The house is really feeling like home.
What are your picture hanging methods? What makes your abode feel like home?
Husband has been hit pretty hard this past month getting reestablished with a variety of health care providers. We are fortunate to have the same health system here as we did in ND, so it has been easy to get records and appointments. I am waiting to get started on all this until March.
At a recent first visit with a new GP, Husband was given a course of prednisone for some sinus inflammation and referred to OT to increase the range of motion for his bum right wrist. This has meant two hours of OT sessions a week and exercises outside of appointments. He also went to the new dentist for a cleaning and check up. He has started cello and guitar lessons. He got connected with the local medical supply store for CPAP filters. All his prescriptions have been transferred to the local pharmacy. He has a considerable number he has to take every day.
At this point he is heartily sick of it all. The prednisone made him sleepless, irritable, and anxious, although it helped his sinuses quite a bit. The OT exercises are just what his wrist needs, but make his wrist sore, especially at night when he is trying to get to sleep. He really likes his music lessons but finds his medical and dental appointments cut into his practice time. The weather hasn’t been conducive to a positive attitude, either.
He is glad he is doing all this self care but finds it tedious. He knows the alternative of just doing nothing is unhealthy. It is a real pain to get older!
How are you doing with self care? How do you deal with the tedium?
We continue to be charmed by, loved by, and exasperated by our Cesky Terrier, Kyrill. He is a dog who insists on routine, and who seems to have a canny sense of time and schedule. He likes thing to happen the same way everyday, and seems to have a set of internal expectations for himself and for us. After careful observation, I believe these are his words to live by:
1. If Mommy is in bed, I have to be with her, no matter what else is going on.
2. If I whine at Daddy long enough, he will always get me another treat. Whining doesn’t work with Mommy.
3. If my squeaky ball goes under the furniture, I have to lie down where it went under, and someone will get it for me.
4. I get roasted squash in my kibble two times a day. I get freeze dried beef sprinkles on ice cubes two times a day. It is ok if my kitty licks the ice. All my beef gullets and pork sticks are kept in the garage. I get two each day.
5. I need to sleep with my beef trachea and squeaky ball at night. Mommy’s feelings about having a trachea and a squeaky ball in her bed are not important. I only go outside if I have my squeaky ball with me. I always bring it back inside with me.
6. Any coffee cup left within my reach is fair game and I will drink it dry. Pens and socks should be chewed. They all belong to me, you know.
7. Stay with your pack. Don’t be a door darter.
8. It is tugging time after breakfast and morning coffee.
9. All squeakers in plush toys must be removed within 10 minutes of receiving them. Any plastic squeaky ball without a squeaker must be replaced immediately.
10. I must do the pre-rinse on all ice cream bowls before they go into the dishwasher.
What are your words to live by? How have animals controlled your life?
I mentioned the opera movie on Saturday. Kelly and I are going. Lots of video and looks like some fun scenery so I’ll enjoy that part. And having a date with Kelly. And popcorn. And I’ll get a nap during the rest of it. But the projections look cool!
Same old, same old here. More snow, more cold. It hasn’t been this cold in a few years. Anything above minus 20F doesn’t really count you know. Minus 20, OK, now we’re talking cold. It’s rather exhilarating isn’t it? It was -21F Friday morning.
I made sure the chickens had extra feed and I filled their water and they puff out their feathers like wild birds do and they’re fine. The two chickens living in the garage usually walk down to the crib during the day, but today everybody just stays inside.
You know, I can give them a bucket of fresh water and they’ll still drink out of the bucket of dirty water. The dogs do the same thing. Here’s a pail of fresh water and they’re over drinking out of a mud puddle.
Fresh water
dirty water has more flavor.
I was part of a zoom meeting this past week on cover crops, and in a few weeks is a meeting on food grade oats. A lot of continuing education happens in winter for farmers. Because, you know, we don’t have anything going on… (sarcasm!)
I thought I’d talk about the history of our farm.
My Great Grandparents came to the farm in 1898.
My grandfather was 4. They arrived from Germany in 1882 and had moved around this area a bit before ending up in our valley. Gustave and Ernestina Hain arrived in the US with 3 girls. Three more girls and my grandfather Carl were born here. My grandfather wrote an autobiography in 1973 and I’m getting some photos from that and some photos I have at home. He loved cutting the head off one picture and glueing it onto another. The original photoshop.
Grandpa and Grandma way back when.
Here is the oldest photo of the farm.
The dairy barn in the background was built in 1920. There’s a granary out of sight behind the house that was built in 1899. Can you see a child playing in the road in the foreground? One of my uncles, never been sure who that was.
This next photo was taken sometime in the 1950’s.
The dairy barn in the lower portion has been expanded twice. My grandpa, uncle, and dad added to one end in the early 1940’s. Then in the 1950’s dad added the lean-to on the back. That allowed a second row of cows inside the barn.
The granary in the upper right corner was originally twice as big as I remember it. Grandpa writes that when the barn was finished, people wanted a dance. “I remember that nice floor, 24 x 48 of clear space. There was a big crowd, about four boys to each girl. Everybody was having a great time until a fight started. After the fight was stopped, Father was very angry. He said “You better all go home now.” and nobody stopped to ask questions. So you see even in the good old days, a few can always spoil a good time.”
Dad had torn off the front half by the time I was around. He said the back of the barn was so dark the calves would end up blind. There was part of a stone wall standing until I pushed it over last summer. I wanted to push it over 25 years ago and dad didn’t think that was a good idea. So I kept working around it. After I pushed it over, it was too dang big and heavy to move and I haven’t managed to break it apart yet, so I’m still working around it except now it’s lying flat and ten feet further into my way. The granary collapsed in 2013 with a heavy snow. We’ve salvaged some boards from it. The frame was built with wood pegs. Kind of a cool old barn.
In the left middle of the photo are two old buildings I don’t remember. Dad said there was a machine shed there, because after every rain I’d pick up nails in the road. So many tree’s around the house! And notice the one silo by the barn.
This photo is from 1969.
The new house was built in 1968, and in the bottom right corner is the outhouse we used while living in the machine shed. The old house was torn down and the new house built in the same place. I was only 4 at the time, so I don’t remember anything about the old house, and just a few tidbits of living in the machine shed. There’s a corn crib, which is now the chicken coop in the middle right. A new silo behind the barn, built in 1968. And you can sort of see the granary minus the front half.
My parents sold some land in 1967, i think that’s how they afforded a silo AND a new house in 1968.
My dad was one of 5 boys. The three oldest served in WWII. Dad, being the youngest, had to stay home and help on the farm. He always regretted that. He had a collection of rifle shells and bullets used in the war. I heard he had them mounted on a board. Apparently they were live shells. Mom never liked it, especially with kids in the house, and when the new corn crib was being built, she took the board down and threw it in the cement. Eventually Dad forgave her.
Notice all the tree’s behind the barn. They will be missing in the next few years. There’s a pole barn back there now and I haven’t figured out yet when that was built. The old silo in the front was torn down about 1975. We remember that because my brother and dad used a sledge hammer to knock out silo blocks and I sat on the hill with my brothers girlfriend and he met her in ’75. It is always fascinating that you need to knock out 3/4’s of the blocks before the silo will fall over. Dad hauled the refuse back behind the barn where the pole barn is.
1995
Quite a jump to his photo taken about 1995. We added an addition to the back of the house just before our daughter was born. The pile of trees in the field in the bottom was from that project. The second silo from 1976 is there, the pole barn is there.
With all the internet mapping these days, a photo of your house is no big deal. It used to be *quite* the deal when the airplay would fly over and a month later some guy would drive in with a photo of the farm. Farmers were suckers for those photos. And think about it; everything you worked for, all in one photo to show off. With any luck they took it from different directions over the years so you could see the background. It wasn’t cheap; it was a few hundred dollars it seems like. Less if you didn’t buy the frame.
Somewhere I have a photo with me standing in front of the barn. I heard that low flying airplane and walked out there and got into the picture.
This picture is grandma and grandpa and my four uncles. Taken before dad was born. He came around in 1925.
Grandpa didn’t write about this photo. Not sure I believe he was only 16 here.
Grandpa wrote, “When I was 17,18,19,20, and 21, I call them my fun years. The less said about them, the better. I wll say they passed by very quickly Oh yes, those were the days.”
I’d sure like to know what was up, that rascal. He and his fiancé eloped to Red Wing and got married in about 1918. Being the only boy, he also had to stay home and farm and missed WW1.
I’ve always said I have really deep roots. 128 years in one place.
Trail Baboon 