Category Archives: home

Young Entrepreneurs

Husband had just finished mowing the lawn on Monday when two boys, looking to be about 11 or 12, came by offering to mow for us. They had their own mower. Husband explained he had just finished mowing, but they would certainly be welcome in the future to do it for us. Their asking price was reasonable.

I never had a “business” as a kid, unless you count babysitting. Girls in Luverne didn’t hire out to do lawn work back then. The boys who came by on Monday looked energetic and excited. There aren’t as many older people in the neighborhood as there used to be, so I hope they don’t get discouraged if they don’t get as much business as they hoped.

Husband has arthritis in his hands. I am having increased mobility issues with chronic sciatica, probably caused by lumbar scoliosis. I can see us hiring more yard work done in the future.

Did you have a business as a kid? What tasks do you see yourself hiring others to do in the future? If you were 12 right now, what business would you start?

Take My Stuff…. Please

The house next door has sold and my neighbors are moving out this weekend.  Just by chance, I was out front gardening on both the days that there was an open house, so I actually got to talk to quite a few folks who had walked through.  The question that almost everyone asked was how it was to live on my street, which is a busy thoroughfare – in fact, it’s a county road as opposed to a city street.

Everybody got the same answer.  I love living on my busy street – it’s easy to get to, easy to get out and around.  During the winter, my street is always clear; the plows start early and are consistent.  Even when side streets are still snowed in, we can always get out. 

The other great thing is that you can get rid of anything by just putting it down on the boulevard.  You don’t even have to put a “free” sign on it – if it’s on the boulevard, it’s fair game.  Two summers ago, the house across the street was almost gutted and their boulevard was like a second-hand store for three or four weeks.  I thought maybe there might be a traffic accident one day because so many people were pulling over to look and grab.  Over the years I’ve put out a lot of items and the only thing that never got taken was a mattress (which makes sense) – but the city took it on trash day anyway.

The surprise this week is that someone stopped during the day yesterday and took all the little logs and all but two of the bundles of sticks that YA and I had put on the boulevard after the first day of our “tree adventure”.   We didn’t put them out because we thought anybody would want them, but because that’s where they need to be for the city pick-up.  But, what the heck – if these little logs and bundles will make somebody’s life better – whoopee. 

Of course, I wonder why they didn’t take ALL the bundles.  Maybe they didn’t have room in the car?  Maybe they have just so much room back home to store the bundles?  Maybe there were two of them and they weren’t aligned on whether to take any of them?  Hopefully it didn’t start a fight.  I also wonder if they’ll come back at some point for the last two.  Or will somebody else take them?  Maybe I should just put out a table instead of schlepping things to Value Village and GoodWill?  I could call it Boulevard Freecycle?

Do you live on a busy or quiet street? Have you ever had a great garage sale?

Lions & Tigers & Bears

When I went to bed Monday night, after uploading yesterday’s post, I was doing a mental run-through of things to get done on Tuesday. 

The biggie was the tree so I was thinking about what I would need to bring up to my bedroom: extension cord for the trimmer, the trimmer, a rake to shake loose any bits that get stuck.

Then, because it was dark and I was very tired, my brain went a little sideways.  I thought maybe I should be sure to wear shorts with pockets so I could have my phone on me, in case I somehow fell off the roof.  If my phone were in my pocket I could call for help right away, rather than try to drag my broken body into the house.  

As if that weren’t enough then I started thinking about the chewed up tree that I would be falling onto.  If I skewered myself, the phone probably wouldn’t do much good.  Or what if I hit my head on the way down and bled out while unconscious.  All my neighbors work during the day, so they couldn’t come to my aid either. 

It was at this point, around 11 p.m., that I made the decision to forego climbing out on the roof to trim the tree from above.  Sleep, which had been eluding me while I imagined my gruesome end, came fast at that point.  My decision was solidified when it rained at 5:30 a.m. and then again around noon, and the roof was wet.  If only Mother Nature had informed me sooner I would have had a better night’s sleep!

When have you scared yourself silly?

Timber!!

YA has lots of opinions about the house and yard.  Granted, she does do quite a bit of work on both, but the bottom line is that I’m still doing a good 80%.  So when she gets a bee in her bonnet, I don’t always jump to attention.

She’s been nagging me for about three years to get rid of the tree in the front of house.  To her credit, it’s in awful shape, and has gotten tall enough that it pretty much blocks all the sunlight to the front porch and some of my room as well.  But I don’t want to have a whole bunch of projects going at once (actually, this drives me to distraction) so I’ve been putting her off.  For two years I was able to use the “not until the front porch is done” knowing full well that the last couple of steps were hers.  Unfortunately she did finally finish her little bits and now I can no longer use the excuse.

Smart people would have hired a tree guy, but I think the last 20 years have shown that we don’t always have smart people at our house.  So we purchased a new chainsaw (the old one died last summer) and got to work yesterday.  For the most part, it went well but as always happens with a big job, it’s much bigger than we thought.  As you can see from the photo below, we still have a chunk to go but after 7 hours, both of us were really running out of steam so we decided to call it a day and go to Dairy Queen.

The good news is that YA and I are truly aligned when it comes to how we like to get things done.  We like to clean up as we go – neither of us likes a big mess at the end.  So each big branch that came down, we chopped it up, filling yard bags and making bundles of little logs and branches.  So as we were getting worn out, we didn’t have a massive amount of clean up to do.  The header photo is what’s on the boulevard for yesterday’s work.

The biggest issue now is finding time to tackle the rest of the job, since the weekend is over and YA has to work this week.  I can work on the ground level and maybe even do a bit of cutting back from the roof outside my bedroom, but the actual cutting of that last two branches will take both of us.  And probably some ropes and rakes to try to get the branches to fall where we want them to.  I’ve had experience with this part going wrong in the past, so I don’t want to attempt it alone.  YA thinks she can get an afternoon off in a couple of days.  Fingers crossed.

What was the last project that really took it out of you?

Tarriff Taradiddle

Ever since all the news regarding the tariffs that 47 has been threatening, I noticed that our kitchen and larder are full of imported foods. From the Swedish lingonberry preserves to the Maille Cornichons from France, to the arborio rice and the huge half wheel of wonderful parmesan we get once a year from an Italian importer, to the Spanish fire-roasted jars of pepper, the chorizo and cheese from northern Spain, and canned paella fish broth, the world is well represented in our cooking. Heck, yesterday we got Salvadoran crema for enchiladas at the lovely little Mexican grocery store downtown. (It is sweeter and less acidic than crema from Honduras).

We are particularly fussy about our olive oil. Our favorite for years had been a Turkish olive oil we usually get at a Syrian grocery store in Fargo. We have branched out into some lovely Spanish olive oil that is more delicate than the Turkish oil, and is great in dressings. The Turkish oil is an important staple for us, and its cost has gone up in the last few years. Last week I started worrying about even greater increases with the tariffs, so I ordered two 1 gallon cans of it. It arrived yesterday and won’t expire until late in 2026.

I think my Dutch ancestors would approve my being proactive and potentially saving some money. I don’t forsee too much more panic purchases, at least I hope not. I know these worries are paltry compared to those of the millions of people who struggle with food insecurity, but they still weigh, and the more money we have for food banks, the better. Some call us foodies. Husband says we have a radical food ministry.

What imported foods do you buy? How do you see your spending changing?

It’s Not Nice….

This year is my fifteenth anniversary of straw bale gardening.  I happened upon this way of growing veggies while I was looking for workable alternatives for growing tomatoes.  In yard wasn’t working (dog and bunny damage), pots didn’t work for me at all (never did figure out why) and one year I even tried something called Topsy Turvy which was more or less a hanging basket for tomatoes.  Believe me when I say that was an unmitigated disaster.

Anyway, in all these 15 years, I planted my bales mostly on Mother’s Day, occasionally a few days later, like this year.  But in all this time I think I’ve gone out and covered my plants due to low overnight temperatures…. maybe five times.   And I’ve never had to cover them more than once in a season when it’s happened.

So I’m not all that happy that with the overnight temps dropping below 45°F the last two nights, I’ve been out there with my assorted “dog towels” and clothespins twice.  And this is also the first year in quite some time that I’ve had six bales, so I had to scrounge up a couple more crappy towels.

I understand that climate change is creating bigger swings in weather but it chaps my shorts that we had three days in the very high 80s last week and now I’m covering plants.  Looking at the forecast, I may have to cover two more nights this week as well.  It makes me think of one of my all-time favorite commercials from decades ago:

My little neighbor Marie came over to the fence as I was draping the towels to find out what I was doing and letting me know that some of towels are funny looking. I have to agree.

Any “special” towels at your place?

Mystery Theme

In the past Renee has mentioned that she has post-it notes stuck around with ideas for the Trail.  This doesn’t work for me because if I’m out and about, by the time I get home to the post-it notes (of which I have many….), I’ve forgotten what I wanted to note.  Yep – seriously sad.  I remember that I thought of something but for the life of me, I can’t conjure it up when it’s time to write. 

To make up for this I use a post-it note app on my phone.  I have a bunch of separate notes and one of them is my Trail note.  You’d think this would solve my problem but….

Looked at the app three days ago and one of the entries is “first fire”.  That’s it.  Nothing else.  It took me the last three days to figure out it must have to do with YA making the first fire of the season in our fire pit last week.  Of course, it doesn’t explain WHY I put this note in the app.  There really wasn’t anything different about this fire except that it was the first one this year.  YA is still in charge of the fire.  She has a stash of newspaper and different piles of wood in the back corners of the yard – one for kindling sticks, one for larger sticks and one for logs.  She makes the fire, feeds the fire, pokes the fire with her special fire-poking stick. 

I’ve searched my memory and I can’t think of one single reason why you all have to read about our first fire.  So maybe it was something else?  A metaphor for our current world situation? 

What do you think I should be writing about with the theme of “first fire”?  How do you remind yourself of stuff?

Buzzin’ Around

The sad news in our neighborhood is that my next door neighbors (the ones with the two little girls I adore) are moving.  Not too far away, but moving nonetheless.

This has meant a lot of activity next door.  Cleaning and organizing the place – a big job with two girls ages 5 and 9.  Moving lots of stuff to a storage place.  Marie’s elaborate cardboard box car is actually on my front porch right now.  Lots of showings and two Sundays of open houses.  Phew.

They had an offer on Friday so Monday was the official inspection.  First there were two different plumbing trucks – the funniest name for a plumbing company I’ve ever seen – The Sewer Rat.  Then at about 10 a.m. I noticed something on the sidewalk right outside their front porch. I wasn’t 100% sure but I thought it was a drone.  Fairly small.

I was so curious – why in heaven’s name was there a drone sitting on the sidewalk.  I wasn’t curious long – a young man came around the corner, got the drone going and started flying it over the house.  He was inspecting the roof!  I probably would not have thought of that as a use for a drone on my own.

As I was watching I started thinking about why drones are called drones.  I was thinking of a dull, monotonous sound – maybe what drones sound like when they’re flying?  Apparently not… the internet says based on the male worker bee, the drone.  I might have thought of that eventually. 

Have you ever operated a drone?  If you were going to, what would you use it for?

Signed, Sealed & Delivered

Postage stamps have their own line on my monthly budget.  So I wasn’t thrilled when I saw the notice that the price of the forever first class stamp is going up this summer.

I use a lot of stamps, most likely more than your average joe/jane.  Between birthdays and anniversaries and holidays, I probably mail out 20-24 cards a month.  My mom called me last week and during the call she was excited to tell me all about her new toaster (her old toaster was older than YA).  You guessed it, I made her a “congrats on your new toaster card”.  Cuz I could.

I’m not complaining about the price of stamps going up.  I will have to update my budget spreadsheet but when you think about it, it is still the cheapest way to get something from one side of the country to another.

So it was a pleasant intersection of my worlds when I read in yesterday’s “This Day in History” that the Penny Black, the first adhesive postage stamp used by a public postal system was introduced in Great Britain in 1840.  Prior to this, postage was paid upon delivery and was based on the distance the letter traveled, making it a bit of a pain in the neck.  If you could find a Penny Black these days, it would go for around £500 (USD $667). 

Still pretty amazing that the price of a stamp has only gone up to 72₵ in the last 180 years.  Guess I’ll have to stock up before July!

Why did the stamp go to therapy?

Mom

Today’s post comes to us from Ben.

When my parents moved out of their house in town and into a senior living place, I wrote this short story. Several years later I found it again, shared it with the family, and one of my sisters commented that I could write another piece and update the situation. Which I did, and filed away.   When mom died last week I updated that story.

So here are some stories about my mom.

FEBRUARY 2007

Mom and Dad have finally moved. They decide to move even though the house hadn’t sold yet (maybe due to the cold and snow? Mom says she’s just tired of cleaning the house…) and low and behold the house sold anyway.

So we all met at the house one Saturday a couple weeks ago; 0 degree’s outside… Oldest sister Ellen is here [from Pennsylvania]. Ernie and Joanne decided to rent a moving van, Bob parked his pickup at the back door and started loading stuff from the basement; I loaded my truck after his and Ernie is asking what we rented the big truck for? But then we filled the big truck, and the two pickups and there’s STILL stuff left in the house…geez; where did all this stuff come from?? Didn’t think there was that much stuff?!? They cleaned all summer, threw stuff, and still….

And now the apartment is filled with boxes of … stuff. The pickups fit into the underground parking garage, but not the moving van of course. So Bob and I take turns shuttling our pickups back and forth from the elevator to the moving van to load stuff and drive back to the elevator. And from there it’s one flat cart and two shopping carts to get everything upstairs. And the place is filling up and they don’t have the dining room table or sewing table in the apartment yet. Judy [my aunt] makes lunch for us since she’s in the building too.  Eventually they rent a storage closet in the basement and the next Saturday Joanne, Arlen, Kelly and I haul some more stuff from the basement and the deck furniture and shelving and pack the storage closet.

The next week, since it’s Presidents Day and no school [Son] and [daughter] and I meet Dad at the old house and clean out his shop; Steve is taking the table saw; Matt’s getting some odds and ends, and we load my pick up with saws and ….stuff. Dad’s wood jointer / planer and …stuff… and haul it out to the farm. I put the band saw in the garage so Dad can use that; some of the ….junk…down in the old shed, other stuff in the new shed. Then back for one more trip to pick up the real junk, vacuum the shop (with his little dinky shopvac with the 1” hose and no attachments… it was kinda funny / pathetic!)  Finally, the only thing left is Mom’s sewing table and the shopvac.

April 2025

Mom’s Moves

Mom has died. 

Mom spent her first 22 years living in her parents’ home, and her first move was as a new bride into Dad’s farm house. Or rather, her in-law’s house, Carl and Helen.  Anna Conway, her Mother-in-laws mother, was also living there. Bedridden and cared for by Helen, Mom learned how to care for her. Mom said it’s where she learned not to be afraid of death. Anna lived for a few more months and mom’s compassion, home nursing care skills, and possibly entire attitude about life, came from that situation. Her Mother-in-law, Helen, had 5 sons and was pretty excited to have a “daughter” in the house and they got along well.


Eventually the in-laws moved out and mom could make it her home.  Mom and Dad lived the next 20 years in that old farmhouse which was made up of bits and pieces from the previous 100 years. Mom could have done without the snakes that came out to sun on the stone foundation or the honeybees that moved into one wall, ate through the plaster, and got inside the room late one night.


When Mom was 42 years old, the time came to build a new farm house. She moved the family into the machine shed for a few months in mid-summer. Which became fall.

And then winter. And then she moved the family out of the machine shed and into the new house.  And she made that a home for 21 years until they moved into town when the next generation took over the farm. Mom was 64.

They found an empty lot in town and started building a house and they were determined NOT to still be living on the farm when the next newlyweds moved in. She had done that and wasn’t doing it to the next couple. Their next-door neighbors in town were going to be gone for the summer, and offered that mom and dad move into their house while the new house was being finished. They didn’t have to move quite so much stuff at first, and when the new city house was done, they simply moved next door, to their new home in town.  And they lived there for 17 years until they decided it was time to move to Senior Housing. Mom was 81. It’s surprising how much stuff one can accumulate so quickly, and they spent the summer having garage sales and giving stuff away. Mom was determined to move and she worked hard to convince Dad this would be OK. He really wasn’t so sure, and he was grumpy about it all summer. And one can’t really blame him; moving from the country into town was bad enough, but now, moving from their house into an “apartment”…well, that was quite an adjustment so his anxiety was understandable.


That move took a while to sort out as many things went to temporary storage, and more stuff was given away, and it took a while to figure out what they needed in the apartment. And Dad discovered it was OK not having to worry about snow or grass. And he was able to create another workshop.  They made a nice home there for the next 8 years until Dad’s passing. Mom was 88.  And mom moved into another apartment, got rid of more stuff, and she made that her home for another 7 years.

And then she moved once more. Her last move. Into a single room with a shared bathroom.   And the kids packed up her stuff again. Mom was 95 and slowing down.

It felt different that time. She didn’t need much, nor did she have room for much. And there was a lot she wouldn’t need again. The move was her idea so that helped. Ever practical, she knew she needed more assistance. She knew it wouldn’t be perfect. “I’ll need to have a lot of patience.” she said. With her usual resilience and attitude, she made the best of it. Most of the time. Through new staff, through covid, and paper plates, physical therapy, new friends, visits from old friends, she was able to enjoy it.

She was often awake at night “thinking” about things.  She’s had a lot of thoughts over the years.

She never thought she would be blind. That’s been the hardest thing. That’s what’s gave her the most trouble of everything. As much as she would say “Oh well, God will take care of it.” she sure had a hard time rationalizing God taking care of that one. She was so close to 99, just a few weeks short. Not that that was ever a goal, no one ever heard her have a goal that was age related. Her latest goals were more of being able to walk again, or seeing. And when you think of the things she did, and saw, you would understand that.

So, finally, the best move of all: rejoining her beloved husband, and her brothers and sisters, and her mom and dad, and all her cousins and nieces and nephews. She’ll be asking everyone ‘What do ya know??’


She loved getting together with family or friends.  She always wanted to make sure everybody had a chair. She wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat.


And now she has a chair.  And she has ice cream.  And She’s really home. Again.

WHAT ARE YOU SERVING WHEN GATHERING WITH FRIENDS?