Our former fearless leader was almost a prophet. Missed it by that much.
That one little a.
I sent this to Dale. He answered “I take no pride in being able to predict the Sherpa. All it took was cynicism + imagination. I’d feel better if I had prophesied something hopeful.
Unfortunately those who expect the worst are frequently right!”
We will keep mum about Dale’s own little Russian influences.
Heard a prophesy lately? Have one to make?
ND Highway 22 runs through our town north and south. In the middle of town there is a very old, ugly, railroad bridge which allows trains to travel above the highway so emergency vehicles can go under the bridge from the south side of town to the north side of town when there is a train. It is a very low underpass that invariably floods and is impassable during rain storms.
One of our friends who is a community organizer sort of person got funding for a mural to be painted on the railroad bridge. It took all sorts of Federal and State hoops to be jumped through to get the approval, and this week the mural painter arrived from California. He has done several murals in our town and our State. The local paper described the project thus:
The four underpass wall panels will comprise one large mural, more than 400 feet in length, celebrating North Dakota.The walls north of the underpass will depict the landscape of the Badlands.The east wall will show immigrating Ukrainians and the west wall will show cowboys, Native Americans and buffalo. South of the underpass, the west wall will depict Dickinson State University’s May Hall and the east wall will show historic downtown Dickinson and a modern pump-jack. (Dickinson Press, October 2, 2018).
The mural artist is enlisting local students and adults to assist with the painting. I think it is a wonderful project. How often do we get to legally spray paint on bridges?!! I just hope the Czechs and Germans from Russian don’t feel slighted that he chose Ukrainians instead of them.
Where in your community would you like to see an outdoor mural, and what would you like depicted on it?
Husband and I often spend our evenings pondering deep subjects, like our cats. Here is what we came up with last night. We were thinking mainly about our youngest cat, Millie, who loves her life and is so joyous. Think I Enjoy Being a Girl.
I’m a cat and by me that is only great! I am proud that my tail is swishy. That I walk with a panther-like grace and charm, and my cat toys are soft and squishy.
When I have a brand new grocery bag, that I hide in and lie real flat, Then I swipe at their feet and bite their toes. I enjoy being a cat.
I sharpen my claws on Mom’s new purse, Then she tells me to run and scat. So I knock all the pens down on the floor. I enjoy being a cat.
I’m strictly a long haired tortoiseshell, and my future I hope will be, on a cushion upon the window seat, with some nice cat nip to smell, cat nip to chew, catnip to eat, for me.
Who have you known who totally enjoyed being themselves. Tell some stories about animals or people you have known.
I am always amazed at the deceitfulness of people who sell plants through catalogs and greenhouses. It is easy to be fooled into buying plants that just won’t work in your climate zone if you don’t know your flora. The most recent scam up here is the marketing of hydrangea macrophllya, a group of hydrangeas that just won’t grow here but are probably the prettiest ones for stunning shades of pink and blue. They are tempting, but it is just too cold here, and unless you are prepared to mulch pretty heavily in the winter, they just won’t do much after the first year. We have tremendous luck with hydrangea arborescens (the big, white, poofy ones) and hydrangea paniculata (ones with pointy flowers that often turn pink at the end of summer).
Hybrid tea roses were marketed for years as good to zone 4, but now are sold with the disclaimer that they are only good to zone 5. They really only do well here if you cap them with rose cones in the fall and mulch heavily. We used to have lots of tea roses, but we got pretty tired of all the fuss. We planted Morden roses from Manitoba instead. They are very cold hardy. We have a few hybrid teas in the yard that do well since we seem to have created a micro-climate in the yard with shrubs and fences that keeps temperatures a little warmer than in other parts of the yard. The pictures below show a hybrid tea we never cap or mulch that comes back every year and is a really stunner.
A couple of years ago we bought two Morden roses that were supposed to be only four feet tall at the most. One turned out to be a climbing rose that had multiple, six foot long branches. It was not labeled as a climbing rose. It was in a part of the yard that wouldn’t have supported a trellis, so it flopped around and got tangled in everything around it. It mercifully died last winter so we dug it up, providing room for one nearby that we assumed was a four feet tall rose as it had been labeled. As you can see in the next photo, it, too, is starting to act like something else.
It is a little hard to see, but the rose put out a couple of stems that were at least seven feet tall. Husband cut them off after I took the photo. I hope this was just a fluke. I just don’t know who in the plant world to trust anymore.
Who do you trust? When have you had something that didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to? When has a plant fooled you?
We grew a short row of beets this year. Husband started to talk about making borscht in June. He is an incredibly obsessive person who loves to compare and contrast recipes. Borscht recipes started to appear on the lamp table near his chair in the living room, and with difficulty he finally settled on one recipe a week or so ago. He had, of course, annotated it with suggestions from other recipes. It was a complex recipe with twenty-one steps.
Last Friday he started to make the borscht, beginning with a beef stock. That took all Friday afternoon and evening, with Husband fussing over the vegetables and herbs that were to go into the stock, and how long the stock was to cook. It was finally finished at 3:00 am Saturday morning. I strained it for him later in the morning. He fussed and fussed, asking if I should skim off all that fat, was the beef tender, and was it enough? I reassured him it was. Then the real hysteria began, with the twenty one steps.
The vegetables had to be julienned in a specific way. It was a clear borscht with beets, cabbage, onions, celeriac, carrots, potatoes, and our home grown fresh Vermont Cranberry beans. Only he could assemble the soup. I don’t quite know what the other steps were, but I went to bed at 9:00, and he finished the soup just before midnight. It made two gallons. The kitchen was in a state of continual mess and uproar the whole time the soup was in preparation. I became increasingly irritated with him. I started to argue with him over what to do with the leftover cabbage he didn’t need in the soup, a half head of savoy cabbage we had grown last year and blanched and frozen. He was going to throw it away. When I heard myself saying “You can’t throw out the rest of that cabbage! It worked really hard to grow for us!” I knew I was completely around the bend. I don’t even like cabbage. Then Husband got stuck at Step 20-correct for seasoning.
He ate some of the soup for breakfast on Sunday. He was pensive and broody all morning after that. We went to church, and as we were driving home he said we had to go to the store to get a cruet. He explained that he was disappointed in his soup because it needed more acid and herbs, and he wanted a cruet to infuse herbs and vinegar to add to the soup. No, he said, he couldn’t just use a pint jar. After a great deal of indecision on his part, we found just the right cruet to match his expectations. We went home, and he proceeded to turn the kitchen upside down (again), chopping all these herbs and figuring out what he wanted in his soup.
I had finally had it with all this obsession and brooding, and asked if I could taste the soup. It was wonderful. I told him that if he thought it needed more acid, to squeeze a God damned lemon into it and just add some fresh dill, but what ever he did he needed to be done with the soup!!! He looked stunned and seemed to come back to reality. He sheepishly agreed that I was correct, and filled up the cruet with vinegar and the herbs and put it in the fridge. I have no idea what we will do with it.
When have you got so close to something that you couldn’t see it for what it truly was anymore? How do you choose recipes? What is your favorite beet recipe?
Three clues:
Where is VS? Give me three clues to a place you’d like to visit!
I don’t fly as much as I used to, so it’s interesting to see what has changed and what hasn’t at the Minneapolis Airport every time I travel.
Construction. I moved here in 1980 and I believe that some portion of the airport and/or the parking structures have been under construction every single minute. Currently it’s the entrance to the parking shuttle area (and probably more, but that’s what I saw).
Check-in. If you’ve flown in the last few years you’ve experienced the little kiosks that guide you “gently” through the check-in process on your own. Now you even get to put on your own bag tags. A little embarrassing how long it took me to figure this out after watching ticket agents do this for 40 years. And you get to put your own suitcase on the conveyor belt, unless you run into an agent who is chatty and willing to do it for you.
Security. This has changed and not for the better. Long long lines (which I don’t understand – the only people going through security are ticketed passengers. Certainly the airlines know how many bodies they are expecting on any given morning, afternoon or evening? Why isn’t the security area ever properly staffed up?) By the time they finally diverted some of us to the other security area, which had been closed earlier, the line went the entire length of the airport.
More Security. No more plastic bins to put your stuff in. And no more taking your laptop, tablet, kindle, etc. out of your bag. But you still have to take off your shoes if you wear Birkenstocks that always make the security scanner go off.
Shopping & Eating/Drinking. OMG! Considering that the only things I ever buy in an airport are bottles of water and the occasional refrigerator magnet, it is mind-blowing how many shops (and expensive shops at that) and restaurant/bars there are in the airport. With the possible exception of rolls of toilet paper, I think you can get just about anything at the airport these days.
Connectedness (if this a word). Well, there are a lot more places to plug in and get online at the airport, especially in the international gate areas, but considering that every single person that I can see from where I am sitting is online somehow, it’s still not enough.
The changes seem to happening faster and faster so I suppose in a couple of years, this blog will be completely obsolete.
What changes would you like in future airports?
