The whirligigs of the Milkweed

Remember as young children, walking to school in late fall.... the leaves were dancing to the rhythms of the north wind, geese were flying overhead in perfect V formations, sparkling Blue Jays called to the crows in the woodland..... and the Milkweed plants prepared to whirl.  We gathered up the grayish pods, and with great anticipation pulled the silken parachutes that were hanging tightly to the seeds....... blew them into the wind, like soap bubbles , watching them bounce and sway on the lite breezes, doing their swan dance as if to attract the the rays of sunlight and project them onto the tall grasses that opened up their arms to receive all the babies that were about to alite.  Each seed had a definite path way down to the dry earth, to await the cool fall rains that would eventually sink them into the soil to await the arrival of spring.  Mother Earth would soon pull the blankets of snow closely, to protect each young life and escort it into its own journey into the world.

As I walked the dogs down the quiet driveway, the milkweeds that had so boldly presented their pink blossoms not too long ago, and provided comfort to the Monarc Butterflies, now hung their heads down, heavy with burdens of coming year. I purposely do not allow cutting on the South Side of the drive, so the milkweeds  can grow and prosper in peace, with only the deer, or other wildlife mingle and tread paths between the wood lines and the fields.  Its fall..... and so much has been done this year,   The drifting oak leaves throw caution to the wind, and become friends with my shoes, as they too are finding their own place to mingle with the earth..... and protect all the fallen weed seeds the past summer from the heavy snows that are sure to come.  The dark shadows in the wood line, open up with the setting sun, all the hiding places of the squirrels are now in full view, and outlines of deer can be seen if one looks very closely.  They too have changed their colors, blending in with the warm browns, reds and gold of the frivolous grass heads that are daring anyone to defy them, like the cold winter breezes.

The long lonely farm  roads where the corn has matured, and now changed to a golden brown, has the huge reaper with shears not unlike the one we used to shear the Alpacas, travel the distance of the field, eating up each row, spitting out the stalks and keeping the corn cobs, which will later be loaded on trucks, shelled , dried and follow their destination to parts unknown.  Soy beans have been picked, weeks ago, along with the gigantic hay bales that sat unguarded, waiting for tractors and the wagons to carry them into barns for forage later in the year.

It is Fall in the Northland, and I too have planted, cultivated and prepared our harvest to rest in the jars in the pantry, and the freezers that await in the garage.  The horseradish has been dug, and made into sauce, the onions have been dried and spun into powder, along with the wild velvety, yet pungent smell of the hot peppers that did so well in the hot, dry summer we had this year.  The apples have been transformed into juice, along with the tomatoes, and sit with vibrant color on the shelves.  The garden has been washed of its weeds, and vegetation, only the Kale  and Parsley await their fate.  Corn stalks have been pulled and slowly thrown over the fence into the pasture to the alpacas and goats, who share their bounty with the chickens along with the expired broccoli and green plants who have fulfilled their misson.

  My shoes no longer stick to the sugary floors, as the jams and jellies have taken their respectful places on the shelves, and the residue has long been mopped up.....only the squash and pumpkins remain to be put away for the winter and set silently in the garage awaiting their turn....It is fall and a time to take a break from the dirt that has tarnished my nails, and constantly set my back on fire from the undimishable weeds that persisted and had to be pulled for days at a time.

The time has come to become acquainted with the skeins of yarns that have lain silent, and to sew the funny squares again on my sewing machines that have not been used in months.  My material stash calls to me in anguish, as I have not had the time to find the energy it requires...... to sew into practical articles the things that they too are destined for in the near future.  The stacks of copies of quilts I will never live long enough to make .......cover the open spaces that remain, as I have collected them all summer as if to remind myself that there are other things that remain to be accomplished besides the garden.  The cool rainy fall days remind me of the things to come, and all the time I will have while watching the snowflakes cover  and protect the ground from the cold wrath of winter.

However, I will miss  hearing the wind call to me from the wood lines, as the windows will now be closed, and the owls that talk and call in the depth of the ravines....all will be silent.  I have placed the bird feeders now on the outside of the window sill, so I can watch and hear the chattering of the now brown finches, and the harsh dismay of the Bluejays as they banter along the colorless trees, chasing the woodpeckers, and other tree ramblers from their perch.  The redheaded woodpecker delights in the newly made suet hanging above the sunflower seeds that sit in the feeder below, while the nuthatch's await their turn.

The snow fence is the last thing we must set up, as the chicken coop has been cleaned for the last time, and nests filled with hay, wood chips on the floor.  Straw in the goat shed, and all cracks and crannies filled........ so that the wind will not blow in the stray snow that manages to creep in.  The waterers are plugged in as there is already ice on the top in the cool morning, and soon I will have to be carrying water to sheds while managing the snowbanks that seem to want to make my life more of a challenge.

These are the lessons that the milkweed teaches me, it is soon to be a long cloudy winter,...... where the sun no longer warms the ground, and taunts me with the memories of what was and what will be.   I have tossed my memories of the long hearty summer into a book of the past, soon to begin another in the book of the future....so as the seeds of the milkweed will sleep thru the months and begin their own replenishment of the earth next year.  Meanwhile I will content myself with the tracks of the field mice in the  newly fallen snow,  the call of the northern lights in the deep of the night, and watch the mighty north wind wield his sword of cold,...... while keeping warm in front of the wood stove and dissolving the piles of material stash into articles of importance........well maybe......only the seeds of the milkweed knows.,

The Sentinal

Time has a way of curving gently over hills and dales, and before one knows it, the days have drifted away, leaving weeks, months behind with only the future to enjoy.   That's the way it seems here on the homestead these days, each curve has held new demands, each hill new challenges, with little time to contemplate what has occurred, or what the lies ahead behind or over the next hill.

Its June, at least that's what the calendar says, but its been cool, actually had to fire up the pellet stove last night, and today the sun shines amid the soft fluffy clouds while the wind whispers around each corner of the house and plays with the new bright green leaves of the trees, saying , catch me if you can.  The hay in the unmown field still sways like ocean breezes, waiting for the the swift sharp cut of the mower to open the thick grass protecting the baby rabbits in their soft warm nests, and the nestling of the new fawns awaiting their mother's return while warming their noses in the warm rays of the sun. Birds are everywhere, the dull colored calm females on their nest of eggs, while their mates judiciously  fly from branch to branch, making sure all is safe from marauders that are constantly on the prey of such things.   Down the way a bit is a dirt road that has became a haven for the great female snapper turtles who  have come up from the ponds below  to lay their eggs in the sandy edges of the road, but word has come down that those nests were opened up later by the bandits of the woods, who stole the eggs for a grand lunch in the dark of the night.  We can only hope that some of the eggs survived and will hatch to continue their life span for years to come. I watched as  one of  the slow moving rock colored mothers, made her way across the span of the road, and slowly carefully, dug out her nest, carefully, patiently making sure that it was just right. All the effort and struggle seem to be lost in the process of the night, as time sped on making her eggs a meal for another, be it raccoons, or coyotes and make short work of all commotion that went on in the silence of the daylight.

The arrival by post of a mothers day gift from my son and his wife, and their girls...... set things into motion here.  A beautiful Chalet type bird house, fit for any proud wren or chickadee was promptly set up, high on a white steel pole above my rock garden, to sway and taunt the winds that blow so proudly up here on the hill. And though a wren sang his heart out in the nearby tree, a flash of blue came dashing through the air and landed on the small porch of the house, and tried the door.  Alas, it was not made for the his broad shoulders, and when his mate tried, she also met with defeat.  Watching this from my window, as I sewed, for a day or two, I promptly ordered a matching blue bird house to appease the wants and needs of this couple. Later that week, in picking Tim up from Medford, we happened upon a Farmers Market...... and found another, not so fancy, old time blue bird house to add to the collection.  We nestled both houses on poles a decent distance from the other in the rock garden..... and in less than an hour, the male was inspecting each one to see if it met his standards.  Next he brought his mate, and together they tried to make a decison as to which house was best.....now that took some concentration, inspection,  and long discussions.  I think they settled on the old fashion one,....cant be sure...., but he has kept constant watch from the mast of the old boat, or the other bird houses, and swoops down to attack any one who may fly by and inspect the neighbor hood for themselves.  Mean while his mate has been carrying bits of material to set up her new home.....while he defends his property and keeps constant vigilance from near by....  This proud sentinel of the rock garden can be seen hiding in the near by tree ready to avenge any wing that comes near, including the swallows,( who by the way, to the dismay of my husband, have already taken over the rafters of our garage) but  my bluebird sentinel mainly rests atop the old boat mast, which gives a better perspective of his domain thru out the daylight hours, sometimes bringing a tidbit to his mate ....,or bathing in the stone birdbath basin while keeping a wary eye on passersby.  Meanwhile the wind plays merrily around the home, swaying it with its strong breath,  gently rocking it to the beat of  its own rhythm.  As I watch from my window, time seems to stop and watch also...this new vestibule of life that goes on forever.

Most things are planted in the garden, just tomatoes and peppers to set it, it has been so cold at night, that I hesitate to plant till this weekend, the ground was slow in warming up this year.  For Mothers Day, the girls and their partners came down,..... Larry cut down and apart the trees in the back wood line that had fallen during one of the rain storms....... while the others tilled, and carried the compost from the pile outside the garden fence and deposited on the plots inside the garden fence, lots of work, but it was a beautiful day, and that compost heap had been fermenting for a couple of years, so was in perfect shape to transpose my garden.  We dug out the extra strawberry plants for them to take back to their own homes, ...last year I had planted only 25 plants, and this year I had way over 100 or so....in full bloom, so needed to thin out a few.  The raspberry bushes are doing well, along with the cherry trees which evaded the hard frosts we encountered sporadically, and are full of cherries, along with the apple and plum trees, if all goes well, and we have enough rain there will be plenty to do in late summer.  And wonder of wonders......along our long driveway, dancing along the wood line are full white blossoms atop hundreds of strong wide bushes,......the black berries have migrated out of the thick prickly woods, onto the open grassy narrow field and again, with enough rain, I may have baskets full of black berries, if I can beat the birds and the bears to them that is.

Speaking of bears, the encounter this year, was far different from past years.  I had just come back from Medford, and sat down at the computer, when the dogs went wild....the alpacas were sounding their warning calls, and the Guinea hen was screaming from the top of the shed.   Someone had trespassed into their realm, and they were  not happy.  Quietly watching from the pasture fence, I finally spotted the culprit, a medium sized bear was sizing up the landscape and patrolling the fenced in pasture.....after yelling at him for a couple of times, he raced down the ravine.......only to reappear up by the bee hives (which are empty) and stood there, with the 8 foot fence between he and the dogs and I, and swung his massive head from side to side, while the dogs barked,the alpacas screamed and I yelled at him.  He was not afraid... as bears before him....who had ventured up were.....and stood there as if daring us to do something about his presence.  Finally after I banged on the steel fence posts with another post he took off down the ravine......and that I thought was it.....but instead , no more than 20 minutes later he was up behind the house, by the bird feeders, but that wasn't what he was after,.....he was coming to gate by the fence......he wanted to see what the garbage cans held for him.....unmindful of the dogs barking....he wanted in the fence......another series of banging ..yelling....he finally turned away, and lurked in the wood line, till I finally called the neighbor who came down and shot into the woods, only to scare him off, away from the house.     He stayed away till later in the evening around 11 or 12 but only stayed around the pasture for awhile.  He has made his appearance known now and visits every couple of nights, but doesn't come up to the house anymore, and as the vegetation grows thicker may not be seen again till fall.  There are always things that happen to make life different each spring, and I am never fully  prepared for them.

So now, just like my Blue sentinel in the rock garden, I must keep a vigil on the land, my animals, and my state of mind.  Not an easy task at this stage of the game, however, ......I think its going to be a fascinating year this time......waiting for that next curve, will it be uphill, or speeding down the slope......stay tuned.....cause who knows when I will write another episode again.

Yes, the bear came back last night, and left this mark of his presence.....for all his work, he found nothing, how disappointing that must have been.

The spinning

Lynn's Bear

August is nearing the end, it's been a quiet and dry month compared to the months before, but some rainstorms have ventured in. I watched the other day as the Mother Nature drew ropes of clouds across the sky from the North to the south, while the sun which was beginnning to set in the west, surveying all the action. Her fingers deftly pulled the grayish white clouds into her wheel....which looked like wool roving, as they gently glided past my window. The golden glow from the setting sun filtered down upon the tree tops like glistening flecks of gold dust, as if she were shaking out all the excess color out of the sky to spin the ever darkening clouds in the South. The sun refused to hide ….even tho the fabric of dark gray material began to creep across the sky from her spinning wheel and the wind from the wheel picked up speed... threatening to blow all the gold dust deep into the woods. The weeds underneath the sitting bench out in the lawn began to play tag….your it…..no your it…as they nodded to the glistening rain drops starting to fall. Eventually the sun lost its battle and gave in to the beckoning call of the evening, but not even the moon came out to play that night, as the rain continued to fall and marinate the earth once again with the brine of the wondering storm.

Upon going to feed the animals in the early morning, Avi stood at guard looking strangely at something in the tall grasses that border the paddock fence. This was an unusual stance as usually she tackles anything that moves….so I hurried on to see what the fascination in the grass was. There…, caught in some tall grasses was a beautiful tiny golden-brown bat… each time Avi nudged it … it emitted a strange cry that made her jump back and stare. We had a powerful wind storm the night before, so it must have been blown off course and became entangled in the fence and falling to the ground. Gently picking up the drenched small creature, I carried it across to the gate and left it outside the predator area to recover. It laid there on the glistening rain drop grass, quiet, not moving a muscle checking out the territory in case another wet nose would come thunderig down.  I continued on with the chores and upon checking later, it was gone… dried by the sun and had flown onward to his night residence to wait until the darkness again gave its permission to sail among the stars..

The Homestead suffered some losses this month, as one of the creatures of the night crept in through the open chicken door to find a tasty meal or two. The female goose startled at its appearance flew straight thru the screen on the door leading into the yard, followed by two of the hens, as the gander tried desperately to defend his flock. But it was useless, as my Avi awakened by the hostile action going on in the chicken coop, flew outside to find the goose in her territory and lo and behold a couple of chickens too, and proceeded to make quick work of the invaders on HER lawn. By this time however, the two big whites were bounding  out to the coop, and whatever entered in that night made off with another chicken, leaving a trail unknown and only a telltale scent as to what or who the invader was. The big gander is now alone, as his mate of many years is gone, and he travels the paddock with his lonesome call….. throughout the day in hopes that his pal will reappear and had only gone for a walk in the pasture.

The mysterious invader had visited before, this time chasing the alpacas out to the pasture, leaving them huddling in the far corner, unwilling to come back to their shed. It was late into the night when the barking dogs awoke me again, only this time the bark was different, so taking my trusty flashlight and trotted out in silky night air… my bare feet leaving a trail in the dewy grass……to see just what the disturbance was. The alpacas were nowhere to be seen, including the goat. The dogs had their noses up against the fence line, their loud noisy , waling bays carrying across the ravines, echoing against the tree and sending bats carrening  even faster in the night air. Scurrying across the yard, I got into the truck and turned on the headlights as I directed my attention across the fields, the tree lines and the pasture. The guys were there in the far left corner, not moving, not making a sound, looking toward the west hill tree lines, intent on what was stationed out there. As I circled the pasture, nothing was to be seen, the fields were empty, and the quiet sounds chilling. Eventually the guys came back to shed, early in the morning hours… when all effects of the visitor had left the air and the pasture. The stranger was gone, at least for this particular night, leaving no trace in its retreating path……. fading into velvet darkness of the night safely…… giving no notice of its departure.


The domestic apples hang ripe on the trees in the front yard and must be picked in the coming week….the giant wild crab apple trees are dropping their bounty and carpeting the ground below…., the garden has given up most of its produce, and I have left it to the weeds for another year. It has been so wet, that there is moss growing among the onions which must be pulled and dried. Sweet corn is in the freezer, herbs have been dried, some crops faltered and faded back into the soil, while others maintained their dignity and grew to their potential. The strawberries that had been planted in spring are reloading and springing forth with huge red fruit delighting not only me but the birds as well. Purple bunches of grapes hanging heavy on the vines covering the trellises will be picked; the Indian corn gathered in the month of September, jams put up in the pantry, corn stalks pulled up, to make way for the tiller later in maybe October. I have given up trying to keep the grass cut, with the heat and humidity, having won its battle to grow thick and tall while I wait for the frost to take it out of its …..Or maybe my....... Misery.

Old Fashion Tiger Lillies

Meanwhile there are plums on the counter to be processed and they say we are having a heat wave coming in for a few days. It has been the longest short summer in many years… as Mother Nature has spun and knitted a strange type of season leaving me in awe of what has been and what is still to come…..and looking forward to the colors of the oaks, and the lonely call of the winter winds……WOW …did I really say that……after last winter…..Yes, the spinning of tales.......... never stops!.

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TIME WARP

TIME WARP

If one is to believe in a bit of science fiction and dwell on the dark secrets of the universe, it is easy to comprehend what happened in the last eight months. The loss of two younger siblings to Cancer, and grueling long winter, the very late spring, plus many other factors put this gal in another time and place. Some how things were getting done as usual, but it was like a robot had taken over my senses, and proceeded to do as programed without thought as to what, why and how come. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and then suddenly one day I went out in the garden and said……..how and when did this all get done. The sweet corn is tasseling, the tomatoes are ripening, the herbs are ready to pick and dry, and I stood there in a moment of amazement, realizing that somewhere, in another time zone quite similar to this one, my outer self-took over the chores, and the inner self sought sanctum…in a place most people care not to go. The two worlds were battling each other, one not giving a damn and the other pushing to reach the place above the clouds to breathe. Everything was the same, yet profoundly different…..struggling to gain control……while I just sat on the outside looking in. Two worlds had separated, two time zones, with no direction in sight……...until now. The mind indeed is a strange animal, taking its own sweet time to awake and smell the roses…….!

Speaking of roses, a bush that was given to me by my son-in-laws mother, has finally bloomed this year….it was planted about eight years ago, and grew up the trellis, with nary a bloom. Then a few weeks ago, a bit of pink caught my attention and there in the middle of the vines, was a bouquet of small, tiny pink roses….catching the rays of the sun, and the drops of the dew. ….. The other roses that were planted last year, like the “Knock out” specimens are blooming,… but sadly I lost my yellow rose bush to the cold fingers of ole man winter. The colors of the leaves on the oaks and poplars this year are filled with a strong sense of being… as they are robust hues of greens, alternating with the darks and lites, like no other. Mother Nature grew tired of her blanket of snow, and brought on the seasons with a clear cut idea of summer and what it was meant to be. There are also black eyed Susan’s bobbing and talking with the clouds on the hillside coming up the drive. A willow sways and dances with the wind near the culvert, while the young fawns are playing tag in some of the fallen trees downed by the winter’s snows.

We have a new resident this year, for the first time in a few years….he walks with dignity and a supreme sense of confidence across the hayfield, toward the woodline, with no fear of the dogs barking, or a human watching. The beautiful black fur catches the last rays of the setting sun, as he slowly makes his way thru the tall grasses in the woodline, silently fading into the dark woods, leaving only his scent behind for the dogs to play with. I have seen this black bear many times so far this summer, crossing the driveway about 50 yards from the house, crossing the road down a ways, plus his relatives sitting in empty fields or crossing the road on the way to Medford, to pick up Tim from work. I think I shall name this year…..The Year of the Bear…….I can always tell when he is around , as the alpacas will not go into the pasture and stay close to the sheds, waiting for the moment he travels to another destination, in search of his destiny.

The usual residents are back, the coyotes still singing their mournful chorus at nite, and a family of beautiful skunks….if you keep your distance..reside at the bottom of the hill. We have seen black mink, raccoons, fox and more deer than in the last few years. All foraging at the homestead this year…however…. they have been taking advantage of the domestic dwellers here and wiped out Lynn’s chicks and chickens one sultry, very hot Sunday afternoon and evening. Apparently they became bored with the prospects of the woods, and decided to stir up some excitement, since the chickens were not taken for food, but left lifeless in the pen.

The rains, high humidity and heat have kept the lawn tall, and the weeds in the garden on a rampage. We broke records this winter with our snowfalls, and now are doing the same with the rain and high temps. However the rock garden is splendid, with all the colors abound and the lilies are tall reaching for the hummers who are patiently waiting for them to open and look toward the sky. A wren couple settled in the gourd hanging under the eve…and has rewarded us with hours of singing from the time the sun kisses the treetops, till it settles down in the west and snuggles in for the night. Barn swallows moved in next door, in another gourd, making Tim happy that they didn’t take up space in the garage again, and litter ….however as time went on, and the garage door stayed open, another party moved in…so there is still…..”Litter” in the garage to match the disarray of materials stored there.

 

Well, the rhubarb is in the freezer, waiting to be made in to jam…the cherries have been picked …for the first time this year…..awaiting to be made in to Tim’s favorite, cherry pies….6 ice cream pails full….next year I am getting a cherry stoner…….my food drier is humming with basil leaves drying, the alpacas have been sheared and frolic in the rain, life and time synchronized like a fine orchestra in concert goes on, leaving no one behind. The long nights have concluded, and happiness of the sunshine smiling between the raindrops has returned. The fragile time warps have become one for now and the clouds are erasing the moments of abandonment leaving a wild field of contentment for all to embrace.

 

May Showers

The advent of May showers leaves me antsy. Due to the late spring, although the garden has been worked up, I have not been able to get in and plant. The clay soil holds water and if one goes in too early we end up with golf sized hard mud balls, which are really a pain to work around. According to my records for the last eight years of residing up here In the North Woods, I am not too late, and the things in the greenhouse will be ready to put in…however My body may not be able to handle the influx of all the bending, stooping, pulling, digging that is required of doing such a chore in minute time required before the heat hits. This getting older bit sucks…but if the truth be known….. it may be the extra weight that sucks more, not the age that is slowing me down. Sigh…never ending battle one way or another.

The orioles have been crowding the make shift hangers that hold sweet orange slices under the sunflower feeder. Their splendid orange and black suit coats flash with the sunlight, and the melodious singing in the early morning is an alarm clock not to be ignored as they sway on the liquid feeder hanging outside the kitchen window. The Rose Breasted Grosbeaks argue for room at the sunflower feeder, the males tidy in their black and white suites and red ties, constantly singing for their mates who even in their brown sultry dresses are a vision to watch. The Finches have changed their costume from dull winter brown to bright startling yellow and flit from sprig to sprig on the birches and poplar trees, adding to the chorus of spring, catching the raindrops to glisten on their wing tips. A silent flash of blue and the whisper of a Blue Bunting slashes the air as he steals a seed here and there, from under the beaks of the Grosbeaks. Not to be outdone by this spring spectacle at the sunflower tables….. are the woodpeckers, hanging from the suet feeders, with the Red headed woodpecker peering over the side, threatening the smaller Hairy and Downy woodpeckers as if to say ..The King has arrived….please make way…..so they make a swift retreat to the nearby oaks….sailing up and down the tree trunks like the swift running sap that is bringing the leaves into full dress while the almighty red head savors the small morsels of homemade suet.

Down on the ground another scenario is taking place….as the common Red Polls silently drift down to catch the falling black seeds, along with dozens of White Crowned sparrows, Chipping Sparrows and field sparrows partake in the bounty that the greedy birds above have let fall to the earth. Nothing goes to waste these days, as the frisky chipmunks pack their cheeks full with delicacies they have found hidden in the long strands of unmowed grass, or the gray, black and red squirrels have carelessly left behind.

Somewhere, way high in the front yard tree a treble of notes float and tango across the roof and then rebound with flirty fun as a Bobolink has flown in from the green swaying grass fields, to make sure he too could be heard, stopping to listen as his mate answered him from a sheltered nest in the woodline, …..Soon they will be feeding on the thousands of dandelion seeds from the fluffy yellow blossom heads bobbing and bowing under the gentle southwest winds. The Red Winged Blackbirds call and dance along the garden fence while the Barn swallows sweep and dive to catch the insects that would dare to come out to see the ruckus. Suddenly there is a swift dart and dash….and the hummers are heading for the nearest blossom, to find the insects hidden there, or the sugar water in the feeder just awaiting their return. Down….., deep in the ravines echo the calls of the Sand Hill Cranes, …somewhere in the thick undergrowth the partridge are drumming…… calling for their respected companions….and soon in the evening you can hear the Loons adding their own creative calls with the croaking of the spring frogs. These are the masterful chorus sounds of spring that cannot be heard in the opera halls of the city…..and cost not a penny; continuing on through the day, ending with the lonely closing ceremony of the hooting of the owls in late evening as the sun has set, bringing down the curtain of shadows.

In this splendid rendition of the Chorus of the Homestead, one must sit back and take time to relish the music of the woods, now minus the frosted white snow, and full of the life that continues to emerge with each plump cherry blossom, or shiny rain drop frosted leaf. The clouds are parting, the rays shinning down to warm the wet ground, Mother Nature has let her children out to reclaim the skies, and revamp the earth. My garden will get planted, the grasses will grow, and the weeds replenish , all is well on the homestead as it should be….new life will soon be appearing, and another saga is about to begin. It is my good fortune to be able to witness all, and……. sit and…… watch…..and listen….and ….enjoy as everything eventually takes care of itself and worry is for naught..

The path of the years

Happy Birthday Lisa

Today is April 2, 2011, and our 25th wedding anniversary, and is passing just like any other day here on the homestead, a lazy Saturday, with the sun shining, and the snow melting a bit more, leaving only four foot snow banks now, instead of eight foot. We were married secretly at the” Little Brown Church in the Dale”, in Nashua, Iowa in a simple ceremony with the pastors wife as a witness. It is simply amazing to think of all the memories that are now gathering dust on the bookshelves of our lives, some have gone up in smoke, some are still smoking, and others have settled down into majestic moments of laughter and silence. With each milestone that has passed, another age line has evolved, another truth learned, another memento to be filed onto the bookshelf and hopefully many more to be discovered. Regardless of how settled we seem to be, nothing can be taken for granted anymore, and nothing will be the same as it once was. I have learned that nothing is stable or permanent anymore and the curves in the roads ahead are sharper, the hills are steeper, and the potholes deeper. Is this the life I thought would be, or did I even think of what life would be when I was 25 years younger? Too busy, too little time, too many important priorities, left very little room for dreaming of what lie ahead in the future, or where the road would lead. Now, we are still traveling, not running anymore, but walking along the center of the road  ... with new memories to be filed,… peering around the corners, rather than careening on two wheels at 75 miles an hour to get to the next plateau, there is no reason for speed now, the years are coming on fast enough for my fancy, and my foot is off the gas pedal.

Speaking of gas pedals, the little chevy truck we now own, is definitely slowing my logic down to a crawl….being very short….and very FLUFFY, I cannot reach the pedal unless I am setting on top of the steering wheel, which leaves creases across my bellybutton, and my chin on the speedometer. My nose rubs the windshield, and lord knows what has happened to the seatbelt. The seat is as far as it can go forward, and still my toes just barely touch the gas pedal. Never have I had such a problem with any vehicle that we have owned, and who ever owned it before left a sinkhole in the seat, so unless I can find a pillow to fit in it, I have to sit on the side of the seat so as not to be lost in the calamities of the instruments that tell me what speed I am traveling, and how much gas is left in the tank. From the outside it looks like a porpoise is trying to see between the steering wheel spokes …..gasping for air as I struggle to brake and complete whatever journey I have set out to conquer. All I gotta say is thank heavens for Cruise control, and four wheel drive buttons,….. If I had to get out and set the wheels, I would still be stuck in all the snowbanks that accumulated these last few months. Then there is no running board like all our other trucks had, and to get into this sardine can, is a performance that can only be matched by the best acrobatic moves around. Getting out matches the slithering of a snake out of the bull pen….finally hitting concrete surfaces. This was not my idea of transportation, but in these times, with the high gas prices, it has one very good point…it has good gas mileage…so …have to deal with it.

Early last week, before the last snowstorm hit, the geese were out in the pasture, following the alpacas out to some of the bare ground that finally surfaced. When it started snowing lightly however, the alpacas came in to the shed, while the geese comfortably settled into the tall grasses pulling at some tasty strands of weeds still left standing……Suddenly they melted flat into the ground, ..and a slow flying shadow circled around between the tree lines. It came from very high in the sky, and was sensed by them before I could even see what the problem was. As it slowly circled and descended toward the ground, they made a wild dash for the coop. My Toulouse geese are heavier than most geese, and it was surprising to see how fast they could travel, with their huge wings catching the air as they almost flew at ground level...... Suddenly I saw the problem; a huge, beautiful adult eagle had spotted them while on a hunting mission from high above, ...circling quickly and quietly looking for his prey. He landed in one of the tall oaks across the field alongside the pasture, and perched on one of the higher leafless limbs, ....watching,..... waiting……..I am not sure who would have won this battle, for the gander is very protective of his mate, ...even  hissing when I come near the nest to gather the chicken eggs every evening, ......this time the eagle lost the gamble, as the geese went in for the night, never to return that day, and the snow kept falling. He sat there for about an hour, preening his graceful feathers, always on the watch for the mouse, or inattentive squirrel, going after that last acorn on the ground. Then, with a flick of his wings, and one last long look, he took to the clouds, leaving the pasture free again.

Boredom has brought back an old hobby that I did as a child when my grandmother decided I needed to learn more then how to clean house....., and now am back at it again, crocheting up some of the yarn that has been sitting here for ages. At first I started to knit, but then a picture from one of th knitting forums  caught my eye, and walla!.......it was a perfect birthday gift for my eldest, whose birthday was arriving fast. The picture at the top of this page shows the color a lot darker , actually it is soft ecrue, or lite ivory. As you can see in the pictures, I actually finished the afghan in a few weeks, and am now working on Easter objects, that resemble the sugar craft learned when I was in the business of decorating cakes. The picture shown here  will be a surprise for the grandkids…These are things I used to make when I had my Cake Decorating business, made of sugar then, crumpling with time..now stiffened crochet thread hold spring fancies and maybe a candy or two.......but these will last much longer,.... I know they don’t read this, so it will be new to them..........but then  one never really knows  just what  lies around the corner....., now do we?

Are you listening,

The morbid month of January has passed, and Cupid brought in his hearts for February, directing the winds and snows to focus on driving mortals like me unequivocally mad and crazy with frustration. There was a time I told people who complained about the cold and snow to move somewhere where it was warm, and Old Man Winter would not show his cold blustery face...but that is no longer...everywhere has snow and cold....BUT, times are a changin, I can hear it in the wind. I heard whispers last night as the wind whipped around the old oaks, raced into the chimes, and whistled and played tag around the corners of our house. This morning the sun gazed upon the bobbing empty seed pods, and smiled as if it too had heard the whisperings rolling in on the gusts of wind, hushed secrets of the spring Gods, heard only by those who listen very carefully. Mother Nature will carefully shield the newborn breezes with snow showers, and ice, but never the less they are there,...., hiding in the old oak limbs, peaking around the forlorn branches, checking into the squirrels nests, and rocking the gourd bird houses. The next few months will be hide and seek for the youngsters, before finally resting on the clouds nestling in the blue skies. Revealing their arrival with soft warn rain drops ... all will know....spring has arrived.

Meanwhile, with last Falls lingering brown leaves sliding and dancing on the ice left by last week’s thaw....I creep across the tundra with water bucket in hand, carrying water to the chickens, and alpacas each morning and afternoon, all the while cussing the attributes of nature, and cursing the fact that the older I get each spring, the harder the task of keeping animals warm and fed. The geese have been laying eggs for weeks now, and each egg freezes with the rise of the moon. Age must be getting to them to...don't they know it’s still below zero out most of the time. Or is this their own special practice time before the real task arrives. The alpacas have ventured out into the pasture, which means the thaw has taken a good amount of snow down, and the drifts have become level with the land. The lone female turkey now calls again and again into the empty cold day, but there will be no mate for her this year....and even tho she has made it thru the angry winter this year....spring will not bring a brood for her to cradle, and she must contend herself with the fact that she has also reached the age of retirement, and must settle into the long hours of boredom.

This week was time to break out of the prisms of white and grey, and travel north to the land of snowmobiles, ice shacks, and cross country skis. Awaking the animals at 5 AM with feed cups banging, and dogs a barking....the alpacas watched with astonishment as not only did I fill their feed cups, but also brought the hay for them to eat rather than later in the day. A sure signal I would be gone the day. Leaving around six, the dark sky promised sun later as now clouds were present. A few miles down the road, there was a whisper in my ear....watch for the deer, ....and sure enough not more than 50 feet down the road a doe stood poised to cross into the next field. Unsure of her next move I slowed down to a crawl as she watched me approach, with the headlights in her eyes....within 10 feet of her, she suddenly decided to cross the road, and as the first hoof hit the icy pavement she lost her balance and slipped down to her knees and for a second faltered, slipping and sliding, and then finally regaining her balance and sped across into the woods and safety. Had it not been for that brief thought that crossed my mind I surely would have not slowed down and she would not have made it another day. The rest of the ride was uneventful, cept for traveling down Highway B....I came up on a coyote crossing the road in a hurry, but hitting the soft snow bank, became immersed in a snow bank, and its back legs were trapped for a few minutes as he struggled to overcome the soft snow and continue into the woods. It was warm and animals were moving early that morning, all of us traveling alone, onto destinations of anticipation. I traveled down Highway 8 this time, unsure of the truck we have just purchased, and road conditions, this road is more heavily traveled, especially by logging trucks should any mishap emerge, there would be help close by. With Tim trucking down the highways of Ohio, this was the safest bet. The sun rose, melted last night’s icy roads, and arrived in Michigan in record time.

The girls and I visited the thrift shops, where many treasures were displayed, awaiting new homes. The thrift stores there are well stocked, and well kept up. I found a heavy iron for quilting, a ceramic Betty Crocker Pie Plate for baking, and a traveling stuffed furry companion to ride in the passenger seat of Tim's rig. Many drivers carry mascots in their passenger seat, and it was time Tim followed suit...so Amos, a fat, cute, cuddly 2 foot monkey now has earned his right full place sailing down the highways in a big white cab. I am sure he will have many stories to tell in the next few years.

Back home again, later that evening, having gained a bit of respite from the boredom, and beating the heavy fog that settled in that nite,( due to the warm air currents and the cold layers of snow), it was a break from the humdrum that settles in at this time here at the homestead. It is time to scavenge thru the seed catalogs, write out the lists for the garden, changing to different plants this year, scanning the new items, leaving out the veggies that weren't so popular. Time to dig out the folders for the taxes, and spend the weekend up to our elbows in paper work. This will be Tim's first full weekend home in a while so must take advantage of doing things that have been on hold.

In the meantime, will be listening to the winds, watching for the first new arrivals of spring, and slide into a galaxy of perpetual summer filled dreams.


FOOT NOTE.....Winter weather warnings are out again, we are due for a huge snowstorm, 10-15 inches or more starting tonite....this time I am prepared, the bird feeders are filled, the animals double dosed with feed, the snow blower ready to go, and the mood ......well that sucks...but oh well, it is after all still February

Mother Natures Winter Ball

Before the storm

Mother Nature's children threw a winter celebration yesterday.  Like rebellious teenagers the party they held lasted  20 hours, and nothing could sooth their frenzied nerves. The Snow Sisters danced to the beat of their  Wind Brother's band, sliding sideways to the earth or filing single file into tall six foot snowbanks.  They stopped only for a moment to pick up speed and continue on into another snow slide to sway with the long brown flower stalks as partners. Like ballerinas they swirled and pirouetted in to a mix of crescents and rifts, leaving the imprints of wind skis through out the yard.  When the crescendo of the wind fluttered to a quick stop, the ground was left bare as they gathered again  like a skateboarder to leave silent arks between the tall oaks and and the fences corralling them into silent surrender.

Brother wind sang with the howls of the wolves, speeding around corners of the house with the flash of a falling star, catching the snow gusts swinging them in to the air only to crash against the window in a merciless abandonment.  He was so powerful in his glorious sweep of the land that there were no bounds to hold in the snowflakes caught on his breath.  Like ocean waves crashing against the shores,  they frolicked riding against the shrubs and tall oaks, daring them to stop their wild and wonderful dance.  It was a nite of wonder  and bewilderment, as the curtains of snow rose a hundred of times to reveal the wood line and the grey clouds that attended the merriment yet could not bring themselves to the final curtain call.  They sang, and danced for close to a day, until falling into heaps on the ground to rest till another day.

Today the sun came in to view the spectacle left by the party goers and shook his head, young folks he said, as he tried to straighten the melee left behind....but the third sibling the cold had not yet begun his tribute and the temperatures dipped to 20 below, leaving the sun to simply add his light and repaint the pictures that were left behind.   The wind now tired by his last escapade flowed softly thru the shrubs and tall grasses, looking for any bit of the snowflakes that were dancing before, but all had fallen now , exhausted into mountains of fluff, silent, and could not be awakened with the gentlest of of his breaths.  Chickadees  replaced his merciless howling, with calls of glad tidings that the storm was over.  The Blue Jays scratched at the feeders of corn and sunflower seeds, scraping away the awry snowflakes that took comfort there.   The great red headed woodpecker now hung from the suet feeder, no longer having to hang on for dear life when the wind laughed and lounged at his favorite dish.  The black and white Downy's are skittering up and down the tree trunks, looking for tasty bits that have survived this last wintry blast.  Its morning, and the merriment has subsided, leaving in its aftermath, huge mounds of whipped snow to be explored with a shovel or snow blower, and sliced through  like an ice cream pie, for paths to the paddock, and dogs furry footprints.

Twenty-one inches or more fell throughout yesterday 's hours of frolicking. The dogs toys are now hidden away beneath the mounds, to be found in spring when the air turns warm. My big whites tunnel thru the piles, with their noises throwing up sprays of dusty snow.  Rolling, and sliding they are light enough to walk top of the mountains, with out sinking up to knees like their owners are about to do. My husky dances for joy and runs through the garden oblivious to cold, windy bursts, searching for the moles that just might come up for air thru the marshmallow hills.  After three hours of snow blowing, we finally made our way to the pens, where, the fierce winds had swept snow in through every open nook and cranny, leaving small piles of crusted snow covering the alpacas feeders and inside the chicken coop where it had forced it way in thru the door and any crack not filled with straw. The sparrows that took shelter with the chickens are now anxious to be released into the the new world of snow and ice after I lift the trap door. The pair of geese saunter off to bath in the snow dust and preen their feathers oblivious of the cold northern wind blowing around the corners of the fences. Sadly, in the corner of the coop, lies a victim of the fierce cold storm, my old  Royal Palm turkey, has succumbed to old age and the cold.  He was one of the first to occupy the pen, and I knew he wouldn't make the winter. But this Homestead is all the occupants "Forever Place" to live out their lives with fervor and grace.

Its a beautiful day out however, the sun is shinning, a cold wind still blowing, leaving the sharp clear picture of winter only the North lands can offer.  The fields are glazed over by the frozen top layers of snow now, and sparkle like diamonds in the rays of the sun. There is not a print to be seen, cept for along the wood line where deer tracks can be seen leaping over the drifts of snow piled up in front of all the brush and tree lines.  Every so often the wind gathers up enough strength to blow up a cloud of snow to vanish into the clear blue sky.  It is worth the fortune that we will pay for the snowplowing today, as black and white colors of an old time photograph are now here in front of the homestead in contrast to the colorful colors of the summer.  There is nothing so refreshing as the aftermath of a huge snowstorm, to bring one's reality into focus.  The cool, crisp taste of winter flowing into the clear blue sky , brushed by the now gentle wind reminds us that Mother Nature is still in charge, regardless of how powerful we humans think we may be.  And this homesteader stands in awe of her powers, and beauty so often taken for granted.  Its going to be a wonderful winter, this year...the beginning of a season of worship, knowledge, and serenity of the powers greater than man, and as fine as a wisp of snow. The sorrows of the past year will be put away,buried under the cover of the cool white snow, stored in memory for future reference , many miles on down the road.
 I will not look back and try to figure out the mysteries of the moments, or the whys and wherefores of the questions,  leaving them to scatter like the stubborn leaves left on the oaks before the storm, and quietly disappear with the passing of time.


And the sun shines again



Giving up the helm

November, the trees have given up their leaves to nurture the seeds that have fallen on the ground over summer, and now stand naked, impervious to the cold northern winds, and stand alone against the gray winter skies.  They no longer can hide the brown and black squirrels that scamper up and down their trunks, or the woodpeckers knocking soundly against the bark for insects now deep in their winter sleep. The huge black turkeys roost in the top most branches, leaving the ground open to the coyotes who look up into the night air hoping one may just be close enough to lunge at and pick up an easy meal.  Huge eagles now fly low, with the crows hassling them at every air current, along with the beautiful white breasted hawk that sits alone watching these events with curious eyes.  So begins my nemesis.....enclosed by four walls, watching, waiting, for the first snowflake to make its appearance, and cover the brown bare grounds with a white quilt that will erase the summers escapades and quell the thunderbolts chased by lightening rods across the darkened skies.

Its the season of the great bucks, now turned the color of the tree barks, so as not to be seen by the hunters.  This year there seems to be a surplus of deer, which is quite unusual as it has been quiet the past 4 or 5 seasons.  I watch as the sun lays low in the west, and a 8 pointer  slowly marches over the hill and takes a look at the bounty before him.  My alpacas are watching from the far side of the pasture with quizzical looks to ascertain just what this marvelous creature has in mind for the evening.    He holds his head proudly as he walks to the fence, and sniffs the cool evening air for that ever evasive doe.  He stands at the fence for a minute or two, looks at the alpacas, while my lone goat prances around excitedly and the alpacas lower there heads and continue to graze on what green forage that has been left by the frosts of past weeks. The pasture does not hold the prize he is looking for, so he continues back to wood line, stretches up on his back legs, and leaves his scent on the tall oak, paws the ground a bit, and take on another oak further down the way...and then finally disappears into the woods.  A few minutes later, a another nervous shadow appears, three does sprint across the field headed for the other side of the ravines, not ready yet for the marvelous buck that has been searching for them earlier.   His time will come, but not tonight, and the owls will hoot the story to the moon as darkness settles over the homestead.

I have been keeping a wary eye on the hawks and eagles  this fall.  There seem to be many more than usual, and tell tale signs of feathers shows that my chickens are now on their menu as well.  I have watched them swoop in and fly off before any one of us can get outside with their prize caught up in the sharp talons to a destination deep into the woods.  Angel, one of my big whites, barks to no avail, as they know that there is no harm so high in the sky. I can hear them laughing as they circle, chattering their plan of attack, waiting for the prime opportunity, and sailing down with out hesitation, afraid of no one.  It is their land now, nothing can find cover to hide from the wide wings of destruction.

Thanksgiving will soon be here, and I am giving up the helm.  Ever since the children were little, Thanksgiving was held at our place, my former husband was gone for the week deer hunting, and this was our celebration of the fact.
Now we will go to Michigan, and Lisa and Larry will be hosting the event, and though this may be a little sad, to give up this task, it is to my benefit.  Our house is way to small with the dogs, and all my "Stuff" anymore, and I don't have to clean and put away all the things that do not surface again till I tear everything apart looking for them.  Sometimes that may take months.....and the turkey will not have to be cooked squeezed in between all the other things that the oven must prepare.  Plus there will be no leftovers in the refrigerator that last for weeks, if not frozen immediately after everyone leaves.  This will be a first, we will leave early, providing Tim is home, on Thursday morn, and return that evening, free from all the cooking, cleaning, baking and all that stuff....the queen has left the building.  The only problem will be Tim's schedule...will he be home, or on the road...there is no rhyme or rhythm anymore to his job, and we must fly by the seat of our pants instead of making plans.   But we will know the weekend before, and plan accordingly as Lisa says it could be on the weekend....or Friday....or ...sometime in that week.....only the future knows.

The weather has turned now to cold, very cold, like 14 above this morning, the first day of deer hunting, the shots ring out like crackling icicles across the moody sky.  This is the weather that finally rinses clean all my ambitions of garden work, and turn to the fine art of window watching as I turn scraps of material into pieces of quilts, or crochet long pieces of wool into rugs.  My little corner of the world now consists of yarn strings that have caught on my boots and make cobwebs across the entire house, material scraps that look like confetti strewed on the floor changing the direction of the tile.  Bolts of material stacked precariously on chairs waiting for the magical cut of the scissors to proclaim their fame.  In the middle of all this I sit, like a child among mountains of toys, just not quite sure which one I will play with on this cold, quiet, awesome day.

The gourds are gathered in the garage, and new ones drying in the greenhouse, ready to become spectacles of wisdom this coming new year. I just have to gather a few more tools to begin crossing the road into a new vision of  colorful scenes to tell the story of winter dreams. It is always good to have new anticipations for the coming year so as not to become lost in the heavy winter clouds that fall to the ground.

This is the time to wish all a wonderful holiday blessing, of Thanksgiving and all the holidays that come to the many days of this ending year.  In giving up the end of this old year, and entering into the depths of the new year, we each give up the helm and become captains of new dreams, talents, and begin afresh. So much to look forward to, so much to wonder about, entering the new realm of the unknown is no longer a worry, but just another road to travel.  Taking the curves slowly, forever going forward.

Train leaving ...all aboard

Have you ever felt that a train wreck was ahead, but you just weren't quite sure where or when it would happen.  Well this homesteader has almost hit the end of the tracks. Our Life Trains carry a combination of passenger cars and freight cars across the countries of our life, dropping a few here, and picking up a few there.  Sometimes it is up hill, sometimes downhill, sometimes the whistle blows,  and sometimes the engine comes to a dead stop,..... could be a bear on the track, boulders from the top of the mountain, or the bridge is out.  We pick up passengers on the way, and drop them off some where in the years ahead, always picking up new ones, and sometimes they stay awhile, leaving their baggage with you, or maybe they carry your baggage for awhile. But the passenger cars always have room, and the freight cars keep filling up.

Take this last year for instance.... the mountains were getting steeper, as the severe illnesses in our the family are quietly filling one of the freight cars....consquently this old steam engine was puffing along, slower then usual, pulling more as the weight from the cars were added on.  First came the layoff, a car or two flew off the track...adjustments were made, rail spikes straightened and on over the hill we went.  Then the old truck finally became to expensive to repair, and went the way of the junk yard heaven....that sadly took one car to fill, but could be emptied if we found a new truck.....soon. The railroad bridge trestle became fragile when the generator went down, and it took $700 for someone to say, "Ah, yep, the motor must be rebuilt to the tune of $2500, or we could buy a new generator for $3500 or more. Into the freight car went the generator next to the truck that hadn't yet been replaced....since there just wasn't enough coal in the coal car.  But that wasn't the end , I looked back and saw there were still more empty cars waiting ...... the Pellet stove that we heat the house with, and have a garage full of pellets stored for the winter, became the next casualty... as there is no one within a thousand miles that can figure out why the pellet rotor will not drop its pellets  including the conductor we bought the stove from... However that freight car is still running empty, because finally, some one from the state of Washington is going to trouble shoot on the phone with hubby to see what the problem is...but only after we had already paid out $250.00 for a new circuit board that someone thought for sure was the problem....toss that into the box car...also.....on its way back to manufacturer (who by the way normally does not take merchandise such as this back) as it was not the quick fix we had hoped for.   OK, so now the temps are down to the low 20's and 30's, snow is on the ground, and I have to turn on the super expensive electric heat to take the ice off the coffee and pile on the sweatshirts..find the feather quilt........another box car starting to fill.    If you think things came three at time ....right???....wrong...little did we know.....Box car number 4 was being added to the train and was rounding the bend......this time however the new occupants were boarding at the station to help our carry luggage..big time.

Last week in the mail came a small bright orange colored postcard, ....flashing red lights....do not cross.....signal gates are coming down.....it seems as though our one and only working vehicle had been recalled to the Barron Ford dealer for a defect that could be lurking in the undersides.....when it was built.  I almost threw it in the garbage, but since those signal gates were still down and caution lights flashing , decided to call and make an appointment to get the car checked out.  Now to those who know me, the gas pedal in my car seems to have this penchant for peddle to the metal,.... now I say ....its because of my heavy boots, yet that doesnt cut it with the conductor, ....most people call it speeding,.... but in this county with all the PUTZERS who the hell would know. So if you can see your way through all the steam rolling up from the engine wheels, this could have ended in a run-a-way not to pretty situation.  While sitting in the showroom, with a beautiful new Ford car taking the place of the steam engine in my imagination at my feet, out came two very serious looking gentlemen from the garage area....and very gravely sat down in the chairs next to  me....and proceeded to explain that the Ford Company will not let me drive my van home.  IT seems as though there is a crack in the rear axle of my car, due to the defect when it was made....eleven years ago.   HUGE boulders have fallen on the track, and theres no one to push them away .....the train has stopped.  Tim is in Kentucky, on 18 wheels, dealing with his own miseries, and the steam engine here is stalled and quickly running out of coal.  Ford company will give me a check for $3400.00 for the car, which is very generous, since it is 11 years old, and has made contact with about three deer in the last year, (the deer won). And  so maybe..the salesmen who have been listening to this scenario ask.......would I like to look at the cars on the lot, while they call Enterprise and rent another car for my pleasure at their expense. AHAH! These were the new passengers aboard that would carry my luggage for a change....I looked, at the used vans, saw a beautiful red truck with a snow plow but at a price that couldn't move those huge boulders off of the track.  It seems as though they have already checked 100 cars or more, and mine was the first one to have the defect the salesmen tell me, and the cars on this lot go very quickly...I wonder did they have this defect also and should I settle fast in case they get on the cattle car at the back of the train..
 Enterprise was out of rental cars, so they loaned me one of the vans that was offered for sale on the car lot.  Small boulders moved...... I loaded up a few things from my now defunct car and headed into our little town to talk to my favorite Mechanic, at Skyway..."Take the deal" he smiling said as he headed for his own computer....and quickly found another Van that was only a couple of hundred dollars more than that check will be.  And he will even go into Chippewa to check it out, if it is measures up to his standards, he will bring it home, and we wait for the check in the mail, and I keep the rental car until all the boulders have been removed from the track.  The last passengers have come aboard and repaired the tracks, cleared out these particular boulders and I can start climbing that mountain one more time.  However, I am running out of allotted coal for steam power for this year, and we still have a month and a half of travel.

So tell me.....passengers with me on this great escapade of life,..... am I the "Engine that could" ...and can I  make to the other side of the Pass, with time to spare, or will the tracks be buried in a land slide of snow and ice, and the fire go out?......................Oh by the way...did I tell you that I carry a snowmobile in the Caboose?.........Just in case.....................this is the north country ya know!

Shiney floors

Beautiful Fall Mushrooms in Denny's yard

Fall has arrived at the homestead....later than normal, we had snow this time last year.  One can always tell when its fall here, and no, its not the beautiful red oak leaves that have fallen from my beloved oaks onto the woodland floor.  Nor is it the arrival of the Blue Jays,  crows, ravens, and eagles that sail in the wind, composing a rap songs of the coming snow clouds. A momentous occasion occurs..... I finally wash the floors, where all the scraps of the previous canning, freezing, drying fervor made the floor look like a crazy quilt with out the stitches, are scraped free. The canners are put away in the garden shed, along with all the extra jars that may have taken their place on the counters, chairs, table, and any other space available.  Jars of dried herbs, are actually neatly placed on the shelves, and the smell of baked bread is now wafting thru the house, rather than the smell of drying onions that can be sniffed all the way down to the mail box. The windows are full of plants that have been brought in, secure from the frosts that are sure to put the blooming flowers in my garden to sleep.  The winds are singing lullaby's to last hardy roses, and  Mother Nature is filling her cupboards with the heavy snow clouds soon to be distributed with abandonment through out the grasses, and corn stubble, and old Jack Frost has been painting the ponds with his magical wand, and ice filled paintbrushes. The pure blue skies will soon become heavy pillows of gray fluff, with the winter winds blowing boldly singing the last hurrahs of fall.

Fall in the North country brings on harvest festivals, and finally after many years of procrastinating, we attended the Cranberry Fest in Eagle River a few weeks ago.  Traveling down the Highway 70, embraced by the colorful leaves swirling around the roadside, we reached our destination to be greeted by hundreds of cars, lined up like the Chicago rush hour, trying to find that ever elusive parking place.  We however, traveled on a few miles across the line to Michigan to meet the kids, and and swap cars to travel back and park in that special place that only residents of the area know how to find. 

The entire small city of Eagle River was carpeted with white Tents holding the most coveted arts and crafts, and goodies that had been put together with love and devotion,  and now displayed proudly on racks, shelves or ground with care.  Main street held  smells of old, new, and not so new thrift sections, while the cafes were busy selling brats, hot dogs, hamburgers, and cranberry beer, along with cranberry chocolate, and just plain ole cranberries by the pound.  There is something to be said for the North country people, they are jovial, considerate, fun loving and very talented.  Well  ya have to do something during those long winter nights, and Eagle River Cranberry Fest displays it all.

Mother Nature tried her best to discourage us with onsets of showers mixed with the sun...and yes snowflakes, but no one minded her, even tho she sent her best cold winds to shoo us quickly on our way.  We just ducked into one of the hundred of tents which covered the fairgrounds and checked the treasures that they held, trying to resist the temptations that awaited with beckoning smiles.

But the temptation became too great however when we walked into one of the barns, and there before our eyes, hanging from clothes racks were long skeins of wonderful  hand spun Alpaca and llama yarn,  dyed the soft colors of fall leaves, and tantalizing baskets overflowing with multi-colors of Fiber just waiting to be touched , hand dyed to perfection, with sweaters, mittens, scarfs lining the edge of the cubicle, each one a deity of patience and wonder.   Each skein was dyed to the imagination of the young lady who created these small miracles, and as she said "once a particular dye solution was gone, the recipe was never kept, so each selection of colored skeins were never repeated".  Well, thank goodness she took debit cards, because, after the second visit, and my husband saying..."you will regret it if you don't go back and get what you want"..... was enough...to mentally check our bank account..since normally I do not carry that much cash, so as not to be tempted.  An hour later I was the proud owner of cuddly, warm, hand spun alpaca fiber, that could be crocheted into the objects of my imagination. My husband sat in the chair provided for husbands for the moment, and would say," better get that color if you like it", and the ladies there, along with some customers helped match the various colors, making the collaboration complete.  So on this particular day one of my dreams had become reality, going to a Cranberry Fest in Eagle River, and acquiring ounces and ounces of alpaca fiber, and meeting new friends in the process.   Shady Haven's Fiber Designs and Llama Adventures will be holding a fiber boutique between Spring Green and Arena outside of Madison,  in November and hubby says yes, we can go....hang on bank account...this may be a disaster.

Our ride home was guided home by the bright setting sun, amid the showers, and  flocks of  dining turkeys gathered along the roadside eating gravel, about every five miles of the route. Highway 70 has always been a favorite of mine, setting adventures to the high side, with never a repeat scene regardless of the season. Even Tim, who travels thousands of miles a year agrees, that this movie never repeats itself.



Speaking of Tim, we finally have his sleeper berth decorated to his advantage, with a small table for his computer, and all the necessities needed for traveling comfort.  Since he spends anywhere from 3-5 nights in his rolling hotel room, its nice to have some comfortable commodities. One night when he was high in the Appalachian mountains, he was unable to get phone service to call at his usual time, and as the hours went by, this homesteader became worried, wondering if anything was wrong.  However, his computer, which has a different phone service was able to finally get thru. He was parked in a tiny 6 truck parking ,  truck stop, and tho the service kept being interrupted, at least I knew he was down safe for the night. While I will never stop worrying, as its my nature, I know that he  is comfortable in his job, and loves the road,  and doing what he loves to do.....cept when he graduates and gets out of the rig, and goes to his second love which is computers.   By the way he passed his college algebra with a C.....will wonders never cease. The third semester is on now, which Computer repairs, and College Comp....I will be studying the English Composition with him and so far, find it a wee bit boring...but oh well, like algebra, I am bound to learn something.

Along with fall arriving, and my kitchen clean, comes the the disrobing of my sewing area.  This is the area I hardly visit during the spring and summer, and stays kinda neat.  The next 6 months however will be disarray of everything from material, thread, scraps,...and now the addition of yarn....Lisa and Allona found an old knitting machine that had been lovingly used by someones aunt for a pittance, at a rummage sale and now it is sitting here by my shelves.  I have always wanted to learn how to use one, and  here in perfect shape is the chance......this will be my new opportunity for January, to learn something new as has been my custom now for years.  But now it is more important than ever, to look forward to a new challenge.

The clouds are rolling in now, rain is forecast in a couple of days, the cool wind is settling the rest of the leaves off the trees, tucking in the last of the seeds of summer, preparing for the season not far off.  The deer have changed their coats to dark brown, and rummage among the fallen acorns of the oaks, and the coyotes have divided into two packs now, I imagine due to the good supply of pups this year and sing on both sides of the ravines.  The other day coming up the driveway, I saw a beautiful black mink rushing across down to the other side of the slope.  The spry little chipmunks are carring every sunflower seed that falls from the feeders, to their winter habitat in the green house, unaware that I know where they are stashing their winter supplies. Every critter is preparing for the onset of Mother Natures cloak of snow,.... along with me, ....are cleaning their dens, making room for the long hibernation from the sun, settling down to wait for the transformation of the seasons.

Tim, Somewhere in Kentucky

Mad Hatter Effect

These days this homesteader is feeling more and more like the Mad Hatter....I'm late, I'm late for a very important date....but I can't remember which date that is and why I am late, or how I even got to this part of the date.......happens every late summer....and I can't seem to get a handle on why.

It all started with a day in very early July, when on checking my bank account I found that someone, somewhere, had stolen my  debit card number, (we will never know how, since it was still in my possession), and was charging BIG dollars to Home Depot, pharmacies, and book stores in Illinois, one of the suburbs of Chicago in fact,  and was just having a great time.  We were able to stop the card in time so as not to lose the hundreds of dollars this woeful person had charged, but about a thousand did go thru, however due to the wonderful response from our credit union bank, and the fast response from the  credit card company, it was all returned, but..., we had to change accounts, cards, shift balances...I was up....then down......then sideways.... Mad Hatter effect...that experience was definitely  an eye opener.

Then my wonderful, loving daughters decided to change my appearance and I became a blond for a couple of months....it was fun, but now am back to my uneventful  brown hair with out the dark roots that came on so fast....now why can't I lose weight as fast as my dark roots grow back in....its the mad hatter effect, I am telling you now.

In Mid July, Frightful sounds were emitting from the bedroom, which has been transformed into my husbands study room , somewhere between..."this is a page of crap" ...to..."none of this makes any sense  (Mad Hatter Effect)....to "what the hell am I ever going to use this for"...came over and over like a broken record from the depths of the room.  It was his Algebra class....moaning, and sniffling, and cussing and just plain aggravating complaints never ceased, and he decided he would drop the class.....BUT, he couldn't, ...they wouldn't allow it,  not with out consequences....so what does a good wife do....give up the quiet life, and take out the books, and study 24/7 for two weeks with him to catch up on three weeks of lessons he hadn't completed.  I ran thru the Internet, looking for all the lessons on beginning algebra, took a bottle of aspirins, and wore my best dress of patience, and worked slowly with all the problems, and we made it, this is the last week of homework, Finals are next week, he may not pass the class, but at least he has gotten all his homework in, and lab work, and by golly I know a little bit of algebra....don't know where its going to get me with all the garden work....lets see...a= a+ b (cd^2) over N...........salad equals tomatoes, cucumbers times the dressing over lettuce.....yes I can see where Algebra may be a big help next year.   Mad Hatter Effect.

We have had rain, and rain, as much as 6 inches or more a week, and lo and behold in marched the slugs, like an army exploring the rain forest, invading every nook and corner and eating every thing in sight.  Nothing has been left untouched,.....Step, squish (rain water) step,...Smash...(slugs) goo everywhere. Blight swept over the garden like the cloak of Haides, leaving the tomatoes leafless, naked, sunburning the fruit itself.  In spite of all this, there was an abundance of produce, and in between the hours of studying, the pantry shelves got filled, and the freezers got full, jam jars of plums, grapes, strawberry,  pickled peppers, cukes,and spaghetti sauces, along with tomato juices  made their way to the pantry.

The farmer cut the hay, best crop ever, Sean said, and later I sat and watched the coyote catching the mice in the newly mown grasses.....it was raining as usual and I didn't think to get the young chicks ...which I let scratch for bugs along the wood line in back of the house.....back into the greenhouse before the dog like creature in the field decided to search for better pickings.  Sure enough that evening I was 5 chicks short, supper for the beautiful reddish brown four legged creature and maybe his family that was so playfully catching mice in the field.  A few days later I spotted the creature inside the pasture, loping along till he/she came to the corner where the fence didn't quite meet the ground, and underneath he went, then as if to make his domain very clear, sat down on the path and glared back at the dogs as they barked through the fence at the intruder.....lifted his head in disdain, turned up his nose, and trotted on down toward the wood line, turned around one more time as if to say......I was here first, I belong here.....you came last....so get used to it.....and disappeared into the trees.  And he sings every nite, proclaiming his love for this land and my chickens.

Another note to turn this homesteader upside down again...MAD HATTER EFFECT......Tim found a job, at 5R Processing in Ladysmith, about 25 miles down the road.  They recycle computers, digital equipment, etc... and he bugged them for about two months.  AH!...at last he was among the minority, he has a job....what we didn't know was, that this is their corporate office, and they have plants in Georgia, and Tennessee, and he was hired on as a long haul driver.  So now after being home for 7 months, he would be gone 4-5 days at a time, home on weekends. In fact he now travels from Ohio, to Virginia, to Georgia and so on.  He has the  computer in his truck, and printer, does his homework on the road...cept for ALGEBRA , waits for the weekend for that......and skypes me every evening.  Now to those of you who think this is a really sweet thing that the husband in no longer underfoot,...(I did once).. that is good in theory, but gets old fast.  When in the city, there was always something moving, people scurrying....but out here in the country it's a different story.   Being a trucker is hard, but being the wife of a trucker living in the boondocks is harder. While he is off fighting the four wheelers, I am trying to figure out why the generator is spewing oil all over, the lawn tractor is digging holes in the lawn while mowing, how water got in the gas tank of the roto tiller, and where the hell did he put that wrench.  Now I am good at a lot of things, but really bad at mechanical things...a hammer is an alien being that does not like me at all.  AND its quiet.....when Sean and his son were cutting the hay, I actually loved the sound of the machines, because that meant there were humans within sight, ......silence can be so deafening when it is 24/7....especially at night...when this homesteader who is afraid of the dark,,... not bears, coyotes, or four legged sprites...the "dark"...must go out to figure out if the varmints are in the pasture, or out of the pasture...are the animals safe...or in danger.....oh yes....I also do not like guns.....so here I am..slowly, ...bravely, ....creeping out with the dogs at my side, and huge flashlight , walking stick in hand to brave the elements and fight the battles. Truckers' wives, are widows for days, or weeks, smiling when their guy comes home, and when they leave...then sinking into this oblivion of work and silence, conquering the unknown, trying to be strong while all the while shivering inside, knowing that out on that long road, an 80,000 pound,  18 wheeler is battling the odds with the four wheelers, trying to make it safely to their destination, and get back home again.  OK, now after all that whining I have to go figure out why the pellet stove won't stay lit...Mad Hatter..........

Prairie Sunflowers

So now I think I know what date I am late for....I missed August, and  the end of summer, between studying, and gardening, and mowing, and canning and freezing, there just hasn't been time to smell the roses.  Oh well, now with fall knocking at the gate, there will be blankets of snow...great...better get the snow blower out to be checked, and find the doggone snow shovel, and figure out where he put the ice chisel....how the Hellllllll does he find anything in this cluttered garage.....and oh great, the  UPS man just delivered the next semester college school books.......he has to take Comp (English)....and hates it...here we go again.......MAD HATTER EFFECT.