Another year down the tubes!

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.   

Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed."  I look back over the years and try to find that skinny little girl that ran up and down Strong Street barefooted.  If only my life could be lived in reverse!  I see all my missed opportunities and think, "Woulda', coulda' shoulda' ", but I didn't.  Now it is too late!

When I came to Colorado all those years ago, I did so on a temporary whim.  I would come and live, but if Charlie and I parted ways, I would move back.  We parted ways and I stayed, but only temporarily.  But then one year turned to 2, and then 3.  I stayed and married Kenny, but with the goal in mind that when he passed I would return to Hutchinson.  When he passed, I didn't leave.  Things and commitments kept me here.  I own my home.  I have 2 kids here, 1 in Lakin, two in Longton, one in Texas.  My last husband is buried in Memorial Gardens and my name is on the other half of his tombstone.

I live all alone in a 2400 square foot house.  My friend list gets shorter every year.   We adopted Bret.  I also acquired 37 ducks and 7 geese,.  I built a pond.  Kenneth passed away.  I said when the ducks and geese were gone, I would move to town.  The foxes ate the ducks.  I said when the geese were gone, I would move to town. We are at a standstill now! I have 7 geese that are ageless!  I keep buying feed and they keep eating it.  Every night I close them in their house and every morning I let them out.  Once a month I go to Big R and buy 3 bags of grain.

My grass is dead because I forget to water it.  The 98 rose bushes I had at one time are all turned wild and been dug up and tossed on the heap.  Bret married and moved away and started his second family.  I just keep getting older.  I think about going back "home".  Where is home?  Hutchinson?  Nickerson?  Garden City? Lakin?

Every year I think back to what I should have done and didn't.  It is probably a little bit late for me to put the toothpaste back in the tube.  So, I get up every morning and go to bed every night.  Habit, I guess.  I know any one of my kids would like me to come and live with them, but I just can not see that happening!  I keep hoping I will get lucky and just not wake up some morning, but so far that is a pipe dream!

So, I close this and go let the decrepit old geese out, throw a rock at the neighbors cats that have wandered into my yard and look west at the beautiful mountains and remember why I never packed up and moved back to the flatlands of Kansas!

Peace!

As another year ends....

 Another year is drawing to a close.  As I reflect back on this past year, I realize how much I have changed.  You may not think so, since my appearance is much the same.  Oh, a few more gray hairs and my complexion just a tad more leathery.  My weight remains the same and the hair is still white.  The changes are inside.  The changes are subtle.  I suppose it happens to all of us as we move forward from the cradle to the grave.

I moved into this house in 1982 with Kenny Mercer and my two kids, Sam and Susie.  They were both still in school.  Sam would go on to graduate college.  The kids are both gone.  Kenny has since passed and I remain here on my "Gods little acre."  with 7 geese and a calico cat for company.  The grandson that Kenneth and I adopted together is grown, married and has three  children of his own.

Today was Sunday, December 24.  Yesterday was December 23.  On December 23, 1983 Kenny Mercer and I exchanged our wedding vows in front of retired minister in Canon City, Colorado.  It was 15 degrees below zero.  We topped the ceremony off by enjoying a doughnut at the local donut shop. Susie was in middle school and Sam almost ready for college.

Sadly, I lost Kenny in 2002.  I have spent over half my life in this house.  I look around at where I am in my life journey and wonder how this happened.  It seems like only yesterday that I was surrounded by a vibrant loving family and the token dog and cat.  How many sunburns did I suffer while on a weekend fishing trip?  The children are gone, replaced by grand children and even great grand children.

I set here in my 2400 square foot house with a detached garage and an acre of land and wonder just where this will all end.  I can't sell the house and move into town, because I have 7 geese left from the good old days when I had 17 geese and 47 ducks and a pond.  They have only known this little acre  of mine as their home. 

And if I should move, where do I move to?  Do I go back to Hutchinson, where I have only one sister left?  I have no friends that I have kept in touch with.  Do I  go to Garden City, where I spent many years with my husband who is the father of my kids?  He is since deceased.  Do I go to Lakin where I have one daughter?  Or Longton where I have two daughters.  I have one daughter here and one son.  And one son in Dallas. 

Life would be so much simpler if the good Lord had not given us free will.  We should be born with some kind of handbook on how to do this.  But we weren't so I am stuck.  Guess I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other until one day I just cease to be.  Then it will be someone else's problem, won't it?

Peace!

Christmas Day 2021

 For those of you out there who worried that I would be sad on Christmas, you can put your worries to rest!  I had a very good Christmas! I went over to Ross Barnhart's and had lunch with him and his family.  Food was delicious because Rooster and Missy grow their own vegetables and cook from scratch.  I think Ross made the pork roast.  Robin and Terri made something very good as an appetizer, but I do not know what it is called.

This is Ben!  Ben belongs to Robin and Terri and is a very sweet boy.  He likes to play video games and you will hear more about that yellow thing that someone is playing with there a tad bit later.

This is Terri, Ben's mom.  She appears happy, but trust me, you better "duck" when she looks at you!

This is Robin, Ben's dad.  He is trying to look so innocent here, but do not let your guard down. He kind of loses something against the bright window, but is still a lovely person.  You can not see too well, but he is setting with a cat who is almost as old as Ben, his son.  Terri and Ben belong to Robin, Ross's brother.

This is Ross's other brother, Rooster!  Rooster is married to Missy and I did not get a picture of her for some reason.  Rooster appears very innocent, doesn't he?  He is not!!!   For the record, he "ducked" me many times!

Now for the record, this is a duck!  It is a rubber duck!  It is about 3 inches long and made of rubber.  You stick your finger in it's head, stretch it out and let it fly at your opponent.  Now for some reason all of them decided I was fair game!  Can you imagine that?  little innocent me! 

This is the host, Ross Barnhart and the smile that looks so innocent is acutally an evil snicker!

And this is what they did to me!  They all shot me with ducks and almost killed me!  But, I have to be honest.... I shot them back!! I am not sure if those are ducks or chickens, but they stretch out to be about a foot long and fly through the air and do not hurt a bit when they hit you.  Where do people come up with this stuff?!?  I am thinking an idle mind is the devils workshop!

I do have to admit, this was one of the best Christmases I have had in recent years!  I usually just go to church and then set home and be miserable, but not this year!  I must admit that this is also the first time I have ever shot a duck!  I did try to conduct myself with some sort of decorum so maybe they will invite me back again!  Sure hope so!

So now, Christmas is but a fond memory and we are fast approaching the New Year.  Christmas was so much fun that New Years Eve will surely be anti-climatic!  And since I am so slow in my blogging now days, I am going to go ahead and wish you all a very Happy New Year!  

  Remember that what does not kill you will make you strong.  May the new year bring you peace and harmony and may the Lord shine his face upon you. 

 

But most of all I wish you peace and love, because when it is all said and done we only get out of this life what we put into it.

Shalom!

Those damn Muscovy Ducks!

 

Thinking back to Nickerson is impossible without remembering the stinking ducks.  Let me lay the scene out for you.  We had a sink in the kitchen and a hand pump to pump water for indoor use.  The drain consisted of a pipe that ran through the wall and extended about 10 feet into the back yard.  Beyond that was the rabbit hutches and further out the chicken house and yard.  The chicken yard was fenced and they had a very nice house.  Horse pen and barn were over to the left.  Ah, but the only thing not restrained were the Muscovy ducks.

As I recall, there were 4 of them.  Black and white.  Now a Muscovy duck is different than other ducks.  The Muscovy is a "warbler"  which means it sounds like an old man mumbling to himself.  As a general rule ducks are pretty quite and when they do talk it is a definite "quack".  I am pretty sure that the male ducks I had never uttered a sound and the females were quite vocal.

Another interesting point here is that domesticated ducks and geese do not fly.  The exception to that rule is the Muscovy, which can fly and I know this for a fact because at one point I had 38 ducks, 4 of which were Muscovy.  All the ducks liked to float around in the pond, but the Muscovy ducks liked to fly up to the house and set on my central air unit which was located (and still is) near my back door.  It became a regular chore to hose down the unit when they went back to the pond.

But back to Nickerson and the sink draining in the back yard.  It was the habit of the Muscovy ducks to root around in the mudhole that was created by the water draining onto the dirt in the back yard.  I am pretty sure that mosquitoes laid eggs in that water.  I do know when the ducks got through digging in the wet dirt that it was a very stinky mess.  Hindsight tells me that if the health department had ever seen that mess that they would have bulldozed the house, but that was then and this is now and there is not much anyone can do about that, is there?

Looking back down the years of growing up on Tobacco Road, it is a miracle that any of us survived, and yet here I am!  We all have scars that we got when we were wee tykes and I can now empathize with my mother.  My hat is off to that woman if only for the fact that she raised us all to adulthood without any loss of life.  There were 6 of us back then.  Now we are down to only two.  Donna lives in Hutchinson and I live in Pueblo.  

We gathered only for funerals, but now there are just the two of us, so that does not happen very often.  She actually thinks she is my big sister, so I just let her think that.  I do know that we remember our childhoods differently.  I see abject poverty and she recalls a very happy childhood.  She remembers a very kind father and I never met that man! 

The one thing mother did teach me was that we all have our own concept of reality.  Some of us see the glass half empty and some of us see it half full.  

I do not even remember having a glass!

Who's gonna prime my pump?

I recall in Nickerson that running water was more than just turning on the faucet.  709 North Strong Street had no faucets.  Out by the horse tank was a field pump.  When the tank started getting low someone, usually Jake, had to pump the water into the tank to fill it back up so the horses could drink.  At the bottom of the pump hung a can.  That can was filled with water from the horse tank and poured into the top of the pump while pumping in short, fast strokes.  With luck, the pump would "catch it's prime quickly" and water would pump out through the mouth of the pump.  If you understand the workings of a pump you know that there is a leather inside that when pumped up and down draws the water up from deep in the well. Occasionally the leather becomes worn and needs replaced.

The pump at the horse tank was a big iron pump.  The handle was long and we used to like to pump because if we could keep a rhythm going the pump handle would sometimes jerk us up off the ground by the sheer force of the water.  We were also allowed to get in the horse tank and play sometimes.  Can you imagine how dirty that water was in that tank?  That coupled with the fact that the horses might want a drink while we were in there scared hell out of me!  Have you ever looked at horse teeth?  They are big and very yellow and I lived in mortal terror that one of them would eat me.  Life was hard back then.

All the house water for cooking, cleaning, bathing or whatever was carried from the pump outside into the house in buckets.  The tea kettle that set on the wood cook stove was kept full at all times and a cup of tea was just seconds away in case one of the fancy ladies from town came.  (This did not happen very often, and to my recollection, never.  Mother did clean houses and sometimes a lady would come to discuss her availability, but they were usually in a car and stopped in front of the house and honked.)

Ah. but fate smiled kindly us. I do not remember who, why or when, but at some point in time someone decided that mother needed a sink and a pump inside the house in the kitchen.  It was then that we were blessed with what was known as a "pitcher pump."  Now this was the cat's meow in pumps.  It did not need primed!  When we wanted water, we just started pumping and very soon it would "catch it's prime."  Talk about uptown!  It set of the end of a big oblong enamel sink.  The drain pipe ran through a hole in the wall that extended about 8 feet into the back yard.  There the drain water ran out onto the ground where the Muscovy ducks played in it.  Boy, that was one stinking mess, but it was sure handy.

I have to go into detail here about the Muscovy Ducks.  Those are about the nastiest things I have ever seen.  When I had my 17 geese and 37 ducks here I had 4 Muscovy's.  Now to the best of my knowledge, Muscovy's are the only domesticated ducks that can actually fly.  The 4 of them used to fly up to the house, across the fence and roost on the air conditioner.  Nasty.  The hens were little and delicate, but the drakes were twice as big and their necks were as big as my upper forearm.  They did not quack; they sort of quibbled.  I did not like them and I think they actually broke the neck of one of my geese.  They even looked evil.  All this has nothing to do with pumping water, does it?

I attended my first 3 years of high school in Nickerson.  It was during those years that I made 2 discoveries; home brew and boys, in that order.  I had a friend named LaVeta (no last name) whose dad made and bottled home brew.  He liked to go to the big city and gamble on Saturday nights and we liked to stay home and sample his home brew.  Her mother helped us.  She would take all us kids to Sterling and there were boys there!  There were dances there.  Sadly, I could not drink and dance, so the dancing went by the wayside and I learned to worhip at the feet of the porcelain God.  I have not had a bottle of homebrew in 60 years, but I can still taste it.  Once more I digress.

In due time mother graduated from Salt City Business College and we moved to the big city of Hutchinson.  The rest is history.  Louella Bartholomew grew up and not longer exists, or so we think.
Some where deep in my soul, she lives.  Her memories are as vivid today as they were when she was living them.  Homebrew and boys are a thing of the past, but the wants and the needs of that skinny little girl are as alive today as they were in that stick and mortar house at 709 Strong Street.

Peace to all.

It is breeding season here on the farm, dammit!

It is inevitable.  When Spring comes and I go into the goose house and see the pile of straw in the corner, I know what will follow.  There is an egg in there.  I bring it in the house.  Next day, the same thing happens.  I have 2 hens.  Only 2, but they both lay.  I can tell by the size of the egg who did it.  Now, if them laying an egg and me stealing it was the end of it, that would be fine.  But it is not.  They have beady little eyes and they have tiny little brains, but they do not miss a damn thing.  They see me go in and even though I hide the egg I get that day, they make the connection.

If I leave the eggs, the old African Gray hen will set, because that dainty little white Emiden is sure as hell not going to spend her time in that hot goose house setting on a bunch of eggs.  If that was all that occurred it might be different, but unfortunately it is not.  Across the fence is a pile of old discarded tires and in those tires lives Mr. and Mrs. Snake and 85 of the baby snakes that never left home and have no intentions of ever doing so.  The goal of these 87 snakes is to devour the eggs under the little gray goose.  Her goal is to not let that happen.  I do not know just what my part in all of this is, but I know it is very hard on my heart!

Last night the little gray hen and her big white Emiden lover were the last to go in.  He was standing between me and his beloved to protect her.  When a goose goes into defense mode, they lower their head and shake their tail feathers.  I have never actually been attacked by one of my geese and I am pretty sure they are more afraid of me then I am afraid of them.  I have actually held and petted the little gray hen, so that big white Emiden does not scare me one bit.  Well, not much anyway.

When I open the door and see the snake on the nest and the little gray goose cowering in the corner, I immediately go into "Kill that bastard" mode.  In my heart, all I really want to do is get the hell out of there and pretend I do not know what is going on.  But primal feelings deep inside me make it imperative that I "protect the nest".  And since I am living in my lala land world most of the time, I do not carry a weapon.  So I throw a rock at it.  Snakes apparently have straight vision that goes out each side of their head, and the rock goes unseen.  Screaming does not help because I am pretty sure snakes are deaf.  So I grab what ever is handy.  In most cases it is something like a garden rake.  Ever try to get a 6 foot bull snake to curl up on a garden rake?  It is not happening.

This is an old picture that shows how the flock protects the babies.

This picture is Bret having killed one of the smaller snakes and disposing of the remains.  Now back in Kansas when I was growing up, if a farmer shot a coyote, he hung it on the fence.  I always heard that was so the coyotes would not come around lest they end up on the fence.  This particular year there were 3 big bull snakes (at least I hope like hell they were bullsnakes) in my back yard not 15 feet from my back door.  I have given up gardening because they hide under the squash leaves and scare the living bejeezus out of me.

So while you are comfy in your little town house or wherever you call home, think about this old lady out here fighting off horny geese, rabid skunks, 5 inch grasshoppers. egg eating snakes.  And there is no hope just because winter comes.  That drives the spiders and centipedes inside.  Every summer, I plan on moving into town, but then I have a second thought that beats hell out of that first thought.  So here I set, again.  My words for today are just this:

Brighten the corner where you are!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch!

To say my life here on my little acre is boring would be an understatement.  It seems like there is always something going on...well, not during Jeopardy!  Everyone knows what happens to me when I set back in my recliner with the cat on my lap and pull an afghan up over me so I do not get cold.  I watch Jeopardy! at 3:00 and again at 6:30.  Sadly, I have yet to see a full half hour.  If I manage to stay awake it is imperative that someone call  to ask just one quick question.

Now yesterday, I stopped at Big R to buy goose food since there is a storm coming and I do not want the geese to miss out on a meal and I hate unloading 150 pounds of feed in a blizzard.  So, I pulled into the back acre and started in with the first bag.  You should know, the neighbors have a Billy Goat Gruff with big long, curled horns.  He does not know where he actually lives so he spends a lot of time ripping things out of the ground on my side of the driveway.  As I started into the shed, I had to bump him with the feed bag to get inside.  I emptied that one, chased him off and grabbed another only to repeat the same scenario.  I do not even like goats and that is why I do not have one.  Third bag was tossed on top of the barrel and the goat chased off again.  I drove out and closed the gate behind me with him glaring at me from his yard.

To make a long story short, I got busy doing something and it was almost dark when I went to put the geese up for the night.  I let them in the outside wire enclosure and they were acting funny.  Since they usually do, I did not give it a second thought.  Then I remembered I needed to open that third bag and dump it so I opened the big door and took 2 steps inside and stopped.  Holy mother of God!  Inside the shed was dark and I caught a glimpse so something out of the corner of my eye.  It was big!  It was not a goose!  It was that damned goat curled up in the corner of the shed.  He was settling in for the night.  In order to get inside the shed he had to squeeze himself through the little door I have in the side of the shed designed for a much smaller animal.  Even the geese have to duck their heads to get inside.  Dammit!

Luckily I have a very good flashlight, so I went over to Mr. Goat and nudged him while shining the light on his path to freedom.  He could have cared less.  So I got him by one of his horns.  It became increasingly clear that he did not want to go home.  I finally got him out the door and that was as far as he wanted to go.  So I went next door to the house he actually lived at.  Cory came with me and between the 2 of us with a hand on each horn, we got him into their yard.  It was clear also that in the leap over the fence into my yard, he had hurt his back leg.  So I missed Jeopardy! at 6:30.  Dammit!

So, Michael brought up the subject of gardening a few days ago and I explained that I would not be doing that this year.  Why?  It seems that the last few years I have had a snake infestation.  I do not know how many times  there was a snake in the goose house.  I reached my limit when I was harvesting my zucchini and as I reached to move a leaf, I saw a snake curled up under it.  Centipedes love my basement.  Wasps build their little nests in the corners of my deck.  Spiders watch me from the shadows.  Farm living is just no longer conducive to my lifestyle!  I want to be where the lights are shining in my window and the jukebox is blaring from down below.  Well, not really.

I do love my solitude out here, but there is a lot to be said for the wild life that makes itself at home here on my acre.  I realize goats, spiders, snakes and centipedes are not exactly wildlife, but you do remember how the foxes devastated my duck farm.  But yesterday at the Big R, I saw my first signs of Spring.  They have three tanks full of baby chickens and they are so damn cute.  Maybe if I had chickens they would keep the snakes away.  I know they eat grasshoppers.

Something to think about.

Catalpa Trees, Clothesline, and Muscovy Ducks

Now what do all three of these have in common?  Oh, I know!  There were all an integral part of life at 709 Strong Street.  They are also things we do not see much any more.  For instance, the clothesline.  Back in the day it was used at very least once a week.  The clothes were washed in a washing machine with an agitator.  Whites were first.  The hot soapy water was wrung out through a wringer and the clothes went into rinse water tub number 1.  The second rinse contained a drop or two of "bluing".  Now the bluing was a very important addition as it gave the whites a bare hint of blue which actually made them appear more white!  This was important in case anyone saw your clothes hanging on the line.  If the whites were not white you were going to be discussed around the supper table that night!

The wash water was always one degree below boiling when the wash was started.  After the whites came out, the light clothes were put in and that was followed by towels and such which was followed by darks.  The last load of clothes were dad's overalls.  If there was any water left at that point we could throw in blankets or rugs.

As each load came through and ended up in the basket, it was taken out to the clothesline and hung to dry.  There were more rules to the hanging of the clothes then even I can recall.  Underwear were to be hung by the waistband with the crotch facing any direction except the road as a pervert might see them and loose control!  If the said underwear had a hole, the item must be folded so the neighbors could not see it and know we were poor.  Shirts, blouses and overalls were hung by the bottom.  Dish towels were never hung by clothes.  Baby clothes were washed and hung very first as babies were delicate.

When the washing was all done, the drain hose was called into action and buckets of dirty water were then lugged to the back yard and dumped in an area that was designated as "the water dumping area."  This is when the Muscovy Ducks were in high heaven.  I do not know if you have ever seen a Muscovy Duck, but they are nasty.  They are usually white and black with a green sheen to the black.  The males are huge with a neck as big as my arm and the females are very small.  I seen them breeding one time which was enough for me.  That was nasty and I am not sure my perception of the Muscovy is not influenced by that experience.

Any way, they would get in the muddy water and root around with thier beaks, seeking God only knows what and that made them very dirty and seemed to make them very horny.  As I side note here, they are the only domesticated duck that (to my knowledge) can fly.  They also chatter to each other.  I hated wash day for that very reason.

Our kitchen had a "pitcher pump" and a sink for the washing of dishes and such.  The drain consisted of a pipe out the bottom that made a hard right angle and disappeared through the wall and drained into the back yard.  You guessed it!  Another hang out place for those damned Muscovy Ducks!

Ah, but my solice lay in the front yard.  In the front of the house by the road that ran by stood 2 tall Catalpa trees.  I have noticed in later years it is fashionable to top them short and they then have a ball on top.  Ours were "ala naturale".  They were both the same height and appeared to be twins, but they were vastly different.  The one on the left had lots and lots of little limbs and it was impossible to climb.

But the one on the right was my friend.  It had only smooth branches.  I would get a bucket and stand on it making it possible to reach the first branch.  I would grab it and hoist myself up, throw my right leg over the limb and survey my kingdom below.  From the bottom branch I would grab the next branch on the left side of the tree and work my way up the left side of the tree.  When I reached "my place" I would set on a branch (always the same branch) and be alone in my head.  At this point I was probably 25 - 30 feet off the ground.  I could see down Strong Street and up Strong Street and I could while away the hours dreaming of things and places I would someday see.  I lived a very happy life in my head.  Had I but known where my life would lead me I would have never come down from that tree.

Momma cleaned houses for the ladies in town and most of the time she walked to and from her jobs.  I always looked towards town and when I seen momma coming I would jump down and run to meet her. I do not know what we talked about or even if we did, but I loved my momma and for just a few minutes she was mine alone.  Of course when we reached the house I had to go get the little kids from Ory Ayers's house and momma was no longer mine alone, because those little brats were so needy!

I can close the door on that part of my life, but I can not make it stay shut.  I have heard it said that as we age we revert to our youth.  I do know people with Dementia and Alzheimer's lose short term memory first and I am thinking, maybe that is a good thing.  My childhood will always be my salvation.  It will always be the one place that I feel safe and when I die I hope I go back to Nickerson and Strong Street with my brother, sisters, and momma.

Yep.  That would be heaven!

Barefeet and chicken poop.

When my daughter, Dona Marie, came to see me over Mother's Day, she gave me a pedicure.  I have always had rather pretty feet, or so I think.  She did a beautiful job and finished off with a very nice massage and pink polish on the nail part.  A very wonderful Mothers Day gift in my opinion and I do thank her for that.  Wish she lived with me!
I must confess that due to the development of a little problem called Morton's Neuroma, my second toe now has a tendency to want to point skyward.  Not only is this uncomfortable but it detracts from the beauty of my foot.  It also sometimes makes walking long distances a real challenge.  Nonetheless, it is what it is and until I can carve out a block of time when I do not need my foot,  I will live with the condition.  I suppose I can just cut a hole in the top of my shoe and let toe #2 poke out into the outside world, but I am not quite ready to go that route.  It would definitely be a conversation starter, or a very awkward moment when making new acquaintances.  I am missing the point here.
Fast backward to Nickerson, Kansas 65 years ago.  Plus or minus on that.  We lived on a dirt road without benefit of running water and bath night occurred on Saturday night.  Now since we were basically heathens running the streets and did not attend church, I do not know why Saturday night was special.  I do not remember if I have explained that bath situation to you or not, but I will touch on it briefly.  Bath time consisted of a round metal tub which mother filled with water heated on the stove.  Baby Dorothy was always first since she was little.  Then Mary followed by Donna and then me.  By this time the water was getting a little gray and had a scum on top which gave a whole new meaning to "bath."  I do not remember how, when or where the older kids took their baths, but I strongly suspect Jake was a river rat.  Josephine must have privacy because she had actual breasts! Mom and dad were always a mystery to me.
So back to the feet.  In the fall we all got a brand new pair of shoes for the first day of school.  There were 2 days a year that were sacred.  Every Sunday and the first day of school  Money was saved all year so when it came time momma would set down with dad and open the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  The middle of the catalog was where there was an outline of a foot and we each took a turn at standing on the outline while mother figured out our size.  Louella-size 4, Donna-size 3...you get the idea.  Then we were given a choice of color.  We could have brown or black.  My God!  I remember when saddle oxfords came into being and how bad I wanted a pair.  They were white with black or white with brown.  I might as well have wanted the moon.  Brown it was for me and brown for all the other kids so one did not feel privileged.  Now comes the part you are not going to believe. 
When the order was all filled out with size and color (brown) the total amount owed plus the postage was figured and the amount was carefully counted out, placed in an envelope and sealed.  The amount was written on the outside along with the name and address the shoes should be sent to when ready.  This money was placed inside the order blank which was placed in the envelope from the Sears and Roebuck catalog and mailed off to the head office.  There was never a question about whether it was safe to send money through the mail or not.  That was just how it was done.  Then we began the wait for our shoes to come.  It usually took 5-6 weeks and the day they arrived was like the second coming!  Our shoes were here!  Of course we were allowed to try them on, but we had to wash our feet first and be sure they were dry.  Then they were placed carefully under the bed to await the first day of school. 
I can recall how proud we were as we traipsed off to school in our new shoes.  And we wore those shoes until about the first of March.  By then our feet had grown enough that our shoes were getting tight.    At that point, Josephine went shoeless, and I stepped into her "hand me downs".  They were a little too big, but I tied them tight and they stayed on my feet pretty much.   My shoes were handed down to Donna, Donna's to Mary and you get the picture.  By summer we were all through with shoes and we ran barefoot every where we went. 
Did I tell you we had chickens running loose in the yard along with Muscovy Ducks?  Kansas is hot, humid and the soil in Nickerson was mostly dust.  I guess you would call it sandy.  Of course!  That is where they pick Sand Hill Plums by the bushel basket!  I can recall running my toes down into the sand  and thinking that this was surely heaven.  We ran barefooted across fields and through the cemetery and into Bull Creek.  Of course we ran through the chicken poop and the duck poop.  We were kids, that was what we did.  When bedtime came there was one rule and that was we HAD to wash our feet before we got into bed.  And we did.  There was a basin in the kitchen and momma made sure we went to bed with clean feet.  To this day, no matter where I am, or what I have been doing, my feet are going to be clean before I go to bed.  Usually I have socks on all day, but not always shoes, so my feet are not dirty, but unless I am dead tired my feet are going to get a quick rinse, just in case there might be a little dust or goose poop on them!  One can not be too careful you know.
When I write about my days of long ago I get very nostalgic.  I miss my momma and I guess I always will.  I miss the old home place although it is no longer there.  I guess what I miss most is that I had someone to take care of me and someone who had to love me.  When I was young all I wanted was to get older and get out on my own.  I wish I knew then what I know now!  I really think life would be much better lived in reverse.

This is momma goose.

This is momma goose.  It must have been about 15 years ago when we brought home 3 African Grays for Bret because he wanted geese.  We had 37 ducks but that was not enough.  Years passed as years do and we gained more geese and the fox ate most of the ducks.  The 2 ganders died of one thing or another, but momma goose remained.  My flock had dwindled from 15 down to nine.  For the last 7 years momma goose and the handsome Emiden with the bent neck were inseparable.  Every year they built a nest and laid eggs and I stole them.  Birth control, you know.

He was always so protective of her.  She would go off chasing a weed and he would keep a very close eye out so nothing bothered her.  These two never hung with the other 7.  They were renegades and happy in their little world. 

When the house next door came up empty I saw the perfect opportunity to put my geese in the back field so they could eat weeds.  I had not seen a fox in the area for several years so I thought it was safe.  This afternoon when I went out back to check on them I saw momma goose standing in a puddle of water I had run for them.  She was all alone and she acted like her foot was hurt.  I knew something was wrong when I did not see her mate.  I looked all around and then went to the empty field.  Half way up the fence line I saw feathers.  In the corner I found his headless body. 

It did not take me long to find the den in a pile of brush in the middle of the field.  He lept out and ran across the neighboring field headed for God only knows where.  I went back to my yard and momma goose met me.  I picked her up and carried her to the goose. house.  It was not hard to figure out what happened.  She was chasing a fresh green weed and he was guarding her.  The red fox jumped out and grabbed her leg and he attacked the fox.  He gave his life for her.

Tonight my heart is broken.  Life was so simple this morning, but now my heart cries for my little momma goose who lost her husband.  Sort of ironic the way love works, isn't it?  Treasure what you have while you have it because it always ends up this way.

Life continues here on South Road.

The goose is history and life goes on around here.  I must confess that I was awakened by a strange sound in the night a couple times.  I wasn't afraid because the alarm system, the dogs, the moat around the outside and the solid core doors and deadbolts would slow an intruder down enough to give me time to jack a shell into the barrel of my 12 guage.  It was just something I had not heard before and I finally decided it was just a cougar and rolled over and went to sleep.  No sense poking a stick at something that can eat you, if you know what I mean.
So this morning I let the geese out and then packed my goodies and carried them out to the car to take to Hospice.  It was then I noticed a big horse standing in my yard.  I thought it was Ito who lives next door and eats all my carrots.  I started back to the house to get a carrot, thinking to lure him back to his pasture.  Whoops!  Ito was in his pen already.  I checked to see if his pen was secure and noticed the fence bent down in a couple places and the gate post bent.  Rascal was trying to lure Ito away!
So I drove down 2 doors since I already had the car running and would need it to get to town.  See out here 2 doors is not 2 doors.  It is more like an eighth of a mile by the time you figure my driveway, South Road and then their driveway.  Some kid answered the door and I told him his horse was over at my place and went back to my car and as I started for town I seen him picking his way across his driveway barefooted and I knew he was going to have  a long day if he didn't get his shoes on his feet.  Hell, we have goat heads out here bigger then McDonalds Big Mac.  Stickers are not our friends.
So, to the crux of the story, when I got home, the horse was once more behind his fence.  This made me remember the time when we first lived here and I planted Tulips out front.  I came home one afternoon to find a neighbors cow munching my Tulips.  It would have been their first year and as I stood looking down into the bitten off Tulip, I saw the colors they would have been had they not died an early death.  Red, Yellow, Orange and damn that cow.
Now this brings me to our lesson for the day which is "Good fences make good neighbors."  When Bill and Shirley lived next door, Bill had a bunch of banty chickens.  One rooster he prized very highly.  I had small part poodle, part something else named Sysnyck.  Sysnyck went over and brought the rooster to our yard to play with it.  Things got a little out of hand and Kenneth ended up beating the dog with the dead rooster to which Bill said, "The dog did not kill my rooster, you did!"  Things were tense, but if Bill had built a better fence my dog would not have been able to drag his rooster over here.  Right.
Clifford and Jacque moved in after they left and they had lots of dogs.  Cliff let his dogs run out back and one of my ducks managed to fly over the fence and right into the mouth of one of the dogs.  He should have built a higher fence.  Right?
The ducks were crawling through a hole in the fence and going up and playing in the ditch and upsetting Mr. Keys, so I had to re fence the whole place just to keep peace in the neighborhood.  That was right after Kenny passed away and the last thing I wanted to deal with at the time., but I know the rule about good fences and good neighbors.

The tomatoes are canned and cooling on the counter.  I visited 3 clients today and hopefully brightened their day. I took a walk earlier and walked up the ditch bank a little further then I thought and almost go stuck out in the dark, but now I am home, the dishwasher is running, the dogs have fresh water and hopefully all the fences are going to stay up and all the gates stay closed and I am going to sleep like a log.  Until next time....

Keep your powder dry!

My insane mother goose!

I have a goose that has been with me since Bret was 9 years old.  All she has ever wanted to do was have babies.  True, she has hatched out a few.  I am not sure of the lineage since she is an African Gray and she has hatched several Imidens and one Imiden/gray cross.  That one had a white "v" across it's chest so I know it was a mix.  See, the way this works is the hens lay and somebody sets on them until they hatch.  Everything in the nest belongs to the whole flock.  They do not know that they are different.  This is mama goose with her "husband".  They have been together for 4 or 5 years.  I think he was her "step son" which means she hatched the egg, but did not lay it.

Now, here is her on the nest.  I took this early one morning.

Here is the nest with her NOT on it.  She has dragged almost all of the straw into this one corner. 

What you need to know is that she has been setting on this nest for 2 months.  It takes 28 days to hatch an egg.   I go in and pet her every morning and tell her what a good job she is doing.  Then she goes out to get a drink of water and visit the rest of the flock.  And every morning I rake her nest and then pile it back up.  There is no egg in there.  There was an egg or two early on which I ate.  But now there is no egg and there has not been an egg for almost 2 months.  But still she comes back in and sets all day and I want you to know we have had a lot of 100 ° days, so I am thinking this is one determined goose!  Someone said I should let her have babies, but I am trying to get rid of my flock that eats high dollar grain and does not pay me back.  I used to think I would sell the babies, but that did not happen!  So, I am sorry, but no goslings here on South Road.

I do not know how long geese live, but when Goosey is gone the rest will be shipped out to someone who wants geese.  I managed to set here and let the fox eat 37 ducks before I shipped the last two out to a pond in Pueblo West, but I am not going to be so lenient with the geese.  I have already lost 3 and am down to 10.  If I were younger I might do the baby thing again, but I am not and doesn't look like I will be getting younger any time soon.  Goosey is the last of my original flock.  I had three.  One had neurological problems and the neighbor man took care of him.  The the Muscovee Ducks murdered the other male.  So Goosey had to go many months by herself before Lyn moved into town and blessed me with a pair of African Grays,  a pair of Imidens, and a pair of Chinese.

So that is where we are now.  10 geese, 2 dogs and 1 cat and then I can move into town.  Probably going to be staying at the State Hospital, if you get my drift!

 

 

Ten years and holding....

Today marks the 10 year anniversary of my late husbands passing.  While acceptance is a given, it is still a date that is marked and called an "anniversary".  Suffice it to say I still miss him, but years have changed the sharp cutting pain to a dull ache of every day existence.  I am just thankful every day that I had the time with him and know that it was a special relationship that can never be duplicated, nor should I try.  I am the product of all my past experiences and I thank God for that!
That being said, I laid awake late last night thinking of things and it seemed that my mind wandered back to Nickerson, Kansas.  I think in my last post on Nickerson, we had just moved to 709 Strong Street which was the house my father bought on an acre of ground.  Might have been 2 acres or 3.  No way of knowing now.  It had a front and back porch and a root cellar.  Now that root cellar was some place I would not have gone for love nor money.   It was just a hole in the ground with steps chopped into the dirt and a wooden door.   It was accessible from the back porch and more dirt was piled on top of it so it appeared to be fairly stable.  Mother said if a tornado came we were to run down there and close the door behind us.  I am here to tell you that not a way in hell was that going to happen in my life time!
Ever seen one of those things?  There are spiders down there that have teeth and crawly things that could stop your heart just by looking at you.  When I exited the back door I always ran across the front of the opening in case some of those things had decided to march on us.  Tornado?  I laugh at danger, but not the creepy things.  To this day I can go into convulsions thinking about that root cellar.
Mother raised rabbits and other fowl, so chicken poop between our toes was a given rather than an exception.  We had the one pair of shoes when school started in the fall and by spring we were grown out of them and since we were not going any where we did not need shoes.  One day I spotted a chicken that had apparently swallowed something that had a string attached to it.  I suspect it was a button.  I tried to catch it and pull it out, but the chicken was having none of that! 
We had a sink in the kitchen that drained through a pipe that ran through the wall and emptied in the back yard.  Mother had Muscovy ducks and that was their favorite place to gather.  Now that was a nasty mess and had the health department (had there been one back in those times) ever ventured by I fully expect there would have been some prison sentences handed out to our parents for child abuse!
But what I was thinking about mostly last night was a big cactus that was in our front yard.  Lord that thing had needles on it over an inch long and sharp as a mother-in-law's tongue!  All we had to do was walk past that thing and somebody was going to have to dig the sticker out.  What we really liked to do that was the most fun, was try to throw each other into the heart of the cactus.  The simple act of trying got our little fannies warmed good.  Mother had no sense of humor at all on that.  And dad was never home because...who knows.
And we had a mulberry tree that was the really good kind that produced black mulberries.  Those were fun to walk barefooted on because in the summer they were cool.  Not very good to eat unless you picked them at the precise moment when they were at the peak of sweetness.  If you went 3 seconds past then they were rotten.
And the currant bushes!  There was another fruit that had to be eaten right as soon as it turned black.  A second before and they puckered you up and a second after and they were worthless.  Birds liked them.    Course the cats liked birds and the bushes were low so picking was easy for the cats.  And we learned the cycle of life up close and personal more than once.  That coupled with the fact that my dad still farmed with horses and they were getting very old and dying made us rather callous to death.  I remember when a horse would die, someone called the "dead animal wagon" so they could be taken to the glue factory.  A man showed up with a big wagon that had a winch on it.  This was pulled out and secured around the neck of the hapless horse and a motor rolled the cable in and the horse ended up unceremoniously on the top of the heap of dead animals.  Sometimes their feet ended up sticking out over the top and that was rather sad.  These were animals who had once been very vibrant and dad usually kept their tails braided and tied with a ribbon.  I think about that a lot as my road gets shorter, but only in a fleeting moment and never with any great sadness.
And so I bid Nickerson adieu for the day.  I will be back.  There are a lot of memories there of things that will never be again and can not ever be forgotten.  Until then I am recalling something that goes "May the road rise to meet you and may the wind always be at your back!"  God only knows where that came from.




 

And we "settle in".

The next morning arrived, as mornings have a way of doing.  John Britan and Ed Crissman came by early to get the cook stove unloaded and the pipe put through the hole in the ceiling.  It was heavy work, but accomplished very quickly.  I am sure mother hustled around and built a fire so coffee could be made.  This was done with a large enamel coffee pot, water, grounds and an egg shell.  Egg shell was to make the grounds settle better.  I do not remember what our first meal in the new house was, but I am willing to bet it was some sort of "mush."  Mush was made by boiling water and stirring some sort of cornmeal into it.  I think today it might be called "grits".  I have since perfected this recipe.  Mine is called "Scrapple." 
First I boil some kind of pork or beef until it is very tender.  I season it with a bay leaf, some sage, maybe salt and pepper or chicken broth.  Then I fish out the meat, add coarsely ground yellow corn meal (grits or polenta) and cook that until it is done.  Then I stir the meat in and pour the stuff into a loaf pan that is lined with wax paper.  When this cools it will set up and be firm.  Then I take it out of the pan and slice it about 3/4 inches thick and fry it in hot oil.  Serve that with Maple Syrup and  you have some happy people on the other end of the forks.  Hard to believe that recipe came from the heart of the depression years.  We just didn't put meat in it back then.
So with the cook stove cooking away, the next item in was the "heating stove" or parlor stove or what ever.  Since the linoleum in the front room was still in very good shape, we did not need to replace it.  The first thing to go down was the 4' x  4' square of asbestos that was clad in tin.  Usually the tin was painted so it was pretty.  The purpose of this was to keep the stove separated from the linoleum cause the stove would get very warm.
 ( A little aside here!  The Environmental Protection Agency and every one else in government would have us shut down today.  Asbestos is now hazardous waste and I am sure that linoleum under it was a case of lung cancer waiting to happen.  But in those days all this was considered luxury. )
The stove needed to set about 2-3 feet from any wall, so our metal mat was placed accordingly.  Then the stove was carried in and placed exactly in the center with the door facing into the center of the room.  Do not ask me why, but that was how it was.  Step ladder was brought back in and the pipe installed connecting the stove to the hole in the roof.  Always amazed me how that worked out every time, but apparently there was some sort of plan.  There was no chimney, just poke it out the hole and we are good to go.  The wood box in the kitchen was located just inside the door.  The one for the front room was just outside the door.  Hey!  Do you think we were hicks? 
Then everything left on the hay rack and the trailer was carried in and taken to the room where it belonged.  The zinc tubs were put in the kitchen, because that was where the washing machine would go and that was where we would have our weekly bath.  In case you missed the blog on the bath, I will tell it again later.  The three legged cast iron kettle that was the mainstay of life was placed out back near the pump. 
I have  got to extol the three legged kettle.  It was about 3 feet high and 3 feet across.  The sole purpose was to heat water over an open fire, hence the legs that held it up out of the ashes.  See, it set there and a fire was built under it and buckets of water were carried from the pump and poured in it.  About anything could happen in that kettle!  Mother raised geese, ducks, chickens and rabbits.  When it was butchering time for the geese, ducks and chickens the water was heated in there.  Off came a head and in went the body.  Geese and ducks had to have a little soap added so the water would penetrate.  Then the feathers were plucked off and the "down" saved.  Down is the light feathers under the wings and inside of the legs.  It is used in Down Comforters, pillows and stuff like that.
The kettle was also used to heat water for washing clothes, washing kids on Saturday night, rendering pork fat into lard, dipping the pig during butchering and lord only knows what else the inside of that kettle seen! I do remember many years later when we moved to the big city of Hutchinson, mother left that kettle.  Her words then were, "I am so happy I will never have to heat water in that thing again."  We also left the stoves, but that was many years later. 
Father strung new wire on the clothes lines.  We never hung curtains, because we didn't have them.  Someday we would, but not now.  And since we mostly used a kerosene lamp, we usually went to bed early. Back in those days, most people functioned with the sunlight, so who was going to see us anyway?
Want to tell you just one more thing for today.  The ice box was just that.  It was a big brown box that was insulated with, you guessed it...asbestos.  The ice man drove by the house with his ice wagon once a week.  We had a card that went in the front window.  The number that was up was how much ice we needed.  Usually 25 pounds was what we got.  When he saw the 25 on top, he would stop and get his ice tongs and pick up a 25 pound block and carry it into the house, open the ice box and set it inside.  The money was always left laying there and he would pick it up and leave.
Bet you wondered how he got in without a key, didn't you?  Every house in town had a door with a lock and the lock could be opened with a skeleton key.  I mean every house could be opened with the same key.  If you lost your key, you went to the hardware store and bought another.  Doors were rarely locked.  I do not think we even had a key.  Back in those days there was a whole different breed of people.  We still had "vigilantes" and if some one did something the town did not approve of, there was talk of "tar and feather and ride him out of town on a rail."  Never knew it to actually happen, but heard it a lot.  If you were out and needed a drink of water, just go in someone's house and get it.  Of course there were the codes of honesty, common courtesy, decency and all kind of things the new world does not understand.
Guess maybe that is why it is called "the good old days."

I am just as serious as a heart attack!

Here I am having a visit with my geese.  There are 13 of those feathery fowl now.  This summer I did away with the pond and bought a really big stock tank.  My thoughts along that line were that it would be much easier to keep clean.  It is definitely easier.  And they love the thing.  Course I had to build them a dirt berm into it and a platform to give them footing to get out.  And in the digging process I screwed up my foot and neglected to go to the doctor so when I do get around to that I will probably have to have it amputated.  That is alright.  Easy come easy go.
So I had reason to be on the Southside a  week or so ago and happened upon a house which is currently being put on the market.  Full basement, 2 bedrooms up and 2 down.  Laundry down.  Patio. Storage shed with electric and cement floor in the back yard.  2 Car attached garage.  And neighbors.  Located on a cul de sac, so low traffic.  3 blocks from my friends Kay and Frank.  And the price is right.  I could sell this place and buy that one and put enough in the bank to live on for probably the rest of my life.
Now, I am thinking about this very seriously.  Yard work would be minimal.  Kitchen is a bit dated, but so am I.  The appliances are all new.  So is the furnace.  Only draw back is no outside fowl are allowed in the city.  Imagine the neighbors when I pull up with my stock tank and 13 honking geese!   If I could get lucky and find someone to buy this place that would take the geese and promise to never sell them, or eat them, or let the fox eat them, I would be headed for town in a New York minute. (That means really fast!)
Winter is coming on and I am sure at some point it is going to snow.  The pond will freeze.  The geese will run out of feed and all kinds of problems happen out doors.  I do not like winter.  Pueblo is not as bad as Hutchinson used to be.  We are kind of in a hole here and severe anything is just not the norm.  But if I was in town, I could just stay in the house.  Well, I still have to shovel the walk.  Except there I would have to shovel the driveway, my sidewalk and the one in front of the house. Here I just mash it down.  Cities have rules.  I forgot that.
So maybe I will just wait a little longer until I am really old and I can go into the Assisted living.  Hmmm.  Wonder if they will let me bring the 2 dogs, cat, 2 looms, machine quilter, embroidery machine, ebay crap.....
Guess I am going to be cursed with living forever!

The featured artist today is my good friend Robert.

I want you to enjoy the slide show of just a few pictures that I took at the Nature Center today.  I also snapped pictures of a few memorials out there of people I knew.  Karen Straight, Jay Battle and my very good friend Craig Harmon.  I think that is so neat the way they have worked those into the wild flower gardens out there.  
But here, I want you to take a good look at these to pictures.  They were commissioned by Anna Lee and drawn by Robert.  Robert has been drawing and painting for several years now.  Anna Lee usually tries to snatch them up before anyone else has a chance to even bid.  The other one she has is a picture of his cat Beau, or Bo or Bow.  I guess I do not know how he spells it.  I wanted to put a picture of Robert with his paintings, but for reasons known only to me, I did not.  I guess Robert is some one I do not want spoiled by the trappings of the spotlight of fame.  He is just simply, my Robert and I hope to keep him that way.

One of these he calls the running duck, but I am not sure which one.  Probably the one with the blue back ground.  It just kind of looks like a running duck to me!

Well, I guess that is about it.  I just wanted to share some of this with you.  The river is up very high. Usually lower, but I guess we are letting our snow melt out to the people who actually own it.  I am not sure I understand, but who am I?  I do know this, there is a beautiful moon out there tonight and I am tired so I am going to call it an early night and put the tired little body to bed and dream some big dreams.  Sweet dreams to you!

Here Foxie, Foxie, Foxie...Wait, not here!

Well, excitement in the back yard tonight.  It is raining here a little.  Not enough to do any good, just enough to make me think I should have a coat on over my shorts and what was I thinking any way.  So it was just almost to think about getting evening and I thought I should take a stroll out back.  Well first thing I see is Icarus, the calico cat  over setting in the Llama pen.  She does not usually do that, but I thought what the hey.  Then I noticed the brown Llama was on high alert, so I scanned the horizon and saw nothing.  Then the brown and white Llama started running.  I still saw nothing so I started on out to the duck house. 

Lordy, about that time something shot past me and I seen the Fox about 6 feet away running and scaling the back fence right in front of me.  He ran into the alfalfa field about 25 feet and then just stopped and set down and he and I engaged in a staring match.  I never had an encounter like that before.  This was very strange, so I grabbed my trusty cell phone and dialed Bret up and told him to bring his rifle and come out back.  As luck would have it, across the field is several houses so the rifle was out of play at that point.   Bret picked up a few rocks and chucked them at him, but he just looked at us and some of them were close.  So since I was getting wet and cold I decided to come in out of the rain. 

I guess what bothered me most is that he usually comes from the West through the Llama pen and then crosses the fence going South into the alfalfa before he gets to my property.  This time he came from the North,  over my West fence and then over the back fence heading South.  And he looked very ragged.  Not like the sleek fox I have been seeing.  Unless, of course, this is a different fox.  Good grief!  I think I have solved the mystery.  Nothing wrong with my fox, just this is not my fox.  Wonder how many of those things I have around here?

Have to worry about that tomorrow cause I am falling asleep here!  Good night all.

It is official, my life is in the crapper, again.

Yep!  I am once more drowning in a sea of "what in the world was I thinking!"  My little life usually goes along on an even keel; some times I win, some times I lose, and all is well, because it is life.  I am busy most, if not all of the time, but I do take time to smell the roses.  Life is good as I stand here like a deer in the headlights and watch the last little bit of freedom I know disappear under a pile of eBay items that need to be listed, quilts that need quilted, thread that needs spun and woven, garden that needs tilled, hats that need embroidered, meals that need cooked, dogs that need petted, and friends that "need to talk".

I have never learned to say no.  It is a word that is completely forgien to my vocabulary.  I have not learned the art of sitting quietly and watching a movie, reading a book, or just contemplating my navel. Lyn and I planned our vacation yesterday.  At least we picked the dates.  She, of course, had to give me the lecture about how this time "You will relax and not be heading for home the next day."  She knows me and I thank her for trying and maybe this time it will work. 

Now, this all sounds good, but this is something that throws me into a tail spin.  We started talking about this a couple weeks ago and the cloud of dread slowly floated over my head and began to settle on my shoulders.  With the cloud of dread came the depression that creeps in at times of dire stress in my life.  So, I bit the bullet and the dates are set.

Do not misunderstand me here, I love to go back home and see the kids, grand kids, sisters, cousins, friends (Hi, Joe!), and just chill.  I love to eat at Skaets.  Kansas City is always a treat with Shirley fussing over us.  I love to drive and take pictures and every moment I am on my vacation, I count the moments until I can get back home.  I can not relax.  I can not remember the last time I just let go and relaxed.  You know, the one where you lay on a hill and watch a cloud float past, or set on a creek bank and wait for that old cat fish to bite?  When I am back there I think how great it would be to live there.  You know, just pick up and move back.  It all sounds so simple; just move.

But with home comes memories and with memories comes sadness.  Sadness for a life that could have been; a life that should have been.  Dreams of a little country home and a picket fence and kids in the yard and a puppy barking at the cat.  And with sadness comes depression.  And with depression comes memories and the cycle starts all over again.  If I could go back and make the choices I should have made, who would I be today?  But, I can not do that, can I?  With age comes wisdom, or so they say.  With age comes hopelessness and dread.  I had one shot at this life and I think I may have screwed it up.  Deer in the head lights!

So this is Holy Week.  I take consolation in that.  I also take consolation in the fact that only a few of my friends and family read this, so they will not know how nuts I actually am.  So maybe some one out there can flip my switch and tell me how I can salvage what is left?  Some one sent me an email the other day, which I read in my typical every other line fashion, but I think I got the gist. 

Lord, help me when I complain about having to fix supper, to remember those who have no food.  When I complain about the cost of gas, help me be thankful that I have a car and can get around.  When I complain about having to clean house, help me be thankful that I have a home.  When I complain about the long walk to the duck house, help me be thankful that I can walk, and see, and feel.  And when I am antsy because a friend drops by to take me from my chores, be thankful that I have friends.  Amen

There!  I might have solved my problems.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRoVH5u9Qk8&feature=related

And finally the time change is here!

See that face? That is a very happy face because the time change has finally gotten here! I can let the fowl out and it is not even 7:00 AM yet. I got my young self busy on that changing of the clocks very early, assuming I moved them the right way. One year I did it the wrong way, loaded the grand kids in the car and arrived to an empty parking lot. I then called one of the church people whose number I remembered. He was very quick to tell me where my mistake was.

I hate this time changing. This particular one, I like because I am a very early riser, but the one next Spring is the one that makes me postal! I would like it if the government would kindly leave my clock alone!  They can figure all they want and give me statistics until the cows come home,  but I still know there will be the same amount of daylight hours.  My ducks and geese wake up when the sun comes up.  If I need to leave early I have to open the pen door in the dark and that leaves them vulnerable to predators.  Sure, things can come in the daylight and eat them, but it is a lot more likely in the early morning hours before the sun pops up.

Now, here I am and it is 7:20 AM.  The water fowl are out and swimming around.  They are fed and happy. There was just a moment of confusion when they saw Icarus, the cat, perched on the feeder in their yard.  Normally the cat does not linger when I open the door.  But today she thought she would like to visit a little while.  The geese started to make a circle around her, but being the agile creature she is, she escaped that trap.

So now that my life is on this even keel with the sunshine and stuff, I may be able to get something done around the place.  Oh, I doubt that!  Next I will bellyache cause it is too cold!  I know me pretty well after all this time.

Well, that is my thoughts for the day, so go have a good one and try to keep the cart between the ditches.

The babies at 10 days old!

Look at this mess!! Those little guys think they are big geese! They are so damn cute! They get out there and run with the big geese and even bite at the stickers. If they are going to eat the stickers, I will love them to death and they did not learn that trick from the big geese. Big geese only want grain and nice green grass. They also like weeds, but only certain weeds and only ones that do not grow in the back. Just the front, so I can pull them and toss them over the fence to them.

I think if you click on this picture it should get very big. These guys made the first trip to the pond for a swim at 7 days old. Before that I had a container in the shed in which they would paddle around. I guess it was called a swimming pool! Duh!! Container, indeed! They have not quite started to get pin feathers so we are not sure of the breed these guys/gals are. Will not be really sure until they are about 2 or 3 months old. They, of course, are still making the peeping sounds.

Oh, and guess what I found in the duck house today!! Seven eggs! That means they are laying again and if I am not real careful they will hide a nest somewhere and I will be blessed with a bunch of ducklings! Had one hen surprise me with 13 babies one year. Not looking favorably on that prospect.

Ok, that is it from the farm for the day. Oh, man, I remember when I lived with grandma and great grandma and we lived in Plevna, Kansas. The high school was exactly one block from grandma's house on main street. When I came out the door of the school to go home for lunch I could hear the Farm Report blaring on grandma's old brown upright radio all the way home. Only time that radio was ever turned on was for the noon farm report and then everyone in the town of Plevna, population 103 (everyone of which I knew) could hear it whether they wanted to or not!!

Sorry about the change of subject, but sometimes the old mind takes a turn and I gotta go with it! Have a great day!!