Oh, the things in my mind.

Click here to listen  I woke up this morning with this song on my mind.  Then I went to facebook and some one had posted the same link.  Small world.  However the context the person had posted the link was far different than the link in my mind.

Like most, actually all, people, I had a father.  I knew him.  Or I thought I did.  A very wise woman once told me, "You never really know anyone, you only know of them.  You know what they let you see."  And so it was with my father.  He was a lot older than my mother, but the wedding picture shows a very happy woman.  My mother was very well liked in high school and married soon after she graduated.  Sadly that marriage did not end well and soon she returned to her roots and married my father.  He was a widower (? but some secrets are best left untold).  He had 3 sons that were past their teens.  They had been put into an orphanage when Dad's first wife died.  2 were adopted, one was not.

Jake was the first born to this union followed by me, Donna, Mary and Dorothy.  We were all as different as night and day.  Jake was the only son and he was a screw up according to my father.  Of course I was perfect, but he never did particularly like me much.  He was of the old school that kids were to be raised and leave home.  Now just look at me!  Wasn't I the cutest thing you ever seen?

Donna was smack in the middle so she had middle child syndrome.  Dorothy was the baby, so she carried those tendencies throughout her life.  Ah, but Mary.  Mary was cute and delicate and everyone loved Mary. Now you must understand that this is being written by me and is my feelings.  I am sure if the other sisters were alive they would dispute my findings, but you must realize that we are all a product of our raising and I never at any time ever in my life ever thought my father cared about me in any way shape or form.  It was as if I existed in a vacuum.  If he was there he ignored me.  He refused to attend my first marriage.  I simply did not exist.

Ah, but he had a weakness.  He liked babies. Shortly after the birth of my first daughter he paid my older sister to sew her a pretty red dress and he bought shoes and a hat to match.  Some where I have that picture of him holding Debra when she was about a year old and wearing that outfit.  That is the only one of my children he ever touched.  I don't recall him ever touching me in anger or love.  I never actually had a conversation with the man.  If I fell and skinned my knee that was my problem. 

And then he died.  By this time I had the 3 girls.  I left them with my sister in law and came home for the funeral.  I remember how very sad that was.  I stood at his open coffin and cried my heart out for a man I never knew.  I do not think a child ever understands their parents and I envy the children who played catch with their fathers.  Or took walks.  Or went fishing.  That is why I always tried to keep my kids and their father in close contact.  He and I had a strained relationship, but he and the kids found a way to make it sort of work.  We sort of shared custody, but that is water under the bridge.

I do remember far in the back of my mind, that dad was a share cropper with a man named John Britan.  John had acreage across the river and sometimes (and I will never know why) I would go with dad to the acreage and John Britan would make me hot chocolate using cocoa, sugar, hot water, and Pet milk.  It was the best stuff in the world!  I have tried to make it but it is never the same.  I also remember that there was a little creek that run through the farm and sometimes it had water in it.  Jake made me a little boat out of a flat piece of wood.  He put a stick through a hole and tied a string to it so it would not get away.

So, as sad as my childhood was, I do have some good memories.  I just forget them sometimes. 

If I could turn back time....that's a song, you know.

That is a song and if I wasn't so lazy I would go to youtube and then paste the link here, but basically I am pretty lazy in that department.  Pretty lazy in most departments actually.  But I can let my mind drift back in time and I am thinking my life would have been so different if I had do overs.  Course I would have been screwed in the beginning because I picked the wrong family!  Sadly back in the picking days, I did not even know I had a choice, so I just got born into the one fate set me down into that day.  So for the first 15 or 16 years I was happy.  You know the old saying, "Bloom where you are planted."  I bloomed where I was planted and then I found out there were other gardens that actually got watered on a regular basis.  Even got a little fertilizer from time to time.  Those were the kids that turned into jocks, cheerleaders, musicians, brainiacs, and such.

Sadly I wandered through high school without ever actually participating.  I knew my future would be to wed some hardworking man and raise kids.  I flunked cooking and I flunked sewing, so the hard working men were out.  They wanted a woman who could actually do something.  You know, a helpmate of sorts.  I guess the saying "Poor people have poor ways" comes in to play here.  I am not sure my dad ever went to school at all so an education was not very important to him.  Mother had graduated at the top of her class, but it didn't help much on the farm so she married dad who was a farmhand for my grandmother.

My dad's occupation was listed on the census rolls as "farm worker" and mother was "house wife."  And that was a good thing, but sadly father liked to drink.  He also fought the mechanical advancement in the agricultural movement.  He was one of the last to give up is horses and only then because they died.  His productive years were pretty well over at that time.  We became just simple folk and mother cleaned houses for a living.  It was a good honest wage.

A side note here is that I do not ever remember a firearm in our home.  Jake hunted rabbits with a sling shot.  There just never was a gun, nor was there ever a discussion about a gun.  There was corn liquor of some sort in the fridge and dad made hot toddy's when he had a cold.  I think he had a cold for all of his life.  If he was in a good mood he would let us sip a taste of the hot toddy from a teaspoon . I have often thought I would like to have  a hot toddy again just to see if it was as good as I thought it was back then.  Seems like it was a shot of liquor, boiling water and I am sure some sugar.

I digressed there, didn't I?  So if I had it to do all over again, I would.  But this time I would study very hard.  I would not even look at boys and I sure as hell would not have drunk that home-brew LaVeta Bankey gave me in my sophomore year.  I would not have dated that guy named Gene who brought me a satin pillow case home from Germany.  I would not have dropped out of school and ran away to Louisiana with a couple friends in my senior year.  I would have been so good.  So very, very good.  And I would have went to church every Sunday and memorized all my bible verses.  I would have been a missionary like I wanted to be when I was 15.   Hell, I might have changed my name to Teresa and been a Catholic and fed the hungry in Calcutta slums.  But I didn't.

Instead I set here like butter wouldn't melt in my mouth and dispense my wisdom not telling anyone that experience is your best teacher.   As you sow, so shall you reap is a favorite passage of mine from somewhere in the Bible.  Nothing wakes you up like a good dose of "sowing the wind and reaping the whirlwind.."

Now back to the subject, if I could turn back time.  I can't.  Try getting that toothpaste back in the tube.  Water under the bridge.  Things like that come to mind.  I have had some very good talks with God and while he does not answer loud enough for me to hear, he does answer.  And he has me believing that I really am not such a bad person and I will have another chance.  What did not kill me has made me strong and I hope I can help someone else along the way at some point.  Guess we will see.

I was born a truck driver.

Woke up this morning thinking of the first time I was ever behind the wheel of a vehicle and flashed back to when I was 14 years old and had been farmed out to a family where the mom and dad both worked and lived on a working farm.  They had 2 sons.  One was named Billy and the other may or may not have been named Donnie.  Little bit fuzzy on how old they were even.  I do know I was picked up on Sunday night and returned home on Saturday morning.  It was kind of nice though because the house had running water and I had my own little bed in a tiny room right under the attic eave.  May have been small, but it was a lot more than I had at home.  It did not have a door.  It had one at one time, but for some reason it did not have one anymore, but I did not care.  I was safe.  Hotter than hell, but safe.

The mother sold Stanley products so she was gone most of the day.  The father worked at a farm equipment store in Hutch as a salesman so he was also gone.  My job was to tend the boys, and the chickens, and watch the old sow which was due to drop her piggies soon.  And as luck would have it she decided to do that one day just before the mom and dad came home.  She also began to eat them!  Remember that I was 14 and probably weighed in at 50 pounds soaking wet.  I stood no chance against a 300-400 pound sow in the throes of birth, but I tried.  I grabbed a couple of the babies and put them in a box.  She was very mad and I could not get to any more.  The boys were terrified when dad came home.  He immediately got his gun and dispensed the sow to the promised land and by then a friend was there and the boys and I were sent inside.  There were a few piggies saved and I have blocked the rest of what happened from my mind and that is how I survived a lot of my life.  Sometimes not remembering is a good thing.

But that has nothing to do with my first driving experience, does it?

The time came that a harvest was upon the land.  This family owned land here and there so there was a need to move from field to field which worked well most of the time since the hired hands were there to do it.  I stayed at home with the boys and it was not until harvest was over and all the equipment needed to be brought home that I was pressed into service.  Everything was moved except the last piece which was a big grain hauling truck.  Not an 18 wheeler, (Thank God!) but way bigger than a pickup.  The wife explained to me how simple this would be to drive.  Needless to say, this was a stick shift.  I knew what a stick shift was and I knew what a clutch was and I knew what a brake was.

"You just push the clutch in, start the truck, let the clutch out slowly and it is in low gear so you just give it a little gas and coast the mile to the farm."  OK.  That sounded simple enough and after a couple times of killing it and restarting it, I was off.  And then I remembered the bridge and the left hand turn I had to take.  I sweated blood until I was across the bridge and headed down the straightaway.  The fact that I had made it across the bridge AND negotiated the left hand turn exhilarated me!  I just had to putt on down the road to the driveway and turn right, go a few yards and stop.  I prayed I would not miss the driveway because there was no way in hell I would ever get it in reverse.  I envisioned having to drive around a section (what land in the country is divided into) to get another chance, so I was ready when the drive came up and I whipped around the corner, steered to the center of the yard and turned the key to the off position.  Then and only then, did I let myself breathe a sigh of relief and pride welled up in my throat.  I had done it!  I had driven that big truck across a bridge and around 2 corners!  I began to dream of the day I could drive and have my own car.  And here I am.

Not to be boasting, as pride goeth before a fall and a haughty spirit before destruction,  but, here I am 60+ years later and I have a perfectly clean driving record.  No dings in my car from me.  The ones that are there were there when I got the car.  No tickets for anything.  I do have a lead foot at times, but don't we all?  I was pulled over one night long ago in Fowler, but I think the cop was thinking to put the moves on me since I was a woman presumably alone at 1:00 in the morning.  Sadly for him when he walked up to the door Bret and Shelly awoke and wanted to know what was going on now?  Did I mention, God is my co-pilot?

I did not own a car or a drivers license until I was 24 years old.  When I married Duane he just assumed I could drive, so I did.  I was stopped one night in Liberal, Kansas with a broken tail light and the officer told me I needed a license or next time I would get a ticket for not having one.  Getting a license back then was easy.  All I had to do was present myself and a vehicle at the drivers license place and show them I could drive.  That and $5.00 was all it took.  Luckily the car I was driving at the time had brakes and such.  I was not always so lucky.  We usually bought a vehicle at the sale for less than $50.00 and drove it till it gave up the ghost and was abandoned in someones yard.  I recall one time I had the 4 youngest and was going to see mother and the tail lights went out.  I knew it was a fuse and I knew we did not keep such things around, but luckily I smoked and cigarettes were in packs with tin foil!  I carefully fold up a piece of that and voila!  The tail lights came on.

(I learned lots of little tricks that would do me no good whatsoever later in life.  The way to seal a leak in your gas tank is with a bar of soap!  When the car vapor locks, just wait till it cools off and you can get another 10 or 20 miles down the road.  If you lock the keys in the trunk it is easier to use a pick axe to make a hole over the latch then it is to remove the back seat and put it back in.  And for God's sake do not forget your birth control pills when you are going with your husband to visit your mother in law!)  And that is my Words of Wisdom for today!

A sad day here on South Road

This whole week was a real stresser, but today was the worst.  Wednesday I came home from sitting with a client for a break to find one of my geese upside down and paralyzed.  Since I had to go back and finish my vigil I put her in the goose house in a corner and closed her in so the other geese would not hurt her. The next morning she was still the same.  In the afternoon I carried her up to the yard and put her under a tree with water and grass.  Friday morning I knew she was not going to get any better and would need to be put out of her misery.  I made the arrangements to have it done the next morning.

Life is never that simple, is it?  Missed communications left me with no one to do the deed.  I knew I could not do it, but I still knew it had to be done.  I am aware there are those of you out there who would have been most willing to "chop her head off" or "wring her neck" or any other means by which to dispense the poor soul to the other side, free of her pain, but not me.  I held her and believe this or not, she let me.  She had the prettiest blue eyes.

I finally called a lady friend to see if her husband would do it.  Unfortunately they were in Telluride or Texas or some where that was not here.  But their son was here.  Of course he was here, he was no longer the little 15 year old boy I remembered.  He is now married with kids grown and gone and he would be most happy to help me out of this dilemma.  They were at a picnic and would come as soon as they ate.

And they did.  And he sent me inside and he took care of every thing and I was so relieved.  Now I am down to 9 geese.  Sammy assured me that he would always be willing to help me and I want you to know what a weight that takes off my mind.  He is a very kind man, but being a farmer he knows what needs done in the real world.  And he knows how I care for my animals.  That means a lot to an old woman living alone.

So tonight my heart is very heavy and only another animal lover can understand how I could care for a goose that is just feathers and poop mostly.  My geese hiss at me and stretch thier necks out like  they will attack me, but they won't.  And when I put them up tonight there was confusion, because they are creatures of habit and one of them is gone.  There were 3 Emidens in that hatching 3 years ago and now there are 2.  When the geese are all gone, I will sell the farm and move into town.  I now have 9 to go.

Ah, Daddy is off drunk some where and here comes the cyclone!

I do not know how long we lived on the Ailmore place, but I do not think it was very long.  My most vivid memory was one afternoon when Jake decided to work on a  car that was in the front yard. Cars were simple back in those days and if you had any mechanical abilities at all and could think of the concept of a motor, you could be a mechanic.  He was pretty sure that the gas line was plugged so he unhooked some line and told Donna to watch the other end and he would blow through it and she should let him know if air came through.  So she had it up close to her eye and he blew and gas shot out into her eye!  Oh, Lordy, there was more catawaulling going on than you could believe!  And guess what Jake got?  You are right!  A licking!  There was talk that Donna might lose her eye sight, but I guess they washed it out with something and she was fine.
Roy Keating lived very close there to us.  He raised pigs and those things were huge!  It seems like I was told that a pig will keep growing as long as it is alive and that is why they get so big.  Does not mean that is true, just means that is what I was told.  Dad was Mr. Keating's chore man which meant when Mr. Keating was not home that dad took care of the place.  That meant I had to go and gather eggs while dad "slopped the hogs."  Side note here...back in those days farmers kept "slop buckets" which held garbage, leftover or sour milk, and anything edible except bones. The bucket was carried out to the pigs every morning.  I was scared shitless of those big pigs.  And of course there was always the tale of a farmer or his child falling in the pig pen and the pigs eating the hapless person.  That rather kept my paranoia fueled!
The floods, the bull frog, the Barthold sisters, Mr. Keatings giant pigs, coal oil lamps, and I never remember snow or being cold there, so we may not have wintered over at the Ailmore place.  I do recall my dad taking us all to the Kansas State Fair once.  Maybe not all of us, but me, Jake and probably Josephine.  I recall the ride there.  We parked and entered the grounds.  We walked down the midway with the promise from dad that we could ride the ferris wheel later, but first he needed a beer.  We were not allowed in the hall and had to set on a bench outside the door.  It was hot and dusty, but ever the dutiful father, dad finally came out.   He got us an ice cream cone for our one treat on the way to the car to head home.  I can still taste that ice cream.  It was horrible and must have been something like pineapple sherbert.  When we got home mother greeted us at the door and that man got hollered at and screamed at the rest of the night for taking those innocent babies into a den of iniquity.  When he explained that we sat outside in the hot sun, that was more fuel for the fire.  Kansas State Fair does not hold any fond memories for me!
It was a few days later and dad was once more gone, God only knew where, but we were sure he would come home "plastered"  since that was what he did.  Nickerson had no beer joints so he had to go into Hutchinson which was 11 miles away.  It was one of those hot, sultry days for which  Central Kansas is so famous.  The phone rang and Queen Josephine answered.  Very quickly she ended the conversation and turned to us.  "Mother is on her way home.  A big storm is coming.  Get the tank pumped full fast."  Jake and I ran for the back door and the pump house. The sky did look terrible.  Soon a car pulled into the drive and mother jumped out and ran for the house.  Ed Crissman followed her.  She apparently had started for home and he picked her up.  The wind was picking up and it was a sure thing that no one was going anywhere  until this was over.  Mother called us inside and just as we reached the safety of the house, the pump house collapsed.
We covered the windows with blankets in case the hail broke the windows.  We all huddled in the center of the house while the wind blew, the rain fell, and we prayed that the house did not lift up off the foundation.  I do not know how long the storm took, but it finally subsided.  Like little forest creatures we opened the door and peered outside.  Ed's car was still there, but had lots of hail damage.  The haystack was gone.  All the buildings were gone.  Trees were uprooted.  The fences were gone and the livestock wandered the yard.   Dead chickens were all over the yard.  It looked like a war zone.  Ed Crissman decided to walk home since the creek was now flooded.  And then it was night.
Dad came home sometime in the night.  It was a somber little group of people that stood in the yard the next morning wondering where to begin.  There seemed to be no place to start.  We had caught the livestock and tied them  to a fence post where they stayed the night.  But now what?  The roof of the house was not going to keep out the next rain.  And there was my father.  The pillar of the family.  Hung over, sick, sorry, and all the other things that they sing about in country western songs.  And my mother, a beaten woman.  She had worked all her life to feed a nest full of kids and then  lost the nest.  It was devastating.  She still had the kids.  We still needed to eat and we had to have a roof over our heads.  And she looked at my father, and all she said was "Well, Rueben, I hope you have an idea, because I am done."
I found an article that mother had saved from the paper back then.  They called it a cyclone.  Cyclone is also described as a tornado.  I didn't figure it made a lot of difference what it was called, the results were the same.  Mother could have given up at that point and no one would have faulted her.  But I have found since then that there is really nothing to give up to.  There have been times in my life when I have felt like there just was not enough gumption left in  me to take that next step.  When I looked at my kids and thought this was as far as I could go.  When that happened I thought back to that ragged bunch standing in that yard and heard my mother say, "Well, Rueben...." I had no Rueben, but I did have a mother and my mother had a daughter that learned her lessons of survial from a very strong woman.  A woman who knew how to wring every bit of life out of the worst situations.  A pioneer woman who did not give up and stuck with her husband and knew when to tell him it was his turn and he knew she meant it.
Next time I show up here we are going to be on the move again!!  Get ready world, the Bartholomew family is about to be land owners!

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!

 

 

Still on the Ailmore place.

Just read the last post I made before I wandered off to do my craft shows.  We were on the Ailmore place and had just had our cyclone.  I have a few more memories I need to share there and then I will move on. 
I mentioned Bull Creek being right by our house.  I am going to try to figure out my directions here.  Sorry, I got confused, but if you want to look just click here and you can figure it out.  Just know that the Arkansas river runs on one side of Nickerson, Cow Creek figures in there some where on the other side and Bull Creek is a little furrow you can step across most of the time and has no water in it at all.  But it is, or was at the time, a whole different story in the Spring.  I think it is still the same because I used to make several trips down there every year and some times I like to take 96 Highway just for a change of scenery.  Starting about in Rice County the sheriffs and volunteers would be out to make sure that when cars crossed the flooded parts of the road there were no casualties.  Just one of the hazards of the area.
I recall once leaving our house and walking to check on the Shultz family, which was about 3 blocks away, and wading water all the way.  As quickly as the floods came, they receded and we were left with puddles of water in all the low places.  So we built little boats and sailed them in the puddles.  As I recall, our house was set up off the ground so the water did not get inside.  Most of the houses there were that way.  I do not recall having a pet at the time, but I sure there was an old mangy dog around some where.
Back somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I can recall my father "pulling a prank" on friend of his or at least on his wife.  Her name was Salina.  I think she was married to John Britan, the guy my dad share cropped with for many years.  All I remember is waking up and hearing them laughing and John saying "Just look at the egg my chicken laid!  I am going to take it to the newspaper."  Then they laughed some more.  "Damn, Rueben, where did you get that turkey egg?"  I do not know if anyone ever told Salina Britan that her chicken did not lay that egg, but it was a source of amusement at gatherings for a very long time as it quickly circulated through the town, and I am remembering it over 60 years later.
There are a lot of things I remember on the Ailmore place.  Some one up the road had a car and took the children to school.  They would stop at the end of our drive and let us ride with them if we were out, but if not, then we walked to school.  There was a young man about Jake's age that sometimes hung out at the house, but he preferred to hang with us girls.  Mother, Dad and Josephine would run him off the place.  I did not understand then, but now I think I do.  I thought they were just being mean because he was my "friend", but looking back, that was pretty strange.
The man right across Bull Creek on the way to town raised pigs.  Right now his name escapes me    ( Roy Keating) but some times dad would go do chores when the man left for a few days.  We always went and gathered the eggs.  That was really nice because he had a special little shed built for the eggs to be taken into, cleaned and put in crates.  Our hen house had blown away and our chickens just laid where ever they felt like laying.  Oh, but there is nothing more terrifying than reaching under one of those hens to get the egg.  I lived in mortal terror that I would be pecked.  Still afraid to do it now, so I just don't have chickens.
Jake always wanted to be a mechanic.  I recall once he wanted me to blow in the gas tank while he looked under the hood.  Then he had the bright idea to syphon the gas out of the tank and coerced Donna into sucking on the hose to get it started.  She had no idea what she was doing so she got a big mouth full of gas.  Lordy, mother liked to beat that Jake to death!  And we had to make Donna throw up and maybe there was another trip to the medical place in Hutch.
Lots of gaps in my memory back then, but remember I was very young.  Life back in those days was straight out of a John Stienbeck novel; poverty in it's purest form.  But everyone was in the same boat, the war was just over, and better days lay ahead.  I know cause we heard the adults say so and adults knew every thing!  But we were about to move again.  I had been born on one place, moved to another and was on my way to a third.  I was 7 years old and the world lay before me like an open oyster, and sorry to say, smelled about the same...a little fishy!

Oh, those silly geese!

For several days the geese had been acting strange.  Now I been herding these geese, thirteen of them, around for several years, so I know strange when I see strange.  Their living quarters consists of a wooden shed about 10 feet wide by 14 feet long.  This has a big door on the west side that I go in to fill the feeder and such.  On the south side down low is a small door about 12 inches wide and 20 inches high that leads to a wire enclosure that is the same size as their house and is covered and has a big door that they enter and exit from.  When it is just dark I go out with my flashlight and they all go into the wire part.  I close that door and secure it and they are snug and tight for the night.  They can go into the house or sleep out in the wire part.  Every night this happens like clock work.  In the morning I open the wire door and they all come running out and over to the water tank which serves as their pond.  Not so the last few days.
They began by being afraid to go in the enclosure.  When I got them herded inside they would cower in the corner.  The first night I actually went into the goose house to see if perhaps Brer' Fox was lurking their.  Nothing amiss.  The next morning they did not rush out as usual, so I just latched the door open and in due time they ventured forth.  Same scenario that evening and the next morning.  I was beginning to be concerned and checked everything I could think of to make sure nothing was able to get near enough to frighten them.  It was a mystery and it really upset me to see them act like they were terrified.  Yesterday was the clincher.
I opened the wire door and no goose came out of the goose house.  I could see them in their milling about so I went and opened the big door.  They cowered in the corner and my eyes finally spotted the "intruder". Yes!  That is it.  A piece of blue plastic cord that fell off of a tarp!  That was blocking the door!  I remembered it laying on the ground in the wire enclosure. 

 

It sure seemed harmless enough to me, but then, I am not a goose.  Did they think it was a snake?  I am a thinking I would have been getting the hell out of there if I were them.  Geese have the herd mentality and I do not know how they communicate, but they were all 13 of them scared to death of this piece of cord.  After I took pictures of the offending item, I dropped it into the burning barrel.  I think the geese now look on me as some sort of hero because they gather at the fence around the yard and stare at me.  And then they take thier naps.  So I take my cue from them and dose in my chair knowing that once more all is right in my world!

 

 

 

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This is the novel I have for sale . Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Watch dogs one; intruder zero!

The top picture shows Icarus the cat, Elvira the dog, and the black and white photo is Daisy.  Daisy is the oldest and the ring leader.  Icarus somehow has decided that she is a dog also, and last night proved her metal as a "watch dog."

We went out to close up the geese at our usual time.  For some reason the geese were on full alert.  When I opened the gate Daisy and Elvira tore off to the front gate.  As  they were raising Holy Cain, I hurried to see what was treed over there.  I was halfway to to front gate when three animals shot past me and I turned in time to see Icarus launch herself on something that had just flew by me. 

Lordy! Lordy!  All three of them had a big cat cornered in a corner by the tin shed and the garden fence.  I could see flashes of staggering vet bills for eyes being ripped out, so I ran for the deck knowing full well, three of those animals would follow me.  Luckily that plan worked and I immediately shut the gate, thus giving the intruder the opportunity to escape, which it took full advantage of very quickly.

The excitement being over, we continued to the goose house and our chores for the evening.  The animals were unpertubed by our little intruder and I think they quickly forgot.  I, however, have not.  It was such a treat to see my three little defenders protecting thier kingdom.  Some how I know that those little guys, will keep me safe from harm here on my farm.  Somehow it gives me a feeling of security to know that those three would be all over danger before I could even get my weapon off safety.  They are fearless!

So all you little worry warts out there that think I am helpless can relax.  It would take a complete lunatic to think I am at anyone's mercy.  I would hate to think how far anyone would advance into the room with a calico cat implanted on the top of thier head and anchored with razor sharp claws for added stability.  And how far can one walk with a dog latched on each ankle?  Oh, and nothing slows down a raging intruder like a gaping hole from a 45 slug!

I am in very good hands here and today I am going to make a fresh batch of treats for my little soldiers, but right now they are having a nap.  Been a long night.

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This is a bunch of paper from a box I just unpacked.  If you look closely in the center you can see a black thing.  Do you have any idea at all what that could be?

 Ah!  It suddenly becomes clear, doesn't it?  Icarus, the cat from hell! 

May I have my chair?

I wish I could borrow that note book or see that screen.

Right now the devil cat is climbing through a box of eBay stuff that belongs to some one and I know if I try to make her move there is going to be a bunch of crashing and then I will have broken glass to clean up and something to pay for  that I sure did not need.  She is now peering at me from under the monitor.  Pretty soon she will start swatting at my fingers.  I have no idea how I have managed to keep my Internet up and running with her prowling all over my desk.  I think she can read, so I expect that will be swatted off  pretty soon.

I do not remember how long ago I got this cat.  Seems like over a year.  Hell, it seems like I have always had her.  She was a rescue cat and had just had a litter of kittens.  Of course she was skinny and had the droopy boobies.  Always amazes me how people can neglect an animal, but a lot of them do.  Anyway, when I got her, I kept her inside because I knew she would run away if she got outside.  She would go back to her old home, cause I hear that is what cats do.  Silly me.  She immediately settled in and thought she was a dog.

When I go out to do my chores, my dogs go with me.  Elvira is a Lhaso/Shitzu and Daisy is a Jack Russel Terrier/Wiener dog.  Both rescue dogs and I think I told you Elvira had just had a litter when we got her.  Daisy was just an unfed little runt with two black eyes.  She was Bret's dog.  So here they are, the three of them.

Daisy

Elvira 

Now when I go out there are all three of them with me.  I do not know how that cat knows I am even on the move, but here she comes.  The dogs are never more than 10 feet away, just waiting for some action.  So we go out back and every one of them goes and sniffs everything, but the real action comes when we start for the house.  Icarus and I get to the gate first and have to stand and holler for the busy little dogs.  Icarus settles her self down behind a barrel and waits.  When the first dog arrives she leaps through the air and lands on it's back and rides on into the house.  I have tried to get a picture of that, but all I get is a blur. 

I had to get another printer because the controls on the other one were on top and she kept walking across them and running the scanner.  Guess she was doing "cat scans".   This printer fascinates her and when she hears me hit the print button she jumps up on the desk and peers into the place where the page will come out.  As soon as she sees it coming she grabs at it and if I don't get her first I fear she may be jerked in and spit out the other side.  And it is very hard to read the page after she has shredded it.  Well, the same thing happens in the bathroom.  If the stool is going to be flushed she is going to be with her paws over the side watching it go.

I have often thought about getting another cat to keep her company, but what if I then had 2 devil cats?  No matter where she is during the day, if I set in the recliner and flip  the foot rest out, before it is in the full upright position, Icarus will be on my stomach.  And the first thing she does is knead it for me.  When it is soft enough, she lays down and puts her paws on either side of my throat and turns out just enough claw for me to know that if I push her off my stomach, my jugular vein will be ripped from my throat. 

At night I wake up and find her perched on my shoulder, or laying curled up on the other side of the bed, or staring out the window at Lord only knows what.  But for all my complaining, I love all my animals, even the 13 geese out back.  Guarantee there is not a man walking who could cross that yard if I were not there to run interference.  Guard Geese.  Gotta get that sign up!

Well, I am off to start another day and hopefully I will actually get something done, but I doubt it very much. Today I am babysitting a 2 year old, so it is cuddle time around here!

Have a good one.

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This is my father. Well it is actually a picture of my father. It hangs on my sister Mary's wall and I just happened to see it when I last visited there. The last time I seen my father was in 1964. He was born February 3, 1893. He passed to another level on February 17, 1965. He married my mother, Christine Josephine Haas on January 19, 1935.  It was a second marriage for both. 

Mother had a daughter from her previous marriage who was barely a year old. My brother Jake was born on October 5, 1937.  He was killed in a car crash on October 31, 1965.  I was born on October 1, 1941  and I am not allowed to say when the other three sisters were born.  They are vain little things.  However, as matriarch of the family I am proud to be my age.  (Oh, do the math for crying out loud!  I am 70 this year.)  I never knew my dad as a young man since he was 23 years older then my mother.  I do know that when we lived in Nickerson, Kansas he farmed.  He always had horses and always a matched team. 

He share cropped with a man named John Britain.  His wifes name was Salina and they had a daughter and as I recall her name was Mary Ella.  I thought that was nice as it kind of matched with sister Mary and my Louella.  John Britain had been a carpenter and back in those days he held his nails in his mouth as opposed to an apron.  As  a result he had cancer of the jaw and had part of his face removed.  Guess it is kind of funny what sticks in a young kids mind, huh?

I also remember that John Britain would pick dad up and sometimes I could go.  John had a shack on his land which was located South(?) of the Arkansas River in Nickerson, Kansas.  I also remember he had a stove to heat water and he would put cocoa and sugar in a cup and then fill it about half with boiling water.  The rest he filled with canned milk.  That was hot cocoa.  The elixir of the Gods!!  Best stuff in the whole world to this barefooted ragamuffin.  Now I must tell you that since those days I have tried many times to make the same hot cocoa and failed miserably!  Why that stuff would "gag a maggot off a gut wagon!"  (Kenny used to say that, so blame him for that.)

I have since decided that I grew up in the post depression and World War II years and things were sure different then.  When I talk about the "good old days"  I am talking about abject poverty and a time when the wolf at the door was a very real thing.  When meat on the table was the exception rather than the rule.  When Carp and fried apples was standard fare and an egg was best saved for the hen to set on and hatch.  When a wonderful, beautiful Christmas was finding a coloring book and a red ball and an orange all for me under the tree my big brother had drug home from the school room the day before.  Back when a feast was prepared because many people brought a dish and we all shared.  Or Momma got tired of that old Rooster being mean and lopped off his head and he was soup de jour!

After the busy season is over here in my little corner of the world, I am going to drag out the pictures of days gone by and scan them and let you meet my brother, sisters and the old cemetary where most of them are.  Until then, I have my memories and a driving need to make Lotion, Body Butter and print out the Inventory List for the Weaving Sale.  But at night I can walk the furrowed fields of my mind and make notes on how to best present the days gone by.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life!  Better days ahead.

Migrant Bags and the Migrant Education Program.

 
 

Know what those pictures right above here are?  This is the foyer of the First Baptist Church, 405 W. 9th Street,  here in Pueblo, Colorado.  These were taken Friday, June 3, 2011 in the foyer.  Now, I know it looks like a lot of trash bags there, but it is not.  This represents a labor of love by the Church Women United here in this fair city.  What is it?  It is growing season and the migrant workers are back!  With the migrant workers comes the migrant families which includes children.
These are what are called "hygiene bags".  Each one of these bags has been sewn to specifications by some one and then filled with a towel, wash cloth, bar of soap, comb, toothbrush and toothpaste.  Way back in 1967 it seems our country ran short of workers for our fields so our federal government, in their infinite wisdom,  made a deal with Mexico.  Send your families to work our fields and we will educate your children.  I will give you a link at the end so you can read up on this.
See, I thought our church did this just cause we were kind, but I finally actually listened this time.  This education program is funded by the federal government under the "No Child Left Behind Act" and is administered under the auspices of BOCES which is the acronym for Boards of Cooperative Educational Services.  This covers children ages 3-21 who are not graduated from high school.  They must be temporary or seasonal and changed districts in the last 3 years.
That is background that you can pursue, what I am here to tell you is that pile of bags up there represents 497 acts of love by 14 churches here in Pueblo.  Our women's group is the only one in Colorado that participates.  When the migrants show up at BOCES, the first question is "Where are the bags from the church ladies?"  Our reputation precedes us! BOCES runs the educational part of the program and Sister (Nameless) runs the social aspect of the migrant population.  It is at her center that the doctors volunteer their time, the bags of beans, rice and flour are passed out.  Their are diapers for the babies, computers for research and communication.  Clothes are donated and dispersed to those in need.  No money changes hands, it is all voluntary and is the one oasis in a sea of need.
I do have to tell you a little story here.  In 1978 (?) when I was newly divorced and on my own out here, my daughter came home from North Carolina with her hubby and her son.  My daughters, Patty and Dona, came up from Lakin.  Harvest on the Mesa was in full swing and this looked like an easy way to make money quick.  So Patty and Tex hopped in the old '67 Chevy which was my sole means of transportation at the time and headed for the Mesa.  8 hours later they made it back home.  They were filthy, Patty's eye was blood shot and Tex was 3 inches shorter than when they left.  Seemed their job was to pick peas.  This entailed bending over and picking peas and pulling weeds as they came to them.  Tex threw his weeds over his shoulder into Patty's eye.  Hmm.  Wages for the day was $7.20 for the two of them.  Good thing I had bought the gas for the car.
The next week they decided that they would do this again.  It was onion topping time.  This time Debbie, Patty, Dona and Tex ventured to the onion fields.  First day was a total loss as I had to buy the "onion topper cutter things" for all 4 of them.  The next day would bring me a return on my investment, so I thought.  The next day dawned and when they came home, the side of the '67
Chevy was caved in, two of the girls had black eyes and it seems that they were not to return to the fields as they were trouble makers.  I, of course, got a different story, but suffice it to say, I decided all by my tiny little self that my children were not cut out to be migrant workers.
I do however, take my hat off in a big salute to those people who do work our fields.  I would not be able to stand in one of those fields under the blazing sun for any length of time, not to mention a full day bent over up and down the rows.  There just is not that much money in the bank if you get my drift.
Well, I did a definite digression from the main topic.  So let me just get some links on here and you can educate yourself.  I was amazed at the rich history the "farm workers" have in this country.  And, yes, I did read " The Grapes of Wrath."

http://www.scboces.k12.co.us/english/Migrant/index.htm


http://coloradoboces.org/modules/cms/pages.phtml?pageid=144069&sessionid=67a54164cc99a94667d6381b97409394

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!!

Eye level with a very angry mother goose!

Look at this helpless goose. This is my mother Emiden and she has just given birth to 2 babies. Now, I know you know, that what she actually did was lay a couple eggs about 28 or 29 days ago and then set very patiently on them until they gave birth to themselves.

Here is an overhead view of the same two little goslings. Mother is tending to them and I have just returned from the feed store where I purchased 50 pounds of chick starter. Doubt that they will ever eat that much, but that is how they sell it. This is a very tranquil picture, don't you think? Just hang on there for one minute while I upload another picture for you to feast your eyes upon.

Now look at this!! This is what this looks like up close!! I do not know if you can see them or not, but she is baring her teeth at me!! Now, a guy in Canada (Hats off to the Canadian!! And thanks, Fanty!) did tell me that those are not teeth, but rather serrated edges that are meant for shredding grass and such. I do not remember off the top of my head what he called them, but it did start with an I as I recall. No matter!! They look like teeth and anything that looks like teeth and is in a mouth that is hissing at me even if it is a beak has got my attention! The only thing saving me from a very severe pinching and a go at the serrated things is that little piece of fencing there. Want to come to my house and play grab the gosling with this mother? I thought not.

So, just thought you might like to see the peril I face every day here on the farm. Ever hear the saying "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?" Well, we should replace that with "Hell hath no fury like a mother goose protecting her young!!" Perhaps a few of the human population could take a lesson from Mother Goose, huh?