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!

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.

Plevna, Kansas, Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield

I know I have written about my Plevna years, but in case you missed it let me go there again.  Grandma Haas, who was Mother's mother, had a stroke mys last year of grade school.  Great Grandma Hatfield was pushing 100 and could not take care of her alone, so I was sent to stay with them and do what I could.  This meant I started my Freshman year in the little Plevna High School.  The whole high school was less then 40 kids.  Plevna was a farming community and all the kids in school were farmer's kids.  I stuck out like a sore thumb.  But it was what it was and there I stayed.  I do not remember any of those kids I went to school with.  There was a family named Smith that lived catty cornered from the grandma's and I went over there sometimes, but was under strict orders not to look at their television because that was the work of the devil!


The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Smith and a whole bunch of girls.  I can recall 5 for sure.  I never saw a boy, so that may have been the family.  There may have been a son some where but I do not recall.  Mr. Smith had one blue eye and one brown eye.  That was something I had never seen before and have not seen since.  I see it occasionally in dogs, but never in a human.  Of course, I do not actually seek the phenomenon out, so it may slip by me undetected.

There were several things that amazed and intrigued me about the Smith family.  The first was the size of the house.  It was a two story that had never seen a coat of paint.  It must have been about 10 rooms and was lathe and plaster.  I know this because the ceiling of the foyer fell down and we were then relegated to using the back door because no one cleaned up the mess.  Later the ceiling in the front room would fall also.  That was more serious as Mr. Smith was napping on the couch under it when it collapsed and received a small cut.  We did praise God that it was not more serious!  One room contained a quilt frame which always held a quilt, but I do not know if anyone ever quilted or it was just there.

As in most homes of that era, the plumbing consisted of a privvy out back and a pump by the back door and usually one in the kitchen.  This was the other thing that amazed me about the family dynamic.  There were several wash tubs located in the kitchen.  They were there to hold the dirty dishes.  On Saturday, they heated water and washed all the dishes.  It was a bee hive of activity on that day as all the women folk were there and working feverishly to get the chore done.  When the dishes were all washed, dried, and put away it was time to heat the water and wash the clothes.  Saturdays were definitely work days at the Smith house!  Mr. Smith stayed in his chair by the window looking out at the back yard.  The dog stayed by him so it did not get stepped on by the scurrying women.  I did not go over there on Saturday.

Sunday I was expected to attend church.   Mom and dad would come for a visit about once a month.  They brought the 3 younger girls.  This was always special to me.  Dinner would be on the table when I got home.  It was always a feast and always the same fare.  Great grandma fried chicken and the rest of the meal materialized around that.   You know the comfort food thing?  Mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, green beans, homemade dinner rolls, butter, jelly and pudding of some sort or another for dessert.  Some times a cake or pie.  Celery stuffed with peanut butter.  Pickled beets and sweet pickles.  The poor table would be groaning from all the food.  Never went hungry at Sunday dinner.
As I recall we never ate after the sun went down.  Dishes were washed and back in the cupboard in very short order.  The men folk, which usually consisted of my father, sat in the rocking chair with his thumbs hooked together over his stomach.  Grandma died in January of my freshman year.  Aunt Mabel came from Coldwater and took great grandma back with her.  I returned to Nickerson and the bosom of my family.

My father.  As I recall, my father was a big man.  His skin was very white and his hair had at one time been mostly red, but not a bright red.  It was more like a reddish blonde with a tad of brown.  He had freckles on his hands which were very white and not calloused at all.  I don't remember his eyes.  He had a big stomach and always wore overalls.  He wore brown, high top shoes.  Funny the things we remember from our childhood.  I think he may have been English with a bit of Irish, but who knows.
I do not think he liked me very much.  I know Mary was his favorite, but Mary was everyone's favorite.  Mother kept all of us girl's hair very short, but Mary was allowed to let hers grow long.  We were all so jealous!  Dorothy was the baby.  Donna and I were just there as  middle children.  Josephine ran away and got married very young.  Jake forged his birth certificate to show his age as 17 when he was 15 and joined the Army.  That made me the oldest of the youngest kids at home.  I relished in that and was very bossy.

At night we played "kick the can"  with the neighbor kids.  That is a game of hide and go seek which entailed placing a can on the ground and the one who was "it" counted while everyone hid.  Then the "it" person had to find each one and bring them back to "base".  While the "it" person went to search for the remaining hidden, some one could sneak in and "kick the can" which freed the ones who were stuck in the "jail".  Game sometimes went on for hours.  In day time we had "clod " fights.  This required a freshly plowed field.  We usually chose small clods which had dried and threw them at each other.  They usually crumbled on contact, but if they had been baking in the sun several days, they tended to be a little harder and left marks.  As tempers flared, the clods got bigger and more then one tear was shed either from pain, frustration, or from an eye full of dirt!  Brother Jake decided at one time to pull out his .22 rifle.  Little shit!  The game was over for the day and he was the winner for sure.

More about Plevna later, but now I have to go tend to the geese.

Welcome to my world.

I forget that Debbie does not do the email thing, but does check in here pretty regularly for my words of wisdom.  So, Debbie here are all my endeavors and I sure hope you enjoy them.  The first one is the Stations of the Cross that I told you about.  Enjoy!

Click here for my youtube.

The Pines at Beulah, to die for.

Loaded my friend Nancy in the car today and headed West across the beautiful Beulah Valley to my favorite place in the whole world, The Stompin' Grounds Coffee shop on Main Street.

Yep, the sign was still there!

Little Jan was still inside!

The refrigerator was still covered with bumper stickers!

And up the road was the thing that had brought me to Beulah in the first place, the dragon by John Clay.

But now Jan has a new job.  She is helping run the Pines at Beulah.

Take a tour here by simply a click!

These are cabins up the road from the coffee shop.  They have kitchens and everything you need for a little get-away in the mountains and the cost is dirt cheap.  Oh, you could go to a Motel 6 and for a lot more money you could have asphalt all around you and you could eat at the McDonald's up the block.  These cabins are nestled in the pines and have all the amenities of home.  I could see how getting together with the family could be a joy!

Nancy and I walked up the road and peeked in the windows.  Hell, I may just go hide out in one of those some time when I am wanting to get away from it all.  They even have a fire pit out back.  Course it is a propane fire under artificial logs, but who wants to start a forest fire anyway?  Not me!
I did forget my camera so the pictures above are old, but you would not have known that if I hadn't told you!
That aside, I love Beulah.  It is a 30 minute drive from Pueblo, but it is another world.  When I first came to Colorado back in 1977 one of the first places I visited was the Host Restaurant in Beulah.  That was a real treat to set in that little place and watch the Hummingbirds and the soft rain that seemed to fall every afternoon.
I did not know about the Pines of Beulah until Jan told me today.  So I made up my feeble little mind that I would blog about it and then put it on Facebook and maybe someone would want to take me up there for a nice relaxing day and night in the mountains.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe Jesse and Bernadette could go there for their honeymoon.  Or Ross and Chaz?  Well, somebody could and then they could invite me up for coffee.  OK.  So I guess I won't be going, but you could.  Be sure and click on that link below the picture for phone number, pictures and prices.
And tell them Lou sent you!!

Oh, hey! Did I see what I thought I saw?

Today I took the day off, sort of anyway, and a friend and I went to Florence.  For my out of state friends and family, Florence is a little town west of here and sort of on the edge of the mountains.  It is a 25 minute drive up there and since my son and his partner live there, it is a trip I make fairly regularly.  Nancy and I found the farmers market in the park and picked up some green stuff.  Then we walked up Main Street and toured several antique shops.  She picked up some plates she was looking for to finish her kitchen.  Florence has more antiques per square foot then anywhere in the world I think.

Also has some things that are just eye catching!

And fun to look at!

The Rose Bud Cafe proved to be a very good choice for breakfast.

A farewell look up the street.

Since I had to be back in Pueblo before 2:00 we loaded Amanda in the car so we could drop her off at her house.  And then I beheld a sight that was not something I was used to seeing!  What appeared to be a man walking his dogs proved to be much more than that.  It was a man walking his dogs alright, but only 2 of them were dogs!  One of the dogs was a cat!   

And a very well behaved cat it was.  I stopped my little Focus right there in the middle of the street, because I am here to tell you, I thought I had gotten some bad weed!  Cats are just way to independent to be led around on a string.  This is the exception.

So say hello to J Roberts and his dogs Taylor and Lucy.  And this, my friends, is 

Mr. Kitty!

So I bid a fond adieu to Mr. J. Roberts and his little family of Florence, Colorado.  You made my day.  Thank you so much and hope to see you the next trip!

The dining room table.

This is my dining room table.  This is not how it usually looks.  It is usually piled high with mail, groceries, something I placed there that needs to go some where else, a chain saw that needs sharpened, etc.  Early in life I learned that the table was the hub of the home, the one place the family gathered every day.  We ate all our meals there.  We did our home work there.  Some times we just sat there and talked, or listened.  The one in Nickerson had a kerosene (might have been coal oil) lamp in the center.  (A lamp went in the center of the table as opposed to a lantern which hung on a nail by the back door and was used to light our way to the outhouse. )  We could set there and do our homework and watch momma iron.

This was taken back in July of 2013 (  read that blog here ) when I had a cook out for the British Motorcycle club that Sherman had helped start  in 1986.  It was the one year anniversary of his passing and he has now been gone two years.  Miss you, Sherman!  But I digress.

This is a lunch I threw together for Sister Nancy, Sister Barbara, Faye Gallegos, Maxine Hale, and Nancy Williams, just because they are friends with a lot in common.  Read that blog here.  And a good time was had by all.  Take a look under the table and tell me what you see.  Oh, Elvira!

See her!  Isn't she cute?

If this table could talk!  In my mind I see Kenny reading the paper.  He always sat with his back to the door. I remember when we first moved to this house back in 1982.  We were not married at the time and we had a Formica table and a puppy named Chili Dog.  Chili ate the rung off one of the chairs which made things pretty tacky.  A year after we moved in we eloped.  It was -15 degrees and two days before Christmas.  When we arrived home after the ceremony which was held in a senior citizen high rise in Canon with 2 witnesses we did not know, we found a bottle of cheap wine on the table.  Thanks, Gene Baugh!

Back on track here.  The first purchase we made when money was available was this table.  We wanted an oak table with claw feet so that is what we bought.  We bought chairs that were oak and finished them to match the table.  If this table could talk!  It is definitely the center of my world.  It saw the kids all raised and gone and it saw grand kids and great grand kids come to visit and one get adopted!  He holds the past, the present, and the future, just like the one back home when I was a kid.  In my mind this table is my life in a nutshell.  

It is always a shock to me when I go into some one's home and they do not have a table.  I remember the first time I went into one of my kids homes and there was not a table. 

 "Where do you eat?"  

"We set on the couch." 

And it goes without saying, "We watch television and have no idea what we ate."  

I often wonder how one carries on a meaningful conversation while the television is blaring and one is balancing a plate on their knees.  I think all of my kids now have tables and chairs.  They also have the mate that came with the table!  

I do not remember if the table of my childhood had matching chairs.  I don't think so.  I do know we were not allowed to tip the chair back.  That was just a no-no from forever.  Grandma had a claw foot oak table.  Some times I just set and think back how simple life was in those days.  We always had "Sunday Dinner".  It was a chisled in stone thing.  We would have pot roast or fried chicken.  Sometimes Jake shot a bunny and that was special.  The rest of the week we pretty well foraged, but Sunday Dinner and the claw footed oak table were things we could put money on as lasting forever.

I do not know where my childhood table ended its term of service, nor do I have any idea where mine will go when I no longer have use for it.  I am hoping that one of the kids will want it because it brings back the memories that mine brings back.  And I hope wherever it goes, that it keeps the cigarette burn on it that my Kenny left for me.