Summer jobs, and A Drive with a View

And then the end, my only friend, the end...  Just a little "I rambled on too long, AGAIN,"  joke.  Here's the latest Abrahamson, Northern Minnesota news over at the US Marine Grad Project blog.  I did ramble, but I really had fun writing it.  Didn't get much VBS written, but, ... well, maybe I needed this to clear my brain and refuel.

The Promise of the Catkin

I've gotten caught up on many household chores this winter and spring.  I've even done some windows.  Anyone who knows me well knows what an accomplishment that is.  Since, ... well, ... you guessed it, "I don't do windows."

I have all the screens cleaned up and ready to put on, but I haven't yet.  I love the openness of the windows without screens.  And with our prolific insect life in Minnesota, once those bugs kick in, we really need the screens.  So I always try to enjoy a week or two with no screens before that happens. 

And I hate to put a clean screen on a dirty window, so I suppose I will give the windows a once over before putting the screens on.  I'll get down and dirty with the windows I haven't tackled in over a year, and do a quick dust up of the ones more recently done.

It will be nice.  I will enjoy the clean windows and wonder why I don't wash them more often.

Until the screens go on, I'll continue to enjoy my open windows in screen free luxury.

Today as I was washing dishes, the pretty little spear of a poplar catkin blew in at me.  As it bounced off me and fluttered into my sink, it whispered the promise of the coming summer and made me glad.

Puzzling Weather

My kids and I used to do jigsaw puzzles all winter long.  Between putting the kids in school; rearranging various household rooms several years ago; and never getting everything organized after that change; my younger kids have very little experience with puzzles.  The last few years, we've probably only worked a few each year. 

This is one of the things I have rued, at different times.  I love the time spent together, working a puzzle.  The kids sing songs, tell jokes and stories, and talk about all the things that are important to them.  They all seem to work together, all the many different ages.  The bigger kids always help to find little sections or certain pieces that the littles can help with.

Plus I really believe the process of matching the shapes and colors and concepts in a jigsaw puzzle helps to grow some important brain connections.

The other week, Elsie finally put all the puzzles that have been littering her closet for years into a couple of extra large tote bins. (Yes, two of the tall under-bed boxes that span the width of a twin bed, plus one more that is not as long.  That's only about 1/2 of our puzzles.  Yes, we have too many.)

These bins are all sitting in my living room right now, so my kids have been doing some of the easier ones by themselves lately.

But during this rainy four-day weekend, I decided it was time to pull out some "one step harder" ones.  And more importantly, to take time to sit down and spend some time working them with my children. 

The one I chose was actually a collection of six kitty puzzles.  The pieces are not too small, but not big, either.  All total, there are 480 pieces.  And each puzzle is about 8x11".  It's a beautiful set of puzzles, made by Springbok, which in my experience makes very child friendly puzzles.  They stay together well.  This means the kids are not frustrated by the parts they've already accomplished getting jostled apart by their many reaching hands and arms.  And the pieces are sturdier than many cheaper jigsaws. 

The pictures in this set are very sweet.  And important for a family such as ours, each picture is of a different enough composition that several different levels of skill are demanded.  This set was given to Louisa as a birthday present from Grandma and Grandpa many years ago.  It has always been a favorite.

But alas! in the process of the last, oh, six years or so, since the last time I was at all organized, all of the the pieces to this set of puzzles had gotten mixed up.  Even though each puzzle was not difficult, the idea of sorting out the pieces of the different puzzles was too much for the younger kids. 

When the kids were getting a little wild yesterday afternoon, I suggested they get these puzzles out. I was finishing up cutting and peeling some winter squash for our trial run at canning it, so I was mostly only functioning in an advisory capacity.  But we were all at the table together.  My squash and I at one end, and the kids and the puzzles scattered around the other.

The bigger girls helped to sort the different pieces a bit, but then they would get distracted putting together the ones they had sorted.  They all got to work a little bit.  

But they had only sorted about 1/3 of the pieces when it was time to clear the table for supper.  I had them put the puzzles on cookie sheets, each puzzle along with the pieces they had tentatively matched with it.  Then we stacked up the trays, and set them aside for the night. 

When I was having coffee this morning, Inge was the only little one up.  So I pulled out the puzzles and started sorting a little bit more.  Gradually Inge and I worked on a couple of them.  Then Stella, and a little bit later Donna came out, too.  They each got to work a couple, both alone and with my help.  Sometimes they were snuggled up on my lap, and other times they worked on their own tray down on the floor.

At one point I looked at my clock and saw it was time for me to go meet my ladies for my morning walk.  Since it was rainy, we had planned to do indoor exercise.  So I didn't need to worry about being left behind if I was late.  I could have made it.  But I decided to call and excuse myself.

"I'm doing puzzles with my little ones.  It's been ever so long since I've taken time to do that.  I don't want to miss this moment."  I don't like to miss my exercise time with my ladies, and I had already missed Wednesday, since we attended a school related function that morning.

But there are simply some things that are more important than exercise.

By the time John got up, there was only one puzzle left, the most difficult one.  This one is a closeup of three kitties eating out of a bowl.  The background is a plain floor and wall.  So the primary visuals in this puzzle are just fur, wall, and table.  There is a little rim of  bowl that adds a different dimension. 

John asked if he could do it by himself, and I told him that yes, he could try.  I've found that boys are generally a little slower to learn the skills of doing jigsaw puzzles, and they generally are less interested, so I was not sure how this would go.  The girls were ready to eat breakfast by this time, so they went to the kitchen where I let them help themselves to a cold cereal meal.  I asked John if he wanted to sit on my lap while he puzzled away, and he gladly came up to have a little snuggle time while he worked.  I balanced the cookie sheet for him, and held the box with the extra pieces turned upright where he could see and reach the ones he needed.

It's a good thing I had my hands full, because it was an awful temptation for me to help him out a little.

But John did really well without my input (or meddling).

And I got a good snuggle with my nine year old son.  It's not often he takes the time to snuggle with his mom any more.  And also, sadly, it's not often that when he wants it my lap is open for him, since he has three younger siblings.

Altogether this was an excellent way to start the day.  Rain is a good thing.  Very puzzling weather.

Feeling Maudlin; aka my Fledglings are Learning to Fly and will Gradually be Leaving the Nest

If you don't like mushy, sentimental stuff, better not read any further.  I'm going to try to put into words how I'm feeling right now.  It's personal, and parts of it might be somewhat poetic, because that's how things are aligned in my brain right now.  Not poetic, as in rhythmic and rhyming.  But poetic, as in nature and words and sounds and feelings all coming together, into something that seems to be forcing itself out of my brain and heart, and onto my blog.

My oldest son graduated a year ago.  At that time, he moved home with no definite plans.  Then he moved to a nearby town.  After a several month stint of living on his own and providing for himself, he is living at home again.  It was not terribly traumatic for me to let go of him.  He didn't go far, and now he's back.  Probably he will leave again.  Perhaps he will go further afield this time. 

As a mother, I know I must be prepared for the fledgelings to leave the nest.  My brain knows this.  My heart is in denial.

Tomorrow Louisa leaves home for her trip to Italy.  She will be there for just over nine months.  We will still be with her tomorrow; we are leaving after church for the Twin Cities to stay the night.  Her plane leaves early Monday morning.

By the time she returns, Matt will be graduated from high school, and will be in San Diego, CA, at his Marine Corps basic training.  We took family pictures recently with the idea in our minds, "Only God knows when we will all be together again."

My brain and my heart of faith reminds me that this is not our real home.  We are all strangers and wanderers in this vale of tears.  We walk the paths along which God leads us.  We accomplish the tasks He lays before us.  We fall.  We get up again.  We bask in the love and forgiveness of our heavenly Father.  We rejoice.  We cry.  We tell others of the reason for the Hope the lies within us.

But through it all, we know that this is a transient world.  We live for God, and in Him, through Jesus, we will rise again to live together in eternity. 

But my heart of flesh loves this world.  I love my family.  I love the people and things God has given into my stewardship.  I don't want to let go of them.  I really don't.

The weather outside is perfect today.  Perfect for my melancholy.  I am fighting a little bit of a chest cold, so I'm spending the day mostly in my room.  I read awhile, nap awhile, and cough awhile, play a little computer solitaire, and check my facebook and e-mail. 

But directly behind my head is the great outdoors.  I have the bedroom window open.  It's a very blustery fall day.  The sound of the wind as it fights its way through the tall poplars is that of a rushing and mighty blast.  The gusts come wave upon wave.  Loud and robust, and then quieting until only a trace of white noise remains.  The merest whisper.  But before the sound disappears completely, it starts up again into a raging vengeance.  The sound conjures up images of autumn.  Of drippy days and falling leaves.  All the greens and reds and oranges and yellows of summer are fading.  They will be replaced soon with the grays and tans and whites of a Minnesota winter.  Already some of the leaves are turning.  These last few windy days have already brought many leaves scurrying through the sky and across the lawn. 

Yes, this is a perfect day for my grief.  My heart is crying.  It is heavy with sadness.  It's not an unexpected sadness.  But the weight and mass of it has surprised me.

I have snippets of songs running through my head.  In their entirety, the songs don't match our situation.  But different lines of different songs flit continually through my subconscious mind, and when I stop and peer into the dark recesses, I can grasp the little edges of these songs for a brief look.

"It's like walking in the rain and the snow, and there's no place to go.  And you're feeling like a part of you is dying."

"And the wind will whisper your name to me."

"Sunshine, on my shoulder makes me happy.  Sunshine in my eyes, can make me cry."

"All the leaves are gone, and the sky is gray."

And this last.  It's probably the least fitting, but somehow, there it is, wrapping itself around the corners of my heart and mind, along with all the others. 



I think that perhaps it's the optimism expressed with, "I wake up to a sunny day!"  So with that in mind, Mary, get on with it. 

You've had your little cry, now on to the sunny day.

Super Easy One Bowl Meal Salad for a Hot Summer Day

And it's really easy to make Gluten Free, by using A GF pasta of your choice.  I used two packages of Heartland's Penne from Walmart.

I make everything in bulk, so this will be a big batch, maybe about 4-5 qts.

• 1 1/2 lbs pasta, cooked in salted water, then cooled in several changes of cold water and drained well.

While your pasta is cooking, cooling and draining, mix up the other ingredients.

• 1 large (28 oz) can crushed tomatoes
• 2 large (12 oz) cans tuna, drained
• 1 can medium olives, drained
• 1 medium onion, diced, or halved and cut into thin slices
• 2-4 c fresh vegetables of your choice, I used wax beans and broccoli
• 1 c cream (if you use processed cream check the label, if you're making it GF)
• 1 c coarsely grated or cubed cheese of choice
• a handful of pepperoni slices cut into strips
• a generous handful of basil leaves (leaves off three medium stalks, maybe a fluffy cupful before cutting), cut into thin strips

Mix the above together.  Stir into cooled and drained pasta.  Serve.

If you want a little more pizzazz, add a little salt and pepper, or your favorite mixed seasoning salt.  Some people might have found it a little bland, but I liked that the tastes and textures were so fresh and simple.

Morning Light Dripping on Me

Really.  It's true.
Ok, so it's not the light that's dripping.  It's the very heavy dew that has gathered on the bottom of the eave troughs.  I'm sitting in my favorite morning spot.  I've taken a few pictures.  I've filled my coffee cup.

I was just settling in to write about the view and the day and the glow, when PLOP!  Suddenly I had a wet keyboard and some unauthorized text in my post.  It started with, "1`".  

Hmmm. 

I shifted a bit to get out of the line of fire.  SPLAT!  This time the drop hit the opposite corner, the upper right.  Missed the keys by about an inch; so I don't have any new unauthorized text this time.

I had to turn my chair almost full east so that I could avoid the dripping.

Such a sacrifice!  Full east?

You can just barely make out the fenceline on the neighbor's pasture.

I find myself facing the soft green of the fields.  The sun is not yet above the house, so I sit in shadow.  Her glow is lighting all the lands to the east of me.

Nearest at hand the waving grasses of the CRP are a softly flowing green.  Ok, I'm lying.  It sounds more interesting that way.  Really, the morning is almost perfectly still, which is strange and wonderful.  The grass is not waving even slightly.  But it does sparkle with the morning dew.  It is a soft green.  The heads of the grasses are full with their seeds.  They are dotted with light.

Further out, dark with shadow, is the mound of brush the neighbor dozed out of the wild area last year, in preparation of working the CRP.  The mound of brush makes a dark brown hillock toward the back edge of the CRP.  This land is scheduled to come out of reserve in the fall, and so next spring we will have crops right up to the edge of the yard. 

View from my porch to the east.  Notice the rustic bench beneath the lilacs in the foreground.

Beyond the CRP sits the worked field of crops.  I believe Arden has it in wheat this year, although I've not walked out there to get a close-up view.  The ripening tops glow in the sunlight with a shimmering whiteness.  It looks almost like the shining surface of a lake.

At the furthest horizon are the neighboring woods.  They, too, are dark.  I see their western face, the shadowy side where the sun's rays will not lend them light and color until later in the day.

This is what I see when looking full east, after succumbing to the drops of morning wetness.  It was lovely and pleasurable and a sacrifice I did not at all mind making.

That's not, however, what I started out to say.

I started to write about the light on the poplars earlier this morning.  The ground was covered with a thick fog.  The sun was still low in the northeast.  The fog higher up had burned off, or perhaps it never was.  The sky was aglow from the moisture in the morning air.  A haze bent the sun's light into a greenish glow.  Oh, how I wished for a camera and the skills to use it well.  I've included the photos I took, but they do not do justice to the light and colors to which I was treated. 

Poplars in the early morning sunshine, fog on the fields in the background

The fog was settled thickly white along the ground.  The lower branches of the trees, where the sun was not yet brightening them, were a darker green.  And gradually, as I looked upward into the tree tops, the light and color changed from a deep green and almost brown, to a soft glow in the tops of the branches.  The haze and the green of the leaves combined with the sunlight to make a soft green and yellow glow.  Beautiful!

Click to original size to see cool colors, I hope

Front Porch Reveries

After breakfast today I went out to my front porch with a cup of coffee.  This is my peaceful thing to do.  

While the kids attempt to do dishes.  Which often involves a certain amount of bickering. To which I prefer to avoid listening when possible. 

I sneak outside to my quiet spot.

This morning, I deadheaded some petunias.  I peered over my railing at the several brightly blooming wonders below.  I sipped my coffee and listened to the birds sing. 

I watched Joe pace around the property, wondering what he was up to.

(Ought the previous sentence to read, "...wondering to what he was up"?  or "...wondering up to what he was"?  Sometimes grammatical correctness is elusive.) 

When Joe got near enough to the front porch, I saw he had his flannel shirt full of something.  As in, he was holding up the shirt tails around a load of something.  Ahhh, then I understood. 

We often have a large crop of mushrooms when conditions are right, which they are right now.  We've researched these mushrooms. We think they are the common meadow mushroom, which is very similar to the plain white mushrooms one can easily get in the supermarket.  Tasty and benign.  But each year, when the crop comes in, we are a little bit too scared to try them.  I think Joe is getting ready to sample them this year.   We shall see.

After enjoying the sights and sounds of the outdoors for awhile, I went inside to get my computer with the idea that I'd find a way to write something interesting for my blog readers.  But first, of course, I had to check my facebook.  Not much happening there.  No new e-mail clambering for attention, either.  I guess nobody loves me. (That is tongue in cheek by the way.  But I must admit that it is in my sinful human nature to feel that way betimes.  I often joke about it thusly, in order to remind my self how foolish a notion it really is.)

Time to write.  But alas!  Ugh, it suddenly, in the few minutes I was doing my social networking checks, suddenly the air changed from the pleasant morning air after a rain, to the heavy stickiness of a Minnesota summer.  We don't very often have that kind of stickiness here, for which I am very thankful.  The summer weather here is much nicer than that in southern Minnesota, as far as the humidity goes.  But there are always a handful of days when the conditions are just right that the air seems to really weigh on a person.  It's not even that hot today.  The thermometer shows only 68 degrees.  But the sunlight is filtering through the haze and the air is such that I was sweating, just sitting there.

So I came inside.  I suppose I should change my post title to Front Room Reveries, but that's not nearly so romantic sounding.  I suppose some people may have a nice clean and pleasant front room from which to revere, but that is not the case in my home. 

Sadly. 

My front room is cluttered with the detritus of a large family and burned-out mom.  Towels, books, papers, coloring books, newspaper, clean and dirty laundry, toys, stuffed animals, wrappers, flip-flops, kleenex, and yes, even two empty egg cartons (?).

This is not the stuff of romance and imagination. 

No!  this is reality. 

But reality also has little arms that wrap around my neck, and medium bodies that snuggle up next to me, and big almost grown-up hearts that occasional overflow to Mama with all their hopes and dreams and traumas.  Romance aside, clean or cluttered, reality does have a certain draw that imagination has only in, well, imagination.

Wonderful morning here in the northland

Happy Father's Day to all you fathers out there. 

It's a great day here today.  I'm relishing the peaceful morning on my front porch hide-away.  I brought a book out, but haven't even opened it.  I left my computer inside for the first cup of coffee and just enjoyed my day.  It was so wonderful to look and listen and breath in all the spring-time life around me.  Then when I went in to fill my coffee cup, I couldn't resist.  I had to bring my computer out and share with the world all the wonder around me.

My favorite view this morning is to the east of me. 

As I look that direction, right up near me, on the porch itself, is my white wicker loveseat.  Joe splurged last summer.  That and two chairs were my Mother's Day/Birthday presents.  I love, love, love them. 

I also see the beautiful planter that my friend, Lana, gave me for my birthday this year.  It's filled with Laura Bush Petunias which are a bright and happy, almost glowing shade of pink.  There is also a contrasting purplish plant for contrast, of which I've forgotten the name. 

Peaking through the rungs of the porch railing is the topmost branches of my climbing rose which started blooming this week.  It blooms deep red, but not deep in a puplish way, just a pure deep red. can see three big blooms peaking over the floor of the porch.  By the end of summer, it will be twined in amongst all that edge of the railing and tantalizing us with it's blooms and fragrance all around that white wicker loveseat.  It hasn't yet poked at anyone with it's thorns, but if it gets bigger yet than it did last year, it might be a problem.  I'm waiting to see if I have to move it eventually.

Further out from the porch, across the lawn at the south-east edge of our house, I see the wooden bench Joe made a few years ago.  It's sitting cozily between and beneath two lilacs. 

Just past that is a mound of rhubarb which I love so well this time of year.  Then I see two more lilacs.  There is actually a third, but it met a sad fate last year with the lawn mower and so is still recovering.  The little teeny, tiny bit of it that is just showing above the lawn is not one of the glorious things about the east facing view.

But continuing with the good and wonderful view, we have a poplar at that edge of the property that must have had it's top knocked off before we moved here, when it was just a baby.  It has always grown full and round and very un-poplarish.  There are about six or eight branches that branch out at about three feet.  From there on up it is very round and pretty. 

So on to the best part of the view.  Imagine with me, if you will.  I look out and in the periphery of my left side, I see the eaves of the house.  And just below that, is the green and rounded top of my nearest lilac.  These remain in the near periphery only.  They are not the highlight of my view, but create the left edge frame.  Just further out, but still in the yard, at the right edge of the view, creating a frame all along that side, is that round and glittering green poplar, with the morning sky showing through behind it.

Now continue with me, out past those two near edges, in the middle of the view, out across the waving grass of the CRP field perhaps 100 yards, is a fenceline that marks the neighbor's pasture.  And beyond that, grazing peacefully, stand about fifteen mother cows and their calves.  Some are milling about.  Some are standing still, with heads down, eating their fill of the spring pasture greens.  Some are lying down quietly ruminating on the morning loveliness. 

As I gaze out at this, there is playing in the background, the gentle sound of the morning breeze, filtering through the leaves of the poplars.  The sunlight is glinting off these leaves as they sway in the wind.

The birds are twittering. 

In the foreground, across my lawn and flower beds are scattered my little flock of chickens.  Periodically, one of the roosters will crow.  There is a gentle clucking here and there.

Ah.  Idyllic.

OK, truthfully, as I was writing that last part about the chickens, one of the smaller roosters must have approached one of the hens too closely or been standing in the wrong spot or something becasue there broke out a huge rooster squabble, fluttering of wings and screeching and a brief attack, until the interloper remembered his place in the pecking order.

It wasn't at all peaceful.

It was such a funny backdrop to the quiet morning scene I had just finished describing that I had to tell you about it.

Haha!  I heard another ruckus just now.  I looked out to see our two smallish roosters chasing one of the hens.  They were running around all over the front yard squawking.  The chase was on.  Then, with the heroic music in the background, imagine please the drum roll, dunt-du-du-DAAAAA!  The big white leghorn rooster we call Foghorn, the hero of this tale, noticed the altercation.  He came running to the aid of the damsel. His wings were spread out all a-flutter.  His one thought, the protection of his girl from the unwanted attention. 

Ok, well, maybe that's too romanticized, too.   Probably he was just thinking, "Get away from her, you upstart.  She is mine.  I'm the only one who can chase her in that way."

Happy morning, everyone!

Rain, Glorious Rain!

We need rain so badly that several of the area cattle ranchers are finding their water holes going dry. Our water table is normally so high here, that if one has a large amount of livestock, he digs a big, deep pit called a cattle pit or cow pit or cow pond.  The pit fills in nicely and the cattle gather around the edges to drink and wander into it here and there.   Sometimes children swim in the cattle pits.  But I suspect that was mostly in the old days before we had so many experts to tell us that these pits might have germs.  Really?  Germs?  In standing water where cows pee and poop?  Good thing we have the experts.

But, alas! I digress.  These cattle pits are drying up this year.  One neighbor dug a new pit in a different location after his usual one dried up (think bulldozer and backhoe, 8-15 ft deep) and couldn't find water at all. Usually the water is only a couple of feet down.

But blessedly, praise the Lord, I woke up to the sound of a good heavy rain spattering on the house and flowing, gurglingly, through the downspouts.  

I instantly had a version of the song, "Food, Glorious Food," from the musical, Oliver, stuck in my head.  Instead of "Food," I was singing, "Rain, Glorious Rain!"



Who knows where such things come from?  I've never even seen Oliver.  Nor do I know any of the words to the song except "Food, Glorious Food."  Nor did I even know it was from that particular musical.  It was just a refrain stuck in my head.  

After I got up, I put on my bathrobe and went out on my front porch to stand in the falling rain.  I let it drizzle on my head, and bluster past and around me.  It was indeed glorious.  

Then the lightening struck a few times in the distance, so I figured I ought to come inside.  The thunder was not following it too closely, so I was probably safe.  But I remembered the exhortations of those experts, and how we are warned about the great many miles lightning can travel.  So I pulled myself away from the experience and came inside.

I might just as well have had "Singing in the Rain" stuck in my head.  But no, that's not how brains work. We take what we get in that regard.

I didn't exactly go out and dance around in the puddles like Gene Kelly, but I did find great pleasure in wiggling my toes in the little bit of standing water on my front porch.

 
We didn't get as much rain or as deep of puddles as the character, Don Lockwood, did in the movie, but we got some.  It's a start.  The forecast calls for more the rest of the day and into tomorrow.  I pray God sees fit to bless us as forecasted.  We do need it.

Springtime is for Healing and Hope and New Growth and New Life

I worked in my yard yesterday.  It made me happy.  What a good feeling...to be able to feel the emotions of happiness, peace, and contentment.  To feel them pulsing through me like blood!

As I've mentioned before, last fall much of my front flower beds was torn up.  That frustrated me, although I understand why it had to be done.  It frustrated me because when we moved here, the yard was so very bare and the house was so very white and shiny new.  It was...hmmm... how shall I say this? how to find words?  I am from Washington state where we have hills and trees and curves.  Oh, and people.  I grew up in a semi-urban area.  I was surrounded by town, although many of the places we lived were somewhat removed from the hubbub of the suburbia. 

We moved here and it was winter.  It was white and gray.  And open.  Very open.  We can see for miles from our house.  I don't exaggerate.  It's flat.  It's open.  And everyone knows everyone.  The house was new, so only had a few rows of baby trees around it, and very few landscaping plants.  I felt naked and exposed.  And the sameness of the surrounding area was an emotional assault to my senses.  There was so little variation in texture or color.  That sounds extreme and even a bit unkind.  But so it was. 

So when those bushes that were finally full and big, and which I had lovingly nurtured for nine summers, had to come out, to be ripped violently from their safe little places, I have to admit, it was a hard day.  I was not happy.  I kept telling myself that I oughtn't to love the things of this world.  But we do, don't we?  All of us do.  We can't help it.  God has given us so much wealth and beauty in our material possessions.  There is a fine line between appreciating and enjoying such blessings, and becoming too strongly attached to them.

Our financial situation this spring is such that I don't feel as though I can invest in any perennials to fill up the bare bed area that was quickly filling in with weeds.  It was yet another job looming and staring me in the face.  But what to put there?  What to do with that space?  Do I plant grass and call it good?  Do we cover it with black plastic for the summer to keep the weeds down?  Do I stare at the dirt and weeds all summer?  I was at a mental block with the situation.

My kids and I like to fill pots with annual flowers for around our porch and driveway corners.  It's one of the great joys of my summer.  Usually I take at least some of the kids, sometimes all of them, and we head to one of the big nurseries or greenhouses in the region.   I pick out some of the plants, but I also let the kids choose others.  Then we bring them all home and spend a couple of days arranging pots for all the kids.  They get to help me pick the plants to put in.  They help arrange them in the pots.  And then we arrange all of the pots around our front yard living areas, so that they continue to please us all summer long.  Some of the kids usually choose to put these planters in the county fair.  The whole process is something we really enjoy doing together.

But again, financially, I can't justify spending the money on such an indulgent thing this year.  As I'm sure everyone else has noticed, the price of groceries has absolutely skyrocketed.  Between that and the cost of  fuel, we just can't do it this year.  It was always a splurge.  Always indulgent.  But it was something that brought us so much pleasure that it was worth it to cut corners other places to be able to do it.  But this year, I've told the kids, we don't have money for luxuries.  There is little left to cut.

But then, suddenly, on Thursday, I was blessed with the living gift of plants.  From two directions. 

One of my walking buddies, Lana, brought over a bunch of her extra plants.  She brought some garden seedlings, squash and tomatoes.  She brought some perennials that she had dug out of her beds.  She also had a little six pack of snap dragons left over.  I felt rich!

That same day, I heard from another friend, Allie, who runs a little shop and greenhouse in Thief River Falls.  She and her parents decided to go together and provide us with whatever plants from her greenhouse I wanted to choose.  They would cover the cost!  Another blessing! 

Allie is having a big sale this weekend, so she recommended I come before the weekend to get some good ones.  I chose several six packs of tomatoes, a couple varieties of hot peppers, some cabbage and broccoli, and three different squash/pumpkin type things.  I was going to splurge a little and pick out one of Allie's beautiful hanging baskets of petunias, which I felt I ought to pay for myself.  But of course she would not let me.  She also encouraged me to pick out a couple other "just for fun" things, so I chose some perennials, daisies and lupines for the naked flowerbed; and an old-fashioned white enamel pot with red trim, filled with cosmos for my front porch. 

I'm going to stick a parenthetic paragraph in here to promote Allie's shop, The Shed, on MN Hwy 1, three miles east of Thief River Falls.  Allie describes her inventory as shabby-chic.  She has a selection of antiques, some remade items, many locally hand-crafted things, some quirky-fun items.  A little of this and a little of that.  This spring Allie had a wonderful greenhouse, and sponsored a perennial swap for area gardeners.  She has handmade wooden yard furniture and garden art for sale, such as picnic tables, patio sets, trellises, and arches.  She's done a great job with the store.  Go check it out sometime. 

As one further aside, Allie is having brain surgery next week to have a cyst removed that has been growing and pressing on some important brain cells.  I pray for her full recovery.  And for God to grant her and her family an extra measure of His peace and comfort as they go through this very frightening time.

Veering back now to talk more about my yard work, which seems so trite compared to brain surgery, ... Because of the kindness and generosity of these friends, I was able to fill in about a third of the naked flower bed.  We are well supplied with bedding plants for the garden.  And I am even now sitting on my front porch gazing upon my beautiful hanging basket of petunias.  They are a deep purple and a salmony pink, glowing in the morning sunshine, and swaying gently in the breeze.  Such a pretty sight.  I have snap dragons in two of my pots in two corners of my front porch.  It will be fun to see in a few weeks what colors they will bloom.  And I have this cute little enamel pot topped with tall cosmos whose blossoms are just beginning to swell in preparation for opening. 

I may see if one of the local greenhouses has some basics left, and on sale.  Nothing fancy or expensive, but maybe a couple of six packs of marigolds and moss roses.  Some petunias and verbena.  Perhaps some salvia.  We can get by with that; and the kids can create some pretty arrangements for their pots.  We will have to wait and see what I can find.

But even if we only are able to have what we have now, what a blessing!  What a joy!  Living and growing things to enjoy, both all this summer and in years to come!

Thank you, my friends!

Baby Step to the Garden

I took a few baby steps toward getting things done today.  Really it is so sad that such small things have to excite me, but such is the state of things around here.  I washed my breakfast dishes before lunch and my lunch dishes right away after we ate.  That in and of itself is an accomplishment.

Then I went outside and did a bunch of yard work.  I cut back the winter kill from my climbing rose.  I cut the dead branches and tops off three baby trees, and tied up the remaining branches as needed.  

I cut down the three jostaberry bushes from the south end of the garden, and replanted eight of the suckers into the north end of what will eventually be a windbreak on the east edge of the property.  (Right now it is intermittent.  Each  year, as we plant a few more bushes, it gets a little bit longer.)  The jostaberry bushes had originally been planted in a triangle, but had grown together into a big mess.  When I headed out today, I planned to move one whole bush and replant it so that all three were in a row.  But when I started cutting them back to see what was what, I discovered suckers all over the place, and a thick gnarled mess of branches where the original bushes had been planted.  I decided I really didn't want anything that suckers so much in my garden after all.  And I knew I didn't want to try to dig up the original plants, either.  So I gathered about a dozen suckers and replanted them, two to a hole, in four holes.  By then I was tired out and threw the last four into the burn pile.  If they come, they come.   We have many more suckers; we can plant more later if we decide to.

Anyone want some jostaberry starts?  They are a cross between an black currant and a gooseberry.  No thorns.  I'm not really convinced of the benefits of growing them for the alleged fruit.  The bushes were overgrown so much we could only find a handful of berries each year.  We see lots of blooms, but just can't get to the berries. Or maybe the birds get to them before we do.  I don't know.  That's one reason I decided on the windbreak location.  At least there, even if we never get enough berries to use, the bushes will be good for something.  Let me know if you want some.

Now we need to pull what's left of the tangled mess of stump of the older bushes from the end of the garden.  It will take a four wheeler, garden tractor, or skid stir to do that.  We could probably do it with our van, or one of the cars, but I'm not sure about maneuvering any of them in the space over there.  Many little things planted in the vicinity.

Now I'm inside and just sitting.  I really had to force myself to keep going when I was outside.  I can't tell you how many times I looked at the house and thought longingly of my spider solitaire.  But I kept at my task and got something done.  I even carried all the scraps to the burn pile and put my tools away where they belong.  Alison B., you'd be pleased.

Tomorrow's another day. 

Oh, speaking of tomorrow, I have a friend coming tomorrow, so that's exciting.  I think I will haul a bunch of laundry up from the basement to fold while we visit.  You wouldn't mind would you, Becky, if I fold laundry in front of you?  I might actually get more done than when nobody is here, because I might feel guilty just sitting doing nothing when there is somebody here to see.  Isn't it weird how the brain and heart work?

If you haven't been outside yet, get out there for a little while.  It's wonderful, glorious, terrific, splendiferous, and all good things.

Spring has Sprung!

I'm liking this forecast an awful lot.

Foggy, with a Chance of Hoarfrost

As I was leaving Lana's, I saw this pretty scene

We've had several foggy days in a row.  That thick, soupy fog that can make a person feel a little desperate after consecutive days.  I missed my walk on Wednesday, because a couple of my little ones were sick.  But I was out there today, really grateful to be a part of the foggy outdoors rather than viewing it from my living room window.

Or from the windshield of the car.  But that would be a different story.  A story that would involve blowing through a stop sign at 55 mph last night on the way into Oklee to see the girls' One Act Play.  A story that would also include a woman who is very thankful that God protected her from any cross traffic.  Said woman is also thankful God allowed her to slow down enough while flying thorugh the intersection, so as to land safely on the gravel road that continued after the stop sign.  But, like I said, that would be another story.

Today's story is one of a lovely walk with friends on a mild and frosty morning.  And really that's all there there would be to say about it.  Except that Joe handed me the camera on my way out of the house.  I probably reacted a bit skeptically, since he's the picture guy around here and I get nervous any time someone hands me a camera.

While we walked, I tried to put myself into Joe mode.  It took awhile to get started.  The camera stayed securely within it's case around my neck for the first several laps around Lana's farm.  But then I remembered I had it, so the ladies and I started looking for things that would make nice pictures.  Joe always gets all these cool close-ups, but I don't' think I have the eye for that.  Mine just ended up looking kind of dumb.  I really like several of the scenery type shots I got.  It's too bad we have gunk in our camera lens that shows up well in several of the shots.  But if you look past that, you can enjoy a photo-journal walk with us, on the farm, on a frosty morning.

I love the fences in this shot, and the bale in the foreground.

Heading north, between the cattle yard and the woods

The roadway curves to the west.

We don't walk this route when the weather is inclement. It's too exposed.  But its very picturesque to look upon.

Brad's cattle are standing like statues.

One of Lana's flower beds during its winter slumber

Hoary trees along the path

A shrub bedecked in her lace shawl

Although not a great shot, it shows the main driveway into the farm. It's another area we sometimes have to avoid when the wind is bad. 

My Walking Team

Here's to my walking friends.  I consider your company during exercise an immense blessing in my life.  I love you all and am ever so thankful we have each other.

Mary, Jan, Lana, Connie

About a year ago, I started exercising with Connie L, in her basement.  We kept this up throughout the winter last year.  We used our pooled exercise equipment in Connie's basement.  And we cheered each other on.  Having another person to keep me accountable is good, but the visiting we did was even better.

When spring came, we walked outside.  Soon, Lana N. and Jan D. joined us, and we took turns walking along the roadways near each other's homes, throughout out the summer.   We jabbered away many miles.

When fall came, we looked forward with sad hearts for the day we'd have to move inside due to cold or snow or wind.  We tossed around several ideas of how we'd all fit in one place to continue our mutual conversation and consolation during the drudgery of exercise.  Then Lana had the idea of using the apartment that had been added to her house for her late mother.  Currently Lana uses it for a guest apartment and extra space.

When the cold weather loomed nearer, she got the space all cleared out, and we brought over our various pieces of equipment.  We have two tread mills, an exercise bike, a Cardio-Glide, a Gazelle, and a mat for stretching or floor exercises.

But the cold weather didn't come and we continued to walk outside.  Eventually, with the fall and winter wind becoming chillier, we settled into walking only at Lana's house.  They have an extensive home site on their farm, with roadways and paths around the various buildings and wooded areas.  It is quite sheltered, with several options for walking different directions, depending upon the wind.  We meet at 8:00 am and try to go for at least an hour.  Our rough estimate is that the primary route we go is about 1/4 mile long, and we usually walk 7 or 8 circuits.

Since Christmas time, we've have to finally resort to our indoor equipment.  When the temps sunk to 15-20 below with wind chills of 35-40 below, we surrendered.  But what a blessing that we had such a long and mild fall! 

We were able to walk outside again yesterday.  It was a bit breezy, but we chose a route that mostly avoided the southerly wind.  There was one section we had to pull our hoods a little tighter, but there was another section we all took off mittens or hoods, and talked about how warm it was.

I am glad we have the option of the indoor equipment.  And it's nice to have a change to work some different muscle groups.

But the fresh winter air just can't be beat!

The Lengthening of Days, a Meditation

Joseph Farquharson   Glow'd with tints of evening hours

While the earth remains,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Winter and summer,
And day and night
Shall not cease.

Numbers 8:22

Vincent Van Gogh   Enclosed Field with Rising Sun

  
In the heavens God has set a tabernacle for the sun,
 Which is like a bridegroom 
coming out of his chamber,
         And rejoices like a strong man to run its race.
 Its rising is from one end of heaven,
         And its circuit to the other end;
         And there is nothing hidden from its heat. 

Psalm 19:4-6

A Most Excellent Sunday

I had a great day yesterday.  Most of the day, the sun was shining, the grass was green, the wind was mild.  The day ended with a burst of rain and a vivid reminder of God's promises.

My day started, however, on a more questionable footing.  I was late for church.  But the pastor was late too, due to a baptism and communion at the earlier service at St. Petri.  So I was off the hook on that one.  I didn't have much hope when I was lovingly putting the finishing touches on our dinner before putting it in the oven to bake during church; I was still in my pjs; the little ones were dressed, but no sock/tights or shoes...Louisa says to me, somewhat exasperatedly, "Mo-om, we only have about 2 minutes to get to church."

But alas, I got there before the opening announcements were finished and so got all the important stuff.

We sang one of my favorite hymns in church.  In its entirety!  Luther's Nun Freut Euch (Dear Christians One and All Rejoice).  What awesome lyrics.  My favorite verses are 2 and 5, but really, how could one choose?

Fastbound in Satan's chains I lay;  Death brooded darkly o'er me.

Sin was my torment night and day;  In sin my mother bore me.;

Yea, deep and deeper still I fell;  Life had become a living hell,

So firmly sin possessed me.

He spoke to His beloved Son:  "Tis time to have compassion.

Then, go, bright Jewel of My crown,  And bring to man salvation.

From sin and sorrow set him free,  Slay bitter death for him, that he

May live with Thee forever."

After the kids and I got home from church, because there is no summer Sunday school, we had time to get everyone changed and the dinner on before Joe got home from his third service at about 12:30.

I also had a little free time and couldn't decide what to do. My front porch furniture was calling to me, looking all nice and white in the sunshine.  But I didn't want to just sit there doing nothing.  (Trust me, usually sitting doing nothing is not a problem for me, but yesterday I wanted to do something.)

I grabbed my crochet and headed out to the loveseat.  It had rained quite a bit overnight, so although the sun was warm and bright, there were still puddles on the porch.  I planned to sit in the bigger seat and have room for my ball of yarn off to the side.  As I opened the door to head out, I saw our big mama cat lounging under one of the smaller chairs.  I squinted evilly at her, mentally daring her to come play with my yarn ball.  I sat down, arranged my stuff, took up my yarn and hook... and there was the cat.  Didn't take her 20 seconds to join me.  So back in I went. 

I surveyed the lighting in the living room, weighing my desire to crochet, compared with my desire to be outside.  I put down the crochet stuff and, taking up my current book, I headed back out.  By this time, mama cat was back under the other chair, so I sat down in the loveseat once again to read.  (I just want to say here that somebody should make books printed in negative for those of us who like to read in the sun.  It's getting harder and harder, the older I get, to read in the bright sunlight.  But I always manage to do it a little bit each summer, squinting  to beat the band, trying futily to get the least amount of reflected sunlight as possible into my eyes, while still being able to make out the words.) 

I enjoyed about three squinty-eyed sentences of my book before mama cat joined me again.  She crawled up beside me under my elbow and started headbutting me to pet her.  I'm not a big cat person.  They are cute and all, but I'm allergic.  So I have to enjoy them from afar.  Usually, they don't bother my allergies outside, unless of course I pet them.  Which petting, mama cat was adamantly demanding to receive yesterday forenoon.  After I ignored her head butts, she started pawing me.  When that action failed to yield the desired result, she began scratching me.  Grrr.

After all the rigmarole, Joe was due home soon, so I came in, put down my book and went into the kitchen to finish the last minute dinner preparations.

I had fixed a pork chop and rice hotdish with celery, onion, garlic powder, and parsley, cooked in cream sauce.  We had steamed broccoli and cauliflower with butter and a squeeze of lemon on the side.  It was very good if I do say so myself.

The parsley I used was some we had dried from our garden last summer.  We dry it on cookie sheets in the car or van, with the windows cracked open to allow the air to circulate.  I don't know where we got that tip, but it's really cool to have a giant solar dehydrator sitting in our driveway all summer.  But it's more handy yet when I remember where I put the stuff I dry.  I can't tell you how many times I searched throughout the winter for that jar of parsley that I KNEW we had, and couldn't find it.  But the other day, there it was in the very back of the top shelf of our spice cupboard.

The vegetables I cooked were from fresh.  I haven't often used fresh vegetables for the last several years.  Frozen is just way too easy.  Open the bag and pour it into the pot, right?  But of late, I'm trying to use more fresh.  Each time I shop, I try to get something fresh: green beans, brocolli, cabbage, sugar peas...  There is a specific reason I've made this change.  It doesn't have to do with freshness or nutrition or even taste, although the fresh steamed veggies are ever so much better tasting than the previously frozen steamed vergetables.  It's because all the frozen vegetable companies have gone to those stupid steamer packs that only come in small packages and cost way more.  Now that may be very convenient to most families who routinely cook for two or four people.  But let me tell you, it is a true bummer for some one who is accustomed to buying frozen veggies in the huge bags, two or three bags of each kind at a time. And how hard is it, really, to put a little water in the bottom of a pot and pour the vegetable in.  I suppose it's the clean-up that is saved on, by steaming them in the bag, but really...I wouldn't mind it if they offered those to the people who want to use them.  But do they think everyone will want them that way? (Sorry about the rant.  It' really, really irritates me.  Can you tell?)

I very much enjoyed the fresh steamed broccoli and cauliflower today.  And it's not really that much more work to cut and rinse it before putting in the pot. Totally worth the extra work.  (And this way, I don't give my money to the frozen veggie companies who can't accommodate my spending habits.)

After lunch, I lay down with Inge to get her to sleep.  She's in that stage at which she doesn't think she needs a nap.  But when she doesn't take one, she either 1) falls asleep at supper, before eating of course; or 2) is so beastly come evening that we all suffer.  So I've taken to lying down with her in the hopes I can coax her to sleep.  Yesterday was a successful nap day, both Inge and Mom were coaxed into a refreshing slumber.

After I crawled back to consciousness, I decided to putz around in my flower beds.  It was a good day for it.  After all the rain Saturday, even the dandelions came out easily.

Toward late afternoon I had made my way over to the bed that borders our driveway.  The evening sun was still warm.  The dandelions were still coming out easily.  The light breeze was from the east, from behind me.  But I tell you, sitting right next to Joe's 30 gallon garbage can of some sort of stewing deer head concoction takes a little bit of the joy out of working up the flower beds.  Pee-eew!  As long as I didn't inhale, I could pretend the day was still nice.  I'm sure he's working on some entirely important food preservation or hide tanning method or something.  I'm absolutely certain that when the grid goes down, whatever is brewing in that garbage pail will no doubt save the local economy.  Really, Joe, did you have to do it right in our front yard? 

"My husband, some hotshot.  Here's his ancient Chinese secret." 

But when Joe noticed me sitting with my nose pinched shut while weeding, he was kind enough to drag the sloshing mixture several yards further away.  Thank you, dear.

At another point in my weeding, shortly before it was time to head in, Donna ran up to the house from down alongside the church parking lot where the kids were playing.  Stark naked.  Covered with grass and water.  Yikes!  The kids were swimming in the ditch that separates the parking lot from the hayfield south of us.  Good gracious!  Stella and John at least had shorts on.  But Donna and Inge were stark naked.  And please recall that there are no trees at all between them and the highway.   Our poor members... naked pastor's kids in the church ditch.  I wonder how many phone calls were buzzing the local lines yesterday afternoon. Thankfully it was so beautiful out that maybe, just maybe, nobody was out driving.

The kids' wet clothes hanging on the rail to dry.  Won't work very well during the downpour.

The day was topped off by several beautiful downpours that rolled through the area after supper time.  It went from sunny and blue, to dark, angry and raining sheets in a matter of minutes.  Then the sun peaked through once again to give us a beautiful, bright, entire rainbow before another dark cloud rolled in, and again rained sheets on us.

Exercise Summary (OK, maybe, considering the length of this post, "summary," is the wrong word.)

I thought sure I posted last Monday, but I can't find it.  Maybe I put it on a different blog.  That would be about my speed some days.  I'll have to check.  Maybe the computer crashed in the middle of it and I never got back to it.  That would be about our computers' speed.

But for any who care, I kind of did week five for the third time last week.  With the nicer spring weather, my exercise partner and I walk outside and it's nicer to walk together than to worry about some arbitrary exercise plan.

On Monday, I did a Week 5, Couch to 5K workout.  I don't remember any details.  Except that I think I was maybe kind of wimpy. Maybe I should rename this blog The Diary of a Wimpy Mom.
 
On Wednesday and Friday, we walked outside for about an hour each day. I think Connie and I walked about four miles on Wednesday.

Connie's neighbor, Jan, joined us on Friday.  The two driveways are only about 200 or 300 yards apart, so they truly are near neighbors for this area.  Of course if you factor in the driveway lengths, it's really not so near after all.  It's probably about 1/2 mile between the two homes.

That day we walked a little less than four miles.  We turned around to head for home sooner that day.  Both walks were with excellent company, as we visited and enjoyed the spring weather.

When we got to a certain spot in the road, Connie said, "This is about where we saw the bear."  And then both ladies told the story about a walk last summer which was suddenly interrupted by aggressive barking from Jan's younger, more rambunctious dog.  If I have the story correct, a cub had crossed the road and the dog taken a few steps toward it.  By this time the ladies had turned and realized what was up.  All they could do was hope the dog wouldn't take off after the cub.  A few minutes later, the mama and another cub came out of the woods and lumbered across the road.  The mama stood and looked at them once in the center of the road, and then a second time after they had all gotten across.  Thankfully, the dog did nothing more than bark and all ended well.

That story led to another, this one starring Jan's husband, Rickie.  Rickie was fishing on the river just a mile or so north of where we were walking.  He looked up and there was a bear floating on its back down the middle of the river.  The bear and Rickie saw each other at the same time.  The bear slooshed toward the far bank and off he went.  The story reminded me of Baloo in Disney's version of The Jungle Book.

On Saturday, Joe got up early and went for his morning run and came in looking all refreshed.  He's going about it a bit differently than am I.  I'm working like nuts trying to take off this extra weight and get in shape.  I'm following a "plan," some days feeling like I'm killing myself doing it.

Joe goes out and runs a couple of power poles.  That's how we measure distance around here.  The power poles are alleged to be 100 yards apart.  So Joe goes out one day and runs a couple power poles.  He goes out the next day and runs a few more.  I'm not jealous or anything, but he really makes it seem way too easy.

Anyway, another friend also mentioned on facebook having gone for a run that morning, so I got to thinking to myself that since I hadn't done my Couch to 5K workout much last week I better do it.  And I'd get a taste of the nice fresh air if I did it outside.

Some highlights

• I made it.  I was able to do the workout.
• I ran on the minimum maintenence road 1/2 mile north of us.  I love running there.  Although we haven't been there much, since Joe sprained his ankle last summer in one of its many gopher holes.
• A grouse crossed the road in front of me.
• I saw several pairs of geese.
• The frogs were singing merrily in the ditch toward the west end.
• A gopher stood up in the lane ahead of me and although I know he digs holes that can sprain ankles, he was still cute silhouetted against the morning sky.

Some lowlights

• The roadway has apparently been sprayed, so that where most years is green and growing things, along the ditches, and between the ruts in the roadway, all is dried and brown for the first 1/2 mile.  After that, it is like somebody flipped the switch and it's all green again.
• A chunk of the already limited woods has been bulldozed, and the stumps and tree remains heaped up into a few unsightly piles.  I understand the farmers need to make a living, too; and I understand these are hard economic times.  So perhaps he needed the additional land.  But it does make for a less pleasant walk.
• I was not nearly as streamlined and svelte a runner as I had dreamed of being after all my hard work on the tread mill all winter.

When I returned home, I engaged in one of my spring pleasures. I like to walk around the property and look at all the bushes and trees and watch the progress from time to time to see which are budding out and how they are doing.  At each visit, I hope to see that new growth which signifies I won't have to replace anything after the hard winter.  This year was long and cold, but with a thick snow cover, so hopefully all will be well.

So far, so good, but I have a couple of apple trees in the back that I think ought to be showing more progress than they do.  I'll have to go check them again today.

Today, I walked outside with Connie again. We again went about four miles.  We didn't see any bears, but we did see a sand hill crane on the outward leg of our trip. And on the way back, we watched a pair of bluebirds frolicking in the trees bordering Andy and Karen's place.   Was that male ever a bright blue!  He almost didn't look real, he was so brightly colored.

Meandering to Town on a Minnesota Spring Day

I had a great drive into Bemidji last Tuesday.  The alleged reason for spending the gas to get to Bemidji for the second time in a week was to pick up our turkey poults.

But the exciting part of the trip was the beautiful spring weather we had that day, and the scenic route I decided to pursue.  Bemidji is about 70 miles SE of our house.  Generally we either head almost straight south to Fosston and catch US Hwy 2 into Bemidji.  Occasionally, we will turn to the east before Fosston and take MN 92 into Bagley where we catch US Hwy 2.  But today, ... today I wandered.  I figured if I kept a general southern and easterly turn of roads, I would get to Bemidji eventually.

My adventure started  8 miles south of our house.  The tar road heading south ends there, and drivers who want to avoid gravel driving must turn either east or west.  I chose today to stay on the gravel and continue south.  I soon crossed the Lost River and continued following the slightly wending road for a few miles until it hit the tar heading south again.  It's not really very adventurous so far, but it's about as exciting as one can get on that first leg of the journey.  And it suited my mood.

When I got to MN 92, I headed east, as I would, were I going to Bagley.  But I turned off before getting to Bagley and headed toward Leonard.  I really don't know where I went or how I got there, but I ran into US Hwy 2, just west of Solway.  I was a bit disappointed that I found the main road so soon, but the backroad drive was very nice while it lasted.  I had the radio turned to the station playing classic hits of the 60s, 70s and 80s.

When I got to Bemidji, the first thing I did, since it was past lunch time, was head into Leukens Deli for a salad, some fruit, and a yogurt.  I took it "to go" and tried to find a scenic place to park.

After several minutes of wandering the city streets, I ended up at Diamond Point Park.  We had picnicked there two summers ago with the Larsons from Iowa.  It is a very pretty park and many people were out that day, enjoying the spring weather.

While I was eating my salad, a pick-up pulled in next to me.  Out of it, eventually, managed to come an elderly couple and a younger man perhaps in his 50s or early 60s, who I took to be a son of the couple.  The older man had to shuffle quite a bit even to walk, and the others helped him along.  He was dressed against the slightly nippy spring breeze with a winter coat and hat.  It soon became clear that this elderly man was not up to much of a walk, but that he planned to enjoy the nice day by waiting for the other two near one of the picnic shelters.  The son walked him to a bench under the shelter, and appeared to encourage him to sit down.  But this man was having none of that sitting business on such a nice day.  As the other two continued on their walk, he stood near the bench, or wandered here and there never getting too far from the bench near which he had been delivered. 

The older lady was in a pair of brightly colored jade green sweat pants, a kelly green sweatshirt, and a quilted red vest.  She seemed so vivacious and excited for her walk.  She kept spreading wide her arms and letting the wind ruffle the sleeves of her green sweatshirt. She reminded me of a brightly colored bird, strutting around in the spring.

After I ate my lunch, I joined all the other park goers who were out to take the air.  I had enough time for a half hour walk, and since there was so much to see, I kept up a brisk pace.  I went first to the north-western most corner of the park and cut back along the shoreline toward the university.

It was during this part in my walk, when I met my erstwhile friends, the elderly mother and her son who had left the older gentleman to enjoy his sunshine in a less athletic fashion.  The mother was still spreading wide her arms, turning this way and that, just beaming with the pleasure that only someone coming off eight months of winter can fully appreciate.  We exchanged pleasantries regarding the glorious day and I continued on my way.

The Little Mermaid  Copenhagen

I continued past the swimming beach where a few mothers with young children were vainly attempting to keep the kids from wading in the ice cold water.  One youngster had hopped across some open water and was sitting on a rock, looking very like the Copenhagen statue of Hans Christian Andersen's, The Little Mermaid.

Once a walker passes the point, the shoreline turns toward the south.  Along the walking path, there are clusters of Adirondack chairs, positioned facing the lake.  In one such cluster, a brave Northern Minnesota girl was huddled against the breeze coming off the lake.  She was in a skirt with tights, plus a oversized sweatshirt with a winter hat.  She was reading her book, all nestled into the Adirondack chair.

I continued on my way, leaving the park and following the bike path that snakes between Minnesota State University, Bemidji, and Lake Bemidji.  I have always thought the University of Wisconsin, Madison, has one of the nicest university campuses there is.  And I still do.  But the university in Bemidji is also very happily situated.  Along the walkway, benches are placed every so often, to enable those seated thereon to view the lake.  There are picnic tables here and there, and fireplace with a stone chimney on a little patio beside the lake, outside of the building I believe to be Hobson Memorial Union.

The area had a very distinctly campusy feel to it.  The students walking about were of a wide variety of ethnicities; clusters of students were involved in serious discussions; students were dressed in a wide variety of clothing styles.  It was all very reminiscent of any number of college campuses I've been to.  

But there was one point of variance that reminded me of the Minnesota Gurls spoof of Katy Perry's song, California Gurls.



Someone walking on the campus in Madison, WI, might expect to see any number of water based contrivances on Madison's Lake Mendota.  The students there rent or own canoes, kayaks, or row boats, among other water craft.  But here in Bemidji, I saw a group of students sitting and relaxing, passing the time, in...yes...a fishing boat.  I don't recall ever having seen, among the students at any other college campus I've been on, a group of young people socializing on a fishing boat, complete with a Johnson motor, and pivoting fishing seats.  I thought it an excellent tribute to the Minnesota spirit of those youth and of Minnesota in general.

After I finished my walk, I continued on to L and M Fleet Supply to pick up our turkeys and a few more fleetish odds and ends.  And then I headed home.

And ah, the glory of the return trip.  I can't even begin to tell you where I went, but I headed north just after I got out of town.  And again, I meandered in a zigging and zagging pattern, this time reversing to make my way north and west.  The sun was shining, the radio was playing, the birds were flying (or floating on one of our many lakes), the cattle were out and about, and it was all so very pleasant.

I came upon MN 92 just south of Clearbrook, and went straight across 92, to continue my backroads excursion.  Soon after crossing 92, I met an Amish carriage.  It seemed symbolic, somehow, of the mood I was in, but it juxtaposed strangely with REO Speedwagon on the radio.

When I got the intersection south of Gully and north of Cross Lake, when I'd have had to turn north or south to stay on the paved roads, I hit pay dirt.  Metaphorical pay dirt.  I chose the unpaved roads and continued meandering.  I took the next road to the north and after a few miles it wended its way between several small, serene Minnesota lakes and farm sites.  It was wonderfully refreshing.  Just driving and gazing and breathing in the beauty of this earth God has given us.  Another silly juxtaposition, but I think it was here that Cyndi Lauper's, Girls Just Wanna Have, fun came on the radio.

I have a friend who never listens to anything on the radio.  On all the long country drives he has to get anywhere, and throughout all his long days sitting in the tractor in his fields...he never listens to anything.  He enjoys the peace and quiet of his own mind and heart, looking out at the world and thinking his thoughts.  I felt a bit as though I ought to have had that attitude with all the beautiful things to look at that day, but I didn't.  I really enjoy my music.  But I was humored the other day by the interesting ways in which the music interacted with what I was experiencing.

A Spring Junket

Our neighbor kids spent the afternoon here today.  Since it was a balmy 40F out, they decided to take a walk around the neighboring fields to pay a first spring visit to all their favorite haunts.  Since the pasture surface is a mix of snow, ice, water, mud and tufts of grass, deciding how to dress for the occasion was a bit of a challenge.

Finally most of the kids decided upon winter wear, complete with snowpants and boots, gloves, hats and coats.  But in case they got dry, they also took several water bottles.

Elsie and Holly chose the eastern route, toward the north end of Kimball's woods and what has sometimes been called The Beach.  (More on that later.)  On the way there, the girls had to traverse an area of mostly frozen slough.  When we had our warm days a few weeks ago, a large amount of snow melted and left a very large area of standing water which since has frozen solid.  Because of the warm temperature again today, the edges were starting to melt and break apart.  But for the hardy souls who brave the initial dash, the ensuing ice field is a wealth of fun.  Perfect for sliding and falling and occasionally breaking through.

Clara, Stella, John, and our neighbor Matt went south to the fort they call Mosquito Coverage.  The name is from long ago, I think Jeremy came up with it.  He had names for all his favorite places, but most have fallen out of use.  This one, however, has remained Mosquito Coverage.  It's straight south of our house, past the edge of the hayfield and into the corner of CRP (Conservation Reserve Program) land in this section.  Mosquito Coverage is a little hillock, formerly, I think, a pile of rocks that has filled in with dirt and grass and the oddments of farm cast-offs such as rolls of barbed wire, old fence posts and the remains of tree branches and roots.  In this land that is largely without visual landmarks, this little hillock makes a destination of mystery and adventure.  This time of year, although the top of the bushes is showing above the melted snow, there is still quite a large drift along the north side.

Mosquito Coverage is about 1/4 mile south of the house. It is the first "fort" to which our youngest children are allowed to adventure, since we can see it clearly out our front window.

I was supposed to have the neighbor kids home at 4:00, so as the hour neared I was keeping an eye out for the various explorers, watching for their return home.  Elsie and Holly returned home in good time and even had 1/2 hour to spare.  But I could see neither hide nor hair of the younger set.  I had seen them near the fort just a little while earlier.  Holly and Elsie had seen the others while they were walking home.  But now that they needed to be heading in, the younger group had disappeared.   Joe got out his field glasses and surveyed the area.  No children.

Joe then got out his Mossberg 500 12 guage, and fired two shots safely at the ground. We've trained the older kids to listen for shots when they are out and about.  It is supposed to mean, "It's time to come in."  I started out several years ago with a referee whistle, but the sound doesn't carry far enough.  Each year as the snow melts and the kids are once again able to gad about the neighborhood, we review all the roaming rules so that each group of kids learns the rules for the newer freedoms they enjoy as they grow older.  But I didn't mention any rules to the kids today.   Bad Mom!

As 4:00 approached and we still didn't see the younger kids anywhere, Joe went out driving around the SW corner of the section.  Because of the flat land and the open spaces, we can usually see most everything, so it was just a bit unnerving when he returned and hadn't seen them at all.  By the time he came back, I was dressed for walking.  It was a nice day, and I knew they had to be somewhere.  As we were debating which direction I should start out, we spied them in the periphery of the woods southeast of us.  Louisa wanted a little walk too, so she came along to direct me around the worst of the slough.

By the time Louisa and I got out to the pasture, the kids were heading out of the woods toward The Beach.  This is a little manmade rise next to a cow pond.  In this part of Minnesota, since our water table is pretty high, a cattle rancher will dig a pit in the pasture and put the dirt off to the side, making a slight rise.  The pit fills in and, voila, a watering pond.  This particular pond is, thankfully, not deep.  The cattle are confined elsewhere during the winter months.  So in the spring, when the world is fresh and new, my girls have been known to sunbathe on the south facing slope of the rise.  And yes, they have even on occasion sneaked swimming suits under their clothes, and frisked around a bit in the pond.   Hence the name, "The Beach."

When Louisa and I got near the other kids, we soon realized that we were separated from them by the partially frozen slough.  Louisa, being only a bit more than half my weight, was able to get across the ice without getting her feet too wet.  I stayed safely on the dry tussocks of grass, well away from the deeper portions of the wetland.  (Chicken!)  Louisa called the other kids over and continued on across to help Stella, who was too afraid of falling through to make any significant progress.  The other, older kids were fearless.  They ran and slid and crashed their way over to me.  Mostly it was frozen and they slid along making good time.  But Clara had one good break through which caught her off balance and sent her front side first into the icy brew.  She got up laughing and hooting about how fun it was.

As we gradually made our way home, I was struck by the realization that spring had come.  It may have been a mere 40 degrees out.  The snowcover was still at about 30%.  The ice was thick enough that the kids mostly walked across just fine.  But even so, spring is here.  The kids were having a blast.  They were outside without huddling into their scarves at each breath.  Some were even carrying their hats and gloves.  I had on only a hooded sweatshirt and boots.  Most of the kids were wearing snowpants that dripped with icy water.  And yet they were warm.  We were all warm.

Spring has come to northern Minnesota once again.