Living in the country

I don't live in the country these days.  I live in Tiny Town on a dead end street.  We're the only house on that street.  Out behind us is nothing but pasture. So, even though we live in town--it is kind of like living in the country, too. 

Besides having to back down the hill, this was a great place to raise kids.  (And they both learned to back really well!) The girls could play in the yard and out back with no worry of traffic.  They raised bucket calves in a small pen in the pasture.  (The pasture owner is a very nice man!) 

This morning while I was looking out the kitchen window, I saw three deer jump over the back fence into our yard.  I moved to another window to see where they were headed.  I finally stepped out on our front porch and took a few pictures of them.  They didn't bat an eye.  Yep!  Still kind of like living in the country.

After lunch, I made a trip to the farm which really is out in the country and about twelve miles from the nearest town. Yesterday was Dad's birthday, so I ran out for the afternoon.  The Mr. had to work, so he missed the trip out to see the beaver dam. They've built a nice little dam on the creek.  I'd like to see them in action sometime.

We drove down to my grandparents old farmstead, through the creek and pastures.  It reminded me how nice it was to ride bikes or run on those roads when I was a kid. I think if I lived on any other street, I'd be really homesick for the farm.  The deer, wild turkeys, and even the red foxes in our front yard on Easy Street make me feel right at home.

Tonight, I took Baxter for a walk in Tiny Town.  It was eerie:  misty and dark on the streets.  We walked in the middle of the street because no one else was out.  Our walk might have been on a country road. 

And when we got home, Baxter looked like he had been walking on dirt roads.  He was filthy.  Chasing leaves is dirty work.  He had to have a bath to remove some of the "country" he brought home with him.

Now if I could only talk the Mr. into wood heat, it really would be like home.  There's almost nothing better than curling up by a wood burning stove on a cold day.  That's one part of the country that I still miss on Easy Street.

Our Family's Version of Woodstock- Memorial Weekend

My dad was the oldest of nine children.  Those nine children gave my grandparents 38 grandchildren.  That means I am one of 38 (count 'em, folks!) first cousins.  (In fact, I am one of five cousins born during a four month period in a single year. I think someone 'lovingly' referred to as "the herd.") 

There was always someone to play with at family reunions. We always had enough for teams.  As we've gotten older, married, and had our own families it has been harder to keep track of each other. 

Several years ago we started gathering at my grandparent's farm for a weekend of camping.  Our children get to enjoy the farm and creek just as we did as children.  The house and the old barn are gone, but Grandma's flowers grow without tending and the "coffee bean tree" still drops the goods for kids to play with.  The kids catch crawdads and frogs.  They swing on a rope swing and drop into a swimming hole. There is a campfire, hot dog roast, and community camper breakfasts.  Little ones get tucked into tents by flashlight. 

The best part of the weekend?  Spending a couple of days with my extended family.  At a typical family reunion, with a meal and a couple of hours- there just isn't much time to talk.  During a weekend visit, we get reacquainted and create all kinds of new memories:  we've had the year of the fire (the house burned), the year of the flood (the creek rose), and the year of the rat.  Don't ask!  (Actually, one cousin had a rat go home with her and it ate the wiring in their vehicle.  Ugh!)  One cousin led a hiking group on a wild goose chase to find the springs.  Lewis and/or Clark, he wasn't. 

On Sunday, the non campers arrive for a potluck dinner.  You can tell who camped and who didn't.  The ones who look good and smell good haven't spent their weekend in tents and campers.  A favorite aunt brings a huge freezer of homemade ice cream.  (You can see why she is a favorite aunt!)  I'm not sure how many gallons her freezer makes, but it feeds the large crowd that gathers. 

This happens to be one of my favorite weekends of the year.  I love my cousins.  They are crazy and fun.  (Only a crazy cousin would decorate the grave of an aunt and uncle who are still alive!) I love getting to know the cousin's kids and spouses.  I love when the aunts and uncles join us, tolerate our teasing, and tell us their stories of growing up on the farm.  Mainly, I love remembering my childhood and my grandparents. 
 
A sky full of stars is just an added perk!

The Farmer in the Dell

The Mr. and I went with Dad to feed the cows this weekend. They heard his truck and came running for hay.

Cows are interesting creatures. They usually are a pretty good predictor of bad weather: gathering in one area of the pasture, huddled together, rears to the wind. They can find the most inopportune times to "get out." Any country kid can tell you that the cows getting out stresses everyone. (Fences are an important part of farm life. Seems like Dad has spent a lifetime working on fences.) Cows are somewhat human in their behavior. There is a herd or mob mentality. There are good cows and bad cows; ones that follow the rules and some that always want to do something a little different. Some take to "mothering" and a few don't, just like people. Cows don't like to be separated from their babies, which I totally understand. A few cows seem to run every herd. There is a "follow the leader" mentality that reminds me of my students. Cows like to be familiar with their surroundings, so you will see cows walk the fence lines to check things out. (Or are they figuring out a way to get out??)

I always liked feeding the cows with Dad. It usually involved a rough truck ride through ravines. Even this past Friday, Dad's driving on muddy trails was a bit like those roller coaster thrill rides. A thrill--yes, but I'm always relieved when we get where we're going! I can remember a winter of big snows when I was a kid. Dad hooked the sled and toboggan behind the truck so that every time he went to feed cows, my sister and I got a wild sled ride. (I seem to remember her tobogganing over the top of the sled I was riding.) And in the spring, it was fun to see the baby calves that had arrived in late winter.

Cows make pretty good company. Sometimes I think Dad prefers them to humans. (They don't talk back, and you can use a cattle prod on them without the SRS calling!! Who am I kidding? Sometimes I prefer them to humans! They frown on cattle prods in the classroom.) Yes, Dad might have been a cowboy if he had been born in a different era.

Swimming Hole- The Long Pond

As a country kid, we didn't make it into town to swim at the local pool very often. However, the farm had a great creek running through it. One section of it we called the long pond because it was deeper, wider, and slower, and this was our swimming hole. Spring water feeding into it assured that the water was always cold on hot summer days and frigid on the first days of summer. Mom made sure that we all took swimming lessons in town, so she didn't have to worry so much when we took off for the creek. If we heard the car horn honk while we were down there, we knew we better be making tracks for the house. That was her signal that our presence was needed, and her way to make sure that we were all ok.

My little sister and I spent a lot of time on the shallow end, while my brothers spent more time in deeper water. The only drawback to swimming at the long pond were the leeches. Frequently we would wash our legs at the hydrant when we got home, only to discover "mud" that would not wash off. Yep, leeches. We became experts at pulling them off. You'd think that would discourage us from swimming there, but no chance! Swimming at the long pond was a great way to spend a summer afternoon. This is still one of my favorite places.

My husband remembers night fishing there with my brother. After a short time he heard a splash and then saw my brother come swimming by. I guess the fish weren't biting. It is a little chilly to swim right now, but I'm thinking we might have to plan a fishing trip there soon! And if the fish don't bite, well--swimming might be an option.

Monday Memories and Stepping Back

Happy Easter

The Mr.'s childhood church.
Such a pretty little country church
in this small Swedish community.

The home of:

Julatta services on Christmas morning,

Lenten services,

Sunday School, Bible School,

Catechism classes, and

the cemetery where the Mr.'s

Dad and grandparents are buried.

Small Town Sunday Snapshot

Small Town America

This sits on main street of the Mr.'s hometown. Unused and tired, there is still something about it that I love. There isn't much left in his town anymore. People and businesses have pulled up stakes and moved on, leaving behind the shell of the life that once was. The elevator stands silent and waiting, ever faithful.

Back to the Farm

This time of year always makes me nostalgic for the farm and my childhood. The weather reminds me of newborn animals, lilac bushes, and even field trips at school. Mom always made sure I had a new spring windbreaker or sweater to wear to the bus every morning. In spring, I miss the farm. (Who am I kidding? I miss the farm at the beginning of every season. You appreciate the seasons more in the country.)

This window above the kitchen sink was mom's window to the world. She loved watching cardinals while washing the dishes. Now my step mom keeps her colored glass bottle collection on the window ledge, casting a lovely light on her dish washing.

Clothes on the line definitely mean I am home.

The owner of the overalls.

The girls and the farmer--the real reason for the visit.

Dad spends the morning visiting with his granddaughters.

There are probably things he should be doing-

but coffee and conversation take priority on this morning.

February 15- The Lupercalia

The ancient Romans celebrated a holiday on February 15th known as the Lupercalia. It was a holiday to the god Lupercus to avert the evil spirits and bring health and fertility to the city. (I have a theory about how our holiday of LOVE ended up on February 14th, but that is another story.) Lupercus, the mythical Roman god, was also the god of shepherds and agriculture. I kind of like the idea of celebrating a holiday to bring health and that also celebrates our farms.

When we moved to this community some 27 years ago now, I would drive by a scenic place on interstate that included a hike up a hill to an overlook. I always had good intentions of stopping to make the hike, and in the approximate several thousand times I have driven by it-- never took the time to hike it, until today. The hill is a killer and definitely gets the heart rate up, but the blue sky and winter grasses made it worth the trip. So sad that it took me 27 years to stop, make the hike, and admire the view.
The path is mostly paved, with a few washouts here and there. (Look at that sky!)

When you reach the top there is a cannon overlooking the surrounding farm land. (So I guess I was celebrating the Lupercal! And you know how those Romans loved a good fight. I wonder what they would have thought of modern weaponry!)

The Mr. elected not to make this trip with me. (Three days of flu this week!) But that is him, waiting patiently for me at the bottom. And now the "why" for the inspiration to finally stop after 27 years:

We haven't seen the girls for several weeks and since I mailed no Valentines, we agreed to meet for breakfast at a fairly new place. The Chef opened in August and is becoming a hot breakfast spot. I had stacked French toast with caramel, cream cheese filling. Hence, the need for the hike! Delicious!!

This place was adorable: lots of dark wood, brick, and fiestaware colors!

These windows caught my eye. There were three of them decorating the inside and bringing the "outside" in.

Great coffee served in fiestaware colored pottery: blue, yellow, and red.

It isn't a big place, but there were lots of bright, blue chairs and huge, street side windows making this a cheerful little place to enjoy a great Sunday breakfast.

Oh yeah, and we did celebrate Valentine's Day. I loved this card that the girls sent us. It seems so appropriate this time of year when all I can think of is a break from the grind. Strange to think that vacation will be here soon, and I will be longing to get back to my classroom and the routine of school.