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Winter work

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When the wind blows cold, and the garden sleeps, the only thing that can get me outside is my critters!  I have to let them out, feed them, change water, clean out their hutches and sleeping quarters, and this week I’ve been thawing out their water troughs and founts!   We’re just barely breaking freezing during the daylight hours!   It is a bittersweet job.

While I know the chickens and geese stay healthy for my having done all this work, and I am sure on some level they appreciate it, it is none the less a dreary job in winter temperatures and/or the rain.

So, once my duties to flock are done I then come in to do house work and special projects.  This winter my special projects are:

  1. Redo the pantries (yes, curiously, there are two of them)
  2. Paint the bathrooms
  3. Work on my Etsy items
  4. Research historical facts for my book!!!  (I am very excited about this!)

The first project on the list is actually pretty easy, although making the trim was very time-consuming.   I wanted to add a trim of some sort like they used to do in the 40’s and 50’s but there are none to be had because they are no longer made.  Too bad I say, but I won’t let it hold me back.  I found a place with instructions to make my own, but then I ended up doing it entirely differently!  I pinch pleated and sewed them all down… That   took   a    v – e – r – y        l – o – n –  g        t – i – m – e.  Then I sewed on the Swiss Dot Red Grosgrain ribbon.

Here is what I was up against… as in literally.

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Before

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Crammed and packed in two layers, It was hard for me to get into the back to reach anything because it is over a three-foot reach!  The solution?  Remove the front boards off of each of the lower levels,  which then gave me about a two foot wide access.  To replace the lost shelf space, we then mounted a demi-shelf at eye level, and added new shelving across the bottom.

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Carpentry Done and first coat of paint applied

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NOTE:  Plumbing panel to the bathroom tub is not blocked.  The shelf is braced on the panel, but not nailed in place to allow for easy access.  Light items only here.

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Now that I am done painting, I’m waiting for the paint to dry for 48 hours (so the cans won’t stick into it).  I am resisting the urge to just throw it all back in because I can’t stand the mess in my kitchen and dining rooms.  Ech!

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Skirting stapled into place…

OK, Done!

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Total cost to paint and skirt two pantries:  Under $15:00.

I’m happy!

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Of Thanksgiving Past: or death by turkey leg

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When I was young my cousin Bruce and I used to hang together at all the family get-togethers.  We were inseparable as children.  There were only four months difference in our ages and we got along (in)famously.  Well, there was that incident with the Skippy dog food in Grandma Strong’s kitchen… and of course this epic tale:

I have said it before, my mother was not a good cook, but she tried her best and on Thanksgiving meals she poured her heart into the task.  With a family of six, and relatives to feed, she would get up at 4:00 AM to begin roasting the big turkey to feed us all.  The smell of it filled the house and all of us kids would be in and out of the kitchen wanting to know, “IS IT DONE YET?”

How do mother’s survive the commotion?

As well as the turkey there were candied yams,  mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce,  assorted vegetables, and fresh-baked dinner rolls to drown in butter.

Oooooh, and after it all there would be the pies!

Apple, pumpkin and mincemeat…

although I never understood the need for mincemeat.

Well, the big event was finally at hand!   We all gathered around the table, said the blessing and dove in…

However, on this particular Thanksgiving Bruce and I were truly at odds.  There were five kids at the table, and we all wanted a leg.  My Dad said that we must “…share with the other kids at the table” and we proceeded to argue:

Bruce:  “I’m the oldest and biggest kid and I can eat a whole leg by myself!”

Me:  “That’s not fair!  That’ll mean that I have to share with all three of them!”

This went on for a bit, until Dad said:

“Fine.  You want a whole leg for yourself?  Then you will have to eat the whole leg and anything else you put onto your plate.”

We looked across at each other, and sneering in victory proceeded to pile it on…

Plates cleaned of all the piled on goodies, we then picked up our treasure and ran for the door wanting to devour our ill-gotten booty without the little kids accusatory stares.  Once outside we danced about on the porch leering with bulging eyes at each other.  We could not believe our fortune!

One for him and one for MEEE!

These were the biggest turkey legs in history, we thought, and they were all ours!  Then, tilting turkey legs, we began in earnest to gnaw on them.  After only a few bites we began to realize our folly.  We were already truly full!

It was at this moment we began to really consider the proviso my father had given us.

We must eat the whole thing or suffer the consequence for our greed.

Having barely made a dent in those legs we had already begun to slow down.  Looking back at the kitchen window we could see my father giving us the look.

He had a way of drawing his mouth into a thin line, his eyes becoming beady with brows knit, and a little tick would start in his left cheek just below the eye… he was truly angry at us for our greediness.

We looked at each other.  Moaning, Bruce pulled up his shirt to show me how full his belly was and whined that he couldn’t take another bite.  At this, my dad opened the window and calmly said:

“You wanted it now eat it.”

As we sat there listening to the rest of the family, we heard them laughing and enjoying their meal.  We began to feel sorry for ourselves, as we continued to pick at our huge, meaty, turkey legs.

Then Bruce whispered, “Hey Lynda, I’m going to give the rest of mine to your dog, he’ll eat it all, come on!”

I instantly knew this was a bad plan, and opened my mouth to say so, when my dad reappeared at the window and said,

“Don’t even think about it!”

“How does he do that?”  was Bruce’s whispered lament.

We were skunked.  We had to eat the whole thing or suffer my father’s ire, and so we sat there and…

ate

it

ALL…

Each bite we took felt like a rock in our bellies.  I looked at my tummy and it was pouched out just like his.   Silently, I began to cry.  I wondered why I had wanted a whole leg in the first place.  Wouldn’t sharing have been the better thing?

Now it seemed that with each bite I took, I was piling up another stone in my belly.  I hurt.

I remember thinking that each bite lacked flavor, and in finishing those last bites I also realized that there would be no pumpkin pie with whipped cream for me that day.

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I felt I was going to explode

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That was over forty years ago, and to this day I have no real desire to eat turkey.  I haven’t spoken to Bruce in a very long time, but I am sure that he would remember that particular Thanksgiving vividly.

Was my father wrong to have done what he did?

Perhaps, but I forgave him a long time ago.   Now I look back on that day and laugh at my foolish greed.

Just don’t ask me to eat turkey.

Epilogue

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Now some of you know that I was planning to drive to Nebraska to visit my long-lost cousin Karen.  Understand dear reader, that no matter how badly I wanted to get there, it just wasn’t going to happen.  I called her and told her I would like to fly in to Omaha, Nebraska, but that I just couldn’t bear the drive… It would be another whole day there, and then two days to get back from Omaha to Home.

And so it was that the next morning I packed all my things into my truck, walked about taking a few last impressions with my camera, and then I just had to get going.  Jayme had given me Ibuprofen for my back and I went out and got the engine started.  I sat for a moment while the engine warmed, thinking about my stay and the long journey ahead of me.  I was glad to have come, but eager to be home again.

Backing out of the drive I heard the gravel crunch under my truck’s wheels took one last look at Jayme’s home… and there she was in the window waving good-by!

I turned into the road and drove off the sound of NUVIna’s admonishing voice…

“Recalculating route!”

It was going to be a LONG way home…

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I would like to share with you some of the photos that would not fit into the previous posts.

A side note: Jayme, Glenco and I watched a special on Chihuly the famous ‘glass blower.’  Weeeelll… it turns out that he does not actually BLOW the glass himself but designs and then directs master glass blowers to turn out what he wants to make.

So now you’ll ask:  “So what’s your point?”

My point is that Aaron wanted to try out a camera like mine so I let him.  I told him what I wanted to see and then gave him cart blanche to snap away.  He took hundreds of photos and then I went through and edited them down to what I was looking for.  So, in a way I am to Aaron’s photos as Chihuly is to mouth blown glass sculpture… yes?

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Here are some of my favorites Aaron took for me at the lake

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Sand in the making.

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Liquid Steel

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At the end of the day.

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Again, a special thank you to Aaron for catching this loveliness for me to Chihuly-ize.

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And these photos are mine from the trip home.

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They all told me I had missed the fall beauty.

Their eyes were shut.

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I once read an old folk tale wherein a poor fisherman is offered three wishes by a magic fish…

I politely told him,  “No thank you.”  And went my own way.

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(Bob told me he could not see the fish… It is the stones, look again!)

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A little chapel ca. 1850 on the Tippecanoe Battle grounds…

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Arriving too late for the sermon, I nonetheless found the message inspiring…

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The Battle ground Memorial of Tippecanoe was the only stop I allowed myself on the way home.  As I pulled up into the parking lot I had to fight the urge not to cry.  Some would blame it on being hormonal, others might think me far to sensitive… I have no explanation for my reaction, not really… but feeling the way I did made this memorial icon seem dreadfully huge and out of place.

I do not wish to offend anyone.   I am only trying to put words to how I felt at that moment.

I could not go in.

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Back on the road and making yet another pit stop, I was suddenly impressed with how much Highway 65 resembles a gun barrel.

We all drove it at 70 + miles an hour, hurtling ourselves towards our destination, whilst multi-ton trucks did the same…

all jockeyed for position.

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It was a death trap that I survived to get home in time for

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Fall!

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And in the morning I let out the geese.  All were pouting save Polly…

and she honored me with a dance!

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