KILLING WITH KINDNESS

I learned early in life the dangers of over-fertilization.

My Grandfather Portfors, “Papa” we called him, lived just a block from us on Brown Avenue in Orofino – right there in the heart of town, so to speak. Papa had a modest but neat home, as befitted his conservative nature, with a lovely yard. It was picturesque – and to my memory much larger than it really was. (I know this because when I go by there today, I can see it’s really not a big lot.)

It was a well-planned yard, the sort that reminds one of the ‘30s and ‘40s when people were knowledgeable gardeners, creating neat homes and outdoor living areas. Rainy springs and summer rains helped. Women worked at home, taking care of the house and grounds – or creating the time for a working husband to be a gardener.

Papa’s backyard included a vegetable garden, a patio with fireplace, a weeping willow, a grape arbor, and a clothesline. I remember the house surrounded by a lovely green lawn edged with rose bushes along the sidewalk. Yes, Papa took pride in his yard.

Well, I say it was a lovely green lawn, but suddenly – about 1960, I’ll say -- it developed ugly brown spots. Papa, by then 85 and a little forgetful, just couldn’t understand what was wrong. He had done everything right, he thought. He had fertilized as usual. He had watered – and watered and watered. And when the lawn didn’t appear to respond, he fertilized again. The condition of the lawn worsened.

At first my parents were stymied, too, but they began to suspect that too much fertilizer had burned the lawn. Papa was unconvinced. Fertilizer was a good thing – and necessary. He dug down into a brown spot and saw a few bugs. Maybe that was the problem. If so, no one else’s lawn was affected.

The next spring the lawn looked a little better, so Papa encouraged it by fertilizing. Naturally, it turned brown again with a vengeance.

Finally, Papa went to the county extension agent for help. The agent visited the lawn and advised that too much fertilizer had been applied. Only then did Papa concede that perhaps this was the case, though even I could sense his confusion on the issue. He just didn’t quite understand how too much of a good thing could be bad. 

About that time, he became ill and unable to care for the lawn. Without fertilization, the lawn responded by greening up, eventually making a full recovery. KW

[The top photo is a picture of my grandfather, C.O. Portfors, standing in the midst of his vegetable garden on Brown Avenue in Orofino, about 1954, I think. This garden was not at his house (Brown and C Street), but at Brown and A Street where he owned a vacant lot. Eventually the Methodist parsonage was built on that lot.

The bottom photo is Papa's birthday, late 1950s. Brother Chuck is assisting. Nice profile of nephew L.J. at the bottom of the picture and the back of my head.]

A SMALL FINISH

It was 3:00 p.m. on Thursday and technically our embroidery club session was coming to an end. Participants were leaving with projects in various stages of finished, or so it seemed to me. Mine wasn't anywhere near finished.

"I'm going to sit right here until I finish this," said the sewist sitting across from me in quiet tones as the others left. "Otherwise, I will never finish it."

"I know what you mean," I said, "but I just have to go home." I would have stayed with her, but I knew Mike was waiting for me so that we could leave for the farm.

So, that left me to finish the wall hanging alone, and yesterday I settled down to it. Actually I failed to follow instructions carefully (what else is new?), and mine isn't quite exactly like the samples provided by our instructor, Chris of Little Mama Designs. I think, though, that she would say it's fine -- perhaps even the best for this fabric.

Making these things is such good practice. And actually -- I'd kinda like to do it again. I had a good time! KW

SPRING WORK

We had summer last week. This week it’s sweatshirt weather again, and Mike says there’s no warm weather in sight. “Oh well,” I say, “maybe the rhubarb, the peas, the spinach and the radishes will like it.”

Tell you what, though – it’s dry, dry, dry. The need to carry water to my garden beds is quite evident.

The dryness was also evident as the farmer worked the fields. The house and grounds here are surrounded by fields – all of them planted in garbanzo beans (garbs) this spring. First they spread the beans. Then they tamped. Then they sprayed fertilizer (or something). And every time they worked, it created clouds of dust. “Are they ever going to be finished?” Mike demanded to know.

Well, I simply can’t be expected to clean house while dust swirls in the breeze. Instead we did outside things.

Mike has done a number of scary chores with my assistance. He cleaned the roof outside the east dormer by securing a ladder to a rope. He climbed out the corner window, braced himself on the ladder, and I passed him a small pail of water and cleaning materials. Then, using a staple gun, he attached wire fencing to the braces where the birds like to roost. I took no pictures of this feat. I was afraid they would be his last. 

 

Mike also undertook to remove pine boughs resting on the old woodshed. I do have pictures of that. I held the ladder while he cut the limbs. I always think the woodshed is rather picturesque. 

 

I'm not sure when the woodshed was built. Someday I'll research pictures and see what I can determine.

Today Mike said he was tired, and I encouraged him to take it easy. Next thing I knew we were trimming the old apple trees down by the pond. Nick and Hallie pruned the healthiest one last year, and Mike was so impressed with its appearance this spring that he decided to trim the deadwood out of the others. Again, I was the assistant. There’s a lot of down time in assisting and I politely declined to participate again this afternoon.

 

But in the process of this work, Mike decided he has to have a new lightweight chainsaw. Believe me, if Mike says he needs a new chainsaw, he needed it at least two years ago. He loves to keep things running. So, he did the research and plans to get one when we’re in town. KW

MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND -- PICTORIAL REVIEW

Pepper’s folks came to pick her up on Saturday. We had lunch and shared a nice afternoon.

 

After Pepper and Party left, Nellie and I took our customary afternoon walk while Mike rode his bike. She enjoyed moving along at her own pace, poking her snout into rodent holes as the spirit moved her. Then she sat down on the drive to await Mike's return. They say dogs don't see well, but Nellie can see Mike on the road as soon as he comes into view. Then she goes to the head of the lane and nonchalantly pokes around while he rides up that last pitch. "Oh hello!" she says. "What a surprise to see you here!"

Sunday, Mike dug some rhubarb starts for us from a nearby “rhubarb grove.” The owner gave us starts last year, but when she heard those plants are struggling, she suggested we try again. This time we brought five crowns and planted them on the bank behind the clothesline. We’ll see.

Having finished that job, we headed to Orofino to geocache.

If you had told me when I was in high school that in my 60s I would hike steep trails above Dworshak Dam, I would have said, “not me!” The cache was located at the granite quarry. The picture on the left is of the Clearwater River. The picture on the right shows Russell Ridge, where our farm is located.

This picture was taken at the Ahsahka Cemetery. I had never been here – didn’t even know it exists. Mike found two caches on the hillside above the cemetery. Too bad he had to make two trips.

We had hoped to find a cache at the Dworkshak Dam visitor center. However, the road was gated and locked. “No trespassing – U. S. Government” read the sign. Hours are Monday through Friday. If you want to visit the center on the weekend, forget it. (Maybe they have summer hours – I don’t know.)

We had lunch at Subway, picked up a few groceries, and headed back to the farmhouse. I chopped up some stalks of rhubarb that I pulled at the rhubarb grove and made a crostata for dessert. KW

FIRST RATTLER OF THE SEASON

Mike asked if I thought we should be on the look out for rattlesnakes. I said I thought it was too soon, but the warm temps made me think it could happen.

Friday evening (May 10) we took the dogs for a walk. It was late and I was anxious to get on with it, so when I remembered at the top of the lane that I had forgotten the camera, I didn't go back. I know better, and yes, I came to regret that I didn't have it. As we returned to the farmhouse from the mailbox, I spied a rattler lying in the road.

I saw it first and alerted Mike. Then the dance began. I shooed Nellie to the other side of the road and she stayed out of the way. One thing about Nellie -- she recognizes the genuine concern in our voices and heeds it. Meanwhile, Mike attempted to control the clueless Pepper. Next thing I knew, Pepper, who never saw the snake and knows nothing about them, was laughing at me from the other side of the rattler. Of course, the rattler sensed the commotion and quite naturally coiled, making the whole situation even more dangerous. It seemed like it took forever, but finally we were on our way again, leaving the coiled rattler to wonder what had just happened.

Once back at the house, Mike decided to bathe Nellie, and Pepper got in on the act. KW

BY REQUEST: PEPPER PICS

We're puppy-sitting Pepper -- Ken's German Shorthair pup. She's about three months old -- and typical of puppies, she's a warm bundle of energy. Daughter Hallie, a true dog lover, requested photos.

Here's Pepper napping on Nellie's pillow with her special friend, Kathy's slipper.




 In the field.

"What was that?"

Sometimes when you're out on a walk you just get tired and have to lie down for a while.

The shade is nice.

More shade -- and nice soft grass.

"Ooooooh! - This is the life! Call me in an hour."

More sleep.

The first night she went right to bed in her kennel on the porch but howled some during the night. Last night she didn't howl, even when the coyote clan yodeled.

Her people are coming to get her tomorrow. It will be fun to see what she thinks about that. Nellie will be relieved! KW

SUMMERTIME?

Between Monday, April 29 and yesterday (May 8) when we returned, the temperatures at our Gilbert home ranged from a low of 29 to a high of 86. The change from cold spring to summer warmth was abrupt – and welcome. But, as everyone in the Inland Northwest knows, don’t take the electric blanket off the bed yet or put those quilts into storage. In fact, the forecast is for highs in the mid-60s next week.

On our way to the farm yesterday, we stopped in Orofino (Riverside) to pick up a card for Mike’s mother. A familiar feel washed over me as I got out of the pick-up at the store. It smelled like pine trees and river. Home. Some things never change.

While in the store, I also picked up a bottle of cheap sweet wine which I use for cooking birds. “Ma’am, you have to be 21 to buy these products,” said the stocker. I laughed but not because the comment was funny. If you’re going to compliment a woman on how young she looks, don’t call her “ma’am.”

Little Pepper, Ken’s Shorthair pup, is here with us because he has to travel this week. She’s been a good girl for us, but she pesters poor ol’ Nell unmercifully. Nellie apparently doesn’t understand that she could take care of that by booting Pepper into the next county. She’s going to have to get tough because her little cousin was born about April 30. Next month we’ll be training our own baby Shorthair.

The fields look different now, having been worked. In fact they were working today. Just look at that dust! I hung out two loads of laundry anyway.

Mike got right to work once we arrived. He had the old Dell computer re-built –new hard drive and more RAM. He got connected immediately – and so did I! CONNECTED! – Yay!! Then he serviced the lawn mower, mowed the lawn, trimmed with the weed eater, and serviced his old Yamaha dirt bike. Then he worked out so that he stays in shape.

I picked lovely large spinach leaves from the raised bed. That’s the spinach I planted last fall in hopes of an early crop. Some years it works, others it doesn’t. I made an impossible spinach pie for supper.

 

The daffodils are all gone now except for those my mother called narcissus. I’ve noticed them listed as “the Original Poet’s Daffodil.”

Haven’t seen the horses – and that’s a good thing. The ducks are gone, but this morning a pair of Canada geese flewoff the pond. We have a pheasant – Mike says there are probably two. We could hear crowing and finally saw them fly. The guy from Fish and Game says we’ll never have pheasants here, but we see a few every year, probably escapees from the hunting preserve in the canyon.

 

The pear tree is in full bloom now – 

 

And the apple trees are budding out. This picture is of the “awesome tree” in the curve of the road above our lane.

 

But it’s dry and even the breeze picks up dust off the fields. KW