MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND

"Farmgirl" bouquet for Mother's Day

Son Milo (now deceased) considered himself a cyclist. Several years ago, he built his own e-bike using an old bike frame. In addition, he had several other bikes, and daughter Hallie agreed to sell them in Seattle. We just had to get them to her. So, we decided to combine business with pleasure and spend Mother’s Day weekend in Seattle with Hallie, Nick, and our grandson Silas, who is 3 1/2.

So, on Friday (May 9), we were loaded and on the road by 7:00 a.m., which put us at Hallie’s during the noon hour. It was “Pajama Friday” at pre-school, so Silas was still in his pajamas.

As we ate lunch, Silas said, “Grandma, you are smacking too much.” And he hopped down from his chair, disappeared down the hall, and returned carrying a mirror, which he set in front of me so that I could see just how much I smack when I eat. Hallie explained that Nick is training Silas to eat without smacking.

Grandpa Mike & Silas

I honestly didn’t realize that I’m a smacking offender. I remember my mother saying, “Chew with your mouth closed,” and “don’t talk with your mouth full,” and I thought I had learned those lessons, but apparently I need a refresher course. As we were leaving this morning, I told Silas that I would practice eating silently, and he offered to loan me his mirror. I assured him that I have a mirror I can use.

Mike & Kathy

Silas insisted that Hallie name the bears in this photo. “They’re your bears,” she said. “You should name them,” but when he demurred, she said, “Okay, they’re Mike and Kathy. She crochets and gardens. He’s into cycling and bike repair.” And Silas was satisfied. Those bears bring a smile every time I think of them.

Of course, Bess went with us, and Silas remarked that Bess is nicer than their dog Primo.

It was a wonderful weekend. Besides the “Silas-isms,” memorable things happened. Mike worked on the bicycles, and with Hallie’s assistance, he got the e-bike up and running. Hallie cooked delicious meals, and Nick made crème brulee, a first for Mike and Kathy (the people, not the bears). Our Denver family sent a Mother’s Day bouquet, which fortunately was delivered before we left home so that we could take it with us. After a breakfast of waffles and sausage on Mother’s Day, Hallie dug out the everbearing strawberries that had jumped her raised bed and were growing in her lawn. I will plant them in my strawberry bed on the farm.

“That doesn’t cover it at all,” as Ina would say, but you get the idea. 

The time comes when we have to get back to our regular activities. We agreed that we would miss each other, but we already have plans to see each other again soon. Meanwhile, absence makes the heart grow fonder. KW

CAMPING OUT?

 

“It feels like we’re camping out,” remarked Mike Tuesday morning. It was 46 outside and not much warmer in our bedroom where a cool north breeze wafted through the open window. (Mike insists on sleeping with an open window year-round.) However, temps are quickly warming now, and back in town, the day’s high reached 80. I packed our bedspread away for the summer and hope that I don’t regret it.

Mike worked hard at the farm. He mowed and trimmed the yard, cleaned the eavestroughs, hung the big chimes in the maple tree, installed the clothesline, repaired the raised bed gate, and spent hours clearing limbs from under the pine trees in the grove. Then for fun, he went for a neighborhood mountain bike ride, experienced a blow-out, and had to “limp” on back to the farmhouse with the neighbor’s dog trailing along – a tough ride. I led a discussion on learning to pace ourselves, relaxing more often, and having some guiltfree fun. Mike agreed, but he’s a driven individual. I can help with the chores when needed, but I’m a dreamer by nature and have never been able to keep up with him. (And I don’t want to.)

Mr. Mallard 

We’re combining business with pleasure and hope to have an enjoyable Mother’s Day weekend. Until next week . . . KW

GREETINGS FROM THE FARMHOUSE

 

It was 88 in the Valley on Friday. Saturday noon the wind came up as Mike and I were loading for the farm. Afternoon temp at the farm was 65. Mike spent three hours mowing and trimming while I worked in the house.

 

But it was cold this morning (Sunday, May 4) at Gilbert. “Good transplant weather,” I hear my mother say, and that’s exactly what we did. We brought transplants from the Valley – basket of gold (2), mint (3), lavender (1), and red valarian (2) – which we set in the orchard. It’s all we had room to bring this trip, but I’d like to transplant more. The soil is soft right now, so planting was easier than later in the season. In addition, we dug out three wild roses and three poplar starts. As we worked, we heard distant thunder – not a surprise given the unseasonal highs.

All three of the young apple trees are loaded with blooms this year. So are the pear and cherry trees. Mike sprayed them this morning.

After 20+ years, it feels like we’ve finally made progress with the plantings. It didn’t really happen until Mike quit mowing the orchard, which allowed some of the native plants (desirable weeds) and scrub brush to spread. The “narrow-leaf mule ears” (sunflowers) are finally spreading from under the pine trees into the meadow area.

 

Mr. Mallard still plies the pond. Mike saw the pair yesterday. I haven’t seen the hummingbirds yet.

 

The farmer is plowing the fields, preparing to plant. Fun to watch.

 

We will have a fireplace fire tonight for sure. KW

HARD TIMES AHEAD?

Well, let’s talk of hard times some more. There comes to me in times like these a sort of spirit of battle. I feel it as a challenge to me to outwit circumstances, but I can’t have my way and the little expediencies that I would resort to only arouse irritation in Dad. I could fairly thrive in the situation if I had someone to co-operate with me. You see what I mean? – Ina Dobson, 1932

I think we’re in for some difficult times. I have once again taken up the study of managing in hard times. Like Ina, I will try to outwit circumstances.

For 50 years, Mike and I have agreed that we could afford to buy groceries. We would spend it at the grocery store, we said, and the family – all of us – would eat well. Now with a nervous stock market and uncertainty over tariffs, I’m not so confident about the future.

Sticker shock seems to grow steadily worse, and I truly think twice about what I buy. I don’t know how much longer I can afford to shop Albertsons, one of the most expensive grocery stores. I like Albertsons because the store isn’t crowded, the lay-out is familiar to me, they check me out and bag my purchases, and it’s the closest major grocery store to my home. Plus, in Washington state, we don’t pay tax on groceries. And Albertsons also rewards us with gas points, which seems important when it’s time to buy gas. Son Milo insisted we would be better off to shop Winco and pay full price for our gas. He might have been right, and we do stop at Winco from time to time, but I still take my main list to Albertsons. If it’s one thing the pandemic taught me it’s to be wary of crowds.

But prices are high everywhere right now. I have walked away from products at Albertsons, only to see the same item isn’t much less at Walmart or Winco. “I can’t believe how expensive everything is,” commented Mike recently, “and this is Walmart!” In fact, the other day at Winco, I marveled at the price of chocolate chips, and I didn’t buy them. At some point, I no longer want to pay the price for these things. Baking morsels are now a luxury item.

I’ve been thinking of reducing my stashes, but if I have usable fabric and yarn, why get rid of it now? I should at least wait through this period of uncertainty. Also, with the closure of JoAnn Fabrics, less is now available locally than heretofore. Will another retailer take up the slack? KW

A RANT ON MOTHER’S DAY

 I’m always very happy over my Mother’s Day remembrances. I feel lifted up and carried along on my children’s love and faith and feel like life has been successful after all. So accept my appreciation of all you have meant to me and of your gift and thought on this last Mother’s Day. I heard from you all on Friday except Ethel. Her $1.00 bill and lovely card came Saturday. Myrtle sent a pair of very nice fabric gloves in a light tan, a perfect fit, and Shirley just raves over them. She also sent a half dozen very pretty flower packets [seeds]. Pearl sent $2.00 and a letter. Irl and Bernice sent a nice print dress. I shall use the $1.00 bills to get new curtains etc., which are needed and will do so much to add to our pleasure in the house. – Ina Dobson to her son Vance, June 1933

My husband, my children, my childhood chum, and a few P.E.O. sisters know that I am capable of ranting when I feel strongly on a given subject. And here’s one that’s been repeating in my mind every spring for years.

Mother’s Day is less than two weeks away, and the promotions from online retailers are in full swing. I find the idea of equating appreciation to the expense of a gift distasteful. I was not raised to think this way. Gifts were thoughtful simple things. 

Perhaps I sound like an ingrate, but as a mother, what do I want anyway? I want my children to live fulfilling lives, take care of themselves and their families, contribute to the world in positive ways, save for the future, and if applicable, straighten up and fly right! I don’t want them to spend time and money on me frivolously. And above all, I don’t want them to feel guilty about a thing – not a thing! If for some reason they don’t call or write on Mother’s Day, I will readily forgive. This date was established by humans to be a simple celebration of motherhood, and the failure to observe it should not constitute a guilt trip. I hear from my children all the time and they respond when we need them. What more do I want?

I know not everyone feels this way. Obviously, we see by Ina’s words that even in 1933, she treasured what she received on “her day.” And believe me, she expected it, too! (Whew! I’m so glad Vance didn’t forget!) But – it was a different time and a different place. Life on the homestead, or small family farm, was at best subsistence living, and whatever Ina received from her children was well-appreciated. I also know that with the exception of Earle, who was a school teacher, those children didn’t have dollar bills to spare.

In the bigger picture, I can empathize with those women for whom Mother’s Day is bittersweet. Within motherhood is heartache – loss, sacrifice, estrangement, and unfulfilled hopes. And perhaps the mothering qualities of some go unsung. Sometimes the hype seems cruel.

Don’t get me started on Grandparent’s Day! KW

SPICY CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP

“I dunno,” I said, as Mike and I selected a variety of soups at the grocery store. Mike suggested Campbell’s “Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup,” but I was skeptical. I have never cared for spicey heat, and moreover, my system doesn’t tolerate it.

But just this once I agreed on one can of Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup, and then it was sitting on my pantry shelf. It was either avoid it forever or get rid of it, so the other day I warmed it for lunch. 

Mike took the first spoonful. “I don’t think you’ll be able to eat this, Kathy,” he said.

So, I dipped my spoon into the broth, took one very small sip, and immediately went into a coughing fit. “No one should eat it,” I wheezed when I had recovered enough. The Campbell company wasn’t kidding when they labeled it “spicy,” and I wasn’t kidding when I said no one should eat it, but Mike finished his serving. I put the leftover soup in the fridge, but the next day Mike advised me to toss it, agreeing that no one should eat it.

Actually, we’ve had this soup before and while I thought it was unpleasant, I didn’t think it was inedible. It seemed like this can got a double dose of the spices. Whatever – I won’t buy it again.

When I was a girl, I often visited elderly relatives in nursing homes with my parents, and I remember the soft diet delivered to the residents – white bread and a pat of butter, cottage cheese, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, bananas, pudding for dessert, canned fruit, etc. Bland and unappealing. I’m pleased that we can still eat regular food, but I draw the line at Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup. KW

WORK DAYS AT THE FARM

Snow on the distant mountain

On Wednesday (April 16), Mike and I spent our first overnighter of the year at the farm.

The pond is full but not overflowing

We both worked hard. We took half a dozen red valerian from our town garden and planted them in the orchard. We’ve tried before, and they didn’t make it, so we’re trying earlier this year. Perhaps it's too early.

It’s a prolific pine cone year, so I cleared the yard of them before Mike mowed. I also fed the gopher holes. The rest of my day was devoted to cleaning. We have no internet yet, and I missed it.

Mike made repairs and mowed the lawn. He also did some barn cleaning.

Cottonwood Butte

Late afternoon, we took our customary walk. Our fields haven’t been planted yet, so we walked up Plank’s Pitch and back to the house across June’s field. Bess was so happy! She ran and ran and ran. As for the condition of the fields, some standing water is evident, but on the whole, the ground isn’t muddy.

Supper was leftovers brought from town. I was so glad not to have to cook! In the evening, we watched TV, and as we did, a herd of at least 17 white-tail came into the yard – mostly young ones supervised by a few larger does. No bucks. They had a good time frolicking in the yard, probably playing “white-tail games.” Bess just sat on her porch perch watching them, making no effort to chase them off.

Another pond picture looing eastward

It was not warm, and the wind blew all afternoon and through much of the night. I know it came from the north in the night because it blew right into our bedroom. (Mike always sleeps with the window open.) I don’t think it froze, but the overnight temp was in the 30s.

Thursday was another workday. Mike discovered some downed limbs in the north field that will make good firewood. I convinced him to postpone that work for another day, but he wants to take care of it before Farmer Kyle plants.

I continued to disinfect the kitchen, and as I did, I baked a cake. Mike sprayed the weeds in the lane.

Proud Papa?

In the afternoon, Bess and I took a walk around the pond, and just as I was ready to return to the house, I noticed a mallard drake swimming lazily. I suspect he was guarding a family in the reeds, but I didn’t see them.

Back in town Thursday evening, I pulled meatloaf from the freezer – instant comfort food, and we needed it. And of course, I brought the cake back with us. KW