WHAT TIME IS IT?

 

I usually don’t suffer too much through the time changes, but I was confused on Sunday (March 8) with the switch to DST. I was up early -- at least, I thought I was -- but I missed my 7:00 a.m. steps. Then the whole day was off. It seemed like we left for the farm in good time, but it was after 10:00 by the clock when we got there. Back in town, it was nearly 7:30 when we ate supper, and at 9:00, Mike announced that he was ready to go to bed. “But Mike,” I said, “it’s really only 8:00!” But he was adamant that he couldn’t stay awake – until he got to bed, that is.

And so far, that’s the way the week has gone, though I have adjusted somewhat. I understand that we arise late by the clock, but we happily go to bed at 9:00 (formerly 8:00).

A stack of wood at the pond awaits cutting / loading

We tend to think that spring is here, but it’s really only March. We hardly know what to expect from the weather anymore, but we could still have wintry conditions even into April. Still, we have signs of spring. A hummingbird buzzed the living room window in town this past weekend. “Where’s the feeder,” it demanded to know. And on the farm, the earliest of the early daffodils are beginning to bloom and the Crown Imperials are pushing through the soil.

Cottonwood Butte in distance

On this trip to the farm, Mike finished the cuts on the big tree, and I continued raking the yard. We thought about turning on the water but decided to put it off until our next visit and give de-winterization our first priority so that we can deal with potential problems. Then housecleaning will begin in earnest.

Temp was in the 50s and the sun was warm. The afternoon was breezy.

Reflections on the pond

At Bess’ request, I accompanied her to the pond. She likes to poke around there, but she doesn’t explore on her own. We scared up a large covey of quail living in the cattails, and two pair of geese got up from the south end of the pond and noisily flew off. I was sorry to have disturbed them because I like to be hospitable, but if they don’t return, that’s fine, too.

The pond is full but not overflowing into the spillway. And while we had close to an inch of rain in town early last week, the ground at the farm seemed drier to me. In fact, I got along fine in old shoes and was more comfortable as I worked.

Mike checked the upstairs bathroom and pronounced it bird-free. Hmmmm. I wonder. We hope the contractor can make our repairs soon. KW

“WORK?!”

 

As I was raking the farm yard on Sunday (March 1), Maynard G. Krebs came to mind. Maynard was the beatnik character played by Bob Denver on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. Some of us will remember how he would screech, “Work?!”

Maybe you’re tired of hearing about the weekly “fallen tree” tasks on the farm. Well, I’m tired of it, too. On Sunday, Mike sectioned the big tree in the north field into 8-foot lengths while I loaded slash piles in the yard into the 4-wheeler trailer to be hauled to a burn pile in the field. I was not an enthusiastic worker, I’m afraid. I think I only loaded three trailerfuls.

It was another warm day (55 degrees), but it had snowed earlier in the week as evidenced by a few piles of snow in shady spots. The temps are so mild that we think we could de-winterize the house before long. It would surely be easier to manage our visits if we did.

Anyway, I allowed myself the opportunity to pursue some interests in the house. Daughter Hallie purchased an electronic piano and has undertaken to renew and expand her skills, so I selected a few books from my family’s collection of music that I think she can use. Naturally, she can have what she wants, but I included just a few slim books in the box with Silas’ afghan.

And then I went upstairs to go through an old pattern file inherited from my mother – patterns from the ’30, ‘40s, and ‘50s, a number of which are “Laura Wheeler Designs.” These were sold through newspapers – another fun feature that disappeared years ago. I’ve looked through that box many times, but yesterday I realized that my grandmother, “Mrs. C. O. Portfors,” ordered several apron patterns, and since I like vintage aprons, I immediately felt a link to her. I have apron patterns, too, and my current quest is a pattern for “Mrs. Hall’s apron.”

And while I was upstairs, I checked out the master bathroom which is currently torn apart and startled a pair of starlings – or did they startle me? I yelped and they squawked. Later, Mike opened the window and spoke to them, encouraging them to fly out, but they didn’t leave while we were present. We hope they are gone. It begs the question as to how they got in, but the contractor will have to address this.

Besides warming soup for lunch, I heated the oven and baked a package of Nestle’s refrigerated cookies.

The early daffodils are in “gooseneck” stage – signs of spring. KW

PATCHES ON PATCHES

 

The Silas

Mike wears coveralls when performing his dirtiest tasks and rightly so. He buys them used for a pittance from Blue Ribbon Laundry, so they are already on their way to the rag heap when he gets them. Then it becomes my job to keep them serviceable.

I was at a standstill in my sewing room, so I asked myself where the buffalo was lurking. Aha! Mike had asked me to mend his coveralls, and I simply didn’t know where to begin. They had great gaping holes above and below the reinforced waistline.

Now, we have known for thousands of years – Jesus even said so – that you can’t sew new cloth onto old, but Mike entreats me and I try. I just didn’t want to step up to that mending job, but it was standing in the way of progress. Once I decided how to proceed, I accomplished it fairly quickly. I ironed patches onto the back side of the fabric and zigzagged away.

I also had another mend waiting for attention – Mike’s lined cargo pants. This was an even more daunting task. He wears lined pants in winter for extra warmth, but the lining – lightweight flannel – wears out, undoubtedly due to the action of thrusting his foot down the leg, but how else is he to put them on? Well, flannel just isn’t going to last as long as the outer fabric, and that’s all there is to it. This mend was a time-consuming chore, and I served notice that I won’t do it again. (Hmmm. Didn’t I say that the last time?)

Crab stitch edging

At any rate, the buffaloes are now finished, and I’m free to move on with more rewarding work. On that note, in the process of finishing the Silas Pattern Blanket, I ran out of gray, the base color. Searching my favorite online yarn outlets, I discovered that the total cost with shipping for one skein would be $12.00 but that I could buy a pack of three skeins from Amazon for $12 total with my Prime membership. Naturally, I ordered where I got the best deal, and it was on my doorstep the very next day. As sad as it is for the world of retail, it’s hard to argue with that.

So, I finished the Silas Pattern Blanket, and so now I have extra gray yarn which I’m using to crochet an edging on my original “pattern blanket.”

The leftover colors from the Silas Pattern Blanket are now stored for the next project (if there is one), and there’s a rather large bag of them. I tell myself that supplies are an asset in this unsettled tariff-ridden world. KW

LUMBERJACK AND JILL

 

Mike said that Sunday (Feb. 22) would be a warm day (in the 50s) and therefore the best day to work in the wood. So that’s what we did. Again, we went in the big old Dodge Ram pick-up – Mike, Bess, and me. It was 50 when we arrived at the farm about 10:00 – 48 in the house. The afternoon high was 56. I dressed warmly and didn’t need a coat. Naturally, what little snow was on the ground was quickly melting.

According to Mike’s plan, he delimbed the big pine branch in the grove, discovering that it was bigger than he thought. He hauled the greenery to one of our many slash piles with the 4-wheeler. (He said ten trips; I said five.) Then we proceeded to cut and load the wood. We took a break for lunch at noon and then went back to it. It took longer than Mike thought, but that phase is complete except for the final clean-up of the grove.

Work for another day

It was 1:30 or so when we went to the bottom of the lane where Mike cut the previously stacked limb wood into lengths for firewood. I climbed (or is that clambered?) into the pick-up bed and I stacked the firewood as he tossed it to me.

Stack of wood at pond

Mike had hoped to work some on the tree in the north field, but we didn’t have time. He briefly mentioned the stack of wood on the other side of the pond, but we didn’t dare try to drive there due to the soft ground.

It was nearly 4:00 as we started back to town. The trip proved easy enough – not much traffic, and we were grateful to have leftovers to warm for supper. We were in bed earlier than usual.

On Monday, Mike unloaded, stacked, and covered the firewood ahead of the predicted rain.

We continue to see a mild winter. Regional ski hills have given up hope of opening. It rained yesterday (Monday), and this morning we had a rain/snow mix. However, the forecast shows highs in the 50s (some days almost 60) over the next ten days. Meanwhile, we watch as the East Coast is devastated by extreme winter weather. And while we might appreciate this mild winter, we will pay for it one way or another. It’s just that no one talks about it unless it’s real devastation. KW 

SILLY OL’ BESS

Bess as we walked at the pond last week

You never really know for sure what a dog is thinking, and as they get older, an element of dementia seems to come in. Mike notes that the older dog also becomes more independent. Perhaps she’s thinking to herself, “You never really know what your humans are thinking, and as they get older, they are so unpredictable! I’d better think for myself.”

For the first twelve years of her life, Bess’ evening routine was to curl up on her pillow after supper and nap until bedtime. Some months ago, her routine abruptly changed, and she began to go out after supper and put herself to bed in her kennel. Mike would go out later and close the gate.

That is, unless it’s raining. Rain seems to confuse her. It rains so seldom that it’s not a big deal, but it was raining the other night when she was ready to go out. At first she hesitated when I opened the door, but then she decided to go out anyway. We figured she’d be right back, so we watched for her, but when she didn’t show up right away, we began to worry. Mike went out to check the kennel and call her several times within 20 minutes or so, finally blowing a whistle. (It doesn’t help that she’s deaf.)

Just as we were wondering what to do next, our neighbor rapped on the door. He said that Bess had shown up at their back door, wet and whining, so they took her in and dried her off. He heard Mike calling her, and as he brought her home, she slipped into her house and he closed the kennel door.

So, Bess has a new evening routine imposed by her humans for her own good. She can either stay in the house and nap on her pillow or she can go directly to her kennel. KW 

A HUNDRED FEET OF PINE

 

Mike, Murray, and I went to the farm again on Thursday (Feb. 12). The guys lifted heavy limbs into the bed of our old pick-up. I helped some with the slash, but I couldn’t do the heavy lifting. I felt a little useless.

Mike says 100 feet of this tree lies on the ground. That doesn't count the snag that still stands. It's 100 years old, so we'll say it came to be about 1920, perhaps as the family was setting into their new house.

At some point it had rained, and the mud was even worse than heretofore. I wear “duck boots,” and I carried them back to town to be cleaned under force of water. If the ground is going to freeze, I think the temps will have to drop and stay below freezing for a while. It was 45 Thursday afternoon. 

So now, much of the work has been transferred to town. Mike unloaded the wood to be cut into lengths for firewood. Naturally, it’s green, so it won’t be ready to burn for a while.

And that’s about all I have to say. Sometimes when the work is demanding, all you can say is that you worked hard. In the end, it might be rewarding, but it’s not fun while you’re going through it.

I suppose I should add that the contractor had been there and started the repair to the ceiling in the master bathroom. And we found only one mouse in trap. KW

 

THE “PATTERN BLANKET”

I’ve made progress on the afghan, or “pattern blanket,” that grandson Silas requested. He and his mom called to face time with me the other day, and I showed the afghan to him. I explained that I have to keep putting on rows until it’s long enough to cover him. It should be long enough to cover his toes, he said, and I assured him that it would be.

I told him that I want it to be long enough so that he can still use it when he’s older and taller. He would like to use it when he’s a man, Silas said. His mom advised him that he won’t be a man for quite some time and by then he might want a new afghan.

“I’d like a travel blanket,” said Silas, and I began to wonder if he’s  ordering yet another afghan. His mom and I assured him that this blanket will work at home and in the car, too.

“I need a new bed,” said Silas, and I agreed that he should probably have a bigger bed before long and left it at that. 

And then he asked to see the blanket again, so I spread it out on the back of a chair and let my phone show it to him.

What with the Olympics and the Super Bowl, our household is focused on sports at this time. Mike is into all this competition, but for me, it's a chance to finish the pattern blanket. On Super Bowl Sunday, I made dips and set out chips and veggies. The spinach dip was supposed to be baked, but Mike ate about a fourth of it before it saw the oven. I also filled a graham cracker crust with a no-bake cream cheese filling and made a sauce of frozen sweet cherries.

After the Super Bowl, an explosion of fireworks occurred in our neighborhood. “What’s with the fireworks,” I wondered aloud, and Mike explained that this was in celebration of the Seahawks’ win. KW