THE HILL EAST

The East Hill -- Has it changed over the years?

 

June & Jack (or Jack and June)

Twin brothers Jack and June Dobson stayed close to each other their entire lives. When Jack, my grandfather, left Iowa and traveled to Oregon, Uncle June soon followed. After that they didn’t separate again. They worked out the details of their lives together, pursuing the same vocation and even marrying sisters. They watched and waited for the Nez Perce Reservation to open, then took adjoining homesteads. For the next 50 years, they and their families lived side-by-side in the Gilbert community south of Orofino, Idaho. Today my husband Mike and I own both homesteads and live in my grandparents' house.

The East Hill, 1923

And I could go on about this – I have in the past and I will in the future – but this post is about the hill east of our farmhouse, which was originally June’s property. Over the 50 years that Jack and June worked their farms together, access to Jack’s place was through June’s. The road came right over that hill and into our yard. If you wanted to visit Jack and Ina, you would turn off the road at June’s gate and travel in a southerly direction to his barnyard (probably about a quarter of a mile). You might wave to June and Bertha on your way through, but if you wanted them to think well of you, you’d stop to pass the pleasantries. Then you’d continue through their barnyard and follow the road in a westerly way – and down that “east hill” – until you came to Jack and Ina’s gate, which was kept closed at all times to keep the cows in – or out (whatever!).  

Cows back in the day

Escapee cows today

In 1948, when both Jack and June’s wife Bertha were deceased, June sold his farm to a neighbor, Earl Wright. Mr. Wright subsequently leveled all buildings and put the farm yard into cultivation. Also gone was the privilege of access. According to the terms of the sale, Mr. Wright hastily excavated a new lane to our farm yard on Jack’s side of the property line, and that lane is still our access today.

As to the east hill, daughter Hallie wondered if it has changed over the years. I was surprised that I could find a few pictures of the hill in our collection of family photos, which I have posted here together with a picture of the hill today.  

c. 1952

Neighbor Pete once explained to me that June thought a belt of rocks lay through that hill and never cultivated it, but when Mr. Wright bought the land, he excavated the rock and hired young Pete to help. In fact, Pete said that Mr. Wright was picking rock there when he had a heart attack and died in 1954. Today, that field is in cultivation except for a small rocky patch near the top of the hill.

Identified as men from Lewiston and Charles, c. 1952

As June’s homestead is now part of our farm, we can enjoy a circuitous walk – down our lane, up Plank’s Pitch, across June’s field, and back to the farmyard over the east hill, approximating the original access. In fact, Mike once considered re-establishing a lane there but then realized he would have the upkeep of two roads. He hasn’t mentioned it again. KW  

NEW EMBROIDERY MACHINE -- YAY!!

So, I was messaging with my childhood friend Chris last week, discussing the trials of adjustment after parents pass from this life. She concluded a message by lamenting that she really missed the simplicity of her trusty old Deco 600 embroidery machine, which is now worn out. She extolled its virtues – affordable, easy to set up, beautiful work. That’s when it occurred to me that some things in life can’t be changed while others can. “Why not replace that embroidery machine,” I suggested.

Discussion ensued. Chris initially concluded that the machine she envisioned was no longer manufactured, but by happenstance, I found  one online (the Brother pe-770) that I thought might fit her criteria and sent the link. By the time it reached her, she had already found and ordered the same model through Amazon. And then I caught her enthusiasm. “Is this something I might enjoy?” I asked. We agreed that I would wait until hers came and she’d had a chance to test it before I ordered one for myself. Wednesday morning she texted, “It’s here – stay tuned.”

(I should add here that Chris is an expert machine embroiderist, and under her guidance, I have also learned. We both have other embroidery machines and the necessary threads, stabilizers, fabrics, and know-how. In other words, it’s just a matter of learning a new machine. Chris will step right into it, and hopefully, I won’t be far behind.)

The "Listening Circle" at Chief Timothy State Park

Two hours later, Chris was convinced she loved her new pe-770. “I say you order one and I’ll do a training session,” she texted. Sounded like a plan to me, so I placed my order immediately. Amazon committed to deliver on Friday (two-day free delivery, you know), but the shipping notice said delivery by 8:00 p.m. Thursday. When Mike and I returned from a geocaching hike at Chief Timothy Thursday forenoon, there it was at the back door – overnight delivery. (Maybe Amazon was afraid I’d change my mind.)

From Chief Timothy State Park

“I thought you were going to wait to see if Chris liked hers before you ordered yours,” messaged daughter Hallie.

“I did wait,” I replied. I mean – how long did she think this wait was going to be?!

So, where was I going to put this machine? And yes, I did think about this before ordering but refused to be deterred by lack of space. I remembered an old serger table in the garage and set that up behind my sewing machine. Yes, the room is cramped. Enter at your own risk -- and don't touch anything!

It took an hour or so for me to thread the machine, but eventually I was up and running. I stitched out one design, and then I had to get supper. But I'll be back at it.

Here’s my latest American Girl creation – a karate uniform. I actually made two – one for Emmy’s Elizabeth and a second for Emmy’s friend’s doll. The girls attend karate class together and have matching AG dolls. KW

THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER -- A WALK WITH NELLIE

I try to keep current with my blog posts – or else in the distant past. Nevertheless, when I took the pictures off my camera, I discovered that I had some nice landscape photos taken last Thursday, Sept. 21, the last day of summer. Mike had taken Bess and gone hunting. (The figure in the field in the above photo is Mike, and I think I see Bess, too.) So Nellie and I decided to take our own walk/hike.

As you can see, it was a brilliant afternoon with billowy white clouds. We headed down the lane and into the draw. Nellie has become a creature of habit and questions a deviation, but I convinced her we should take a new route, i.e., not climb Plank’s Pitch. I don't think she minds the Pitch much, but I do. From the draw, we proceeded into the gully, and Nellie enjoyed poking around in the grass and under the trees while I climbed into the field. The landmarks were familiar to us. We weren’t lost.

As we circled down into the old Plank field, we were then on the other side of the gully. I stayed above while Nellie explored near the brush. She found a deer trail under some trees and bushes, but surprisingly, she stopped and looked back at me as if to say, “Come down here, please. I want to go into this brush but not without your presence.” So, she waited patiently while I descended to her, and then she went into the brush to check it out. She didn’t stay there long, and we were once again on our way around the field.

At 14, Nellie has her physical challenges, but she can still negotiate pretty well in the field. Above, she takes the shortcut back to the lane.

This spectacular cloud appears to grow behind the house. Looking closely at the picture, you can see Nellie trotting back to the house through the field. She prefers the field to the gravel in the road.

 

Predictably, as evening approached, a storm developed.

Saturday Nellie and I again took a little walk. This time in order to avoid Plank’s Pitch we circled down off the road, entering June's field at the northern edge so that I could examine the elderberry and apple trees. And then we walked back to the house in the field above the lane. KW

100 YEARS OF THE FARMHOUSE AT GILBERT

The Dobson Farmhouse is now the home of Mike and Kathy Warnock

The new house, 1917

One hundred years ago, my grandparents, Jack and Ina Dobson, built this sturdy farmhouse on their homestead at Gilbert, south of Orofino. Modest by today’s standards – and perhaps modest in their day as well – it was nevertheless a giant step forward in their living circumstances. For the first 20 years of their life here, they lived in a rustic, hastily-built little cabin onto which Grandpa eventually added a lean-to. The youngest three of their six children were born in that cabin, including my dad Vance. So, in a sense, the farmhouse came too late to benefit the family situation because by 1917, only my dad and Shirley were still at home.

Lacking the amenities – plumbing, electricity, and heat – the house nevertheless served Grandma and Grandpa comfortably for the rest of their lives. Grandpa passed in 1946, and Grandma Ina continued to live here with the care and companionship of her daughter Myrtle until she passed in 1957. My dad and his family lived in Orofino, but he came frequently to provide maintenance and supplies. He also farmed.

The south side

After Grandma’s passing, the house received some care through my dad and half-brother Chuck, but eventually it fell into disrepair. When a tree fell on it in 1996, Mike and I decided to remodel it with an eye to preservation as well as modernization. I like to think the house still stands as a testament to a bygone way of life. KW
 
[A portrait of the family on the front steps of the new house was a great idea. Too bad it isn't good. Nevertheless, I cropped the picture and enlarged it in order to identify: Ina and Jack Dobson stand on the right. The others are five of their six children: Vance (my dad) and Shirley stand in front with Ethel, Earle, and Pearl behind.]

FEELS LIKE FALL, LOOKS LIKE FALL -- MUST BE FALL

Rainy and bleak to the south. (Sept. 20)

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day, they say. Tomorrow (Sept. 22) it will officially be fall. Well, tomorrow’s date is just a line in the sand. It’s actually been fall for several days. The official calendar makes no difference to the whim of our weather patterns. The trees have yet to dress in their autumn colors, but it won’t be long. And I look forward to it because the bleak landscape could use some color.

To the north -- more bleakness

Locals have not enjoyed the sudden shift from hot to cold. Last Thursday as we left the farm, I pulled the electric blanket up as I made the bed but stopped short of putting out my winter pajamas. I needn’t have been reticent. Returning to the farmhouse Tuesday evening (Sept. 19), I turned on the electric blanket, pulled up the quilt, put a pillow at Mike’s feet, AND put on my winter pajamas.

Today -- low clouds and unsettled

Not only is it cold, but it has rained off and on since Sunday, and we need that rain here. I know, I know -- it’s tough to understand this when everyone talks about water devastation in Texas and Florida, etc., but it’s dry here, and we desperately need the rain. Rain makes for a dreary day, but we just have to appreciate that moisture.

It was almost suppertime when we arrived here Tuesday evening. After performing the ritual of arrival, Mike took down the hammock frame and put it away. He also started a fire in the fireplace. He has yet to light the pilot in the wall furnace – not one of his favorite chores. 

Pumpkins #1 and #2

Pumpkin #3

I visited the garden and was happy to see that it didn’t freeze. I picked a few cherry tomatoes, noted another zucchini coming on, and checked the pumpkins. Pumpkin #2 is still green but twice the size of Pumpkin #1, which is now a deep yellow-orange. Pumpkin #3 is still very young but has doubled in size since last week and developed some striping. I found two more young ones. You might recall that the first of August I was ready to tear out the pumpkin, vowing never to plant pumpkin again. I’m glad I left it, but I fear that the young-uns won’t mature.

Yesterday afternoon a satellite repairman came out from Lewiston to fix our Dish satellite. We’d been missing half our channels for several months, but now that football season is upon us, it was finally really important to fix it.

The lilacs, stressed by the heat, are feeling much better now.

While we were gone, Farmer Kyle apparently raked our fields again, obliterating our pathway and knocking down our temporary landmarks. It’s okay though. It’s easy to walk across the fields now, even after the rain, but it will all be over soon when the fields are planted again. I think it’s winter wheat, and I look forward to amber waves of grain again.

Later . . . KW

MOVING INTO AUTUMN

Halloween afghan in progress. Will I finish it this year?

According to the calendar, fall officially begins on the 22^nd (Friday), but Mike and I agree that unofficially, summer is gone and won’t be back. Yesterday’s low here in town dipped into the 30s, and I wonder what happened at the farm, where it was likely even colder. Did it frost? I can almost say, “There went the garden,” but I’ll just have to see. I’m tired of the drill anyway – carrying water – so if it’s over, I will accept it stoically, though I would like to have fresh zucchini all winter.

Yesterday’s high was in the 70s. I was still chilly in the afternoon, so I took up work on my Halloween afghan in progress. It wasn’t easy to pick up where I left off. First I had to find it, then I had to locate the instructions. Fortunately, I put the work away with the crochet hook attached. And while I was out yesterday, I bought more yarn.

This drought-tolerant garden is tired.

Take it from me, stopping mid-project brings difficulties, as in “now where was I?” I’ve been pondering why it is that I can’t seem to work in a straight line and finish what I start. For one thing, I have always needed a variety of activities – something to sew, something to crochet, big projects that take time, and less intense ones that satisfy because they finish easily. But there are reasons for drifting away from a project. Often my work does not measure up to my expectations. Or, sometimes I get into something and realize I’m just not interested in it for whatever reason. Or, as with the Halloween afghan, the season ends and I must move on with something else. And if I’m interrupted at a crucial point, the probability exists that I just won’t get back to it. The muse seems to leave at the slightest provocation.

Even so, I’ve concluded that something in human nature just likes to start projects while something else doesn’t like to finish them. At least that’s the way it is for me. And yes, there is an element of discipline required here. I’d be the first to admit that my project life is a bit out of control. On the other hand, it could be worse – a lot worse – because today we’re bombarded with ideas and possibilities. KW