GETTING THINGS DONE – OR NOT

  “I have so much to do that sometimes I just don’t do anything,” I heard daughter Hallie say.

 

I was so glad to hear that I’m not the only one who sometimes just can’t get started with my “to do” list – so glad, in fact, that for a moment I was speechless. “I feel like that, too!” I said. (Confidentially, I thought old age was creeping in on me, so I was relieved to hear a young person can feel that way, too.)

But I felt for Hallie because she’s a lot like her dad and Grandma Bennie – doing and doing and getting things done and also finding it difficult when she needs down time.

 

But this last week I was proud of myself. I wanted to finish some outfits for Hazel, a doll I sew for. I just have this mindset that sewing is something I do when other tasks are finished, so days will go by when I want to sew but don’t. But last week, knowing that I had a deadline (Friday), I gave the sewing priority for several days. I sewed for a while, then I did other tasks. The sewing was the focus of my day, and I took breaks to do the other tasks. It went well.

The doll clothes were delivered, and now it’s time to re-assess and move on. Christmas is coming. Ina has to get busy! KW

[I'm still experimenting with posting photos. I hate to admit it, but if I don't take pictures of what I've done, I might just do the same outfit again! Too many projects dance in my mind.

Okay -- let's press "publish" and hope for the best.]

HUNTING SEASON

 

"I thought you said we were going hunting."

FALL IS HERE

Post-harvest, 2020

I have been busy. Wednesday and Thursday, I finished up some doll clothes, and Friday I was privileged to deliver them directly to Hazel. Well, Hazel wasn’t there, but her girl was. Her girl is growing up. 

Friday afternoon, it was good to get back to the farm. In the two weeks we were away, the canola was harvested, and autumn has definitely arrived.

 

We decided it was unnecessary to mow the lawn again, so Mike removed the blades from the mower for sharpening. Late afternoon, he and Bess tramped the fields but saw no game birds. I took the camera and walked around the pond.

The garden beds are about finished. I picked two X-large zucchini, two cherry tomatoes (a volunteer vine), and just a few nice strawberries. Being in a Halloween mood, I hung my old string of jack-o-lantern lights in the kitchen window (replacing red, white, and blue stars) and baked a pumpkin pie.

In the evening, Mike lit a fire in the fireplace. A windstorm came up, howling and shrieking around the corners of this old house. Bess stayed on the front porch until she could stand it no longer and whined to be let in. This morning we found a maple limb in the yard, not as large as the one that blew down on Labor Day but ten more sticks for the woodpile nevertheless. 

Mike continues his fall chores – cleaning out the fireplace, cleaning the eaves troughs, etc. He suggested I wait until tomorrow to do the laundry. I didn’t say so, but I have enough laundry for two days, so I decided not to put it off. Things were mostly dry by 3:00.

It was only 60 today but pleasant when the sun shone through the clouds. Breezy and sometimes windy conditions continued – fall for sure. KW

 

["Classic Blogger" is now unavailable, and it is a nightmare -- A NIGHTMARE! -- to post and format pictures.]

MYRTLE IRENE DOBSON – ORIGINAL OBITUARY

On July 28, I posted an obituary for my Aunt Lynn, Myrtle Dobson (here). I said that apparently an obituary wasn’t provided at the time of her passing (December 28, 1971), but I was wrong. I found it. To provide correct information, I’m posting the original obituary here.

MYRTLE I. DOBSON, TROY NATIVE, DIES AT OROFINO HOME

OROFINO – Miss Myrtle I. Dobson, 77, died at 3:45 p.m. Tuesday at the Orofino Convalescent Center where she had been a patient the last year and a half. She had been in ill health for some time.

Myrtle Dobson, July 1951

She was born March 28, 1894, at Troy, daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Julian Dobson. She moved with her parents in 1895 to Gilbert south of Orofino where her parents homesteaded. She attended schools at Gilbert, Orofino and Lewiston.

As a young woman she began a career as a photographic technician, working at Spokane, Seattle, Portland and Eugene, Ore. During World War II she worked at Swan Island, Wash., shipping yard as a clerk.

In 1953, she returned to Gilbert to care for her mother who died in 1957. She made her home with her brother at Idaho Falls and later lived in Nezperce until she entered the nursing home.

She was a member of the Presbyterian Church and the Maccabees.

Survivors include two brothers, Vance Dobson and Earle Dobson, both of Orofino; two sisters, Mrs. Ethel Robinson, Nezperce, and Mrs. Henry (Shirley) Shockley, Seattle.

This obituary provides information that I didn’t remember: her professional title was “photographic technician,” and she had worked in cities other than Portland; she worked at Swan Island during WWII; and she didn't stay at the farm with Grandma Ina until 1953. I’m happy to add this info to my files.

However, I would never have called her a “Troy native.” She was born on a farm near Troy where her father was working. They had come there in 1891 to await the opening of the Nezperce Reservation to homesteaders. I would have related her to Gilbert, or even Orofino.

Not so long ago (25 years?), most obituaries were written by newspaper staff on info provided by the family to the mortuary. The format was much the same --  factual and cold -- but included important info of record. It was a free public service, but unless you were well-known in the community, your obituary might not amount to much. Obituaries today are written in a warmer style by family or those acquainted with the deceased, and we have to pay to have them published. KW

THE SMOKE FINALLY CLEARS

It was raining when I awoke this morning. I arose and turned off the A/C fan that has been running all week. Blessed silence! I was tired of the constant gray noise. For his part, Mike opened doors and windows for fresh air, if we can ever call it that. At any rate, we’re “airing” the house. The rain wasn’t much -- .14 inch.

Amazing how much things seemed to change over that smoky week. I must turn on the kitchen light now to cook supper, and I notice that it’s dark by 7:30. Summer seems to have disappeared all at once.

Today’s long-planned hunting / fishing excursion was cancelled last night. Preparations had to be undone. Now we look forward to Monday’s “old man” hunt. (That’s when old men hunt, not when we hunt for old men.) KW

 

ONE SMART DOG

“The smoke is really bad,” we say to one another, and yet, when we hear of the smoke that those on the west coast are enduring, it hardly seems right to complain.

As I predicted, the air quality alert did not lift on Monday and has now been extended through Friday morning. They say that’s a best case scenario. The smoke is still here, wafting in and out. Sometimes I can smell it.

We have curtailed outdoor activities, though Bess must have her constitutionals. Mike rides his windtrainer in the shop in lieu of outdoor bicycle rides. Our outdoor yoga sessions are again online.

As a part of our bedtime ritual, Mike takes Bess outside, gives her a treat, and puts her in her kennel. She expects that, so Sunday night, she was confused when she woke up and found herself alone in the living room. “Hey,” she said, awakening me, her snout in my face, “Mike forgot to put me to bed.” Mike couldn’t convince her to lie back down on her pillow, so he reluctantly took her to the kennel.

Mike really doesn’t want Bess to spend much time outside in the smoke, so Monday night, he varied the bedtime routine. He took her outside, brought her back in, gave her a treat, and indicated that she should spend the night on her pillow, which she did. “She is so smart,” he said, but I thought he was the one exhibiting intelligence.

Tuesday night, Mike meant to repeat Monday night’s bedtime ritual – take Bess outside, bring her back in, give her a treat, and settle her on her pillow. So, Mike went out, and thinking that Bess had gone off to do her thing, he waited and waited for her to return. When she didn’t come, he began to look for her. He finally found her in the house, watching him through the slider. She had never gone out. She had no intention of going out. She anticipated spending the night on her pillow again and all she wanted was her bedtime treat.

“She is so smart,” said Mike. And this time I had to agree that she had outsmarted him. KW

AIR QUALITY ALERT

Up the hill

It was already smoky, but about 4:30 Saturday afternoon the smoke rolled in, darkening the sun and decreasing visibility. One report said that a change in the wind brought smoke from Oregon, but we also have regional wildfires. Wildfire smoke is wildfire smoke – hard to tell from whence it comes. The fan/AC runs constantly and I’m tired of hearing that monotonous sound.

Perhaps worse toward the river (downhill)

Conditions are not better this morning (Monday), though the air quality alert lifts at 11:00 a.m. I just have to wonder what will change at 11:00 to make a difference. Maybe the wind will shift. At any rate, the smoke moves in and out and affects both our ability to breathe and our morale.

We’ve heard that perhaps the smoke is even worse at higher altitudes, so we’re glad to be in town. Today’s yoga session in the park was cancelled. Mike rode out for an appointment this morning and said the smoke was worse on the river than here at our house.

Smoke behind the house where the deer nibble weeds

Due to the pandemic, at least we’re prepared with masks. I’m considering making more, but the best ones we have are those we purchased. We wear them when we go outside and especially when we walk Bess. Bess still has to have her constitutional, you know.

Speaking of Bess, Mike decided to let her sleep inside last night. She was sleeping peacefully on her pillow as we went off to bed. About 20 minutes later, she awakened me to say that Mike had forgotten to put her to bed. He tried to explain that she could sleep inside because of the smoke, but she didn’t get it. In the end, she won out, and Mike took her to the kennel. KW

[The pictures here were taken this morning, 9-14-20.]

LINGERING SMOKE

What can I say? It’s still smokey. Daughter Hallie reports that it’s so smokey in Seattle that she has had to curtail her outdoor activities. (She runs regularly.) Her throat burns, she says. I can relate. As we left the farmhouse on Thursday, my throat burned, too. As of yesterday, the report was that the MM49 fire – the one closest to the farm – had burned 2000 acres but mostly close to Highway 12.

I hated to leave the farm. It’s pleasant to be there in the fall, and I also left things undone, which means I have work to do when we go back. I didn’t want to hang our laundry in the smoke, so I didn’t wash. And they still hadn’t harvested the canola or other area crops, so I can look forward to more dust, i.e., housework. Our September schedule is filling up with appointments and activities to pursue from our town base. Don’t know when we’ll go back to the farm. 

Mike took advantage of this smokey day to sweep the chimney at the town house. He says we’re now ready for fires in the little stove. I wonder how long it will be before we need one. We’re still using the air conditioner, and it looks like it will be warm the rest of the month. As autumn comes on, mornings and evenings tend to be cooler, though. The heat doesn’t come on as quickly or last as long. KW

CONTINUED SMOKY

Smoke at 8:00 a.m. today

 My grandmother, Ina Dobson, wrote the following to her son Vance in September 1934:

The fire was pretty bad. The men fought it over two weeks day and night up and down the canyon. It spotted across the canyon onto the side of the bench on which stands “the old crag,” and was into our hay before we knew it. Well, in a very short time cars were arriving and men spilling out with sacks, buckets, shovels, etc. At least a dozen cars came. They were on that job all Sunday night, Monday, and Monday night. They dug a trench down the canyon side to the old road that day and back fired along it for there was danger of the fire crossing the canyon and coming down on our side and it would have just swept us clean if it had. You see, the grass is awful thick over west and this old fence row running through to the west from the “green grove” is a rod wide at least and a regular fire trap, so with a west wind I don’t think we could have saved the house after this grove got afire.

The other day, son Milo remarked that if there should be a fire here right now, it would be really bad. His words reminded me of the above account that my Grandma Ina wrote in 1934. Fire devastation is a chance you take when you have a country home. It’s why anything I consider irreplaceable is at “the other place.”

From the top of Plank's Pitch

Today’s photos show how the smoke from the “MM49” fire is impacting the ridge and the canyon.