THE SLOW SEGUE INTO FALL

The days have a different feel now. The enchantment of autumn comes upon us. The position of the sun gradually shifts southward, and the days are noticeably shorter. The sun is still hot, but overnight temps are cooler. A son points out that it smells like fall.

And it was cold Sunday night / Monday morning. We went to bed under a sheet, but Mike soon pulled up the blanket. A couple of hours later we were cold again, so I added the quilt AND turned on the electric blanket on low. It was 52 when we got up. That was just a hint of the seasonal change that’s coming because it was 64 this morning and 70 by 9:00. This will be another hot week.

But that cold morning was enough to send the doves away. We saw plenty Sunday afternoon, but Mike scouted Monday afternoon and didn’t see any. (The season opens Sept. 1.) So often the way. They sense the change in the weather, and they fly away.

I guess it’s true of any season, but summer always seems to be over before it’s over. I don’t know why we’re so quick to let summer’s activities go. We noticed a week ago that attendance had fallen off at our favorite beach, even on the hottest of days. I can only guess that families were busy with back-to-school activities. I recently overheard a conversation where a man said, “Now that summer is over, my routine has changed.” A woman countered, “Oh, but there’s several more weeks . . .” He wasn’t having it, though. He said that things have already changed, and I agree.

Harvest is late this year. I hear the machines working on fields to the east, but I won’t be able to see them from the house. Those fields were planted in the fall, and the crop seems decent. The fields slated to be planted last spring, ours included, could not be planted because the ground was too wet, so there is no harvest here, and I miss it.

At least two hummingbirds are still here. I wasn’t going to refresh the nectar, but one little guy got in Mike’s face and complained that the nectar was spoiling. So demanding! I relented and made more.

Mike made a trial run at parking the Jeep in the barn. It went well. I don’t know how often he will park it there, but he wanted a safe place to park it during a storm. KW

A TRIP TO THE SALVAGE YARD

One thing about us sewists. Our stashes aren’t smelly and unsightly. Okay, they can be clutter, but they can also be controlled, and if displayed, they’re decorative. Ah, the aroma of textiles! So inspirational! Not so with the automotive stuff.

Mike cleaned the clutter of heavy old useless junk out of the south room of the barn, which he hopes to use as a garage. The old spare axle for the 1965 Barracuda was the heaviest piece. (He sold the Barracuda five years ago.) It was almost more than the two of us could do to lift it. Then there was a lawnmower hood, a lawnmower blade and housing, sundry nondescript heavy machine pieces from yesteryear, and a rusty old 5-gallon can. All of it went into the pick-up bed.

So, as we drove to town this morning, we detoured to the salvage yard. “I hope they take all of this,” muttered Mike, “or I’ll have to make a trip to the landfill.”

The salvage place was uncharted territory, and we weren’t sure where to go and what to do, but the workers were friendly and helpful. “You’ve got some pretty good iron here,” said the handler. “Pull over there and we’ll help you get it off.”

380 pounds of iron translated to $14.25. And that’s better than our paying to leave it at the landfill. Better for the landfill, too. Yay!  

BESS’ BONE COLLECTION

And speaking of stashes, Bess is collecting bones that she finds as we walk the property. When she finds one, and evidently it's not hard for her to do, she proudly carries her treasure back to the house, leaving us to finish the walk without her. KW

COYOTES, TRAILER SALE, AND YARD REPORT

 A COYOTE TALE

As SIL Nick was hiking with their dog Primo in the field behind the house last week, Primo suddenly spied two coyotes and took off after them. A panicked Nick was in hot pursuit, and to his horror, Primo caught the hindmost coyote and held it by the throat. Naturally, the first coyote was ready to return to assist his companion when somehow Primo let go and the coyotes moved on, much to Nick’s relief.

Well, Nick tells it better. Suffice it to say, there was an incident between Primo and two coyotes. Mike thinks the coyotes were immature, or else Primo wouldn’t have survived. The coyotes are close this year – in the lane, in the north field, behind the house. We know they have their place in the ecosystem here, but their cries are an unsettling sound. What do they want?

THE OLD TRAILER

It’s thunderstorm season now. Regional storms hit Friday, Monday, and last night (Wednesday). The showers here were heavy but brief. We saw a lot of lightning play around the house last night, but thunder claps were few by comparison. Don’t you worry, though. Summer is still here. In fact, more 100-degree weather is forecast for the Valley next week.

Anyway, Mike wants better protection for the Jeep and decided to clear out the back (south) room of the barn for a garage. I’m not sure this is ideal, but I’m all for the clear-out. We had an old pick-up bed fashioned into a trailer that we stored in that room, and Mike decided to get rid of it. His first thought was to take it to metal salvage in town, but then he decided to try to sell it. Our children tell us that Craigslist is no longer the forum of choice, but it worked this time. Mike sold that old trailer to someone in Grangeville for $75, and it was gone from our yard that very day. But the money isn’t even the best part. The best part is that we didn’t have to haul it to town.

YARD UPDATE

The hummingbirds are all but gone. We see them occasionally but their use of the feeders is negligible. I don’t expect to make nectar beyond what I have on hand. After all, I’m not in this to feed the yellowjackets! But I was pruning the zinnias yesterday when one little hummer approached to drink from a blossom. It was an “up close and personal” moment. I know we’re supposed to cut the zinnias back in order to encourage more blooms, but I left a few for the hummer. I’ve also seen a few real bees.

I have two young zucchini for a supper dish and one for bread. The tomatoes are ripening, and we’ll probably get a dozen this season. The strawberries are wonderful this year. I had enough to serve shortcake to Hallie and Nick last week, and Mike and I have shortcake a couple of times a week. The berries are still coming on! And I like that microwave shortcake so well that I don’t think I’ll ever make oven-baked again. KW

RECAP: FAMILY VISIT

Our visits with Hallie and Nick are different now that we've added young Silas to our family group. We worked around his schedule, and we wouldn't have it any other way. Those baby years are precious.

But, we managed to do a few things -- or, maybe I should say that Hallie managed. She pruned the wild rose bramble between the orchard and the south field, clipping out all the deadness, and that was a big job. Then Mike came along with the 4-wheeler and trailer and carried that prickly mass of branches to the burn pile -- several trips.

I don’t know what caused the bramble to die back because the wild roses are hardy and prolific. Perhaps it was hit with drift when they sprayed the field, and if it was, perhaps it acted as a barrier to the orchard. Maybe it’s the drought. (I don’t water the wild roses.) Or, maybe it was just so old and overgrown that it was demanding a trim. Whatever – we’ll see what next year brings.

Pruning the Lapins sweet cherry tree was much less challenging by comparison but no less important. We removed the suckers and a few unruly limbs. And while we were working on that side of the yard, Hallie turned the compost for me. And while Clint, Nick, and Hallie were here, Mike serviced the windmill, and it’s aerating the pond once again.

Discussion among the family ensued regarding the 1961 photo of my aunts Shirley and Lynn at the “Great Stone Face” on the canyon rim. Hallie said she could see a third person. Mike and I were skeptical.

I would have liked to re-enact the scene, but it didn’t turn out that way. It was too hot – and we were too busy – to go to the canyon rim in the evening, so we went in the morning when the “face” is in shadow. The summer haze of smoke and dust interferes with the natural colors, and those aren’t great this year anyway since the fields weren’t planted. Mike agreed to wade through the rocks and brush to get to the lower position while Hallie sat on the forehead. And then we realized that we should have examined Daddy’s photo for positioning before we set out.

Oh well. There will surely be another year and another opportunity.

So, the theatrical re-enactment was a disappointment, but we proved one thing: the ghost in the picture – that third person – is a fence post, and it’s still there. KW

SILAS’ FIRST VISIT TO THE FARM

Grandson Silas (10 months) and his parents (Hallie and Nick) arrived at the farm last Monday evening (Aug. 15) and just left this morning. It was a tug at the heartstrings to say goodbye. The next time we see Silas, he will have more teeth and more hair, and he will be walking.

 

The spring of 2021, when we knew a little boy was on the way, I suggested we buy a wagon as a handy farm conveyance. Hallie and Mike agreed. Hallie shopped her trading apps and came up with a used wood frame Radio Flyer with pneumatic wheels. And already, Silas loves his wagon. Hallie slowly pulled his first rides, but Grandpa Mike went faster, and Silas was all for it! When the ride was over, Silas gave a little bounce with a big grin, the universal sign for “do it again.”

 

Our lawn is mostly weeds, but it’s fairly grassy and soft under the maple tree, so that’s where Hallie let Silas play. But they were here during another spell of “excessive heat,” and we mostly stayed inside, especially in the afternoons.

 

And then – there was the ride out to the canyon rim on Grandpa’s new 4-wheeler, sandwiched between his mom and dad. (More about that trip in another post.)

Well, it was a lot of fun, but now it’s over. “Chin up, Mom,” says Milo. We all have our lives and things to do – and it’s good to get back to it. KW

AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN

Grandma Ina and Aunt Lynn in 1950. Note zinnias behind Grandma.

My raised beds aren’t big producers. I can think of half a dozen reasons: poor seeds / plants, improper amending of the soil, too little (or too much) fertilizer, poor plant rotation, too little (or too much) water, and last but not least, too much heat. It all equates to a brown thumb, but I keep trying.

This season, the Burpee’s “Heat Wave” lettuce has produced well. And the spinach and beets are okay, too – just such small crops. The zucchini is still problematic, and I read that this could be the result of over watering. And I’m not getting as many tomatoes as I would like either.

Since my gardens don’t produce well, I decided if they can’t be good, maybe they could look good. So, like the gardeners of yesteryear, I planted zinnias. They germinated! They bloomed! And they are a delight!

Last year, my strawberry plants looked terrible and didn’t produce well, so as the season ended, I thinned the plants. Really, I didn’t know if the bed would come back or not, but in May, I fertilized with Miracle Gro, and they took off. These are everbearing plants, and the first crop of berries wasn’t great, but this second crop is lovely! Mike and I have had several shortcakes, and that’s all we care.

Speaking of shortcake, I hated to turn on the oven, so I researched for a microwave recipe, and yes, you can make a delicious shortcake in your microwave. Recipes abound online. KW

BACK TO WORK

Cloudy and cooler. Smoke in the canyon.

What a pleasant mid-summer day! A coolish breeze wafts through the open windows and occasionally we have a few drops of rain. It’s a wonderful respite from the oppressive heat of triple-digit days and warm nights. But – looking at the forecast, summer isn’t over yet. We will have more hot days.

Mike’s excellent Canadian adventure and my staycation with Bess have closed and it’s on to the next activities. We came back to the farm yesterday (Tuesday, Aug. 9).

Old agitator is TP holder

The Great Rodent War seemed to be on hold. We had no gopher activity in the yard this summer – at least, not that we can see. I’m sure they’re running through their vast underground network of tunnels and just haven’t needed to excavate. And we haven’t seen mouse sign in the house either – until this last absence, that is. I use an antique hand agitator to hold extra rolls of toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom, and I congratulated myself for finding a clever use for a museum artifact, but over the weekend, a mouse (or mice) ripped away at that paper. I was disgusted!! Undoubtedly they used it for nest fodder, but the question is, where. I checked the under-the-stairs closet across the hall but didn’t see activity. We set traps next to the agitator last night but caught nothing. Obviously, it’s time to be vigilant again.

Use or toss?

So – would you use or toss that TP? I pulled off the worst of it and added it to the compost bin.

Mike spent several hours Tuesday afternoon repairing the lawnmower. Unfortunately, he clipped a small but sturdy little tree at the pond a couple of weeks ago, and that broke the steering gear. The new part came while he was gone and is now installed.

Next up was the dishwasher repair, which I had diagnosed as a broken latch. Mike determined that he needed a “star” bit, so he hopped on his XT and headed down the grade to Builder’s Supply on Riverside to get the needful. He especially enjoyed the trip back up the grade, he said.

The dishwasher was full, so I washed the dishes by hand in preparation for the repair work. Didn’t hurt me a bit, but we expect family next week, and we would prefer not to spend our time washing dishes any more than necessary.

Long story short on the DW repair, my diagnosis was wrong and it was actually a simple fix, but naturally, we didn’t figure that out until Mike had taken the door apart. The unit had slipped under the counter so that the door wasn’t meeting up with the latch. Well, at least we didn’t have to hunt for a new latch or worse, a new dishwasher. It’s all back together now and running. It’s noisy, but today it’s music to my ears.

“When the bees come, the hummingbirds leave,” said sister Harriet, but I’ve found it’s not necessarily so. The hummingbirds are wary of the yellowjackets that also frequent our feeders, but they are still here and enjoying our nectar. KW

THE TRAVELER RETURNS

Bess and I traveled back to town Saturday morning. Bess is sometimes a reluctant traveler, but when she saw me packing the car, she was THERE. She followed me closely and when I opened the hatch, she jumped in. I think she had a good time during staycation and was reasonably content, but I know she was anxious to see her master.

Mike arrived at 5:00 p.m., hot and tired. Bess was overjoyed to see him. I was happy, too, of course, but refrained from jumping around. In general, our family felt relieved that Mike is back safe and sound.

Something untoward always happens while Mike is gone – always. He said I could mow the lawn or ride the 4-wheeler, but I said I wouldn’t tempt fate. However, when I went to run the dishwasher yesterday, I discovered the door wouldn’t latch. So, we’ll wash dishes by hand until we find a fix. It’s always something, and Mike comments that we've had a lot to fix this year.

Just for the fun of it, I took my dad’s picture of “the Great Stone Face” and enlarged the two women. They are indistinct – just an impression – and that’s part of the photo’s charm. It's not meant to be a picture of the women per se. But that’s Aunt Shirley sitting on top and Aunt Lynn (Myrtle) standing below. Clearly, they are looking out from their vantage points and not in the same direction. And I’m sure the picture was taken in the late afternoon or evening in September of 1961. KW

STAYCATION DRAWS TO AN END

Mike called last night to say that he will be home tomorrow (Saturday, Aug. 6), a day ahead of schedule. Bess and I decided to stay at the farm until Saturday morning. Bess agrees that it’s so much easier – and more fun – to live here. It’s cooler and we can hike where we please without worrisome traffic. So – tomorrow it is for our trip to town.

Wildlife report:

·      I was awakened this morning by a commotion in the yard. Eight magpies were noisily noshing in the grove. They flew as soon as I opened the door.

·      Yesterday, a young whitetail buck warily nibbled in the yard near the barn. Bess was either unaware or didn’t care.

·      I hear coyote every night, and as we walk, I’m surprised to see how very close to the house they are.

·      Bess pointed a covey of game birds on the canyon rim this morning. Mike will be glad to hear of it. 

We have endured some hot days this week, but this morning it was decidedly cooler and slow to warm, making it a good day to bake. I made banana bread and molasses cookies.

For our morning history hike, we headed west behind the house to “the great stone face” of family lore. For years, I couldn’t find it, but I know where it is now, and we went straight to it. In my dad’s picture at left, his sister Myrtle (Lynn) sits atop while Shirley stands below. (Well, I'm pretty sure it's Shirley and Myrtle, but I'm only pretending to know which is which.) 

By contrast, my photo lacks color, but seriously, that's the way this world looks right now. And it could be that while I took mine in the morning, Daddy took his in the evening with the sun behind him. I just don't know. 

I’ve never tried to actually access the structure myself. Maybe some day I’ll give it a try. As it is, walking the land is difficult. I’ve actually taken to wearing my hiking boots with crew socks to protect my feet. And if the vegetation – dead or alive – seems dense, I just avoid it. The dead stuff is prickly. KW 

THEN AND NOW: SUBTLE CHANGES

I took the above picture yesterday morning. 

And my dad took this picture in 1959. I'm quite sure it's the same scene. However, the trees are gone. 

I love this picture, also from 1959. See the swath cut through the grain. Again, that stand of trees is gone.

Here's mine for comparison. I don't know if I'm standing next to the same bramble bush or not. My dad's picture is prettier, despite the deterioration of the slide. 

It's fun to try to replicate these old photos. KW

A WALK TO THE MAILBOX

“

"The heat advisory expires Monday night,” I messaged to a son. “It will be cooler on Tuesday.”

“Yes, it will be a cool 96,” he responded, a note of derision in his message.

It cooled from 93 to 83 at the farm yesterday afternoon as a storm system passed through, failing to leave any moisture in its wake. The cooler temp was a relief, but the overnight temps were the same as they have been for a week. We mustn’t be complacent. I closed the house by 7:30 this morning.

Bess and I have been staycating since Saturday (July 30) when Mike and Sam left for their long-planned excellent Canadian Motorcycling Adventure. Bess immediately understood that she was left with me and began to mope. She will adjust.

Bess likes to direct our walks, and she often balks at walking the road, steering me instead around the pond or into the fields. Ordinarily that’s fine. We just have to get some exercise, and the route doesn’t matter. But this morning I was determined to carry a birthday card to the mailbox.

“Come on,” I said as Bess protested. “We’re going to the mailbox.” To my surprise, she acquiesced. She must have sensed the importance of my mission.

Down the lane we went at a good clip. “I’ll have to slow down at Plank’s Pitch,” I mentally warned myself, “or I’ll never make it.”

You can see Plank's Pitch at the high point in the photo.

Mike has been teaching me to use walking sticks, but I think it’s a toss-up that they’re all that helpful. I like to walk unencumbered, and after all, I was already carrying an envelope for the mailbox, so I left the sticks at the house.

I huffed and puffed slowly but steadily up the pitch, keeping my head down and pretending the road is flat. Hallie says that doesn’t work, but it does seem to help me.

But at the top, it felt good to be out in the open. Okay, so it’s not a trip to JoAnn’s, but it has its strong points. I see that the neighbor is haying, and they were already at work. The grain is ripening but still has a lot of green in it, especially in the low places. A haziness persists all around but the mountains aren’t obscured. (The Lewiston Tribune reports that the haziness is from a fire in British Columbia.) Bess suggested that we go back, but I reminded her that we were on a mission to the mailbox, so she agreed to stay with me. Once at the mailbox, we deposited the card, pulled up the flag, and now the return journey began.

I felt guilty that I didn’t bring water for Bess. In fact, I could have used some, too. Oh well. We’ll soon be home – maybe.

Above the pitch, Bess suggested we cross June’s field instead of staying on the road. I agreed, but I tried a different route from our usual, and that didn’t go so well. I ended up crossing rough ground, and when I looked for Bess, there she was trotting down the road! She saw me see her and evidently had the grace to feel guilty about taking the easy way, so she found her way back into the field.

“All of this just to avoid the steep incline to the house,” I thought to myself, and it didn’t work anyway. Following Bess’ lead, I exited the field just below that incline. I found the energy to march right up it, buoyed by the fact that I would soon be inside and sitting down with a glass of water. Bess was already on the porch lapping from her pail. I gave her a dog biscuit and praised her. “Good dog!”

2 miles; 5000 steps; 50 minutes. A good start to the day! KW 

THE CHILDREN OF YESTERYEAR

Daughter Hallie remarked that she mostly couldn’t identify the children in the photographs posted yesterday. There’s a good reason for that. They were all adults by the time she, the youngest grandchild, was born. In fact, my three children did not share the “cousin bond.”

I say “the cousin bond” because my four siblings, much older than I, had their children between 1955 and 1968. (In fact, one year (between July 1961 and April 1962), each one of them welcomed a baby.) The cousins were more or less close in age and were friends and playmates. But just as I was in between the siblings and the cousins in age, my three children were closer in age to the great-grandchildren than the cousin tier to which they actually belong. The family dynamic just wasn’t the same for them and neither was the camaraderie.

This picture from 1964 was also posted yesterday. Starting from left: Becky Reece, Papa, Keri Walrath, Shann Profitt, Kyle Walrath and Polly Profitt standing in back, little Rachel Reece in front, and I think that's Konni Walrath on the stool -- or possibly Mary Nunan.

This is a good photo of the cousin group at Christmas 1964. From left, Polly Profitt and Becky Reece are holding Mike Nunan; Rachel Reece peeks around Mary Nunan's shoulder; Shann Profitt, and L.J. Reece; Christi Profitt on Kathy Dobson's lap, and Jerry Profitt.

Here's a nice snapshot of Becky Reece in 1965 -- 8 years old.

Taken in 1965: Polly Profitt and Becky Reece in back; Shann Profitt, Keri Walrath, and Konni Walrath in center; and Christi Profitt in front.