A SUDDEN AND DRAMATIC CHANGE IN THE WEATHER

Well, that’s that! Summer is over. Monday the 28^th was the last really hot day. Tuesday, a storm rolled in, bringing thunder, lightning, wind, and rain. Now we expect our highs at altitude to drop into the 60s and 70s, but right now it’s 55.  

Well, it’s fine with me. The summer has been trying. The after-harvest atmosphere here is peaceful. It’s time to ponder our harvest blessings – and to be grateful that we have them.

The last hot day of summer . . .

I see that The Old Farmer’s Almanac predicts (in a tone of some authority) that the Intermountain Pacific Northwest will have more snow than usual, beginning mid-November. I wish winter wouldn’t come quite so soon, but we must protect the farmhouse. We can’t exactly wait and see. The fact that we can no longer expect to have a “farmhouse” Christmas speaks to the weather change we have experienced over the last five years.

. . . and the same scene today at 57 degrees.

Mike and I packed up a few things and went into town yesterday (Tuesday, Aug. 29). It was a busy afternoon for us as we ran errands and replenished supplies. This morning, we packed up for another stay at the farmhouse and drove to Orofino in steady rain. Construction on the highway at the bridge held us up for ten minutes or so, and I was sorry we had to go into Orofino, but the library there was holding a book for Mike. Fortunately, we were not stopped on the way out of town.

Arriving at the house, we estimated the electricity had been off at least seven hours in our absence. “Rats!” said Mike, who is anxious to give his new generator a try. We expect it to run the fridge and the TV set, but he missed this opportunity to give it a real try.

I would guess the outage related either to lightning strikes or to the “Hospital Fire” in Orofino. A fire started at the State Hospital and burned over the hill toward Wixson Heights. Firefighters were able to stop it at 50 acres or so, and of course, the cool weather and rain were factors.

Dove season opens Friday, and Mike is as ready as he’ll ever be. I have pulled clay pigeons for his shotgun practice. As for the doves, though, we saw quite a number as we drove in today, but a late August cool spell often triggers their disappearance.

“We’ll be sleeping under a blanket tonight,” says Mike. And I add that we will even turn it on early to warm the bed. KW

I CAN, BUT DO I WANT TO?

My friend Chris messaged to say that she had come upon a ponderable statement: In considering a new project, perhaps the question is not “can I do it” but “do I want to do it.” I think she recalled that I have started a few projects only to find that I really didn’t want to do them. So, I think Chris is right that one has to ponder if he wants to do a specific project, and the sooner this is determined in the process, the better. (I have found this to be true of cooking as well.)

I was telling Chris that I have always wanted to make dolls, but I have no reason to do it. I have made several in the past, and the last two are on a shelf in the storage shed. I have a collection of cloth doll patterns, and maybe that’s just as far as it goes. (I AM a collector of patterns, and if this is a vice, there are worse ones.)

As for using vintage patterns, after so many years, some required materials are no longer available. For instance, patterns for sock dolls available mid-century called for a man’s cotton work sock such as my dad wore. Today, those are nowhere to be found. Socks have changed. I bought a pair and started a doll, but as I stuffed the head, which is the toe of the sock, the sock stretched – and stretched – and stretched.

Well, I’m still pondering whether I want to make dolls. It’s not the doll itself but the creative process that interests me.

And then – the kids have changed. I know -- we used to say that kids were the same in every generation, but I’m not so sure now. For better or worse, they are born to this digital world, and issues come to them that I never had to contend with as a child and wouldn’t want to now. 

And for the most part, I think kids today are largely disinterested in vintage toys. Who wants to look at ViewMaster slides when he can watch a video on mom’s phone? I say this, but look at this picture of Silas and his dad with his trains and train track, a vintage find at a thrift store. And he sings, “I—been—workin’—on–the—railroad . . .” KW

EXCESSIVE HEAT

It was cooler last week with highs in the 80s. The breeze was heavenly, and I thought perhaps the hottest days were behind us. But no! Here we are in the midst of “excessive heat.” And it IS excessive, too. It reached 100 here at the farm on Tuesday, 97 on Wednesday, and today it hit 98. The thermometer still registers in the low 80s at midnight, and by 7:00 a.m., it’s already 70. Mike gets up early and puts a box fan in one of the east dormer windows to pull in as much cool air as possible.

A load of wood for town

My friend Chris and I were born in the same non-air-conditioned hospital during the same hot August of a certain year – she early in the month and I three weeks later. Our parents had tales to tell. As I recall the story, Chris’ dad went out and bought a fan to cool his laboring wife. (What! The hospital couldn’t even provide a fan for her?) I don’t know if someone sent him on this errand or if it was his own idea.

Twenty-four days later as I was about to be born, my dad drove past the hospital and over the bridge.

“Where are you going,” Mother demanded to know.

Daddy replied that it was such a lovely warm evening that he thought they should go for a drive. After all, the baby wouldn’t be born for hours.

“You turn right around and take me back to the hospital,” Mother said.

Speaking with forked tongue

A beautiful home in apple tree

Coming back to the present, Mike has allowed Bess to sleep on the porch instead of putting her in the woodshed, and just as we were retiring last night, she began to bark frantically. We never know what Bess’ alarms mean. Is it an animal intruder or did she just happen to notice the solar lights or is she freaked out by the 4-wheeler? It’s wise to check, so Mike went out to see what the trouble was. I could hear him speaking to Bess in calming tones and insisting she come away. She had indeed discovered a rattlesnake near the kitchen porch.

I don’t speak Parseltongue. Do you? KW

THE WONDERFUL DAYS OF AUGUST

 

Using the big harrow, it took Earle only 4 ½ days to “lay by” 62 acres of beans. In former years it would have taken a crew of 6 to 8 men two or three weeks at big wages to do it. – Ina Dobson, July 1933

“The big harrow,” writes Grandma Ina. She would be in awe of the big combines, hopper, and trucks that do the job now. In fact, I’m in awe!

Now that harvest is over, it’s lovely to be able to hike all over the farm again. The machines have left some decent trails. Even though it’s warm, I wear jeans to protect my legs, and I have new “every day” shoes – light hikers with firm soles and good tread. 

Harvest these days just isn’t the same as it was back in the days of my youth. This was a community of small farms, and the grain harvest happened mostly at the same time for all the farmers. They were doing essentially the same thing at the same time. August still reminds me of the old harvest days – lengthening shadows, back to school, Octoberfest, Halloween, and gratitude for nature’s bounty. (Sounds like a visit to JoAnn’s!) August just has its own unmistakable ambiance.

But – the small farm couldn’t last. The first machines were small, but as the years passed, they kept getting bigger and bigger – and more expensive – until finally the small farmer couldn’t afford to farm. A farmer had to have more land – and even more land – in order to make farming pay.

Today, those of us who hold land here have leased to one or two farm operators. Harvest still happens, but instead of all of us working at the same time, we watch the operation move from place to place over the ridge. When they get to our place, they finish in a day.

Harvest in the old days meant hard work for everyone. The men worked in the fields. The women made a big noon dinner, including baking bread and pies on a wood cookstove on a hot day. The farmer fed his workers at his table, and that was a pleasant social aspect. Today, the operators don’t stop to eat or even pass the time of day. They carry food with them and eat in the air-conditioned cab of the combine. The most we get is a wave and a smile.

The evening meal, at least in our family, was a light repast, and we were in bed with the sun to arise early and do it all over again the next day. It was tough if you were a night owl, and I was.

The National Weather Service has issued an excessive heat warning for our region. Last week was cooler and pleasant, but we brace now for temps in the 90s here at altitude, possibly even reaching 100 on the hottest day. The predicted high for the Valley is 110. Mike picked up a few supplies for us yesterday so that we can stay here at the farm for now. KW

MY BEST GARDEN EVER

BLTs and strawberry shortcake coming up. Yellow pear tomatoes, anyone?

During the week that Mike and I were in town, I worried about the raised bed gardens at the farm. I feared that the lack of water on those hot days would take its toll on my strawberries, summer squash, small sugar pumpkin, and tomatoes, but actually, they survived quite well. 

I quickly watered and then began picking the produce: a quart of strawberries, a dozen yellow pear tomatoes, six “Early Girl” tomatoes, and a zucchini. I pick more tomatoes and strawberries every day, though not so much, of course. 

And frankly, I had already picked enough earlier in the season to call my gardens a success. And to what do I owe this success? I wish I knew. 

• Perhaps it was the better seed (ordered from Burpee). 
• Maybe it's because I started the summer squash and pumpkin in my kitchen window. 
• Is it the potting soil we tilled into the beds? 
• Maybe it was the fertilizer – Alaska by Pennington for the vegetables and a little 10-10-10 for the strawberries. 
• Maybe the tomatoes are especially happy because of the ground eggshells I sprinkled into the hole. 
• Maybe it’s just this year’s spring/summer atmosphere.

And since the beds were happy in my absence, I wonder if I’ve actually over-watered them – killed them with kindness, as it were. I just don’t know. It’s just good that we’re enjoying the fruits of our labors. KW

HARVEST 2023

Son Yancey and granddaughter Emmy left last Tuesday morning (Aug. 1), after spending the weekend with us. They left rather early because Emmy wanted to have breakfast at Waffles & More in Lewiston. Hmmm. We aren’t “eater-outers”, and I don’t think I’ve been to Waffles and More in five years.

Then Mike and I loaded the Jeep and headed to town. In the course of events, we decided to clean out the shop loft and garage. It needed to be done. I also cleared some things out of my little shed. Mike made a trip to the landfill and one to the thrift store. It was three days of hard work. (Mike works harder than I do and doesn’t rest till the job is done.)

And of course, the blog muse has been on vacation, but I think she’s back.

Today, we drove back to the farm in the big ol’ Dodge pick-up to find harvest in full swing on our place. I’m so glad we didn’t miss it. I love to stand on the porch or out in the yard and take pictures while the big combines and hopper crawl over the fields. My photos vary little from year to year, but that’s okay. The photos posted here were taken today.

The electricity was off again for a considerable length of time during the week we were away. This has happened frequently this summer. One recent evening, Mike called a couple of neighbors to be sure it was a general outage. “Oh, yes, it’s off,” they said, “but we have a generator.”

“We have to get a generator,” said Mike, so he ordered one, and today he has been testing it. He is pleased. It will run the refrigerator and the TV set, and it will charge our devices.

Well, you know, it’s just one of those ways in which we’ve been spoiled by progress. An evening by the light of a kerosene lantern is a retro experience, but on the other hand, we hardly know what to do with ourselves if our devices aren’t running. Once we start with the electronic devices, we can’t do without them.

And now, it’s suppertime, and the harvesters have just finished the North Forty (the last field), and Harvest 2023 is officially over at our farm. KW

2023 TOUR - FINAL

 

Again no breakfast as we began our usual early departure north on Hwy 34 which was another new road for me. We passed the Blackfoot Reservoir and about 20 miles out the highway turns due east and after another 20 miles it enters Wyoming. Shortly after entering Wyoming we turned north on Hwy 89 for about 10 miles up to Alpine Junction. We stopped at the Junction at a large convenience store and bought some warm ham and cheese breakfast sandwiches. They hit the spot as a later than usual breakfast and we had been having the usual good weather and nice riding.

We proceeded into Idaho along the beautiful Palisades Reservoir which had been my first sight of Idaho 57 years ago and I remember camping there. Just before Swan Valley we turned northeast on Hwy 31 up to Victor where it merged with Hwy 33 going north to Driggs and Tetonia. At Tetonia Hwy 33 turns west and after a brief Interstate jaunt to Rexburg continues west across the desert. At Mudlake we got on Hwy 28 going northwest toward Salmon. This is a long stretch of highway up to Salmon and we began to get into wind and rain off and on. This was the first bad weather of the trip not counting the hot and cold. This off and on weather continued past Salmon and all the way up Lost Trail Pass in Montana. After that it was sunny and hot again.

Painted road geocache

At Hamilton our Super 8 was the opposite of the Riverside Inn at Helper. It was a huge room almost the size of two normal double rooms and very nice. I don’t know how we got that because we didn’t pay any more than the regular price.

After getting settled we hiked down to a Pizza Hut and had a nice dinner consisting of a salad bar and a personal size pizza which was delicious and just right. On the way back to the motel I saw a small leather article on the sidewalk. It was a card wallet that had a man’s many credit cards, health insurance card and driver’s license. He had a local address but now as most folks have cell phones we couldn’t locate a phone number for him. We ended up riding the three miles or so to his house and leaving it in his mailbox with a note as he and his near neighbors were not home. All told this turned out to be the longest leg of our tour at 435 miles.

After a good Super 8 breakfast the next morning we were off toward

Picnic stop at small urban park in Vernal

Lolo. The rest of the trip was just a backtrack of our first day. Again it was beautiful weather and we were home well before noon having traveled 247 miles and 3,190 for the trip. I even had time to get my bike washed and cleaned that afternoon.

The most important thing I learned on this trip was to be very careful where I stopped my bike. Even though I have the low seat on it, if I stop on a sideways slope it can get out of hand so that I’m unable to keep it upright. Otherwise, the bike was an absolute delight leaving me with not an ounce of buyer’s remorse. I look forward to more trips with my riding partner, Sam, and hopefully my boys. M/W

2023 TOUR - PART 4

 

Here comes that train again



Staying in Helper, our motel particularly, was quite an experience. Helper reminded me in some ways of Eureka, Nevada, in that it had seen better days and yet some were trying to improve things. That couldn’t be said of our motel, I’m afraid. Angel, the owner who was buying it from an 83-year-old gentleman was very friendly and accommodating but the whole place was a dump. The parking lot was an unpaved potholed area where I worried about keeping my motorcycle upright. Angel’s son, also Angel, had an old trailer set up in the parking lot selling tacos for $3. Sam said I was welcome to try one but he wouldn’t touch one with a ten foot pole or words to that effect. There were a few attempts at making the place inviting, such as some mismatched furniture under a tree on a gravel area. My pictures really don’t do justice to the area. There was a railroad track that ran along side the motel and trains that passed several times giving four ear splitting horn blasts each time.



Old truck collection




50's era service station

Angel Jr.'s taco trailer

Sam in front of out room

After settling into the motel, I took a walk around picking up a couple of geocaches that the state association had placed. One was particularly good. It was a sort of spigot attached to a board and when you pulled the spigot handle a small container fell out of the faucet containing the geocache.

Later we hiked down town to a restaurant that had been a big hotel, I think. It had a mezzanine that was partially supported by 1” iron rods. Along our walk we saw an old restored service station that had numerous old trucks displayed. There were other restorations that were meant to appeal to tourists. The restaurant was reported to have generous portions and it lived up to its reputation.

When we got back to the motel I sat out in front under the tree and read while Sam got buttonholed on the walk in front of our room by the old previous owner. He wouldn’t quit talking and amazingly, he was immensely proud of this dump of a motel. However, I had no complaints about the bed as I slept reasonably well.

We got another early start the next morning and naturally, there was no place to have breakfast. We began riding northeast on Hwy 191 toward Duchesne where we planned to have breakfast. This was a beautiful winding mountain road up a pass that reached over 10,000 feet in elevation. However, we took the curves rather cautiously as the temperature was 34 degrees (the coldest of the trip) and many of the curves were shaded which made us fearful of ice. At Duchesne we gassed up at a big convenience store and had breakfast. After breakfast we turned northwest on Hwy 35 to Kamas where we turned northeast on Hwy 150. This was beautiful riding mostly through the Wasatch National Forest. We left the Wasatch as we entered Wyoming and rode up through Evanston. Here we rode north on Hwy 89 which turned to Hwy 16 as we crossed the line back into Idaho. This was a beautiful little ride up through the little town of Randolph where I had never been. Next we turned northeast back into Wyoming and up to Cokeville. Following Hwy 30 we were soon back in Idaho again and proceeded through Montpelier where we had stayed our second night of the trip. We continued on Hwy 30 up to our day’s destination at Soda Springs having traveled 332 miles for the day. We stayed at the JR Inn which was a considerable upgrade from the Riverside Inn in Helper.