A JOYFUL EASTERTIDE TO YOU AND YOURS

 

GOOD FRIDAY GREETINGS

It’s a lovely sunny day – at least, it is right now. Typical of March, the weather has been alternately cold, warm, blustery, and overcast / rainy – sometimes all in one day. The billowy white clouds are beautiful in the blue sky, or in the next moment, the sky turns a dark gray.

Good Friday always feels special to me. It seems to include a deep expectation. This year is no different.

I noticed yesterday that the artificial cherry tree next to the west side of the town house is beginning to bloom. The early daffodils are in bloom, while the later varieties are getting ready to open. Yard work beckons.

Two weeks ago, I planted vegetable seeds in peat pots and set them in the kitchen window. One of the summer squashes and a tomato are sprouting as I write. I hope the others will follow suit. Some of my seeds were saved from other years, and perhaps they won’t sprout. There’s always “Plan B” – buy plants (or buy new seeds).

I made hot cross buns today – a Good Friday treat. Breadmaking isn’t my strong suit, but on Good Friday, I make hot cross buns. It seems like my creative efforts fail as often as not, and I discovered after mixing the dough that I had left the butter out. I just ran another knead cycle, and the end product is acceptable. KW

HEARTY EASTER GREETINGS

These Easter postcards, likely from the 1910s, were my dad's. 

We still have no investigative report regarding Milo's wrongful prison death. It seems very quiet now. We await next steps. 

Thank you for thinking of us. KW

AN AFTERNOON OF SHOPPING

Addressed to Vance Dobson, 1915

The oven at the farmhouse wasn’t heating correctly last year. I limped along with it, but with a family reunion scheduled for Memorial Day weekend, I served notice that we needed a new one NOW. The old one is 25 years old, after all, and Mike’s research on repair proved that the better option is to buy new. (Just between us, the old one was a floor model from Sears and wasn’t all that great to begin with.)

And while we were at it, I said, we should take advantage of the opportunity to replace the very old well-used washing machine we bought a couple of years ago. How old is it? So old that I had to show Mike and the plumber how to run the water into it, though it seemed perfectly straightforward to me. It could have been from the ‘60s.

But when it comes right down to it, I have to be pushed to shop outside my armchair. “There aren’t choices,” I tell Mike. “It all comes down to the same thing.” I suggested we just go to Largent’s and save some time, but Mike wanted to see the options, and Friday (March 22) was the day.

We visited three appliance shops, and the models we chose were either the same or similar and the delivery costs were comparable. It all made my head swim. We chose the offerings at the third shop we visited (Largent’s after all) – a white Frigidaire range and a Whirlpool washing machine. The salesperson there seemed to glean what we needed, was good at explaining features, and went the extra mile.  

I know from experience that a new appliance might be worse than the old. All appliances have digital controls now, which can be bad from the beginning for no particular reason. We just have to hope for the best. In our case, though, both the range and the washer need to be replaced.

A happy time for Milo with his sons

Not the least of our errands was a visit to Garlinghouse Memorials to order the monument for Milo’s grave. Again, our choices were within a limited range. Milo’s ashes will share our plot, so his stone must be flat and sit behind ours. I’m fine with it. I want it to be conservative in keeping with the rest of the family memorials.

“It’s just wrong to bury your child,” I’ve heard more than once. "That’s not the half of my grief over Milo’s passing," I say. But of course, sad things happen every day to many families – and always have. KW

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON MEMORY

A birthday postcard, 1917

I’ve always had a pretty good, but not perfect, memory. As a young person taking tests in school, I feared not being able to think of the answer, which sometimes happened. To that end, I over-studied, and that was my strength. And once the test was over, I might not remember the answers next week. I had to study hard again for the final. I am not a candidate for Jeopardy.

As I grow older, memory is even more challenging. For instance, as I was grocery shopping last week, I remembered that we needed rolls, so I pushed the cart to the bread aisle, and as I walked along thinking of this and that, when I got to the bread aisle, I couldn’t remember why I was there. So, I went on with my shopping, and on the other side of the store, I remembered that I wanted rolls. No, I didn’t go back for them. We are roll-less at this time.

This type of scenario happens all the time when I shop. Distraction and lack of focus are the problems, I think. It’s difficult now to process many little items at one time.

Memory is just “strange territory.” It can go the other way, too, and suddenly something comes to mind. As we left for the farm the other day, I suddenly remembered that my farm coat was in the town closet. I had hung the coat in the back of the closet, so I didn’t remember because I was constantly seeing it. I just remembered. Apparently all is not lost!

In my life with my mother, she used to share lots of little coping tricks, some of which came from her mother.

·      If you can’t find what you’re looking for, go to the bathroom.

·      If you can’t remember what you were going after (as when I was in the bread aisle), go back to your starting point. Actually, this often works for me.

I have more of those little tidbits buried in my memory, but right now I can’t call them to mind – at least none that are appropriate to mention. I think in “olden times” before medicine became big business, people helped each other with these ideas.

Or, maybe we still help one another in this way. I remember calling my friend Chris for her advice on a machine embroidery project that was giving me fits. The first words out of her mouth were, “Eat lunch.” So I did, and the project came together.

I can remember the birthdates, including years, of most of my nieces and nephews, and of course, I remember the birthdates of my children. Well, mostly. It’s a bit challenging since Clint was due on the 4^th but came on the 6^th, and Hallie was born on the 4^th. I can get confused between the 4th and the 6th. Remembering the grandchildren’s birthdates is problematic – kind of in and out. KW

THE GREENIN' O' THE FIELDS

A couple of months ago, brother Chuck opined that a cold winter might suddenly turn into a warm spring. Well, these warm afternoons in the 70s had me wondering if this might be the case, but it looks like temps will drop again mid-week. Perhaps it’s too soon to tell.

Mike and I went to the farm on Sunday (March 17). We loaded the back of the Jeep with things we’ve collected for the farmhouse, and we trailered the 4-wheeler. We store both the 4-wheeler and the lawnmower in town to prevent mouse damage.

It was a lovely day – sunny in the mid-60s. It’s early, though. The daffodils have yet to open, and of course, it’s still too early for the fruit trees to blossom. Though not in bloom, the fritillaria are up, and their pungent aroma already fills the air.

Our main purpose in visiting the farm was to turn on the water. Mike did that, and with a few minor exceptions, all was well. The kitchen faucet and one toilet need repair. It sounds easy, but we made many trips up and down the stairs.

Mike had feared that we would have a lot of limbs to clean up in the yard, but there were only a few. The gopher problem has exploded, but we are out of bait, so that’s a chore for the next trip. I had wanted to plant spinach, and while it would have been possible, I didn’t have time.

As for house rodents (mice), the war is on. Mike emptied and rebaited traps.

I helped Mike hang the big wind chimes in the maple tree, and then he hung some chimes given to us in memory of Milo on the kitchen porch.

My main chore was to clean the fridge, which I tackled after lunch. It’s never easy to wash a fridge, and it was even more difficult since the kitchen faucet wasn’t working properly. And suddenly I was so tired that I allowed myself a brief sit down. As I went back to work, Mike appeared at the kitchen door and asked, “Are you tired?”

“I’m beat,” I said, and he admitted that he was, too. With his help, I finished cleaning the fridge, and we loaded up and left.

We stopped at the Gilbert Cemetery to look over our plot, which sits right next to Julian and Ina (my Dobson grandparents). We looked at monuments and we considered the type we would like for Milo.

We were home about 4:00. Son Murray had left a loaf of his freshly-baked rye bread for us, a welcome treat.

We didn’t forget our Irish roots. I had baked a lime Jello poke cake on Saturday. KW

A LAST HUG FROM MILO

A postcard to my dad from his Grandpa Dickson

Have you adjusted to the time change yet? Do you try to segue into the change by splitting the difference, such as eating when the clock says 7:00 instead of 6:00? Is your little one still getting up an hour early? Does the dog understand the necessity of waiting another hour for his/her constitutional? One thing didn’t change with us, though. We happily go to bed when the clock says 9:30.

Mike called a member of the Gilbert Cemetery board to arrange for burial of Milo’s ashes on Saturday, May 25 (Memorial Day Weekend). We’re relieved to learn that the grave will be prepared for us. Our family scarcely has anyone with a back capable of digging a hole!

The last time I saw Milo was Christmas 2021. He took the bus from Boise to our valley home. As we drove him to the bus for the return to Boise, he realized he had inadvertently left his ticket at the house. We didn’t have time to go back for it, and he said they would be able to print it out for him at the convenience store where the bus stops.

We said our good-byes. Milo went into the store to get his ticket, and Mike and I went back to the car, but I just couldn’t leave. I walked back to the store, meeting Milo as he came out with his ticket.

“What,” he asked, surprised to see me. “Oh, you didn’t trust it.” Then he wrapped me in a memorable bear hug.

There will be lots of other satisfying hugs – just not from Milo.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t more visible in Milo’s life. His week revolved around his work schedule, and he devoted his weekends to his son Mason. Understandably, he opted to spend the next holiday season in Boise with Mason. I didn’t see him again, but on one of their motorcycle trips, Mike and Clint stopped and had breakfast with Milo and Mason.

“Sometimes it just washes over me that I should have done more to help Milo,” I said to Mike.

“Tell me about it,” he replies. Some have said that it probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway, but if we had complained – written, called, messaged, and documented all contacts – at least it would have served as notice of concern for his welfare.

The worst of it is that this terrible wrong can never be righted. KW

[The photo is of Mason, Milo, and Clint.]

MARCH HAPPENINGS

March is a busy month:

10th – Daylight Savings Time

17th – St. Patrick’s Day

19th – First Day of Spring

31st – Easter

Can you believe it's already time to switch back to DST? On Sunday the 10th, most of us in the U.S. will have to adjust our inner clocks to the time change whether we want to or not. The good news for us is that son Murray can have supper with us once again. We don’t see so much of him during the dark months since he avoids driving at night.

I’m really not into spring holidays / happenings. I prefer the cozy autumn / winter holidays that seem more imaginative, conjuring up visions of magic and enchantment. However, I have been wondering if I should crochet a bunny or some fake eggs to add to Silas’ Easter basket, but I think he would be more pleased with M&Ms or a new Matchbox car.

Silas occasionally receives an M&M as a reward. (Yes, one M&M.) He asks for them by color. Since the blue ones are his favorites, there are no blue ones left in the bag and he must choose other colors.

“They all taste the same,” his mother reminds him.

“They didn’t always have blue ones,” comments Mike.

“That’s right,” Hallie agrees. “They added blue in the ‘90s, and they quit making the light brown (tan) ones.”

Want M&M,” says Silas. “PLEEZ.”

“Okay, you can have one – just ONE,” his mother agrees. “What color do you want?”

“A green one,” says Silas, and then he pauses and adds, “after a yellow one.” What a clever negotiator! KW

WOOM! WOOM!

“The best kids’ bike in the world,” the Woom website (here) announces.

First daffodil to bloom

Yes, that’s Woom, but we suspect it’s pronounced “VOOM.” The bike comes from an Austrian manufacturer that specializes in kids’ bikes. This bike is a size “2” and retails for $399, but Hallie and Nick bought this one at a Seattle thrift store for $12. Mike just finished cleaning and tuning it. He was impressed with the quality of construction and said it didn’t need much. He cleaned the chain and the sprockets, trued the wheels, and loosened the pedals.

Silas has already been introduced to cycling. He has a balance bike (no pedals) on which he whizzes along the sidewalks of his neighborhood. (Yes, he wears a helmet.) Now he’s ready for the next step – actually pedaling. 

Says Silas: “It will be fun!” KW

[Milo would have loved this story from beginning to end -- a deal on a bike, tuning it up, and nephew Silas learning to ride.]

MAKING SAVES

An old postcard to celebrate a spring birthday

We have no new developments to report in our quest for “justice for Milo.” It’s disheartening. No one responds. No one apologizes. Of course, I don’t really expect apologies. The State would never apologize. 

It’s still winter even though we’ve had some warmer days. Thursday morning (Leap Day), I saw the thermometer at 62, so I put on my shoes – I don’t like to wear shoes – and went out to pull dead leaves and debris from around the daylilies. I had barely started when the wind came up and the temp dropped 15 degrees, so I left off my outdoor work. The temp continued a slow decline throughout the afternoon. March was announcing itself – beautiful blue sky with fluffy white clouds, warm, cold, breezy, rainy, windy. 

I have peat pots now, and I’m ready to start seeds in the kitchen window. I have a few new seed packets and some leftovers. If they don’t sprout, I’ll go to Plan B. It doesn’t really matter if nothing comes of the process, but I do enjoy watching the seeds sprout and grow on the window ledge. Gardening is always an experiment with me. I think we should try harder, though. Gardens are good for the environment.

It's getting harder and harder to buy good skim (0%) milk. No matter where I buy it because chances are that it won’t be good. I think Grandma Ina referred to such milk as “ringy.” 

So, I had this milk that was off and getting worse, and I decided to use it up in a rice pudding. Now, I make a good baked custard / rice pudding, but I read a lot of online recipes and tried a new method. BIG MISTAKE!! The proportion of milk to rice was off and the pudding was stodgy. So, while Clint watched, I stirred in some condensed milk and more milk, all the time making more and more pudding. It tastes good now but is way more than we can ever eat. Clint declined to take some home. 

The other night, I burned the pork I was simmering in barbecue sauce. We ate it anyway. 

And then there’s the sewing and crocheting. Sometimes things just don’t go right. I struggle to make the right decisions. Is it my distracted state of mind, or am I really losing my mind? “If I take any action at all, it will be wrong,” announced Milo. I know just how he felt. KW