A MORNING HIKE

 

“Grab the camera,” said Mike. “We’re going on a hike.” Yes, he’s a little insistent about it because he knows I hike better in the morning than in the heat of the afternoon sun.

For the most part, these photos were taken last week (June 25), and I’m sorry I didn’t post them sooner. These things happen.

So, we headed off around the pond and down the gulley that the old family called “Stove Creek.”

“Look at the big deer,” I said. “That’s an elk,” Mike corrected, as the cow looked back at us from the other side of Stove Creek. She seemed to be alone and was as curious about us as we were about her. We don’t see many elk. Maybe we just aren’t watching at the right time.

On around the perimeter of the field we went. I love these views of the old farm yard before it disappears behind the hills again. 

My grandfather, Jack Dobson, taken by his son Earle

I can just imagine the changing views as the farmer works the fields, especially in the old days when the machinery didn’t move so fast. Was he happy? Did he enjoy the work, or did he wish he could go faster and finish sooner? Did they look forward to the noon break and the big dinner prepared by the wife? And I can also imagine watching from the house as the field work was slowly accomplished. KW 

Mike walking along the canyon rim

 

BOUNDLESS ENERGY

I do not now, nor have I ever, had boundless energy. This describes the Warnocks through Mike’s mother’s line. Daughter Hallie has it and so does grandson Silas.

Kathy & Mike with Silas

Hallie and family arrived on Friday (June 20), including her husband Nick, 3-year-old Silas, and Primo their dog. We stayed at the town house Friday and Saturday so that she could attend her 25^th class reunion in Lewiston. She explained that her class didn’t meet in 2020 due to the pandemic, so they pushed the celebration to 2025. Grandma and Grandpa were willing babysitters while she and Nick attended reunion events.

On Sunday, we all went to the farm. First on Mike’s list was repair of the fridge. The part had been delivered, but the fix wasn’t instantaneous. Eventually I discovered an ice clog where the water line enters the icemaker. Mike also installed a new valve at the cistern where I get my irrigation water, and then I watered.

Hallie and Nick brought Silas’ little pedal bike, and he rode all over the parking lot behind the town house. On Saturday, he rode on the bike path with Grandpa and Uncle Clint. But I was surprised that he is also adept at off-roading and enjoyed “down-hilling” at the farm. As you can see in the attached video, he pushed his bike uphill to the tree line in the grove, and then coasted to where the drive meets the lane. Somehow he wasn't wearing his helmet when this video was shot, but I assure you, he has and customarily wears a helmet.

Son Murray joined us at the farm on Sunday, and he reported seeing five Mallard ducklings on the pond, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky. In fact, we didn’t see them during the rest of our visit.

Parting on Tuesday was such sweet sorrow, especially since I know that Silas will likely be a grown-up 4-year-old the next time I see him. But – I have art work on both fridges now to remind me that he was here. KW

[Video courtesy of Uncle Murray Warnock.]

WORKING AWAY

Mike and I went to the farm on Sunday (Father’s Day) and began a vigorous regimen of belated spring housecleaning and grounds maintenance in preparation for summer visitors. Mike mowed and trimmed the yard and washed windows, and then rewarded himself with a bike ride. I puttered along with my chores. Neither one of us whistles while we work.

Our first visitors arrived Monday afternoon. Son Murray brought a friend who was visiting from Philadelphia. They had been driving and hiking – seeing the sights of scenic central Idaho. They stayed for supper – Warnock turkey burgers and pecan bars – and then they left in hopes of seeing more sights before dark.

Tuesday, we suffered setbacks. I discovered that the ice maker wasn’t filling with water. Hence, it had not made ice for a while. Mike diagnosed it as pump failure. I researched the part and Mike ordered it. It will be here by the weekend. Meanwhile, we have ice trays on hand, and we made ice the old-fashioned way. Mike has issues with our medical insurance and spent over an hour talking with reps while he washed windows. Then the electricity was off for two hours. In a sense, it didn’t affect my cleaning work too much. I just couldn’t run the vacuum. Of course, we had no internet. I like having the internet.

Also on Tuesday, the farmer sprayed the fields. How I wished Silas could have seen that spraying monster traveling up and down over the fields. Silas loves monster trucks.

The beds are ready now for Hallie, Nick, and Silas. Hallie plans to attend her 25^th class reunion in town, and then we’ll spend a few days at the farm.

The tomato plants I bought at Walmart have made wonderful progress. I can practically watch them grow. The zucchini and yellow crookneck have finally germinated, and the strawberry plants are flourishing and sending out runners.

The deer ate the leaves off several bottom branches of the cherry tree, so I swathed them as best I could – perhaps too little, too late. The tree is so loaded with cherries this year that its odd topknot is bent under the weight. 

I didn’t take time to look for the Mallard family. Thanks to Bess, we found a rattler in the grass at the bottom of the lane. And mid-morning on Wednesday, I heard coyotes near the pond. We seldom hear them during daylight.

I hung the hummingbird feeders on Sunday, and gradually they began to visit. Their numbers are few, but even so, they will fight with one another. I put out fresh nectar as we left on Wednesday, hoping to keep up the momentum.

Later. KW

MILO WARNOCK WRONGFUL DEATH – ANOTHER ARTICLE

The Idaho Statesman published another in-depth article today (Saturday, June 14) regarding our son Milo’s murder at the Idaho State Correctional Center (prison). The link is here, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to open it. The Statesman wants readers to be subscribers. [Or, you might have better luck with this link copied from Google.]

This article picks up at the sentencing of James Johnson on April 4 and includes details of his criminal history. It also provides details of the murder event not previously published and updates the ongoing case.

While the description of the murder event is graphic, it’s not nearly as graphic as the reality of the situation. I get through it by knowing that Milo was unconscious. They say he lived an hour after he was found, but I doubt that. I’m grateful that he isn’t living in a vegetative state.

In the months prior to his passing, Milo and I had undertaken a study of reality and spirituality. I am helped immensely by the ideas we discussed, and since I accept the continuity of life, I trust that he is also helped. KW

EARLY HEAT SPELL

We made a quick trip to the farm on Tuesday (June 3) and returned to town Wednesday in order to attend a customer appreciation barbecue on Thursday (the 5^th). I’m not sure the barbecue was worth the interruption in our farm schedule, but as senior citizens, we were lured by the promise of free food – or maybe just the promise of a meal that we didn’t make for ourselves. After scheduled activities on Saturday (the 7^th), we returned to the farm for a day or two between town activities. It feels like too much back and forthing, but we have garden to tend at the farm now, which seemed especially important because of the excessive heat. Town highs were 100 (or nearly so). Farm highs were at 90.

Distant tree is on line between June & Jack's farms

The tomato plants I started from seed didn’t take off, so I bought three plants – Bush Early Girl, Better Boy, and a Sweet 100 cherry tomato. I supplemented the strawberry plants Hallie gave me with two more from Walmart and also planted lettuce in a corner of the strawberry bed – a variety called “heatwave.” The rhubarb plant that a friend gave me is doing well. The mint plants are happy, but that’s probably not a surprise. The orchard / meadow is a good place to plant invasive perennials. The zucchini and yellow crookneck squash seeds have yet to sprout. It's always “win some, lose some” with our garden.

Mike has worked hard pruning dead branches out of the pine trees. We’ve about decided that this broken pine should probably be completely removed. I suggested he saw it into a living sculpture.

I assisted Mike in widening the wire cages around the apple trees. It seems like we should be able to remove the cages, but the deer could devastate those young trees in several ways. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, as we seem to learn over and over.

Mike saw nine little Mallard ducklings following their mom on the pond, but by the time I got there, mom was alone. Nine little ones seems like quite a hatch.

I finally finished the gray striped scrap afghan and just in the nick of time, too, since summer heat is upon us. I swear I have enough yarn to make yet another afghan. I used the wattle stitch, and it was easy to do. It makes a nice warm blanket.

Now it’s town time again – a luncheon for me; a fishing excursion with Ken, a minor hospital procedure, and a motorcycle trip with friends for Mike. It’s also time to get ready for summer visitors – clearing, cleaning, and shopping.

It’s cloudy and cooler today – just low 80s this afternoon. We had a smattering of rain – not enough to measure. KW

BEFORE & AFTER -- REPLAY

Hallie asked for a better "after" photo of the modular home paint job, so here's the comparison again. 

BEFORE

AFTER

You can also see photos on the Pryme Tyme Painting Facebook page. KW

MODULAR HOME MAINTENANCE (BEFORE & AFTER)

Original paint -- cream and light green

Every summer for the last five years, painters have knocked on my door to tell me the house needs to be painted and offer a deal. One painter even tried to play Mike and me against each other. “Your husband says it’s up to you,” he said, and then complained to Mike that I must be hard to get along with. Well, in a way he was right.

After 20 years, I did think the house was overdue for new paint. It had faded for sure, and sitting between two recently painted houses in darker colors, it appeared dated and shabby. I just had to convince Mike, but once he was on board, he stepped up to it and found a painter – Pryme Tyme Painting – that we both liked. That painter was businesslike from the beginning, providing a written estimate and making suggestions, including painting the trim a contrasting color and making a statement with the front door.

So – It’s finished now, and we’re pleased. And I figure it will be a while before the painters knock on the door again. KW

  

IF YOU HANG IT, THEY WILL COME

A view toward the canyon from June's place

I thought I heard a hummingbird buzz by my ear, so I made nectar and we hung the feeders. In the afternoon, one showed up for an easy snack, but it’s a far cry from the swarm of hummers that used to entertain us. Visits to the feeder were few and far between.

Son Murray, visiting the farm on Memorial Day, took himself for a walk around the pond and reported that he saw several little ducklings swimming with their dad. Mom wasn’t there. Perhaps she needed some time to herself.

As we left the yard for our evening constitutional on Friday (May 23), a rattlesnake lay in the grass at the top of the lane. Mike calls that place “rattlesnake crossing” because we often see a rattler there. This was our second sighting of the season.

I saw a nice round bumblebee bumbling along in the iris, and I let him have it. I have a healthy respect for the bees, and I'm pleased that they visit my garden. However, I give them wide berth. 

Red-winged Blackbirds reside in the pine trees at the pond. I think they’ve been there as long as the pond, and they take ownership. I read that some conservation organizations are concerned for them, although they aren’t endangered. They can cause considerable crop damage, but I’ve never heard anyone here complain about them, nor have I noticed them in the field. In terms of damage, the deer are the greater threat anyway. In fact, we watched from our recliners while three or four whitetail munched the tender young grain sprouts in the field adjacent to the yard. They will be back again and again.

Ticks aren't prevalent this year, and it’s fine by me. A tick will ride along with Bess in spite of the repellent she wears, but I haven’t noticed that she’s bothered. Mike removed one from his person – just one this season. I don't want them on me! KW

NOTES ON MEMORIAL DAY

 As I grew up, Memorial Day was an important tradition in my family. In those days, Memorial Day (or Decoration Day, as some still called it) occurred on May 31. The change to the last Monday in May went into effect in 1971 in accordance with the Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968. When I was married in 1975, it didn’t occur to me that our chosen date fell on Memorial Day weekend, and to this day, I would rather observe it on May 31.

Nina & Charlie Portfors

Our family tradition started with my Portfors grandparents. Grandma Nina’s family (Stinsons and Sanders) were interred at the Burnt Ridge Cemetery outside of Troy, Idaho, so Grandma and Grandpa would fill the trunk of his Lincoln with washtubs and buckets of flowers and large cans to serve as vases. They stopped at Aunt Hattie Stinson’s house in Troy (Grandma’s aunt by marriage), loaded her flowers, and the three of them went on to the cemetery where they blended their floral offerings into bouquets for the various graves. Afterwards, they would share a midday meal.

Nina Saunders Portfors 1886-1955

When Grandma Portfors died in 1955, my mother stepped in to help Grandpa continue the tradition of cemetery decorating, and naturally, she took me along. We always had plenty of flowers from our yard as well as Grandpa’s, and my dad would make a trip to the farm where the season was at least two weeks behind town and bring back even more flowers. We made bouquets with iris, lilacs, roses, peonies, poet daffodils, coralbells, bleeding heart, etc. It was always fun to see how those bouquets would turn out.

As the years went on, Mother added more cemeteries to her list and gathered more family members into the plan. It seemed complicated to me, but nothing was too much trouble for Mother if she wanted to do it. Besides the Burnt Ridge Cemetery, we decorated graves at the Normal Hill Cemetery in Lewiston and the Riverside Cemetery in Orofino. Later, she visited Grangeville and Cavendish. We did not regularly visit the Gilbert Cemetery near the farm where my dad’s family is buried, and ironically, this is now the only cemetery I visit and only if it fits our schedule. And I use (and re-use) artificial flowers because I don’t have enough flowers in my yard.

Will I take it more seriously now that Milo’s memorial is at the Gilbert Cemetery? Frankly, I doubt it, but I bought a cemetery vase with spike for his grave with the thought that it would be nice to place live flowers this year. I made two bouquets with iris, bridal veil spirea, and lilacs – one for Milo’s grave and one for my dad’s, which Mike and I delivered on Friday (May 23). And while I was there, I placed artificial flowers on other family graves as long as I could tolerate the stooping.

Even back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, fewer flowers were available on Memorial Day, so Mother planted cemetery boxes. You have to plant those early so that the plants mature, fill the box, and bloom. Mother was good at it, but it’s a labor of love that I didn’t take up.

Decorations placed on any grave signify remembrance, but I especially love to see flowers at an old grave. It means that a life lived long ago is still lovingly remembered. Mike observes that I’m the major decorator at the Gilbert Cemetery. KW

MIKE AND KATHY – 1975-2025 (AND COUNTING!)

Congratulations are in order. Mike and Kathy have reached the landmark 50 years of married life. Fifty years ago today, we committed to each other, to the marriage, to the family, and we kept those vows. Like everyone else, over the years we’ve had trials and tribulations as well as joys and triumphs – you know, ups and downs. I wish it had been all triumphs, but trials force us to grow. We just have to trust and know that "it was good -- all of it."

And how will we celebrate? Quietly. We’ve invited one of our ushers, my nephew L.J., to join us for dinner at our favorite restaurant in Orofino. And we anticipate a couple of family gatherings during the summer. Having reached 50 years of togetherness, I figure we can celebrate these 50 years however we like for the rest of our lives. KW

A MOST PRODUCTIVE VISIT TO THE FARM

 

As we left the farm on Friday (May 16), Mike commented on how pleased he was with all “we” accomplished. He’s most relieved that the big burn pile is gone now, and as it burned, we added more to it. The rotten old church pew had finally collapsed and Mike tossed the boards on the fire. He pulled more limbs from under the pines, cut the larger ones into fire wood, and made many trips to the burn pile hauling branches in the 4-wheeler trailer.

And speaking of the fire, as I went to walk to the back side of the pile, I heard the unmistakable buzz of a young rattler in the tall grass under the apple tree. We surmised that it had been living under the burn pile. This was our first snake sighting of the season. We didn’t see any rattlesnakes last year.

I also watched as Mr. and Mrs. Mallard preened on the bank of the pond. They seem fairly tame and were there a long time. I thought to myself that they live in the water and clean themselves on dry land, just the opposite of us humans. I have yet to see any ducklings, and I hope that all is well with the family.

I planted the ten strawberry plants that Hallie gave me. And Mike and I planted the rhubarb plant that a friend has been saving for me since last year. We also planted three more Agastache plants, but we didn’t have time to address the needs of the raised beds. We still have time to plant them.

My sewing projects have been on hold. I had been making quilt-as-you-go hexagon chair backs last year and wanted to take it up again, but alas! I misplaced my templates, and without those templates, I was unable to proceed. My search philosophy is to look where I am led rather than frantically tearing everything apart, but I
was at my wit’s end. I figured they were in a stack someplace, and yesterday I found them in a cubby hole under my ironing board. It made my day! KW

MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND

"Farmgirl" bouquet for Mother's Day

Son Milo (now deceased) considered himself a cyclist. Several years ago, he built his own e-bike using an old bike frame. In addition, he had several other bikes, and daughter Hallie agreed to sell them in Seattle. We just had to get them to her. So, we decided to combine business with pleasure and spend Mother’s Day weekend in Seattle with Hallie, Nick, and our grandson Silas, who is 3 1/2.

So, on Friday (May 9), we were loaded and on the road by 7:00 a.m., which put us at Hallie’s during the noon hour. It was “Pajama Friday” at pre-school, so Silas was still in his pajamas.

As we ate lunch, Silas said, “Grandma, you are smacking too much.” And he hopped down from his chair, disappeared down the hall, and returned carrying a mirror, which he set in front of me so that I could see just how much I smack when I eat. Hallie explained that Nick is training Silas to eat without smacking.

Grandpa Mike & Silas

I honestly didn’t realize that I’m a smacking offender. I remember my mother saying, “Chew with your mouth closed,” and “don’t talk with your mouth full,” and I thought I had learned those lessons, but apparently I need a refresher course. As we were leaving this morning, I told Silas that I would practice eating silently, and he offered to loan me his mirror. I assured him that I have a mirror I can use.

Mike & Kathy

Silas insisted that Hallie name the bears in this photo. “They’re your bears,” she said. “You should name them,” but when he demurred, she said, “Okay, they’re Mike and Kathy. She crochets and gardens. He’s into cycling and bike repair.” And Silas was satisfied. Those bears bring a smile every time I think of them.

Of course, Bess went with us, and Silas remarked that Bess is nicer than their dog Primo.

It was a wonderful weekend. Besides the “Silas-isms,” memorable things happened. Mike worked on the bicycles, and with Hallie’s assistance, he got the e-bike up and running. Hallie cooked delicious meals, and Nick made crème brulee, a first for Mike and Kathy (the people, not the bears). Our Denver family sent a Mother’s Day bouquet, which fortunately was delivered before we left home so that we could take it with us. After a breakfast of waffles and sausage on Mother’s Day, Hallie dug out the everbearing strawberries that had jumped her raised bed and were growing in her lawn. I will plant them in my strawberry bed on the farm.

“That doesn’t cover it at all,” as Ina would say, but you get the idea. 

The time comes when we have to get back to our regular activities. We agreed that we would miss each other, but we already have plans to see each other again soon. Meanwhile, absence makes the heart grow fonder. KW

CAMPING OUT?

 

“It feels like we’re camping out,” remarked Mike Tuesday morning. It was 46 outside and not much warmer in our bedroom where a cool north breeze wafted through the open window. (Mike insists on sleeping with an open window year-round.) However, temps are quickly warming now, and back in town, the day’s high reached 80. I packed our bedspread away for the summer and hope that I don’t regret it.

Mike worked hard at the farm. He mowed and trimmed the yard, cleaned the eavestroughs, hung the big chimes in the maple tree, installed the clothesline, repaired the raised bed gate, and spent hours clearing limbs from under the pine trees in the grove. Then for fun, he went for a neighborhood mountain bike ride, experienced a blow-out, and had to “limp” on back to the farmhouse with the neighbor’s dog trailing along – a tough ride. I led a discussion on learning to pace ourselves, relaxing more often, and having some guiltfree fun. Mike agreed, but he’s a driven individual. I can help with the chores when needed, but I’m a dreamer by nature and have never been able to keep up with him. (And I don’t want to.)

Mr. Mallard 

We’re combining business with pleasure and hope to have an enjoyable Mother’s Day weekend. Until next week . . . KW

GREETINGS FROM THE FARMHOUSE

 

It was 88 in the Valley on Friday. Saturday noon the wind came up as Mike and I were loading for the farm. Afternoon temp at the farm was 65. Mike spent three hours mowing and trimming while I worked in the house.

 

But it was cold this morning (Sunday, May 4) at Gilbert. “Good transplant weather,” I hear my mother say, and that’s exactly what we did. We brought transplants from the Valley – basket of gold (2), mint (3), lavender (1), and red valarian (2) – which we set in the orchard. It’s all we had room to bring this trip, but I’d like to transplant more. The soil is soft right now, so planting was easier than later in the season. In addition, we dug out three wild roses and three poplar starts. As we worked, we heard distant thunder – not a surprise given the unseasonal highs.

All three of the young apple trees are loaded with blooms this year. So are the pear and cherry trees. Mike sprayed them this morning.

After 20+ years, it feels like we’ve finally made progress with the plantings. It didn’t really happen until Mike quit mowing the orchard, which allowed some of the native plants (desirable weeds) and scrub brush to spread. The “narrow-leaf mule ears” (sunflowers) are finally spreading from under the pine trees into the meadow area.

 

Mr. Mallard still plies the pond. Mike saw the pair yesterday. I haven’t seen the hummingbirds yet.

 

The farmer is plowing the fields, preparing to plant. Fun to watch.

 

We will have a fireplace fire tonight for sure. KW

HARD TIMES AHEAD?

Well, let’s talk of hard times some more. There comes to me in times like these a sort of spirit of battle. I feel it as a challenge to me to outwit circumstances, but I can’t have my way and the little expediencies that I would resort to only arouse irritation in Dad. I could fairly thrive in the situation if I had someone to co-operate with me. You see what I mean? – Ina Dobson, 1932

I think we’re in for some difficult times. I have once again taken up the study of managing in hard times. Like Ina, I will try to outwit circumstances.

For 50 years, Mike and I have agreed that we could afford to buy groceries. We would spend it at the grocery store, we said, and the family – all of us – would eat well. Now with a nervous stock market and uncertainty over tariffs, I’m not so confident about the future.

Sticker shock seems to grow steadily worse, and I truly think twice about what I buy. I don’t know how much longer I can afford to shop Albertsons, one of the most expensive grocery stores. I like Albertsons because the store isn’t crowded, the lay-out is familiar to me, they check me out and bag my purchases, and it’s the closest major grocery store to my home. Plus, in Washington state, we don’t pay tax on groceries. And Albertsons also rewards us with gas points, which seems important when it’s time to buy gas. Son Milo insisted we would be better off to shop Winco and pay full price for our gas. He might have been right, and we do stop at Winco from time to time, but I still take my main list to Albertsons. If it’s one thing the pandemic taught me it’s to be wary of crowds.

But prices are high everywhere right now. I have walked away from products at Albertsons, only to see the same item isn’t much less at Walmart or Winco. “I can’t believe how expensive everything is,” commented Mike recently, “and this is Walmart!” In fact, the other day at Winco, I marveled at the price of chocolate chips, and I didn’t buy them. At some point, I no longer want to pay the price for these things. Baking morsels are now a luxury item.

I’ve been thinking of reducing my stashes, but if I have usable fabric and yarn, why get rid of it now? I should at least wait through this period of uncertainty. Also, with the closure of JoAnn Fabrics, less is now available locally than heretofore. Will another retailer take up the slack? KW

A RANT ON MOTHER’S DAY

 I’m always very happy over my Mother’s Day remembrances. I feel lifted up and carried along on my children’s love and faith and feel like life has been successful after all. So accept my appreciation of all you have meant to me and of your gift and thought on this last Mother’s Day. I heard from you all on Friday except Ethel. Her $1.00 bill and lovely card came Saturday. Myrtle sent a pair of very nice fabric gloves in a light tan, a perfect fit, and Shirley just raves over them. She also sent a half dozen very pretty flower packets [seeds]. Pearl sent $2.00 and a letter. Irl and Bernice sent a nice print dress. I shall use the $1.00 bills to get new curtains etc., which are needed and will do so much to add to our pleasure in the house. – Ina Dobson to her son Vance, June 1933

My husband, my children, my childhood chum, and a few P.E.O. sisters know that I am capable of ranting when I feel strongly on a given subject. And here’s one that’s been repeating in my mind every spring for years.

Mother’s Day is less than two weeks away, and the promotions from online retailers are in full swing. I find the idea of equating appreciation to the expense of a gift distasteful. I was not raised to think this way. Gifts were thoughtful simple things. 

Perhaps I sound like an ingrate, but as a mother, what do I want anyway? I want my children to live fulfilling lives, take care of themselves and their families, contribute to the world in positive ways, save for the future, and if applicable, straighten up and fly right! I don’t want them to spend time and money on me frivolously. And above all, I don’t want them to feel guilty about a thing – not a thing! If for some reason they don’t call or write on Mother’s Day, I will readily forgive. This date was established by humans to be a simple celebration of motherhood, and the failure to observe it should not constitute a guilt trip. I hear from my children all the time and they respond when we need them. What more do I want?

I know not everyone feels this way. Obviously, we see by Ina’s words that even in 1933, she treasured what she received on “her day.” And believe me, she expected it, too! (Whew! I’m so glad Vance didn’t forget!) But – it was a different time and a different place. Life on the homestead, or small family farm, was at best subsistence living, and whatever Ina received from her children was well-appreciated. I also know that with the exception of Earle, who was a school teacher, those children didn’t have dollar bills to spare.

In the bigger picture, I can empathize with those women for whom Mother’s Day is bittersweet. Within motherhood is heartache – loss, sacrifice, estrangement, and unfulfilled hopes. And perhaps the mothering qualities of some go unsung. Sometimes the hype seems cruel.

Don’t get me started on Grandparent’s Day! KW

SPICY CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP

“I dunno,” I said, as Mike and I selected a variety of soups at the grocery store. Mike suggested Campbell’s “Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup,” but I was skeptical. I have never cared for spicey heat, and moreover, my system doesn’t tolerate it.

But just this once I agreed on one can of Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup, and then it was sitting on my pantry shelf. It was either avoid it forever or get rid of it, so the other day I warmed it for lunch. 

Mike took the first spoonful. “I don’t think you’ll be able to eat this, Kathy,” he said.

So, I dipped my spoon into the broth, took one very small sip, and immediately went into a coughing fit. “No one should eat it,” I wheezed when I had recovered enough. The Campbell company wasn’t kidding when they labeled it “spicy,” and I wasn’t kidding when I said no one should eat it, but Mike finished his serving. I put the leftover soup in the fridge, but the next day Mike advised me to toss it, agreeing that no one should eat it.

Actually, we’ve had this soup before and while I thought it was unpleasant, I didn’t think it was inedible. It seemed like this can got a double dose of the spices. Whatever – I won’t buy it again.

When I was a girl, I often visited elderly relatives in nursing homes with my parents, and I remember the soft diet delivered to the residents – white bread and a pat of butter, cottage cheese, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, bananas, pudding for dessert, canned fruit, etc. Bland and unappealing. I’m pleased that we can still eat regular food, but I draw the line at Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup. KW

WORK DAYS AT THE FARM

Snow on the distant mountain

On Wednesday (April 16), Mike and I spent our first overnighter of the year at the farm.

The pond is full but not overflowing

We both worked hard. We took half a dozen red valerian from our town garden and planted them in the orchard. We’ve tried before, and they didn’t make it, so we’re trying earlier this year. Perhaps it's too early.

It’s a prolific pine cone year, so I cleared the yard of them before Mike mowed. I also fed the gopher holes. The rest of my day was devoted to cleaning. We have no internet yet, and I missed it.

Mike made repairs and mowed the lawn. He also did some barn cleaning.

Cottonwood Butte

Late afternoon, we took our customary walk. Our fields haven’t been planted yet, so we walked up Plank’s Pitch and back to the house across June’s field. Bess was so happy! She ran and ran and ran. As for the condition of the fields, some standing water is evident, but on the whole, the ground isn’t muddy.

Supper was leftovers brought from town. I was so glad not to have to cook! In the evening, we watched TV, and as we did, a herd of at least 17 white-tail came into the yard – mostly young ones supervised by a few larger does. No bucks. They had a good time frolicking in the yard, probably playing “white-tail games.” Bess just sat on her porch perch watching them, making no effort to chase them off.

Another pond picture looing eastward

It was not warm, and the wind blew all afternoon and through much of the night. I know it came from the north in the night because it blew right into our bedroom. (Mike always sleeps with the window open.) I don’t think it froze, but the overnight temp was in the 30s.

Thursday was another workday. Mike discovered some downed limbs in the north field that will make good firewood. I convinced him to postpone that work for another day, but he wants to take care of it before Farmer Kyle plants.

I continued to disinfect the kitchen, and as I did, I baked a cake. Mike sprayed the weeds in the lane.

Proud Papa?

In the afternoon, Bess and I took a walk around the pond, and just as I was ready to return to the house, I noticed a mallard drake swimming lazily. I suspect he was guarding a family in the reeds, but I didn’t see them.

Back in town Thursday evening, I pulled meatloaf from the freezer – instant comfort food, and we needed it. And of course, I brought the cake back with us. KW