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

OLD-FASHIONED EASTER GREETINGS

 

SPRINGTIME AT THE FARM

Mike and I (and Bess, of course) made a trip to the farm on Saturday (April 12). Mike had loaded the 4-wheeler into the bed of the pick-up, and we trailered the lawnmower. It always makes me nervous to travel like that, but hopefully it’s over now until fall.

The trip along the Clearwater was spectacular. The serviceberry bushes were beautiful on the hillsides, dressed in their feathery white spring blossoms. Occasional trees wearing pink finery added a nice contrast. At the farm, it was wonderful to see the daffodils and the fritillaria in bloom, and the violets added a purple touch. The lilacs, now in bloom in the Valley, are just leafing out in the upper country. The fruit trees and rhubarb are making their comeback.

We de-winterized the farmhouse plumbing, and that went fairly well except that the faucet on the water tank leaked. We had to empty the tank so that Mike could apply sealant to the faucet and then refill it.

As always, the work beckons, and it’s easier to talk about it than to do it. A thorough housecleaning is in order, and once again, I hope to grow wonderful vegetables in the raised beds. I’m thinking of expanding my growing capabilities with containers. We’ll see. The original raised bed needs to be reworked and repaired before I can plant in it. One thing is certain, it’s of absolutely no use to plant anything unless it’s fenced.

We had no mice in traps, but I did find a random deceased mouse under the dining room table.

TRIP TO BOISE -- RECAP

It just makes you rave to think that it’s like a trip to another country to get to the southern part of your own state. – Ina Dobson, 1934

We never travel to Boise but what I think of the above quote from my grandmother. Today we travel the same route that Ina complained about 90 years ago, winding through agricultural country, forests, and mountain passes. Stretches of the highway have been improved. Here and there we have a passing lane and perhaps the road is smoother, but it's still a tedious drive subject to slow traffic, weather, and erosion. In fact, Hwy 95 south of New Meadows is closed due to a slide which took out a stretch of half the road. We had to use Hwy 55, which we expected to be heavily trafficked, especially for the trip home Friday afternoon. However, we were pleasantly surprised and made good time.  

If memory serves, for the first time ever, we boarded Bess. She stayed at the “Fur Family Cinema,” a pet boarding facility at the defunct Orchards Cinema. We missed her. As we traveled, we just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was riding along with us. She would have preferred to be, I’m sure.

I struggled to know what to wear to court. I ordered a beautiful suit, but when it came, I saw that it was too dressy. I also realized that I would never have a place to wear it, so I returned it without even trying it on. I thought about wearing a t-shirt with Milo’s name on it, and that would have been fine, but I had second thoughts and Mike suggested that I should feel confident in my attire. I opted for a spring sweatshirt and a pair of black slacks. And speaking of black slacks, I have four pair that have been in my closet since I retired 18 years ago. Unbeknownst to me, the elastic in the waistbands had spent those years quietly relaxing. I should buy a new pair – just one – and let the old ones go.

As I suspected, the dress at court was rather casual. The attorneys were more formal in suits with or without ties, but the support staff wore jeans. And of course, it’s a great mystery what the judges wear under their robes.

Well, the court visit didn’t solve anything for us. People have been so kind, but the perception persists that the inmates deserve whatever happens to them in prison. Actually,  statistics show that more than half of the incarcerated could better serve some other sort of consequence for their infraction. If they are employed, their contribution to the economy more than offsets the cost of incarceration. And if they lose employment through incarceration, they will likely struggle to find a job and a place to live when they get out. And – if they aren’t mentally ill when they go in, they likely will be when they come out. KW 

YET ANOTHER ARTICLE ON SENTENCING

It's raining today and the cherry tree is already dropping her petals.

We were surprised but pleased to see a second article about the sentencing of Milo's murderer which appeared in the Idaho Statesman this morning (Monday, April 7). You can read it here. 

Mike and I had to laugh about his red-rimmed eyes. We hadn't noticed, but we thought it was a nice touch.

We were pleased for the positive comments made about Milo during the court session. They said he had been a model inmate, keeping to himself. The defense said, if I heard correctly, that Milo understood his own mental illness and the effect that his medication had on his body, and he also understood his cellmate's mental illness. In fact, Milo had submitted a request for treatment for his cellmate which evidently went unheeded. While this is documented, this is the first we had heard.

The judge allowed the defendant to speak, and he rambled on mostly incoherently for 15 minutes, but even he said that he and Milo should not have been together. The defendant's counsel and the judge recommended treatment for him, and the judge also recommended that he be housed where he can't hurt others, but she also stated that jurisdiction over the prison is an executive function. 

We have heard that infractions such as Milo committed (cheeking his medication) no longer result in such harsh punishment, and this is progress. I hope for more change. The sad thing is that someone, in our case Milo, had to die before the prison would even acknowledge the need for change. KW

SENTENCING

Together with three of our children, Mike and I attended the sentencing of Milo’s murderer in Boise on Friday, April 4. Hallie, Mike, and I delivered victim impact statements. You can read an account of the sentencing from the Idaho Statesman here. KW

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS' DAY

 

This undated postcard was undoubtedly just handed to my dad by his cousin since she lived on the adjacent farm. It bears no postmark. I'll just guess it was between 1910 and 1915. It's the only April Fools card in my collection.

It seems like April Fools' Day has been celebrated for hundreds of years, but the history is speculative -- maybe this, maybe that. 

Mike wished me a happy April Fools' Day, but he knows that I don't enjoy pranks. I told him I would avoid the issue by staying in the house and keeping quiet. 

We had several rain showers yesterday with clouds and sun in between. March didn't exactly go out like a lamb but neither was it much of a lion. KW

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING, OH MY!

 

Unseasonable warmth brought full bloom

We are blessed to have our grandson, 3-year-old Silas, at a time when day-brighteners mean so much. We enjoy hearing of his experiences as he learns about the world.

The other day, someone told me that a fluke storm was predicted for the west coast between Seattle and Portland. She said her brother was actually readying his home for excessive wind and rain, including nailing plywood over the windows. So, I reached out to daughter Hallie to see if they were preparing for a big storm, but she only knew of a thunderstorm alert. This morning, she sent me the following account of watching the lightning with young Silas:

“We only had a little thunder and lightning yesterday evening. The thunder was low and long and the lightning was a few flashes in the sky but not bolts. Silas was interested, so I held him while we looked out the back door window. We didn’t see anything, so we went to read on the bed. Then the thunder started acting up, so we stood on the bed in the dark to look out the high window.

“Finally, a good flash happened and I gasped with excitement. Silas hit the deck like he’d been shot! As he lay curled at my knee, I asked him if it scared him, and he said yes. I apologized for gasping and told him I was just so excited. He asked if the lightning would get him, and I told him that it wouldn’t. It would stay in the sky. (We’ll learn more about lightning safety when he’s older.) I told him that it’s like a great big flashlight in the sky and it says, ‘ready or not, here I come!’ He laughed.”

We had two days (March 25 and 26) of record-setting high temps – in the low 80s – here in the Valley. As one might expect when the weather is unseasonably warm, we also had a lightning storm last night but not much thunder. Today, it’s much cooler – hovering at 60. KW

YAY! SPRING HAS SPRUNG!

The warm temps have brought the imitation cherry tree into bloom

It was in the 80s yesterday and today, but don’t put away your sweatshirts or winter PJs just yet. Supposedly more seasonable temps are on the way (highs in the 50s & 60s) and will continue for several weeks.

But spring is here. I see forsythia in bloom as well as other flowering bushes, and the daffodils bend and bow in the breeze. We’ve had quite a lot of wind and not too much rain.

It did rain on Sunday though (3-23), and Mike and I killed some time by getting groceries. While we were at Albertsons, we visited JoAnn’s. The shelves aren’t quite bare, and the prices are still kinda high. Some areas have signs announcing that more merchandise will arrive soon, while other aisles are bare and taped off. Actually, I saw quite a lot of fabric – 50% off, 2-yard minimum cut, but the yarn is mostly gone unless they get another shipment. I had no trouble walking out empty handed.

I have started seedlings in trays under grow lights, but honestly, I think I was just as successful when I sprouted them in peat pots in the kitchen window, plus they needed less handling. Perhaps it’s not too late to do that, especially for planting at the farm.

I’m sorry I haven’t had a lot to say. Writing my talk for court in Boise next week has renewed my anger, and the muse went away, except for the one that’s writing the talk, of course. I have had more senior moments than I care to divulge, like leaving the kitchen faucet on, neglecting to turn off the stove, and steaming the broccoli in a dry pan. (So glad that the warm temps have allowed us to air the house. That burned broccoli odor really lingers.) I’m hopeful that once the court visit is over, I’ll have better focus. I’d hate to think it’s time for the condo or assisted living, but I will accept graciously if/when I must. KW

BREEZY MARCH

“Dang it!” said Mike. He had planned a bike ride yesterday afternoon – and the day before that and the day before that – but windy conditions prevailed. The wind at your back is fine but headwinds and crosswinds are no fun. Yesterday, he took Bess on a long hike in lieu of a bike ride, but today he was determined to cycle, wind and all. 

It froze again last night – 28 this morning. The forecast is for highs in the 70s next week, working up to almost 80 on Wednesday the 26^th, if this forecast can be believed. Then the highs drop back into the 60s and it might rain. I say, “might rain,” because so often it doesn’t. Overall, I guess we shouldn’t complain about our mild weather.

The daffodils have begun to trumpet that spring is here, and with their announcement we see the need to pull weeds, cut back old growth, and get rid of that pesky grass! 

I’m off on another project tangent, putting everything aside to crochet a shrug, or shoulderette, to wear to court in a couple of weeks. My basic outfit is a t-shirt over black slacks, so I thought something that might dress it up a bit would be nice. I have ordered two shirts from this Etsy company. The first, a medium, was snug, so this one I ordered in a large, and it's way BIG. Too late. I'll just have to make the best of it. 

Meanwhile, I have been on an emotional roller-coaster as I prepare my speech. KW 

MORE EXCITEMENT THAN WE COULD STAND

Ken, our friend and Mike’s hunting buddy, was called out of town on a family emergency, so he boarded his dog Zeda. (Or is it Zeta? I’m really not sure.) Ken’s previous dog Pepper passed to the great dog park in the beyond some months ago, and friends allowed him to take Zeda, one of their several German Shorthairs, so that he could continue his bird-hunting adventures. She’s six years old – a beautiful white dog with brown patches. She’s a good hunter, but she’s nervous, skittish, and afraid of her own shadow, other dogs, and unfamiliar surroundings.

When Ken was called out of town due to a family emergency, he boarded Zeda at a veterinary clinic, and Mike agreed to exercise her from time to time. We have helped with Ken’s dogs for years while he traveled. Ken suggested a certain locale along the river where he often exercises her, so on Monday, we checked Zeda out of the facility and took her to that place. Before we had gone very far, she bolted and ran back to the car. The point was that she should exercise, and she clearly wasn’t having any of it.

The arrow indicates Zeda's location (photo from 2016)

So, on Wednesday, we tried again. About 4:00, we picked up Zeda and went to the dog park at Swallows Nest, which is bordered by a fence on one side and the river on the other. We thought she would be safely confined. WRONG! She ran to the other side of the park and then to a “pond” on the south side. Naturally, we humans couldn’t keep up, and Bess just didn’t care. When we got to the pond, Zeda had swum to the other side (Mike estimates 100 yards) and was seeking a way to climb the bank. The only way to get to her was to leave the dog park and go around the long way on dry land, which Mike did. He managed to retrieve her and brought her back on leash. And that’s when the real excitement began.

Mike had re-entered the park with Zeda on leash when another dog approached her and she freaked out. She slipped her collar, ducked under the gate, and ran across the highway (scary!). “I hate when they do that,” another dog owner remarked. Mike caught sight of Zeda running up the hill, so we jumped in the car and drove around that neighborhood looking for her. As it happens, Ken lives in that vicinity, so we stopped at his house several times, thinking she might go there.

So, we went back to the vet’s and reported Zeda as a runaway. Long story short, the vet posted her on Facebook as a missing dog, and apparently a couple of girls saw this and happened to spot her not far from the vet’s. Between the girls and the vet, they nabbed her about 5:45. Mike and I were so relieved.

"All’s well that ends well," we said, and then we added, "Never again!"  Zeda can just do without exercise. KW

THE READINESS IS ALL

I drove into town to shop Albertsons, and once I had parked, I made a beeline for JoAnn’s. Yes, the store is still open, draped in big banners announcing closure. In fact, I was surprised at how much merchandise is still available, and I didn’t think the deals were as good as they were last week. Perhaps they’re trying to maximize their sales, and who would blame them, but 10, 20, and 40 percent off did not entice me to buy. Lots of fabric is still in stock, but now the minimum is a two-yard cut at 25% off. As I’ve said, I’m trying to use the fabric I have, and I definitely don’t need 2-yard cuts. I didn’t even look at the fabric.

I think it’s odd that JoAnn recently began branding a sewing machine. According to my research, they didn’t manufacture them but rebranded existing machines, such as Singer. They had quite a supply of JoAnn machines at my store – only 10% off.

So, I walked out of JoAnn’s empty handed. This would not be the case at Albertsons where I searched out the specials. The times feel uncertain to us, so once again I’m thinking in terms of preparedness. I bought flour and toilet paper and even found eggs at half price. We can use various substitutes for eggs, but in my opinion, nothing works as well as an actual egg.

Speaking of eggs, I saw Cadbury eggs at the checkout stand and thought of Milo. He loved those Cadbury Crème Eggs, and each year at Easter, he allowed himself one. Just one. KW