WASHING MACHINE WOES

Two years ago (2024), we bought a brand new Whirlpool washing machine for the farmhouse. It worked well for me, but last summer (2025), the dealer called to say this particular model was manufactured with a faulty motherboard. They wanted to replace it while the machine was still under warranty. Well, we weren’t experiencing problems, so they said that they would order the part for the eventuality that we would need it.

A couple of weeks ago – before I had even begun to do laundry at the farmhouse this season – I found the washer’s motor purring along on its own. The only way to stop it was to unplug it. The dealer said that they would install the aforementioned part when they had other orders in our area, which happened on Thursday (May 7). The repairmen arrived mid-morning, installed the new motherboard, ran diagnostics, and pronounced the machine good to go. That’s when I should have said, “Just sit tight while I run a small load of laundry.” But of course, I didn’t say that, and they left.

Mike was nervous about the repair and suggested I try the machine immediately, but I would not be pushed. “I’ll wash tomorrow,” I said. So, when Friday came, I loaded the machine, selected my options, and pressed “start,” but it just wasn’t right. It would only fill and then drain. I turned dials and pressed buttons, but no way would it run through the cycles. I was left with soggy, soapy, unwashed clothes. I called the dealer then, and he told me to unplug the machine for at least ten minutes and try again. I did that three or four times to no avail. I spent hours working with the machine because I didn’t want them to drive here only to have it be my fault.

Mike and I have experienced frustrating appliance problems for the last ten years. And you know, I marveled that in their latter years, my parents struggled with their appliances. Honestly – I thought their age was a factor. Well, 40 years ago, we didn’t realize that we were sitting on the cusp of the “it-can’t-be-fixed” era. The dealer admitted that 75% of these washing machines have defective motherboards. I say if 75% are defective, the other 25% are likely defective, too. He said he would work with us, but we will have to wait until they are coming our way.

The big question is – Will this washing machine ever be fixed and dependable? KW

GARDEN DILEMMAS

 

Just a country scene

The little tick I found on my leg the other night announced that tick season is indeed upon us. It only gets worse. I raked the path around the pond prior to Mike’s mowing, and in the next hour I took a tick off my shirt and two off my neck. Now it’s a given that my skin will crawl for the next two months. I won’t be able to tell if it’s a tick or just the creeps. Now I remember why gardening in the spring is odious to me.  

Empire Apple Blossoms

Over the warm weekend that we were in town, the farm dried out a bit. The puddle where the clothesline stands is now completely dry so that I can hang clothes without wearing boots. The puddles in the fields are smaller, and Mike was finally able to reinstall our mailbox. The water in the hole at “Mailbox Corner” finally dried out enough to complete the job.

All three tomato plants are small but have blossoms, but true to form, the peas and spinach are making a sparse showing. Why? After considerable online research with no real answers, I concluded that even though I planted mid-April, it was still too late. I further conclude that I will probably never be able to plant early here.

Empire Apple Tree

Well, to continue reasoning along the gardening dilemma – I sent Mike to the store for a head of lettuce the other night, and he came back ranting that he had paid nearly $5.00 for it. “Everything is going to be more expensive,” he exclaimed. “EVERYTHING! Plant lettuce.” But as long-time followers know, my gardens don’t produce much of anything. It’s not like I have a big garden plot where I can grow a “victory” garden of vegetables to sustain us throughout the year. Produce is always sparse – or even non-existent, like the peas and spinach.

I just think it’s too darn hot out there. We can’t water enough to make up for those spring/summer rains that used to bring relief to our corner of the world.

Meanwhile – the strawberry plants are blooming and the rhubarb came back. The blossoms have fallen from the cherry tree, and I hope for another good harvest. The Empire apple tree is just beautiful this year. I can’t say the same for the Honey Crisp, but it IS still alive. (I was a little worried.) The pear tree in bloom was lackluster. And the lilacs are gorgeous. KW

HATE IN IDAHO

 My letter to the Lewiston Tribune in response to the editorial, “This is who we are: Idaho is not too great for hate” (here) was published on Sunday, May 3, under the title, “Feeling Betrayed.” I’m sharing my letter below:

My issue with Idaho hate involves the corrections system. On December 10, 2023, my son Milo Warnock was murdered while incarcerated at the Idaho State Corrections Center, virtually kicked to death by his demented cellmate. I don’t hide the fact that Milo was a DUI offender who struggled with bi-polar depression and addiction. I do say that he received a harsh sentence and was subsequently harshly disciplined at the prison over an issue with his medication.

Life goes on. I’m used to the fact that Milo is gone, but every day I struggle to rationalize how prison staff (Idaho State employees) could look the other way while this middle-aged, non-violent individual was threatened, harassed, and finally murdered. Not that my family’s longevity in Idaho matters – I have the same rights (or lack thereof) as any other citizen – but as a native Idahoan whose grandparents chose Idaho as their home 130 years ago, I feel betrayed. No one apologizes. The lack of support for change is disheartening.

 What can we do to bring about a more enlightened society for the benefit of all? Basically, the only thing that matters in life is the way we treat others, but there’s little any individual or organization can do if our legislative, executive, and judicial branches don’t care. KW 

FEELS LIKE SUMMER

 

The pond is full to overflowing

Suddenly the temps have warmed into the 80s, and the sun is hot. We had to break out our summer pajamas. I retired my sweats. It’s always a challenge to stay cool in the summer when safety and comfort at the farm demand that I keep my legs covered. I like my winter wardrobe better than my summer duds.

Pear tree blooms are sparse

Mike and I spent three days at the farm last week (April 28-May1). It felt good to organize for the summer – housecleaning, making shopping lists for needed provisions, etc.

Our fields have yet to be planted, and as we hiked, we saw standing water and muddy patches. It seems strange because it was basically a dry winter and we haven’t had much rain. The roads are dry and dusty as are the gardens.

Mike tried to burn the slash pile on the west side of the north field, but it refused to light. He had better luck with the fourth and final pile located near the top of the lane behind his shed. It burned down to ash fairly quickly, and after lunch I found a stick and roasted a couple of marshmallows for myself. I wished that I could share with 4-year-old grandson Silas.

I don't remember narcissus here in prior years

The early daffodils have passed. The “poet daffodils” (my mother called them “narcissus”), are still in bloom. We had them in small patches for years – I mean, since my childhood – and suddenly they have spread. Fascinating! What are the conditions that encouraged this to happen?

True to form, the peas and spinach I planted are making a poor showing. Maybe it’s already too hot. Maybe they want more water. Maybe the soil needs to be enriched. Maybe I just don’t know how to plant those seeds. No matter. If I don’t have peas and spinach, maybe I can have summer squash. Maybe. Despite some overnight temps into the 30s, the tomato plants are holding up. I pruned up the strawberry bed, and it looks good.

Perhaps another bumper crop of cherries

Meanwhile, I’ve searched the orchard meadow, hopeful of finding returning plants. The grass takes over. I dream of clearing a patch or two so that plantings might have a better chance. However, it’s almost more than I can do, and as the soil dries even more and gets hard, it becomes impossible. KW

2026 STILLWATER AWARDS

 

Idaho State Correctional Center, Kuna

From our separate physical locations, Hallie and I met last night on Zoom to watch the 2026 Stillwater Awards, a national program that honors prison journalism. Patrick Irving, an inmate at the Idaho State Correctional Center (ISCC) whose prison blog (Book of Irving) we follow, won third place in the “Best Op-Ed” category for his essay, “Who Should Care for the Elderly in Prison.” (You can read it here.)

The following is from the website of the Society for Professional Journalists [SPJ]:

“The Stillwater Awards recognize excellence in prison journalism — one of the toughest places to practice the craft. The Stillwater Awards are named after the Minnesota town where Stillwater State Prison was built. In 1887, the warden founded The Prison Mirror, the first newspaper written and managed exclusively by inmates. Today, there are dozens of prison publications across the country. The Stillwater Awards are co-sponsored by SPJ and the Prison Journalism Project. Since 2020, PJP has trained incarcerated writers and published their stories. Because of that, PJP doesn’t participate in the judging of the Stillwater Awards. Winners receive certificates and recognition at a virtual awards ceremony.”

Since our son Milo’s wrongful death while incarcerated at ISCC, my goal has been to do what I can to increase public awareness of the inhumanity suffered within prison walls. Unfortunately, there’s not much one individual can do. Frankly, it’s a sad fact that individuals and agencies can’t do much until the executive and legislative branches of our government begin to care. I believe in consequences for wrong-doing, but in our country, our practice is to incarcerate all offenders, which ruins lives. Just to point out one fact, it’s been shown that if non-violent offenders served sentences which allowed them to continue as contributing members of society, it would be less costly to the state.

This thought-provoking chart is a comparison of worldwide incarceration rates developed by the Prison Policy Initiative. Perhaps it's slightly out of date, but I can guarantee you, things haven't changed much.

Well, I’ll get off my soapbox for now. Congratulations to Patrick Irving for this well-deserved recognition. And to all inmates who write from prison, I say, “Keep up the good work.” Keep on keeping on. It’s all we can do. KW 

CASH POOR

 

Son Murray is moving from the tiny duplex where he’s lived for the last four years to a lovely little 1920’s house on the brow of the hill overlooking the Snake River. Two trips with his brother Clint’s utility trailer and one or two with his car was all it took, and Clint also helped with the lift and carry. Murray didn’t allow us to help him much, but Mike put together his new bed frame, and I served sandwiches for Friday’s lunch. Otherwise, Murray asked us to pick up some used outdoor chairs he bought from an individual who lives near us, and since he had yet to pay for them, he asked us to give the seller $35.00 in cash. This proved to be a challenge.

“I have a twenty, two fives, and two ones. What do you have?” asked Mike.

“I have a one and a fifty,” I replied. “And some quarters.”

“Don’t you have a twenty? How about tens or fives?”

“No! I have a fifty and a one,” I reiterated.

So, we stopped by to pay the seller, hoping she would have change for the fifty. No, she had given all her cash to her granddaughter, she said. “We’ll get cash at the grocery store and come back,” I offered.

So, I asked for “cash back” with our grocery purchase. Yes, he could give me a twenty, said the cashier. “We need two tens,” Mike stated.

“We don’t keep tens in the morning,” said the cashier. (Does that seem strange to you? Whyever not?) I accepted a twenty-dollar bill, but that didn’t help us. We still didn’t have the needed ten or fives.

Seller was a glass artist

Our cash situation had not improved in the afternoon as we prepared to go get the chairs. Mike counted out $32, and I tossed my one into the pile to make it $33.

“I wasn’t kidding about the quarters,” I said.

“Well, how many quarters do you have?” asked Mike.

I opened my wallet and counted out the needful two dollars in quarters, and we went to get the chairs. 

What?!! There are banks, you say, and ATM machines? Apparently we don't use them. KW

2026 FARM SEASON BEGINS

 

Yes, I have been away from the blog while recovering from extrication of a molar. The writing muse has been absent.

Here we are at the farm again, our first overnighter of the 2026 season. We’ve been busy. Opening the farm in the spring, both house and grounds, is a mixed bag of positives and negatives. On the one hand it’s lovely to see the world in bloom, but this year we have extra work due to the Horrific Windstorm of December 2025. Outdoor work continues, and we’re putting the bathroom back together. I don’t know what happened to our toothbrushes.

The early daffodils have passed, but other varieties are blooming. All three rhubarb plants look as good as they ever do. Mike and I planted three tomato plants in the raised bed, and he’s already counting the days to maturation. I hope it’s not wishful thinking. The spinach and peas haven’t sprouted. It’s anyone’s guess how the growing season will go.

These hot April days have brought the Lapin’s sweet cherry tree into bloom.

I came into the house yesterday afternoon to find the washing machine motor just purring along on its own as if it had a perfect right. (So glad we were here when this happened!) There was no turning it off either. I had to unplug it. One day last summer, the dealer called to say that this model has a defect. We said we hadn’t noticed anything, and he said he would order the part while the machine was still on warranty and we could let him know if/when we needed it. Well, I hope the part in question is the one we need.

Mike saw a pair of geese and a pair of Mallards on the pond, but we don’t know if they’re nesting or just passing through. Otherwise, I don’t hear many bird sounds, and I don’t see many. Maybe it’s just too soon. I’m watching for the hummingbirds.

Speaking of birds, the starlings that invaded the bathroom while the ceiling was open had a field day upstairs. They were clearly looking for a way out. It could have been worse. KW

FARMHOUSE REPAIRS COMPLETE

 

The contractor has finished the repairs to the roof and the master bathroom, so on Friday (April 10), Mike and I met him at the farmhouse to finalize. 

The bathroom looks great, and the new roof panels appear to match better than I originally thought. Sun and shadow probably affect its appearance.

Mike mowed the front lawn and the south side around the raised beds but had to give it up for the pain in his right shoulder and ribcage. He took a fall on his bicycle the previous day, and he was hurting. He suggests that I help with the mowing now, so with the next trip, I’ll give it a try, at least on the straightaways. I have never mowed in all the time we’ve lived here.

I raked the tire bed and planted peas and spinach. This is the earliest I have ever planted. I’m anxious to see if the seeds sprout, grow, and yield a huge crop. (I think like this every year.) Mike says maybe I could plant the tomatoes so that we actually have some before fall. The forecast is for much cooler temps over the next ten days, so I don’t think I need to hurry. The fact is that it’s just a bit iffy to plant some crops before mid-May, but maybe I should look into it.  

Last year I started my own tomatoes, and none of them bore fruit. This year I’ll just buy the plants. KW

THE BETTER THE DAY, THE BETTER THE DEED

Mike and I made another day trip to the farm on Easter Sunday. I missed sharing a Sunday morning sweet roll with our boys, but Sunday was when we could go.

We hauled the stack of firewood from the bottom of the lane to the barn – five trips in the little 4-wheeler trailer. After lunch, I weeded one of the raised beds to prepare it for tilling, while Mike processed another downed tree, made yet another slash pile, and hauled more firewood to the barn. By the time we finished our various chores, it was too late to till and plant. We headed back to town.

The contractor has repaired the metal roof on the house. You know how it is. Time marches on and the original color is no longer available, so the new metal doesn’t even come close to matching the old. Preliminary discussion included reroofing the whole house, which insurance was willing to cover, but we just didn’t want that expense or the disruption. The repair is on the back of the house anyway. We’re disappointed, but that’s the way it is. The interior repairs to the master bathroom are proceeding, and the work will be completed this week. A final inspection is scheduled for Friday.

Town trees

You know, these repairs were occasioned when the horrific windstorm of 12-17-25 thrust a slim but pointed pine branch through the metal roof and into the ceiling of the master bathroom. One thing leads to another, and the repairs were more extensive than what I would have thought.

Our town temps have been right at 80 the last few days. As my brother Chuck predicted, we went right from winter to summer. Well, it feels like that anyway, but it’s too soon to tell. KW

EASTER GREETINGS

 

FARM WORKDAY

Mike & Clint at the burn pile

Sons Murray and Clinton joined us at the farm on Saturday (March 28) so that we could push forward on the project to clear the yard of tree debris. They raked and then hauled to the burn pile by means of the 4-wheeler trailer. They did us a world of good, and we appreciate it.

After lunch, a neighbor met us at the bottom of the lane with his heavy-duty wood splitter with which he commenced to split the big pine rounds from the tree that fell there. Murray and Clint rolled the wood to the splitter and tossed the resulting firewood to Mike who stacked it in the back of the pick-up. It was heavy work, and again, we appreciate the help. We probably have yet another load of wood waiting in the lane not to mention the tree in north field.

This salamander on Clint’s fingers is the second one I have seen this spring, and they are both the first that I remember seeing in the wild. A couple of weeks ago I found one as I was digging in the orchard behind the house. In fact, I inadvertently injured it, but I recalled that they can reproduce their missing parts, so I apologized to it and left it alone. Clint found the one in the photo as we worked in the wood at the bottom of the lane. My research indicates that the presence of salamanders is a sign of a healthy ecosystem. KW

AHHH, SPRING!!

Daffodils grow wild under the pine trees in the grove

Mike and I made another Sunday trip to the farm. This time we turned the water on and rinsed the antifreeze out of the plumbing. We anticipated no problems, and we had none. It simply wasn’t cold enough this winter to cause plumbing woes. Nevertheless, we are always guardedly cautious because – you know, Murphy’s Law.

I ran machines – a rinse/spin for the washing machine and a couple of wash cycles for the dishwasher. It felt great to finally get that load of dishes washed and put away! We also turned on the fridge and I cleaned it.

Due to recent rain storms, we have standing water in the fields. The pond is now overflowing onto the path and into the spillway. I guess it’s a good thing that we at least begin the growing season with water. A hot summer is in the forecast.

We saw no ducks, geese, or quail at the pond – only redwing blackbirds.

After 20+ years in the ground, our mailbox fell over and has to have a new post. Mike spent the afternoon working on it. It’s place at the corner is now saturated with water, so I’m not sure how this will work out.

Meanwhile, I raked the yard and picked up tree debris – just not fast enough. And there was even more yard debris since our last visit due to the windstorms. At least the trees are still standing.

Daffodils and violets by the front steps

I loved seeing the daffodils in bloom – and the violets. The Crown Imperial are coming up. The cherry tree looks good. I’m guardedly cautious about the apple trees. Two rhubarb plants are making a comeback, and the strawberry bed survived the winter.

Mike suggests I grow lots of vegetables this year. Would that I could! If you only read the pictures here, you know that my main raised bed is dilapidated. We have discussed a quick repair.  Gardening wouldn’t be quite the challenge if we didn’t have to fence everything.

The other thing is that the vegetables themselves are a challenge.  I think it’s the heat and lack of rain as much as my lack of gardening skill. KW

A BRIEF UPDATE

 

We've adjusted slowly to Daylight Savings Time at our house. I start the day late at 7:30 instead of 6:30 and supper has been late by the clock all week. But strangely, we want to go to bed at 9:00 (8:00 p.m. standard time), which means we’re actually sleeping longer.

We had a lot of rain last week which caused regional flooding and mudslides. We knew it would be too muddy to work in the field at the farm, so we didn't go. 

Instead, we went geocaching Sunday afternoon. I took the above photo of our Valley from the Vineland Cemetery.

Temps this week are supposed to warm into the 70s. KW

WHAT TIME IS IT?

 

I usually don’t suffer too much through the time changes, but I was confused on Sunday (March 8) with the switch to DST. I was up early -- at least, I thought I was -- but I missed my 7:00 a.m. steps. Then the whole day was off. It seemed like we left for the farm in good time, but it was after 10:00 by the clock when we got there. Back in town, it was nearly 7:30 when we ate supper, and at 9:00, Mike announced that he was ready to go to bed. “But Mike,” I said, “it’s really only 8:00!” But he was adamant that he couldn’t stay awake – until he got to bed, that is.

And so far, that’s the way the week has gone, though I have adjusted somewhat. I understand that we arise late by the clock, but we happily go to bed at 9:00 (formerly 8:00).

A stack of wood at the pond awaits cutting / loading

We tend to think that spring is here, but it’s really only March. We hardly know what to expect from the weather anymore, but we could still have wintry conditions even into April. Still, we have signs of spring. A hummingbird buzzed the living room window in town this past weekend. “Where’s the feeder,” it demanded to know. And on the farm, the earliest of the early daffodils are beginning to bloom and the Crown Imperials are pushing through the soil.

Cottonwood Butte in distance

On this trip to the farm, Mike finished the cuts on the big tree, and I continued raking the yard. We thought about turning on the water but decided to put it off until our next visit and give de-winterization our first priority so that we can deal with potential problems. Then housecleaning will begin in earnest.

Temp was in the 50s and the sun was warm. The afternoon was breezy.

Reflections on the pond

At Bess’ request, I accompanied her to the pond. She likes to poke around there, but she doesn’t explore on her own. We scared up a large covey of quail living in the cattails, and two pair of geese got up from the south end of the pond and noisily flew off. I was sorry to have disturbed them because I like to be hospitable, but if they don’t return, that’s fine, too.

The pond is full but not overflowing into the spillway. And while we had close to an inch of rain in town early last week, the ground at the farm seemed drier to me. In fact, I got along fine in old shoes and was more comfortable as I worked.

Mike checked the upstairs bathroom and pronounced it bird-free. Hmmmm. I wonder. We hope the contractor can make our repairs soon. KW

“WORK?!”

 

As I was raking the farm yard on Sunday (March 1), Maynard G. Krebs came to mind. Maynard was the beatnik character played by Bob Denver on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. Some of us will remember how he would screech, “Work?!”

Maybe you’re tired of hearing about the weekly “fallen tree” tasks on the farm. Well, I’m tired of it, too. On Sunday, Mike sectioned the big tree in the north field into 8-foot lengths while I loaded slash piles in the yard into the 4-wheeler trailer to be hauled to a burn pile in the field. I was not an enthusiastic worker, I’m afraid. I think I only loaded three trailerfuls.

It was another warm day (55 degrees), but it had snowed earlier in the week as evidenced by a few piles of snow in shady spots. The temps are so mild that we think we could de-winterize the house before long. It would surely be easier to manage our visits if we did.

Anyway, I allowed myself the opportunity to pursue some interests in the house. Daughter Hallie purchased an electronic piano and has undertaken to renew and expand her skills, so I selected a few books from my family’s collection of music that I think she can use. Naturally, she can have what she wants, but I included just a few slim books in the box with Silas’ afghan.

And then I went upstairs to go through an old pattern file inherited from my mother – patterns from the ’30, ‘40s, and ‘50s, a number of which are “Laura Wheeler Designs.” These were sold through newspapers – another fun feature that disappeared years ago. I’ve looked through that box many times, but yesterday I realized that my grandmother, “Mrs. C. O. Portfors,” ordered several apron patterns, and since I like vintage aprons, I immediately felt a link to her. I have apron patterns, too, and my current quest is a pattern for “Mrs. Hall’s apron.”

And while I was upstairs, I checked out the master bathroom which is currently torn apart and startled a pair of starlings – or did they startle me? I yelped and they squawked. Later, Mike opened the window and spoke to them, encouraging them to fly out, but they didn’t leave while we were present. We hope they are gone. It begs the question as to how they got in, but the contractor will have to address this.

Besides warming soup for lunch, I heated the oven and baked a package of Nestle’s refrigerated cookies.

The early daffodils are in “gooseneck” stage – signs of spring. KW

PATCHES ON PATCHES

 

The Silas

Mike wears coveralls when performing his dirtiest tasks and rightly so. He buys them used for a pittance from Blue Ribbon Laundry, so they are already on their way to the rag heap when he gets them. Then it becomes my job to keep them serviceable.

I was at a standstill in my sewing room, so I asked myself where the buffalo was lurking. Aha! Mike had asked me to mend his coveralls, and I simply didn’t know where to begin. They had great gaping holes above and below the reinforced waistline.

Now, we have known for thousands of years – Jesus even said so – that you can’t sew new cloth onto old, but Mike entreats me and I try. I just didn’t want to step up to that mending job, but it was standing in the way of progress. Once I decided how to proceed, I accomplished it fairly quickly. I ironed patches onto the back side of the fabric and zigzagged away.

I also had another mend waiting for attention – Mike’s lined cargo pants. This was an even more daunting task. He wears lined pants in winter for extra warmth, but the lining – lightweight flannel – wears out, undoubtedly due to the action of thrusting his foot down the leg, but how else is he to put them on? Well, flannel just isn’t going to last as long as the outer fabric, and that’s all there is to it. This mend was a time-consuming chore, and I served notice that I won’t do it again. (Hmmm. Didn’t I say that the last time?)

Crab stitch edging

At any rate, the buffaloes are now finished, and I’m free to move on with more rewarding work. On that note, in the process of finishing the Silas Pattern Blanket, I ran out of gray, the base color. Searching my favorite online yarn outlets, I discovered that the total cost with shipping for one skein would be $12.00 but that I could buy a pack of three skeins from Amazon for $12 total with my Prime membership. Naturally, I ordered where I got the best deal, and it was on my doorstep the very next day. As sad as it is for the world of retail, it’s hard to argue with that.

So, I finished the Silas Pattern Blanket, and so now I have extra gray yarn which I’m using to crochet an edging on my original “pattern blanket.”

The leftover colors from the Silas Pattern Blanket are now stored for the next project (if there is one), and there’s a rather large bag of them. I tell myself that supplies are an asset in this unsettled tariff-ridden world. KW

LUMBERJACK AND JILL

 

Mike said that Sunday (Feb. 22) would be a warm day (in the 50s) and therefore the best day to work in the wood. So that’s what we did. Again, we went in the big old Dodge Ram pick-up – Mike, Bess, and me. It was 50 when we arrived at the farm about 10:00 – 48 in the house. The afternoon high was 56. I dressed warmly and didn’t need a coat. Naturally, what little snow was on the ground was quickly melting.

According to Mike’s plan, he delimbed the big pine branch in the grove, discovering that it was bigger than he thought. He hauled the greenery to one of our many slash piles with the 4-wheeler. (He said ten trips; I said five.) Then we proceeded to cut and load the wood. We took a break for lunch at noon and then went back to it. It took longer than Mike thought, but that phase is complete except for the final clean-up of the grove.

Work for another day

It was 1:30 or so when we went to the bottom of the lane where Mike cut the previously stacked limb wood into lengths for firewood. I climbed (or is that clambered?) into the pick-up bed and I stacked the firewood as he tossed it to me.

Stack of wood at pond

Mike had hoped to work some on the tree in the north field, but we didn’t have time. He briefly mentioned the stack of wood on the other side of the pond, but we didn’t dare try to drive there due to the soft ground.

It was nearly 4:00 as we started back to town. The trip proved easy enough – not much traffic, and we were grateful to have leftovers to warm for supper. We were in bed earlier than usual.

On Monday, Mike unloaded, stacked, and covered the firewood ahead of the predicted rain.

We continue to see a mild winter. Regional ski hills have given up hope of opening. It rained yesterday (Monday), and this morning we had a rain/snow mix. However, the forecast shows highs in the 50s (some days almost 60) over the next ten days. Meanwhile, we watch as the East Coast is devastated by extreme winter weather. And while we might appreciate this mild winter, we will pay for it one way or another. It’s just that no one talks about it unless it’s real devastation. KW 

SILLY OL’ BESS

Bess as we walked at the pond last week

You never really know for sure what a dog is thinking, and as they get older, an element of dementia seems to come in. Mike notes that the older dog also becomes more independent. Perhaps she’s thinking to herself, “You never really know what your humans are thinking, and as they get older, they are so unpredictable! I’d better think for myself.”

For the first twelve years of her life, Bess’ evening routine was to curl up on her pillow after supper and nap until bedtime. Some months ago, her routine abruptly changed, and she began to go out after supper and put herself to bed in her kennel. Mike would go out later and close the gate.

That is, unless it’s raining. Rain seems to confuse her. It rains so seldom that it’s not a big deal, but it was raining the other night when she was ready to go out. At first she hesitated when I opened the door, but then she decided to go out anyway. We figured she’d be right back, so we watched for her, but when she didn’t show up right away, we began to worry. Mike went out to check the kennel and call her several times within 20 minutes or so, finally blowing a whistle. (It doesn’t help that she’s deaf.)

Just as we were wondering what to do next, our neighbor rapped on the door. He said that Bess had shown up at their back door, wet and whining, so they took her in and dried her off. He heard Mike calling her, and as he brought her home, she slipped into her house and he closed the kennel door.

So, Bess has a new evening routine imposed by her humans for her own good. She can either stay in the house and nap on her pillow or she can go directly to her kennel. KW 

A HUNDRED FEET OF PINE

 

Mike, Murray, and I went to the farm again on Thursday (Feb. 12). The guys lifted heavy limbs into the bed of our old pick-up. I helped some with the slash, but I couldn’t do the heavy lifting. I felt a little useless.

Mike says 100 feet of this tree lies on the ground. That doesn't count the snag that still stands. It's 100 years old, so we'll say it came to be about 1920, perhaps as the family was setting into their new house.

At some point it had rained, and the mud was even worse than heretofore. I wear “duck boots,” and I carried them back to town to be cleaned under force of water. If the ground is going to freeze, I think the temps will have to drop and stay below freezing for a while. It was 45 Thursday afternoon. 

So now, much of the work has been transferred to town. Mike unloaded the wood to be cut into lengths for firewood. Naturally, it’s green, so it won’t be ready to burn for a while.

And that’s about all I have to say. Sometimes when the work is demanding, all you can say is that you worked hard. In the end, it might be rewarding, but it’s not fun while you’re going through it.

I suppose I should add that the contractor had been there and started the repair to the ceiling in the master bathroom. And we found only one mouse in trap. KW