THE 6-HOUR PILLOWCASE

Since I have plenty of Grinch fabric in my stash, I decided to make a pillowcase for grandson Silas. Daughter Hallie is coming this week to attend the memorial service for her Aunt Joni, and I want to send the pillowcase to Silas with her.

Tutorials for making a 10-minute pillowcase abound online, but I’m not naïve about this. I know it takes longer than 10 minutes to make anything, including a simple pillowcase, but the 10-minute idea is appealing. “How long could it take anyway,” I ask myself, thinking that it would be an hour at most.  

First, I watched three different YouTube tutorials produced by the quilting gurus I follow, all of them explaining the clever “burrito” method. So, that was the first hour.

Next, I selected my fabric, and there was a delay while I laundered it. I envisioned the body of the pillowcase from the “Merry Grinchmas” yardage, which is directional. Of course, Silas wouldn’t care that the words ran vertical rather than horizontal, but at that point I did. So, cutting the fabric constituted a time-consuming difficulty instead of a straightforward 27-inch cut. I also didn’t want the words to be upside down on the backside of the pillowcase, so I had to divide and turn the fabric.

If you don’t understand, just know that we’re already way beyond 10 minutes.

Now that the fabric was cut and turned, I had to seam the two pieces together – an additional step. And certain of the sewing gurus suggested it’s a nicer finish if you make a French (enclosed) seam. So, I had to watch two more tutorials to make sure I understood that method, which entails stitching twice. “I’m already three hours into this 10-minute pillowcase, so why not sew that French seam?” I say to myself.

The main part of the pillowcase finally prepared, I commenced to make my “burrito,” or tube, and it’s truly a wonderful method, but first I had to review a tutorial to make sure I laid it out correctly – cuff face up, main fabric also face up, then accent strip on top. I was careful, but in the stitching process the cuff went a bit askew, so I had to rip it off and start over. That’s when I realized the problem was undoubtedly the French seam, so I squared up the main piece, and that took care of the problem.

Another 45 minutes at the sewing machine, and I was finally finished. After having trimmed the fabric, I was honestly relieved that the pillowcase was large enough to accommodate a pillow.

Well, it was a learning project – aren’t they all? – and I learned that if I don’t fuss over directional fabric and don’t sew French seams, I might be able to make a 10-minute pillowcase in an hour. KW

 

WHERE'S SNOOPY?

I have a great fear that I will throw away something important. It’s happened once or twice, which fuels my fear.

Mother's necklace, my bracelet

Years ago, as she was moving from the family home, Mother gave me a necklace of Italian beads that she had purchased at the Seattle World’s Fair in 1962. I had a matching bracelet. The memory of those purchases was special as was the necklace, and that Mother would let me have it was also special.

Well, weeks and months went by, and one day I remembered the necklace but I didn't know what had become of it. I feared that I had thrown it away, and I confessed this to sister Joni. I expected her to lecture me for my carelessness, as a big sister might, but she didn’t.

“No you didn’t, Kathy,” she said softly. “You didn’t throw it away. Someday you will open something and there it will be.” And she was right! One day in cleaning a shelf, I removed the lid from a teapot, and there was that necklace. I had put it in the teapot for safekeeping and forgotten all about it.  

Fast forward 35 years to today's dilemma. Perhaps you remember that back in the 1990s those little boxes of Whitman chocolates came with a Snoopy ornament attached at Christmastime. Hallie had quite a collection of them, and last month at the farm, I came upon them. “Wouldn’t you like to have these for Silas,” I asked.

“Oh, I guess so,” she said. Was that a tone of reluctance in her voice? Was I pushing these things on her? I love my vintage stuff left over from mother and grandmothers, but on the other hand, why store a lot of stuff? It should be used and enjoyed. And if things are hidden away and their use forbidden, they lose their meaning and no one cares.

So, I brought those “Snoopies” to town and meant to take them to Hallie last month, but I forgot all about them. I even forgot that I forgot! And when I remembered that I forgot, I was mortified! I had no memory of what I had done with them – no memory at all beyond finding them and wanting Hallie to share them with her little boy. Once again, I concluded that I must have thrown them away.

And then, Joni (who passed away Sept. 19) came gently to thought and said softly, “No you didn’t, Kathy. You didn’t throw them away. Some day you will find them.”

So, I took heart and tried a little harder. It took several trips to my little storage shed, but I finally opened a tote I’d been bypassing, thinking it held an unfinished project. And there were those “Snoopies” and other things I thought Hallie should see. Fortunately, I haven’t lost the window of opportunity for this Christmas. She’ll be here next week to attend Joni’s memorial service.

Finding those “Snoopies” made my day! KW

FIND HALLIE ON MEDIUM

Christmastime 2023, just two weeks after Milo’s wrongful death, daughter Hallie and I sat together while she explored Milo’s laptop.

“I just feel so guilty,” I said.

Hallie was silent for long minutes, continuing to read. I didn’t know what the silence meant. Finally, she said, “We have not so much reason to feel guilty – [pause] – as we do to be very angry!”

Milo Warnock 1977-2023

The system doesn’t tell on itself, you know. It doesn’t apologize and it’s not forthcoming. But from that time on, Hallie became the leader in our fight for justice. She documented every contact, took notes, and eventually began to write. Willingness and skill came together in Hallie, and she is now posting her articles on Medium.

In case you haven’t heard of Medium – I admit that I hadn’t – here is a description provided by AI:

“Medium is an open online publishing platform and digital media community that blends professional journalism, expert perspectives, and personal storytelling. Founded in 2012 by Evan Williams (co-founder of Twitter and Blogger), it was designed to give writers of all backgrounds a streamlined space to share ideas that go beyond the character limits of traditional social media.”

Hallie’s articles are now discoverable on Medium – https://medium.com/@johnson.hallie.w

KW

GOOD-BYE HALLOWEEN / HELLO NOVEMBER

 Just like that, Halloween is over and November begins, together with a return to standard time. A lot of change for one weekend.

Mike and I went to the down town Clarkston trick-or-treat event late Friday afternoon. It was less like a parade and more like standing in line. I don’t know what the hold-up was and why trick-or-treaters were patiently putting up with it. I finally reasoned that a restaurant was cooking a treat, and this had slowed the parade to a standstill. We finally left the line and walked back to the car in the street. Mike enjoyed pulling on one of his masks (he has a collection) and participating. I’m not sure I’d elect to do it again.

Here at the house on Halloween, I made our traditional supper – chili with pumpkin pie for dessert. We were ready for a few trick-or-treaters, but none came to the door.

We have always enjoyed a little Halloween magic (not horror). I decorate a bit, beginning with “summerween” in August. Now it’s time to be less “Halloween” and more “thankful harvest,” an easy segue. Speaking of which, the photo above shows a string of lights on an autumn theme that I bought at JoAnn’s years ago, and this year I spent at least two hours replacing burned out bulbs. I love that string of lights, and if I could replace it with a similar one, I’d do it, but I couldn’t find one.

Here’s a photo of Shirley Anne, American Farm Girl, wearing the Halloween sweater I just finished. I purchased the pattern from “Crown Country Crochet,” but I found it less cumbersome to  embroider the jack-o-lantern face instead of changing yarn colors as I crocheted. The pattern called for a 4-ply yarn, and I used Caron Simply Soft. KW

 

 

PRE-HALLOWEEN MUSINGS

What happened to October? For that matter, what happened to September? Bottom line: Christmas will be here before we know it, which I already knew in July.

But for the next couple of days – maybe even the next week, spooky time will continue here while I finish up a few projects before I move on to less spooky Thanksgiving themes. And then it will be time for Advent. Once again, the time is short between Thanksgiving and the First of December (the following Tuesday).

Leaves still cling to the red maple

Mike has been busy with town yardwork. The purple ash tree has shed all its leaves, and now we wait for the red maple to drop hers. Besides raking leaves, under the direction of a neighbor who owns a side business in native plants, Mike has removed some of our invasive perennials – red valerian and silver sage (wormwood). Now we have to plant something in the bare spots. Well, you have to do these things if you don’t live in a condo (or assisted living).

Our family has been contacted by a British company that has plans to produce a program on the event at the Idaho State Correctional Center that took the life of our son Milo. The focus is the individual that committed this crime. More about this as it unfolds.

Silas the Friendly Ghost

Mike and I went to the annual meeting of the Clearwater Power Company yesterday. Naturally, attendees were mostly senior citizens who live in outlying rural areas, such as our farm. Mike likes to attend these things. I’m not a fan of finding my way into a roomful of people I don’t know. Even the proffered goodies seem like a bribe to get me to sit through the presentation, but Mike is interested so I go along. The goodie bag consisted of almond biscotti, cranberry and pear conserve, and a cheese item called “marinated labneh.” We sampled the labneh and decided it wasn’t for us, but son Murray’s tastebuds are more sophisticated than ours. We’ll pass it on to him.

And then, as if to reinforce Mike’s interest in these meetings, he won a door prize – a Fanttik turbolite mini chainsaw with a 4-inch blade. I almost laughed out loud, given that Mike has spent 2026 making firewood out of huge 100-year-old pine trees downed by the horrific windstorm of Dec. 17, 2025. Sometimes our regular chainsaws were barely large enough to cut those trunks into firewood lengths. And splitting? Forget it, so Mike treated himself to a heavy-duty gas wood splitter. We’ll have more of this work in 2027, and it won’t involve a 4-inch blade.

Daylight Savings Time ends on Sunday, Nov. 1 – the great autumn fallback. As I opened my eyes this morning, I knew it was 7:00. Now I will have to adjust. And Bess, accustomed to the afternoon constitutional between 4:00 and 4:30, will now want that walk at 3:30 or earlier. Well, we’ll get used to it. We always do. KW

MOVING THE OLD DIESEL TANK

 

Can you believe it?! It’s either late mid-October or early late October. At any rate, we’re moving quickly toward the end of October. The drive up the Clearwater and then up the Gilbert Grade was just beautiful! So glad I didn’t miss it. Some years we do.

Scott & Mike preparing to lift tank

Here at the farm, it was a beautiful day and warmer than we expected. However, rain is predicted later in the day and then cooler temps. Hard to believe it will happen. The house was nice and warm – even upstairs.

Farmer Kyle was fertilizing the fields this morning. And it was a special treat when Neighbor Scott came over with his new-to-him used old tractor to grab the old diesel tank off its platform at the barn.

An easy lift for the old tractor

It was my dad’s diesel tank, so it was probably installed in the early 1950s, and I’m guessing use ceased about 1965 when he retired. Well, he still had the old Caterpillar D-2, but he wouldn’t have needed much fuel. Anyway, we certainly didn’t need it, and the wood platform was deteriorated, but getting rid of the tank was problematic. We thought on the matter for years. Salvage wouldn’t take it since it was a gas tank. After some research, son Clint suggested we ask the neighbors if anyone wanted it. It only took one contact. Scott said he’d like to have it and today he came for it.

So glad we were here on a day when things were happening.

Right into the bucket

I’m working gently toward putting the gardens to bed. I couldn’t have asked for a better crop of tomatoes this year – the best crop I’ve ever had. Better Boy, Celebrity, and Bonnie Original (billed as “our favorite tomato”). I had occasional blossom end rot, but aside from that, all three plants were great producers. We picked 60 ripe tomatoes and I canned four pints of green tomato mincemeat. I planted early in the spring, and Hallie gave them a boost in late June when she rebuilt the raised bed in which they resided.

Off to its new home

It was NOT a good zucchini year. The strawberries didn’t produce well either, but the plants sent out many runners. The bed is overcrowded now, and I must thin them before the snow flies. KW

THE TRAVELOGS OF YESTERYEAR

As far as I know, the trip to Yellowstone in 1926 was the only time that Ina traveled as a tourist. Other trips were made to visit family, not specifically to see the sights. She traveled by train to Seattle and Portland, except for that trip in 1949 when Uncle Earle flew her to Idaho Falls. Having crossed the Plains in a covered wagon in the 1870s and '80s, it seemed significant that she should experience air travel.   

As Ina and I recuperated from the Yellowstone trip in our respective centuries, I happened to remember her View-Master viewers and travel reels, which continue to be stored in the farmhouse. If you remember the View-Master viewers, you probably think of them as toys, but Ina had two viewers, and her reels were travelogs, not cartoons.

Ina's first View-Master

In the collection are reels of Yellowstone and Teton National Parks. I wish I could post some of these old images, but reproducing them is beyond my capabilities. (Perhaps not possible at all.) And while some images can be found online, I discovered that those Kodachrome colors have deteriorated over time. And the effect wouldn’t be the same anyway. The great thing about the View-Master was the 3D effect in vivid color.

My childhood viewer was a little different. It was manufactured under the name “Tru-View.” The card was rectangular instead of round. My mother often bought “knock-offs,” probably because she shopped through my grandfather’s John Plain discount catalog. I never complained but I saw the View-Master as more desirable. Apparently, the Sawyer company, manufacturer of the View-Master, bought the Tru-View Company and discontinued it. My viewer eventually broke, but I still have the cards, which are useless without the viewer.

I think my 40-something children had a View-Master and cartoon reels, but it just wasn’t the same for them as it was for Ina and me. It didn’t capture their imaginations, and this is understandable. They had television. And today’s children have their tablets.

Here’s a View-Master Manufacturing Timeline

• 1939: Debuted by Sawyer's at the New York World's Fair focusing on travel views.
• 1966–1981: Owned by GAF Corporation, shifting focus toward cartoons and TV shows.
• 1998: Acquired by Mattel under the Fisher-Price brand.
• 2008: Scenic and travel reel manufacturing stopped.
• 2013: Final commercial custom scenic reel production ceased.
• 2015–2019: A modern virtual reality View-Master was produced, then phased out.

KW

THE FIGHT TO CORRECT CORRECTIONS

At the time of son Milo’s murder at the Idaho State Correctional Center (a fancy name for “prison”), a nephew suggested that I could do some writing with regard to the need for corrections reform. Well, I’ve found it difficult. In the first place, I’m not a crusader, and in the second place, injustices happen every day. I’m well aware that the tragic loss of a son does not make me special. It also takes courage to speak out because some people feel that inmates deserve what they get, regardless of their circumstances.

But today in the U.S., we incarcerate so many non-violent offenders that we need to let go of that cruel idea. We have criminalized mental illness and addiction – societal issues – to the extent that at least 50% of the incarcerated could better serve another less costly type of sentence. (Yes, incarceration is a hefty taxpayer expense.) If non-violent offenders could pay their debt under some other type of system, they might continue to contribute to society through employment, pay taxes, support community businesses, and keep their families intact while also benefiting the community through service.

And let me tell you, once an individual finds his way into the judicial / corrections system, his/her life is ruined. It takes an exceptionally strong individual to come back from incarceration. When released, they have hefty fines to pay, which increases indebtedness and leads to homelessness – a further drain on society. They say if you aren’t mentally ill when you enter prison, you will be when you come out. The prison environment sees to it. Prison helps no one.

We incarcerate the criminally insane as well as those with mental health issues, often without segregating them from each other or the general prison population, making it especially dangerous for non-violent inmates. Some people aren’t fighters and can’t adequately defend themselves. And why should they have to? No one should be bullied in prison or anywhere else, but this happens.

It’s not my place to say whether or not Milo belonged in prison. However, judges who pass these sentences must know that non-violent offenders might not survive incarceration. At the sentencing of Milo’s murderer, the judge commented that she had no jurisdiction over what happens at the prison, adding that the prison doesn’t even have to follow her recommendations. And I wanted to scream, “But you put people there!”

I’ve been asked more than once, “Have you told the ACLU?” Yes, several times. The major concerns of human rights organizations are the incarceration of women, the plight of people of color, and the rights of the LGBTQ community – all worthy causes – but our son Milo, a white male, was killed by his cellmate, another white male. Very few organizations argue for the greatly needed reform of the overall system for the betterment of humanity. The political upheaval in our country puts prison reform at the bottom of the list, and yet, we’re no better as a society than the way we treat the lowest among us.

It’s been nearly three years since Milo passed. The news cycle has moved on, but it has been the quest of my family to quietly press for change through legal action. A judge has allowed our suit to continue. We believe it’s an important case. KW 

AUTUMN COMES TO GILBERT

 

It’s October – a delightful time of year in the Pacific Inland Northwest. Mornings and evenings are cool, but afternoons have been unseasonably warm. I’m comfortable in warmer pajamas, but it’s too soon for sweatshirts and warm-ups. I see it could well freeze at the farm early in the week and come close to it in town. I also see that by next weekend the highs could be in the 70s again.

The autumn plague of blue aphids has begun. They’re harmless, I guess. Just inconvenient. And they love our purple ash tree, so we’re part of the problem.

I’ve already set out my Halloween displays, and I even made a pillow top from a favorite Halloween sweatshirt. I loved that shirt the moment I saw it at Kmart all those years ago, hanging all by itself at the end of a rack. I bought it and enjoyed wearing it, but it got old and the sleeves were a little short, so I retired it with intent to repurpose it as a pillow. It happened this year, and I count it as another finished project.

Mike and I spent this last week at the farm. I made a last batch of elderberry jelly (5 jelly jars), and while I had the canning kettle out, I cooked a batch of green tomato mincemeat (4 pints). Mike mowed the lawn, hopefully for the last time this year. We don’t water here, and usually the grass has gone dormant before now.

Mike rode his bike a couple of times, and while he did, Bess and I hiked the planted fields. Next year’s crop is canola, and it’s already coming up. It’s a bit disappointing for us. The game birds seem to prefer the wheat. The bright yellow fields will be gorgeous when the canola blooms in the spring, but afterwards, it grows tall and obscures our views. But – the land is leased and it’s not up to us.

Walking the fields is no easy feat, now that the soil is loose and furrowed, but I enjoyed getting out on my own and taking pictures. Bess was gracious about watching and waiting for me, but as I approached her on our last hike behind the house, she looked me in the eye, turned around, and marched back across the field. She was resting on the porch when I got home. Apparently she wasn’t up for the hike. KW

FARROL JOAN (JONI) WALRATH NUNAN – 1934-2026

 

Mrs. Bonner's First Grade Class, 1955-56, Orofino Elementary School

My big sister Joni slipped peacefully from this world on Saturday, Sept. 19. Joni was going on 15 when I was born and was a player in my life, especially during my young years. I miss her already.

I have many “Joni” stories, but the one I’ll relate here is a favorite. Joni’s birthday is Nov. 10, so when she started school in Oklahoma, she began at midterm (January), but when the family moved back to Idaho, there was no mid-term program, and she was “put back” to the third grade instead of promoted to the fourth. In her mind, she was made to repeat a grade, and she resented this for the rest of her school days, though she had a wonderful group of friends among her classmates.

Joni graduated from Orofino High School in 1953 and subsequently attended the University of Idaho majoring in elementary and secondary education. Her goal was to finish in three years to make up for the year that was stolen from her in elementary school. Her U-I advisor told her this would only happen if she had no scheduling conflicts, which was doubtful.

In reviewing her coursework in September 1955, Joni’s advisor realized that if she could complete her student teaching that semester, she could graduate in the spring, fulfilling her goal to finish college in three years, but arrangements would have to be made quickly. So, Joni applied to our home school district and gained approval to student teach at Orofino schools, both elementary and secondary. An added advantage was that she could stay at home.

Well, there was a problem of sorts. Of the three first grade teachers, only Mrs. Irene Bonner was qualified to supervise a student teacher. School was already in session, and Mrs. Bonner was my teacher. The administration decided it would not be wise to reassign me. So, when Joni came to teach, it was not ideal. I was required to call her “Miss Walrath” and I didn’t want to.

Well, I was a young first-grader, having turned six just before school started. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just didn’t. I didn’t understand that I was supposed to finish my paper and turn it in. Basically, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I might be flunking first grade. It meant nothing to me, and Mother had no knowledge of the situation.

But Joni told on me. “Mother, Kathy doesn’t finish her work,” she said. Mother was appalled and immediately scheduled a conference with Mrs. Bonner. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, to which Mrs. Bonner just shrugged. I suspect that for whatever reason, Mrs. Bonner was not as concerned as Joni and Mother.

Nevertheless, a plan was put into place to make me understand the necessity of finishing my work and handing it in. Mother made a chart and hung it on the wall in the breakfast nook, and when I brought a graded paper home, I got to glue a star on the chart. I guess earning that star was affirmation enough. The system worked. I became a good student, and much of the credit goes to Joni. At least, that’s the story. (I’ve often thought that Mrs. Bonner probably had a plan.) KW

[In the above photo, student teacher Miss Joni Walrath stands beside teacher Mrs. Irene Bonner. My friend Chris Cummings Miller and I identified this photo to the best of our ability a few years ago. 

Back row: Joni Walrath (Nunan), Irene Bonner, Craig Allen, Jerry Wilfong, Kathy Dobson (Warnock), Sherri Daniels (McMillan), Christine Cummings (Miller), Martha Sewell, Steve Titus, Tim Musiel. 

Center row: First three unknown; Kay Schwartzkopf, Judy Partee, Vicky Carrico, Patricia Irby, Mary ?

Front row: Chipper Prudhomme, Kenneth Dykes, Ged Randall, Jim Oud, Unknown, Lanny Tinney, Calvin Joye, Charles Lindstrom, Mike Steinbruecker.]

DELIGHTFUL COOLER DAYS

The cooler evenings are such a relief. So lovely to be able to sleep under a blanket in cozy comfort.  

Mike and I so enjoyed our day at the farm last Monday (Sept. 21) that we returned on Wednesday to stay a few days. It seemed to me that the fall colors along the river were more evident on Wednesday than they had been on Monday. I noticed it at the farm, too. I suppose that’s silly, but it does have to happen at some time and in some way. And when we returned to town on Saturday, the colors were again more vibrant.

Thursday afternoon it was a lovely 78 degrees at the farm, but it began to cloud up, and by Friday noon it was raining. Looking at the forecast, lows will now be in the 30s. Since a freeze might happen anytime, I decided to pick the rest of the tomatoes – 70 in all.

Farm yard from north field

For years, green tomatoes from our garden were slim to none, and I was able to make just a little mincemeat, but this year I could make a full batch twice over. Mike and I both enjoy a small mincemeat pie a couple of times during the autumn / winter season, but there’s a limit to how much mincemeat we can consume. The rest of our family doesn’t care for it. Come to think of it, I don’t know many people who do like mincemeat and a few who remark with disdain. It’s expensive to make this mincemeat, but it’s even more expensive to buy it.

So, this morning I chopped 12 cups of green tomatoes and placed the bag in the freezer to be processed on the next trip to the farm. And I also chopped up the Empire apples and cooked them into apple sauce.

While we were at the farm, I made two batches of elderberry jelly – 11 jars. Mike picked more elderberries, so I processed the juice and will make another batch of jelly with the next stay. KW

A BEAUTIFUL LAST DAY OF SUMMER

On the last day of summer (Monday, Sept. 21), Mike and I made a day trip to the farm. It was a beautiful day – sunny and warm with a cool breeze. I noticed right away that our fields have been planted, and I love the new look! It’s canola, which will be bright yellow in the spring.

Mike serviced the wood splitter and put it to bed for the winter. I helped him cover the pine logs in the front yard with the old metal roofing, as if we need to protect more firewood. We’ll never use all that we have in storage now. And we don’t know but what the winter will bring yet more downed trees.

In the afternoon, Mike enjoyed a rest in the hammock. He was going to put it away last week but decided to leave it up a while longer.

I washed sheets and jeans and hung them on the clothesline. They were dry by mid-afternoon. I picked eight tomatoes and three zucchinis and watered the raised beds. I see a lot of green tomatoes, and as warm as the afternoons have been, some of them might ripen before Jack Frost comes to visit.

Pear tree changing to autumn garb

You know, back in Ina’s day – or even my dad’s day – the growing season at Gilbert would likely be over by Labor Day, if not before. It was a short growing season at altitude. These days we can wait it out a bit. However, the shorter days and cooler lows are still a factor, and we don’t quite know what to expect anymore.

I loaded up projects and food to carry back to town, thinking that we wouldn’t return to the farm for a while, but now we’ve decided to spend more time there this fall, so I’ve had to readjust. It doesn’t hurt to keep using up the food, but I don’t like to burden Mike with a lot of packing back and forth. The fact is that it’s a lovely time of year, and I like to be at home at the farm. We’ll see if we can keep the house open through December.

Then Mike rode the XT back to town, and Bess and I followed in the Jeep. I drove. KW 

AUTUMN'S BOUNTY -- TOMATOES AND APPLES

 

Ah! Just smell those apples! This year I picked a bumper crop from the little Empire tree – three dozen mostly worm-free apples. The Freedom tree yielded 10 small apples – it’s first crop – and they also were worm-free. The Honey Crisp only produced a dozen or so, and they were terribly infected with worms. I picked them anyway for the good I could get from them, and I made separate batches of applesauce with the Honey Crisps and the Freedoms, both of which were pronounced delicious. I used a few Empire apples to make a delicious apple crisp.

Last spring, when it was time to spray the apple blossoms, the wand on Mike’s sprayer was broken, so I used an ordinary spray bottle to give the three trees an initial treatment. The repeat application the following week worked for the Empire and Freedom trees, but the Honey Crisp blossoms had already passed. At least, I think that’s the difference. I take courage that this was a better year and look forward to trying again next spring.

According to my notes, I picked more than six dozen tomatoes from three bushes during the season. It’s the best crop I’ve ever had. I shared some, cooked some, and we enjoyed them with our green salads and sandwiches. I picked just a few last week, and we noticed a definite difference in the flavor and texture. Perhaps I should have left them to ripen a few more days in the hot afternoon sun. Plenty of green tomatoes abound. If they don’t ripen, we’ll have green tomato mincemeat. Don’t scoff! Jarred mincemeat is hard to find, and when you do, it’s expensive. Mike and I enjoy the occasional mincemeat pie.

The zucchini didn’t do so well – just a few, as usual. Hardly worth the effort. It’s just disheartening because zucchini plants are supposed to be prolific. KW

“Vos papiers, s’il vous plait”

“It’s a terrible system we’re getting to have in our country,” said my late sister Harriet. I think of this so often these days.

“Your identity papers, please.” I never thought it would come to this in America. In fact, I put off getting my “Real ID” for at least five years, but when it came time to renew my drivers license, I finally stepped up to it.

My daughter suggested that maybe a Real ID isn’t so important for me. “Where are you going to go anyway,” she asked. But it’s a matter of compliance. And – she recently attended a hearing in a federal building in Boise, and in future I may want to accompany her, and I will have to have a Real ID in order to enter the building. You know how it is. We little old ladies cause so much trouble that we have to be scrutinized. 

So, at one month out from my renewal date (August 28), I read through the list of required documents and discovered to my chagrin that I would need a certified copy of our marriage license. Why? To prove the event that caused my name to change from my birth certificate. (This requirement discriminates against women.) Fortunately I’ve only had one name change, or this would be even more difficult. I had to order the license, and it took at least a month to be delivered. By the time it came, my driver’s license had expired.

We pay our bills online, so I didn’t have a utility bill to prove my current address. The monthly paper statement we receive to show our water usage was the best I could do, but it’s in Mike’s name. Oh well. Maybe this with the marriage certificate would work.

I don’t have a social security card showing my married name, but I do have tax statements from my state retirement fund showing my current name with my social security number. I tossed it in the file I was developing.

Once I had all my “papers” together, I made an appointment with the licensing department. I should have just gone in and taken a number. They aren’t that busy in my community. Be that as it may, I was there on time.

So, when called, I approached the representative and presented my papers. My expired license had to be renewed first – so I passed the tests and paid for an 8-year license. Then from my papers, the rep chose my birth certificate, marriage license, the water bill in Mike’s name, and my tax statement and scanned all these into the system. 

“Your license will have a chip in it so that they can scan it,” she said. “Do you mind?” What difference does it make if I mind? I mind about a lot of things. I said I didn’t mind. I paid again, this time for the “Real ID.”

And that was that. This thing that was a big deal in my mind for all these years is finally over. Maybe. KW

 

CANADA, O CANADA

 

My grandparents, Charlie and Nina Portfors, were married October 31, 1906, at the home of her parents, Thomas and Alice Mary Sanders, near the farming community of Melrose, Idaho. Within a few years, Charlie and Nina had settled in the small town of Orofino, Idaho, where Charlie established the Ford garage and operated it for the next 30 years.

Sometime after that 1906 wedding, Thomas Sanders took his family – his wife and other children (Bessie, Albert, and Muriel) – and homesteaded in northern Alberta, Canada. I don’t know the exact year, only that they were there in 1911 when Thomas died. 

Pearl in 1918

His son Albert then took over the farm, but in 1916, he came back to the States to marry my dad’s sister, Pearl Dobson. They then farmed the Alberta homestead for the next 30 years, and Uncle Al served as a member of the Legislative Assembly of Alberta from 1921 to 1935. Of the other children, Aunt Bessie settled in the States, but Aunt Muriel married Roy German and they lived in Calgary where Roy served in a government office.

But wait! There’s more! Two of my grandfather Charlie Portfors’ brothers, Andrew and Fred, also settled in Alberta where they farmed and raised their families. They became Canadians through and through.

When I was growing up, some of these Canadian relatives were members of my extended family. Aunts, uncles, and cousins visited most every summer, and I still have warm feelings for them. Of course, the original players are gone now, but their descendants, my cousins, still live in Canada. I wouldn’t insult them or hurt their feelings for anything.

Pearl as a child

A lock of Pearl's hair saved in Ina's book

Most of the time the Canadians visited us rather than vice versa. Why? Because they came to shop, not just to visit. They had lists of things they needed that they couldn’t find in Canada, or maybe it could just be purchased for less in the U.S., so they would stop in Spokane on the way home to buy what they needed. It’s well-known that the Canadians shop in the U.S.

I announced to Mike one day last week that I wanted to buy another doll – a “Maplelea” Girl, the Canadian answer to the American Girl. I know it’s insignificant in the scheme of things, but I want to show my support for Canada in some way. So, from the seven dolls representing seven Canadian regions, I ordered “Brianne,” the farm girl of the Canadian prairie. With her fair skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, she reminds me of Aunt Pearl. Every doll should have her own name, and while I don’t much care for the name “Pearl,” it really can’t be anything else, can it?

She’s here! "Maplelea Pearl, Canadian Farm Girl." 

[The first photo is of my grandmother Nina Portfors' family. Seated is her mother, Alice Mary Stinson Sanders, and behind Alice is her brother. Muriel Sanders German is on the left, and Nina stands on the right. Sitting on the ground is Albert Sanders, who married Pearl Dobson. Al and Pearl were my aunt and uncle on my dad's side and my great aunt and uncle on my mother's side.] KW

SUMMERWEEN AT THE FARM

 

I like to make the most of “Summerween,” the late summer / autumn season that culminates in Halloween when days grow shorter, mornings grow cooler, and evening shadows grow longer. The world takes on a certain enchanted glow. 

Son Yancey and his daughter Emmy visited at the farm for a few days late in August, so I brought out the Halloween runners and hung a fall wreath on the front door. The world didn’t disappoint. On the evening of the 27^th, we watched the “almost” total eclipse of the moon as it rose above the barn from the earliest stages about 7:30 until 9:20 when we saw that the eclipse was waning. It was a privilege to share it with family.

With the exception of the first photo above, these were taken by Yancey with his iPhone 17 Pro. The first was taken with my old SE. There's a 17 in my future. 

“FIND MY”

Shadows at eventide

We’ve been home from our 1926 trip to Yellowstone National Park for more than two weeks. Having toured on a shoestring, I know that Ina was hungry and tired, and it’s taken her all this time to recover. She has enjoyed having plenty of garden produce to eat. Meanwhile, in 2026, it was hard work for me to keep the 1926 days and dates straight, and after that, my blog muse said she’d had enough.

Some months ago, several of our children decided that Mike and I should be connected through our cellphones, and son Murray made it happen through the “Find My” app. Frankly, we didn’t pay much attention. Months passed – long enough for us to forget all about it – and Murray had to tutor us again.

The thing is – yes, it’s frightening to think that Mike could end up in a ditch while riding his bicycle, and to be honest, it has happened. However, other things happen (like flat tires) that can slow his return, and he also forgets to take his phone, which makes me a little casual in my attitude toward his riding.

And that brings us to recent experiences. Late in July, Mike made a motorcycle trip to southern Idaho, and on his way home, he stopped in Challis to spend the night. Since he still had hours of daylight, he decided to pick up a couple of geocaches, and – wouldn’t you know it? – he lost his phone. He borrowed a phone and called me so that I could use the “Find my” app to locate his phone. It didn’t help because the app said his phone was still at the first geocache when he could prove he still had it at the second one. He couldn’t find it and came home without it.

A summerween evening

Frankly, I would have taken the opportunity to have the latest iPhone iteration, but as luck would have it, DIL Kelly had just purchased a new phone and gifted Mike with her previous one, an iPhone 12 Pro. Mike’s previous iPhone was black, which made it hard to find anyway, and this one is white – easy to see but deemed “girly.” Mike coped by buying a blue-gray case for it. It was a trial setting it up without his previous phone, but son Murray was a great help, and Mike’s data was finally restored.

Today we went shopping in our black GTI with black interior. As we traveled along, I was suddenly aware that my black purse was nowhere to be found. I felt certain I had had it, so I panicked. Where could it be? I wanted to go back to the house, but we were already close to the store. Long story short, Mike used the “Find my” app on his phone and discovered that my purse was with us. I found it under the seat. KW