DAY 6 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

From the Haynes Guide, 1926

August 1, 1926 (Sunday)

On this date, Shirley wrote a postcard from Pond’s Resort, about 40 miles from Yellowstone: We’re just about ready to leave for the Park. It was surely cold last night. We’re getting up so much higher. We had a tire tube fixed in Idaho Falls yesterday morning, and it was nearly 9:30 when we left. Then we didn’t drive as fast as we had before. We sidetracked about an hour and went to see the great Snake River Falls, but it was well worth it. It was wonderful and picturesque. I must stop for lack of room. Wish you were here. I’m surely missing you, Shirley Jean. Love, Shirley

Ina continues: We decided to sleep in a little so got up at 5:30 and were away for the great entrance to the Park.

Western Entrance to Yellowstone National Park

I must tell you a joke on us. We were all looking for Fountain Geyser, which was on our first right. We saw a sign called Fountain Road and turned off within parking of a nearby ranger station. When we came to a small mound and saw steam, we decided it was Fountain Geyser, but Lynn and Earl were well ahead of us, so we chased after them, frantically blowing our horn. I think we chased them at least a mile. Then we all came back to the “geyser.” We tried to get Earle and Lynn to take the car back to the ranger station a quarter of a mile away to ask what time the geyser would erupt, but they wouldn’t, so Shirley and Bernice went and came back laughing. It wasn’t Fountain Geyser at all – only a hot pool.

Mammoth Hot Springs Terrace, postcard

Our drive from here on into the Lower Basin was filled with wonders. Fountain Geyser was a gorgeous pool of hot water a beautiful blue and another of wondrous green and smaller ones around of various shades of blue, green, orange shading to brown, pink, lavender, gray, mauve. It is simply indescribable.

Excelsior Geyser, taken by Vance

This P.M. we saw Excelsior Geyser, Turquoise Pool, and Prismatic Lake, all close together. Turquoise Pool was a heavenly blue such as I’ve never seen before. It’s about 30 feet across. Excelsior Geyser was in a pit with walls, say 25 feet high. It was as big as the house yard, I’d say, and a deep blue and boiling and splashing up in different places. It was shaded to different tints at edge and flowed down over a many-colored bluff into the Firehole River. Prismatic Lake had so many colors – blue, green, gold, orange, bronze, brown, pinks, lavender, wine. No time for more description.

Mammoth Paint Pots, by Vance

We went on and camped at Old Faithful campground. We saw the geyser spout, got souvenirs, etc. 

[The family purchased a box of 50 colored postcards which have been enjoyed by the generations over the ensuing century. The black and whites are lackluster but serve as a reminder that they were impressed by the beauty of the Park features. I remember my elementary school teachers talking about the wonders of Yellowstone in the 1950s. Do they still talk about it today? Is it still impressive, or have we ruined it?]

DAY 5 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

July 31, 1929 (Saturday)

Ina writes:

We passed through Rigby, Lorenzo, Thornton, and Rexburg, a nice small town where they had parking in the middle of the street. Next was St. Anthony’s Falls where we ate lunch. It developed that Earle was feeling pretty bum with summer flu symptoms. We gave him aspirin and got quinine for him. Vance drove.

There was a fine park here at St. Anthony right by the river and falls – free, with things to amuse the children. The cascades were very pretty, and there was a monument to the World War men – a soldier, all equipped, stepping forward. [This was undoubtedly the “doughboy” statue at Veteran Memorial Park in St. Anthony, dedicated May 30, 1923.]

Ashton was our next place of interest. We stocked up there for the Park, but this was unnecessary for there are places right along where supplies are to be had. The scenery began to be much finer from here on. Robinson River and Warm River join at Warm River Station.

We camped this night at Pond’s Resort in the Targhee National Forest. We had a nice camp to ourselves among the lodgepole pines and had much merriment about bears coming into camp. There was a dance at the Pond place and Lynn and Vance dressed up and went and had a good time.

We had a nice broad, shallow river here. Lynn and Vance got a bath, though no swim.

This P.M. we sidetracked to see the big falls on the Snake, a truly wonderful sight, located about 40 miles from Yellowstone Park. Vance took pictures. Dad had gripes [intestinal upset] from something he ate so didn’t take the half mile walk down to where we could see it. There was a large handsome log hunting lodge there not 40 rods from where we stood – rustic and very nice.

Enlargement of photo above

[Both Ina and Shirley mention a detour to view "the great falls on the Snake.” It seems like this should be Shoshone Falls (called the Niagara of the West), located near Twin Falls, but on Day 4, Ina just says, “We came from Twin Falls to Idaho Falls,” with no mention at that point of viewing waterfalls. Did they think the cascade at Pond’s Lodge was “the great Snake River Falls?”

Online research provided the following: “When your family camped at Pond's Lodge in 1926, Charles Pond had just bought the lease to the resort the previous fall. At that time, a short walk down the trail along the river led to a sharp, natural scenic cascade where the water tumbled through the basalt rock. The reason you won't see that exact, wild natural waterfall today is because the river was altered ten years after your family's visit. In 1936, a small concrete hydroelectric dam was built right on top of that cascade.” This seems to fit Ina’s description and the photos.]

DAY 4 – YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 Ina continues her journal, July 30, 1926:

A big car drove in late, and this A.M. we were treated to the spectacle in real life of what we all suffer from in dreams, i.e., two men trying to dress with people all around them. We made a little better time getting off here, but I soon found I had left the little pin you gave me, Ethel, in the toilet. I felt sick, but at the next town (Burley), I wrote back to the caretaker to send it on home. There was only one car left there, a man and woman, so I think she found it all right. [Hmmm. I wish I knew if she got it back.]

We came from Twin Falls to Idaho Falls, 186 miles, passing through Hansen, Murtaugh, and Declo. At Yale, we ate dinner behind the machine shop – rather unpleasant – but it saved time for Earle was having a tube patched. Here Lynn picked up and took along an oldish man who had walked in 8 miles leaving his family and crippled car on the desert road. 

This afternoon, Bernice’s old duster was lost off the running board box. We thought sure that Dad [coming behind in Lynn's car] would see it and pick it up, but later we halted and when he and Lynn came up, he said, “Ha! That’s what we passed back there.” He seemed quite pleased to have identified the object. Well, we were glad that Bernice didn’t care so much.

We went through sage country. Our next place of interest was American Falls, so choked by a gigantic dam as to be spoiled. The great dam was worth seeing but the town most uninteresting. It had been moved some distance from the former site and the trees were all very young.

Pocatello was our next point and is quite a place, but we were not interested. Here Dad and I got tinted glasses. We passed Fort Hall and Blackfoot. It was not so hot. The country was pretty and the roads good, though they are having a lot done to them and Earle got another flat tire. Road work is hard on tires. We passed through Firth, then Shelley, then into Idaho Falls, which is a nice big town.

We were in a public camp at 25 cents per car. There seemed to be hundreds of cars there, but we got off to ourselves where there was no table. A girl came over and told us we could have theirs since they were through, but it was a doubtful comfort for it was too high and small.

After we were in bed, a car rolled in, and the woman said all she wanted was to go to sleep and didn’t care if she ever woke up again. The man said she’d better jump over the falls and get out of her misery. In the A.M., we found three cars had pulled in close to us. The rough man had to hold up a quilt while his wife dressed.

We are still 124 miles from the Park. Having a good time.

[I think Mike and I are truly the reincarnation of Jack and Ina. We've lost cameras, phones, charging cords, a pajama top, a swimsuit, and whole suitcases. On his last motorcycle excursion, Mike lost his iPhone. Recently, Clint found our old Nikon AW100 – misplaced years ago – in our kayak. We lose something with most every trip.]

DAY 3 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

July 29, 1926

We had the usual breakfast with everybody feeling fine. We were soon in desert country proper looking like old times so much that I begged for two good pictures and got them, I hope. [Well, she got one anyway.]

We saw our first live jack rabbit, but the highway is dotted with dead ones. It got very hot in the P.M. on the desert. We passed through New Plymouth, Middleton, Caldwell, Nampa, Meridian, Boise, Regina, Sunnyside, Cleft, Mountain Home. At Caldwell, Shirley exchanged her glasses for a lavender-tinted pair which she liked better.

Caldwell is in the Boise Valley and nice. Middleton is small. Nampa – fine. The valley was lovely but we seemed to be dodging out occasionally into desert country. In the suburbs of Boise, Earle had to tinker with the car so we ate lunch on the side of the road in the shade of big trees. We had bought some minced ham, relish spread, pork and beans, lettuce and mayonnaise. We passed through Boise about noon and managed to see the capital building. Boise is beautiful with wide streets and shade trees.

We drove out at 12:20 and were in for our hottest P.M. Finally we came to Sunnyside – a service station and small store. We went in and drank some kind of bottled cool drink which was very refreshing, but we looked nothing like the ads you see of people drinking Coca Cola. [In 1926, Coke's tagline was "refresh yourself."]

I found I could pin my duster to the frame so as to shut out the sun pretty well, but oh, Girls! My hair!!! I tried to keep it on by wrapping with auto veil but the veil would slip off and hair go all directions. Well, the heat was fierce, but we grimly endured and presently came to Mountain Home. We passed through Cleft, but it was too small to notice. Mountain Home was a nice little place, and here we decided to come by Pocatello instead of the shorter, harder route. We passed through Hammett, but I have no recollection of it.

The next place was Glenns Ferry. Here dad purchased the hamburger which proved bad and forgot the butter.

This P.M., we passed what is called the Thousand Springs Ranch on the Snake. From a bluff across the river numerous waterfalls descended apparently coming out of a rimrock. We were not on the desert all P.M. but occasionally dropped into the river valley. Then it was nice – big trees and green fields.

We passed through Bliss, Hagerman, and Buhl and then began to watch for Twin Falls. Here we had our first experience of auto camps – a little kitchen with oil range, good toilets, even a tub and clothesline. There were shade trees, too. We boiled potatoes and expected a feed, but the sausage was bad, no butter, and Lynn didn’t like boiled potatoes, so we were sort of grouchy but got to laughing and I thought of the corned beef hash and insisted on Lynn finishing the relish spread. Dad had bought doughnuts and so with tea and jam, we made out. I found a cinnamon roll in a bag and was voted lucky.

After supper, the menfolk all went to hunt a bath and swim and ice cream, and the girls took the chance to write in the little cookhouse. When the men came back, they were minus the bath and swim but had ice cream and cookies. We ate it out of cups and were the worse for doing so. Then we collected wash pans, etc., and went to the toilet room for a sketchy sponge bath and after that we bathed our underwear and hose and hung them on the tent ropes and benches.

We made 200 miles this day – mostly desert country but part of the time through the Boise valley and along the Snake River. It was awfully hot. We made 25 to 50 miles per hour. We ate lunch in the suburbs of Boise.

DAY 2 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP

From left: Shirley, Bernice, Earle, Jack, and Ina. Photo by Vance

July 28, 1926 -- Ina continues:

We had one hilarious time arranging our beds last night. From the front of the tent, we were Lynn, Vance, Earle, Bernice, Shirley, and self. Dad slept on a cot. We soon found we had too much covers, and first one and then another sat up to make adjustments. We were not quiet before 11:30. Then a dog came along and growled over a bone, then two dogs started fighting. Shirley began to snore, then Lynn started off, and Bernice began to giggle. The bed was hard with a gentle rise just where our hips came, and we thought the night endless, but all felt quite good on rising at 4:30. 

Vance took a picture of the sun touching the hill and one of us at breakfast. We had bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, jelly, and Himalayan jam.

We got off at 7:45. Until a few miles past Pollock, we had the old road. Then we found them working on the highway.

We struck the Little Salmon at Riggins. It was very beautiful, growing more wooded and picturesque toward the summit and broadening into meadows which looked to me nearly ½ mile wide in places. The river curved and flowed slowly and with low wooded mountains surrounding was wonderfully beautiful. We were surprised to find little ranches in pockets along the river or on benches. Some looked dreadfully burned out, while some had irrigating ditches and gardens. We passed a place or two with lovely green lawns!

Just before reaching New Meadows, we passed a beautiful field of grain being cut. They seem to raise hay mostly. New Meadows is small but up and coming in quite a large valley. In fact, from there, the landscape began to be southern Idaho. A distant range of timbered mountains made it seem more natural.

We didn’t strike any more surfaced highway until after we left Cambridge, but the roads are wide and smooth and look almost as though surfaced. The country is rough and sagebrushy. I got out and got some and will put in a piece of the leaves for you to smell.

It was awful hot at Cambridge and the country round depressing. Our next town was Midvale – small. Then on to Weiser, which is a nice town, but we couldn’t get lettuce there and no hamburger, which caused us to be disgruntly. We ate lunch 1000 feet from the Starky Hot Springs Hotel – bread, butter, cheese, jam, cookies, hardtack.

Continuing on, we passed through Payette. We had our first glimpse of the Snake River near here. We pulled in on the Payette River to camp but found poison oak, flies, and mosquitoes so pulled out again and drove 4 ½ miles beyond Fruitland and camped at a farm where they had things to sell. It was a free camp and they even allowed us to drive in on the nice lawn but we wouldn’t. We pitched the tent there, though, and made us a fine bed. Everybody was grouchy over our trouble finding a camp, but we had a good supper of fried potatoes, bacon, bread and butter, tea, fresh tomatoes, and cantaloupe. When supper was nearly ready, a kitten walked onto the table and dragged off two slices of bread. We all laughed, but Earle said we wouldn't be laughing tomorrow night.

After supper we all felt better. Earle and I then made the beds. Right here, let me say that Earle and Lynn are official packers, unpackers, tent pitchers and strikers. Dad is the official fire builder and water getter. Vance officiates at fire, Bernice at dishwashing, and Shirley sets table and packs up grocery box, grub box, and lunch box. I am majordomo by common, though unexpressed, consent. Of course, we all work at other things.

We are 53 miles from Boise and 500 miles from Yellowstone Park.

[At Cambridge, Ina reports that Vance said it was “hotter than hot.” I think Vance likely made a stronger comparison, don’t you?]  KW

DAY 1 – YELLOWSTONE TRIP

Car on left is Lynn's; car on right, Earle's.

In 2008, when I was fairly new to blogging, I posted a 20-part series regarding Ina’s trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1926. In this centennial year, I decided to expand on those posts. Some will be quite long, others rather short.

As always, my main character is my grandmother, Ina. She kept a travel journal, so the words are mostly hers. However, other voices chime in from time to time. Born in 1870, Ina was 55 in 1926 and already old-fashioned for the times. It comes out in her manner of speaking.

Our travelers had barely left home when Ina began to write a journal in the form of a letter to daughters Ethel and Myrtle at the farmhouse.

Dear Girls,

Shall write my first to you while Earle and the boys mend a flat tire. We stopped to gaze at some wonderful bluffs, and Earle discovered a flat and a nail hole. To begin, you must understand our keen delight in being off for Yellowstone. The breeze was coldly keen, and Vance soon pulled on a sweater and Bernice pulled up her collar.

Salmon River Hill -- photo by Vance

We noted that at least half the fall grain was in the shock or being shocked. We saw a threshing machine this side of Russell and several combines closer to Nezperce. The grain looks wonderful. Just at the Catholic Church, Earle stopped because the engine began to sputter but only for a minute. Then we proceeded on to Nezperce. We put in 35 minutes there. Bernice got a dandy pair of lined britches in brown mixture ($3.00). Dad got two new shirts and a pair of regular pants ($2.00), but he had to take blue in shirts. We couldn’t get lettuce so got bananas. I got this tablet and 10 cents worth of gum.

View from summit, White Bird Hill, N&S Hwy (postcard)

The engine “bogged” to Craigmont. Then Earle got it looked after, and we were there nearly an hour. We were all starving by that time and drove out for a ways and stopped where some big locust trees hung out over the road. We set the box on a bank and proceeded to fill up. Everybody enjoyed the creamed cheese and noted that the salad dressing was fine. We got two big heads of lettuce in Cottonwood but also ate the corned beef hash and thought it good. But oh – the flies were terrible! We were near a barnyard and some nice young dominicks came out to eat our crumbs.

Box Canyon, Salmon River, N&S Hwy (postcard)

We got to Grangeville in due time and left there at 2:00 p.m. We got paper towels and some postcard views. We soon crossed the mountain and dropped down into the Salmon River canyon – 3,000 feet in 12 miles. The highway is very scenic, a good deal like Lewiston and Uniontown, but the canyon itself is magnificent. The river is beautiful – green mostly. White Bird is 18 miles from Grangeville – a dilapidated little town. From there to New Meadows is 72 miles and the road is fine though not graveled.

Salmon River Hills, photo by Vance

We are all feeling fine. It was pretty hot for a while along this rim, but a cool wind is blowing now. I’m getting hungry. We thought we would make Cambridge, but Dad says we will more likely make Pollock. We see many cars loaded much as ours are. I have already thought of many ways to shift the load and contrive more convenience.

Had a blow-out after this and had to camp at Riggins. Had lots of fun. Made 127 miles. For supper we had fried potatoes, bacon, coffee, and the remains of our butter and strawberry jelly.

GETTING READY TO TRAVEL – YELLOWSTONE 1926

Taken at the farmhouse in 1925. See identification below.

Imagine it’s late July in 1926 – one hundred years ago. My dad, Vance Dobson, an accomplished pianist, is working at the Orofino Mercantile to earn enough money to enroll at the Cornish School of Music in Seattle. His family is planning a trip to Yellowstone National Park, and he wants to go, too. His employer agrees that this is an opportunity he shouldn’t miss and excuses him from work.

They will take two cars. One belongs to Vance’s brother Earle, the other to Earle’s brother-in-law, Lynn Dryden. The party includes:

·      The parents – Ina (55) and Jack (61) Dobson

·      Their son Earle (30) and his wife Bernice (26), married since 1921

·      The younger children, Vance (22) and Shirley (15)

·      And Lynn Dryden (Bernice’s brother), probably in his 30s

I suspect this trip happened at Earle’s suggestion. He had a car, and he would have been familiar with the route. He involved his brother-in-law, Lynn Dryden, who also had a car. One car would not have been big enough. They loaded Lynn’s car with provision, and “Dad” (Jack) rode with him most of the time. Earle carried everyone else and some provisions.

You can imagine the hustle and bustle as they prepare for the trip. They plan to camp and buy provisions along the way. No coolers in 1926, remember. They have a tent, bedding, and food besides personal items. By today’s standards, the plan leaves much to chance, but that’s the way it was. Ina is excited to visit Yellowstone as well as to see the sights as they travel through Idaho between here and there.

Staying at the farmhouse are the Dobson daughters, Myrtle and Ethel. Ethel’s baby, Shirley Jean, is now a toddler (born June 29, 1925).

We’ll be off in the morning, so let’s get some rest. KW

[Taken in1925, this photo includes most of our players. From left: Earle Dobson; Shirley Dobson; Bernice Dryden Dobson (Earle's wife); Vance Dobson; Pearl Dobson Sanders with her son, Stanley Sanders; Ina Dickson Dobson; Ernest Robinson; Ethel Dobson Robinson holding Shirley Jean Robinson. Between Shirley and Bernice, I can just make out Julian (Jack) Dobson. Three of these group photos were taken at this time, and the reflection of the sun on the house obscures the image of those standing on the left.] 

A STAYCATION AT THE FARM

Central Ridge

 I said that the centennial appreciation of the Dobson’s 1926 trip to Yellowstone would be next, but first, we have to prepare. We’ll set off on this journey on Monday, July 27, and hopefully I’ll be ready to go. Right now I’m organizing the info.

Southerly view obscured by smoke

Meanwhile, in real time, Mike is off on another motorcycle adventure, and since we’re now in the midst of the hottest temps of the year, he suggested that Bess and I stay at the farm. I’m not sure this was the best idea. We arrived Wednesday mid-morning, and the farmhouse was warm and stuffy, having been shut up for three days. Outside temp was already 80, so too late to open the house. We walked around the pond anyway and I chucked a few balls for Bess to chase, but she was fussy the rest of the day. She tends to fuss now anyway, but I think she was too hot.

Looking to the north -- serviceberry in foreground

It was 91 at 4:30 as we took our afternoon constitutional. Bess insisted on another walk at the pond, but as we passed the east end of the kitchen porch where the faucet is, we found a bull snake doing its best rattlesnake impression. I wasn’t fooled, but I was intimidated anyway, and Bess was spoiling for a fight. I managed to drag her off to the pond, but when we arrived back at the house, the bull snake was still languishing in the shade. We repaired to the house and waited an hour before playing ball.

The house was still hot at bedtime, and Bess had trouble settling down. At her insistence, we were up early Thursday morning and walked out to the canyon rim where I took these pictures.

Ina and Jack with grandchildren Shirley Jean and Stanley

Our staycation continued in that fashion – warm weather issues and a fussy old dog. So, I disappeared into 1926 and transcribed Ina’s journey of the road trip through Idaho to Yellowstone National Park. At this very house, the family of 1926 was preparing for their trip. My aunts, Ethel and Myrtle, will cover in Ina’s absence. I imagine that I’m here staycating with them. Ethel is 28 and Lynn is 32. They’re good friends as well as sisters, so with the house to themselves, I see them enjoy each other’s company. I can just hear those deep Dobson voices rambling on, sharing opinions – and smoking!!!! They both smoked, and they were probably happy to be able to do so free of Ina’s critical eye.

Ethel holding Shirley Jean

Anyway, Ina trusted them with her farm responsibilities, and having been raised on the farm, they were adept at their chores. They fed the chickens, milked the cows – or maybe Uncle June came over and milked the cows – and took care of the garden, which by now was producing well. Perhaps they even did some canning. And besides that, Ethel has a baby – Shirley Jean – who is just months old. What fun! KW

A PROFUSION OF GRASS

 

I had planned to develop a meadow of drought-tolerant plants in the orchard behind the farmhouse. I was working on it – identifying and maintaining the desirable weeds that were already established there, researching and planting more, hoping that these perennials would spread and add interest to that garden. Even last year, this plan was alive. However, it came to naught this year with the explosion of grass – and I do mean explosion! We have several varieties, but Mike’s plant app identifies the dominate one as “beardless wildrye.”

“Stay out of tall grass,” my old dad used to say, and this grass qualifies as tall, so I stay out of it. Who knows what lurks under that mass. It’s habitat for rodents and snakes, and it’s a fire hazard. I've tried to tell myself that it's beautiful just the way it is, but it’s crowding out desirable plants, and I find its presence daunting. I don’t want to walk through it to tend the apple trees and other plants. Further planting is impossible.

And while I speak of the orchard / meadow, the grass is everywhere here – in the grove, at the pond, bordering the yard, on either side of the lane, etc. And it’s not just at our place. It IS a regional explosion of grass. 

Interestingly, my research indicates this grass variety is seen as positive. However, I don’t have livestock to graze on it. I’m disappointed because my plan was to make that area into a garden. I’d like to think the grass is a temporary situation, but grass is difficult to eradicate. The soil is clay, and in summer, it’s hard as a rock. I think the only way to remove it would be to dig it out and then lay cardboard to discourage its return. I’m not sure I could take on such a project even if I would. The time comes when stooping and pulling is not a good idea if you want to continue to walk. KW

Up next: A Trip to Yellowstone Park, 1926 – A Centennial Appreciation 

PRISON DEATHS

Since our son Milo’s murder at the Idaho State Correctional Center on Dec. 10, 2023, I have quietly taken on a quest to support public awareness of conditions in the judicial / prison system. Given the political climate of the times, it’s not easy to advocate for those who are remanded to the prison/parole system. The level of public concern is low. Nevertheless, it’s the quest that came my way, and I will honor it.

A recently-published article by Alex Brizee of The Idaho Statesman (Boise) provides information on Idaho prison deaths in the wake of the death of an inmate while on work release during a hot day. The title is “Idaho Prison System Reaches 11 Deaths This Year,” and it can be found online, including here. I was interested to read that a prison official apologized to the inmate’s family, friends, and everyone involved. No one apologized for Milo’s wrongful death.

I have a shirt with Milo’s name on it, which I thought might be a conversation starter, but I’m hesitant to wear it. I get it out, put it on, and take it back off. We all endure difficult happenings in life, and we have to carry on. Still, we have to do what we can for humanity, even if it’s one person at a time. KW

MIKE’S NEW TOY

Mike and I spent the last two mornings splitting fir rounds into firewood with his new Bilt Hard 35-ton log splitter. I was the assistant, and my task was to toss the firewood into the pile as it came off the splitter. Sometimes I pushed the lever while Mike held the rounds in place. We will eventually haul this firewood to town, so there’s loading and unloading in our future. We feel pressed to get it done and out of the field. They disked the fields yesterday in preparation for planting canola next month.

Serving as an assistant is not interesting to me, so at some point I  go into my “zone” and think about other things. I thought of Chris’ new Bernina 770 QE Pro and pondered if I’d like to have one, too. Chris says it’s an amazing machine. (Chris should be an ambassador for Bernina.) The thing is, a person can buy seven Bilt Hard splitters for the cost of the 770. It’s hardly a straight-across trade – not in terms of money anyway.

And I thought of my Grandfather Portfors. When he was Mike’s age, he lamented that he could no longer swing an ax but he still remembered what it felt like. Speaking of bygone days with a faraway look in his eyes, he said, “A man could swing an ax in the woods for a dollar a day,” as if that were big wages. Maybe it was for him in that day and time.

And as Mike was separating wood fiber with a hatchet, I thought of my dad, whose vocation from a young age was playing and teaching piano. I recalled that he had a misshapen thumb as the result of an accident while cutting wood. Writing in 1934, Aunt Bertha tells about it: “Vance was cutting wood lately and I suppose holding it with one hand and the ax glanced with the usual result. It severed some of the tendons on the back of left hand; they took him to the doctor and after stitching it up he could use his fingers.” Daddy told me of his gratitude that the doctor had found a way to reattach the tendons so that he didn’t lose the use of his fingers – and his vocation.

I wondered if the wood splitter would be safe, but I think it’s altogether safer and less labor-intensive than chopping wood with an ax. The operator controls the blade as it moves through the wood, and the chunks fall off to the sides. KW

MEANWHILE – BACK AT THE FARM

 

So – there we were in town. As we approached the holiday weekend, Mike was recovering from a painful tooth extraction. We no longer celebrate the Fourth of July in a traditional way, but neighborhood fireworks upset Bess, so we had planned to spend the Fourth on the farm away from the noise. (Bess is basically deaf now, but she still hears and reacts to those loud booms.)

On Friday (July 3), Mike still needed to rest, at least from time to time, so we stayed in town, but Friday night, the local fireworks began and went on until 11:30. Bess was beside herself. We kept her in the house, but she would not be comforted. It was as if she were crying, “Make it stop! Make it stop!” We realized that we had to get out of town and into the peace and quiet of the country for her sake as well as ours. So, Saturday morning we packed up and drove to the farm.

As I was leaving the town house, I thought of my little hoodie. “I won’t need it,” I said to myself; "it’s gonna be hot.” That was the forecast all right, but they changed it. Not to carry a sweater along in summer breaks a longstanding family rule, and I paid the price. The temp was in the low 70s yesterday – a dull day with only the threat of rain. As Mike puts it, we’re midway through summer, and we’ve barely had any.

I figure the act of packing, traveling, and unpacking is enough work for one day, but Mike spent the Fourth putting finishing touches on the raised bed. I picked two cups of lovely strawberries and a few peas. The tomato and zucchini plants look good.

But – I noticed magpies in the yard, flying, cackling, and carrying on. I had vague feelings about them, like “what is that gang of marauders doing here,” when suddenly I thought of the cherry tree. I was on my feet and out the door. Sure enough! The cherries were gone – all of them! (Okay, I found four.) I was disgusted with the magpies and disappointed in myself.

You see, in past years I’ve insisted on swathing the cherry tree, but it felt like a useless endeavor because the birds never bothered the tree – not really, not more than I was willing to share. I thought about swathing it last weekend as family worked here, but it was chilly and rainy and besides, I didn’t think the cherries were ripe, so I let it go. Well, now I know that we have to swath the cherry tree. I won’t ever leave it to chance again because now the magpies have added my tree to their internal GPS locater. I only have to cover a few lower branches. We can’t reach the upper ones anyway.

The magpies are gone now, undoubtedly off to ravage someone else’s fruit tree. I can be philosophical about the loss. We like the cherries, but processing them is labor-intensive, so it’s one less thing to deal with at a time when it seems like we have plenty to do.

Speaking of fruit trees, I hiked behind the house to check on the serviceberries. Some are fairly ripe, others haven’t turned yet, and the bushes look dry. And while this elderberry bush is lovely and full, the berries are dry. KW

GETTING THINGS DONE THE WARNOCK WAY

Hallie and Nick at the raised bed

On Thursday (June 25), daughter Hallie and family arrived before 4:00 p.m., and Hallie immediately set to work to replace the old raised bed with new boards. To press forward and get things done is the Warnock way, but the forecast of rain on Friday was also a motivating factor. It was a chilly, rainy weekend.

Silas on his tree swing

The next day (Friday), sons Murray and Clint arrived to participate in the workday, but Mike had already accomplished most of what they expected to do. Mike’s priority was his new “toy,” the wood splitter, and they helped him move it from the kitchen porch to the barn where they tried it out. Meanwhile, Hallie installed a new faucet in the downstairs bathroom – her gift, she said. They all finished the raised bed as much as possible, and Clint agreed to return on Sunday with more raised bed materials from town – and that happened.

Saturday, I enjoyed watching Silas run back and forth across the yard behind Grandpa Mike as he worked from shed to barn and back to shed. Silas often spoke of “the zone,” though he never revealed exactly what the zone was. Apparently there was more than one zone, and some places weren’t in a zone.

Yes, dust bunnies under keyboard

Hallie took on another project – Mother’s old piano.  My dad insisted that every piano needed to be tuned annually, but this old piano just isn’t worth hiring a professional tuner. It was my dad’s studio piano for years, and then Mother taught on it. What I’m saying is that it’s not only old but also worn out, so Hallie decided to take it apart and clean it, just for the experience. Turns out that it needed a good cleaning. Just look at that matted dust!

Uncle Clint with Silas

Nick, Hallie’s husband, enjoys picking berries and making jelly. He scouted around and found a currant bush on the property and then made a small batch of jelly. He seemed disappointed in it, but jelly-making is always an experiment. The berries, the pectin, the sugar – it comes together differently every year. Nothing wrong with having syrup for your ice cream.

On Monday, Hallie and family left for home, and Mike and I went back to town, stopping at the transfer station to get rid of the refuse on the pickup (paid $12.75) and then delivering a tailgate and bumper to the salvage place (received $5.10). While in town, a nagging pain in Mike’s jaw exploded into excruciating pain, and on Thursday (July 2), a wisdom tooth was extracted. He also had an MRI on his leg for diagnosis of an injury. KW

HAVE YOU MISSED ME?

 

I’m so out of touch here that I hardly know where to begin!

On Monday (June 22). Mike and I drove to the farm in the old pickup, hauling a load of gravel and practically everything we would need for a successful family gathering and work weekend. Instead of making a firm food plan, I try to be flexible and anticipate our needs. It’s a given that there will be some failure and a lot of leftover stuff. Oh well.

That same day in the afternoon, Farmer Kyle and son came and moved the big pine tree by sections from the north field into the far side of the yard near the barn where Mike can more easily cut it into firewood. Speaking of which, on Wednesday (June 24), Mike’s new wood splitter was delivered, a unit large enough to handle those big wood rounds. In consideration of the cost to rent a splitter, he decided he’d rather have his own so that he can work at his leisure. (Does Mike ever work at a leisurely pace?)

The idea was that our children were coming to help with the chores, but Mike had other ideas. Working with a hamstring injury, he spread the gravel in the barn to make a base for stacking the firewood, but one thing always leads to another, doesn’t it? He also cleaned out the barn and piled refuse onto the pickup bed once it was free of gravel. I was his assistant.

Of course, I was busy cleaning the house. I made a list of priorities, but just as I was ready to get started with the real work, I lifted a rag under the kitchen sink and discovered that the mice had had a party there. In addition to the usual evidence, there was also something that looked like cherry pits. It was cherry pits! And now I have to reveal just how haphazard I am about housekeeping. Last summer when I pitted the cherries from our Lapin’s sweet cherry tree, I considered drying the pits to make a foot warmer for Mike. I gave up on the idea and tossed the pits, but I guess I didn’t do it before the mice found them. The timing seems odd, but I can’t argue with the evidence. Well, I rearranged my priorities and cleaned under the sink.

I also allowed myself the time to sew, and I actually finished the “Duck Duck Moo” quilt for Silas’ bed. Please note – I saw this project through from start to finish.

One evening, Mike found a little bat between the dining room window and the screen. He carried it outside in a rag, and we watched it fly off. What would I do without Mike to handle the critters? I wouldn’t like to find out.

Despite the rain and cool temps, we had a wonderful family weekend. More about that with the next post. KW

IT’S A HOLIDAY?

 

Bess and I were enjoying an overnight staycation while Mike and Clint rode their motorcycles to central Oregon and back. And as we took our morning constitutional, I couldn’t help but think how quiet it was in the neighborhood. It was time for people to be dashing off to work, but nothing was happening. “You’d think it’s a holiday,” I said to myself. It wasn’t until an hour later when I was driving into town that I heard about the June Teenth holiday. It's was equally as quiet when we walked again this morning. Folks have obviously taken advantage of the three-day holiday to leave town or celebrate quietly indoors.

Hot temps are upon us again, and now they’re probably here to stay. I’m finally into my summer PJs for the duration. We need some cookies, but I’m thinking twice about turning on the oven.

The tomato plants are still thriving in my poor dilapidated raised bed that looks like it could fall over at any time, but fear not! Help is on the way. Under Hallie’s leadership, the frame will be rebuilt. The materials are waiting on the porch, and I hope the new frame can be built around the old mound. We’ll see. It will all work out some way. Doesn’t it always?

I broke down and bought two potted zucchini hills. One had two plants, the other three. It’s late in the transplant season now, and I was afraid if I tried to reseed, it would either fail or be too late for the squash to mature.

I’ve never seen such strawberry plants! They’re either very happy or running amok. I keep hearing my dad say, “Kathy, you over-fertilized. Your strawberry plants have gone to leaf.” But – I didn’t fertilize them at all.

ANOTHER CORN RECIPE

Here’s another recipe from Grandma Ina’s box, this one attributed to her sister-in-law, Ida Chandler Dickson. Ida was married to Ina’s brother, Ben, and my dad and his siblings called her “Ida-Ben” to distinguish her from the other Aunt Ida, Ina’s sister.

CORN SALAD

1 head cabbage

12 ears corn

4 tbsp mustard

2 tbsp salt

1 cup sugar

2 pts vinegar

1 red pepper, chopped

Mix together and let simmer 35 minutes; seal in jars.

I know I’ll never try it. KW

THE RETURN OF THE WASHING MACHINE

 

The repairman came twice to this rural place to fix our nearly-new Whirlpool washing machine. I see it as “nearly new” because in the two years since we bought it, it’s seen six months of light use. The dealer and the manufacturer see it as a two-year-old machine that’s out of warranty. 

Despite his two visits, the repairman didn’t fix it, and the dealer suggested that we bring it to the shop. At first Mike said no. Then we borrowed a dolly and the two of us finessed it through three narrow doorways and onto the front porch where we rolled it onto the bed of the pick-up. 

The initial problem was a faulty mother board, which the repairman replaced, but the machine still didn’t work. My opinion was that the replacement mother board was also defective. That makes sense, doesn’t it? If the manufacturer is dealing with faulty mother boards, the new ones might be faulty, too, but the repairman and the dealer didn’t think so. However, working with the machine in the shop, they indeed had to replace the mother board again. 

So, the dealer called to report that the machine was fixed. They had run five loads of laundry through it and it worked fine. Mike agreed to pick it up, then he called back and, as he puts it, pulled “the old man card.” “I know you came twice, but you didn’t fix it. I’m an old man. You could deliver it for me.” And they agreed to bring it on their next trip this way, which was Saturday (the 13^th). 

So, I’ve done a couple of small loads in the machine, and it ran the cycles fine, but I’m just guardedly cautious. If the original mother board and the first replacement were faulty, how long until it fails again? I expect it to be on its best behavior because it can be replaced, but they say all washing machines today are junk on account of plastic parts. It’s shameful that manufacturers put out faulty stuff and then make the consumer responsible. Both the dealer and the consumer are caught in this web. 

“It’s a terrible system we’re getting to have in this country,” said my sister Harriet. Things have not improved in the ten years since she left us. KW

WATER

A lull between storms

If I had known it would be this cold in June, I would have replanted the peas and spinach. Well, I don’t know about the spinach. Something ate it. But the something that ate the spinach, doesn’t care for peas. It did like the zucchini, though. The only zucchini sprout I noticed has disappeared. The tomatoes are slowly growing and blooming, and the strawberries still look good. I have to wonder what signals this cold snap is sending to the plants and fruit trees, though.

Hallie suggested I plant marigolds to ward off insects, but Walmart didn’t have any. I had thought I would jumpstart my zucchini by buying plants, but Walmart was selling single plants for $5 each. Okay – I know I have a concept of $5 that’s straight out of the ‘70s, but it’s still too much for just one plant, especially when it could be like throwing $5 away. I’ll just replant, and if worst comes to worst, maybe this year I’ll have to buy zucchini. I wonder how much zucchini $5 will buy. Maybe not much.

Mike has now completed his annual farmhouse window washing. Knowing the forecast was for rain, he saved the protected downstairs windows for Tuesday, and it was a good thing because we had intermittent storms much of the day. It was also chilly – between 50 and 60 -- and today is yet another cold, rainy day. I was glad for the rain, though, because we need the moisture and it replenishes the cistern (my garden water). 

Southern view obscured by weather

On the subject of water, Hallie and I recently discussed water conservation, specifically the sharing of bath water. In Ina’s house, the family bathed in the wash tub just once a week – on Saturday night – whether they needed it or not. The cleanest people – women and children – bathed first and then the men.  Perhaps they occasionally added hot water, but they didn’t totally change the water. The water source was a distant spring or the cistern. Either way, water was a precious commodity to be used sparingly. My brother Chuck told me that when the men were working, such as during harvest, they did bathe in the evening. And I also think that everyone washed up as needed. 

And it was “dry land farming,” too. They didn’t irrigate the crops or the garden, and they didn’t need to because in those days it occasionally rained during the summer. I don’t know if they might have carried a little water to some struggling plant. Perhaps they did, but they certainly didn’t have sprinklers or drip systems.  

Hallie commented that the sharing of bath water seems like a practice born of poverty. Well, maybe so, but they had to conserve, AND we should be rethinking our water use today because the future of water in our world is at risk. I don’t think Hallie liked what I was saying, but even in Seattle where we think of frequent rain and lush gardens, she speaks of the need to water. She also said that their lawn is already turning brown and questions how much money she wants to spend to keep it green. It’s a question that homeowners have pondered for decades. KW