COOL AGAIN -- IS IT REALLY MAY?

Hallie sent a message to inquire about the progress of the little cherry tree. It's looking pretty good. Our crop of cherries will be very scant this year. The cherry shown is one of six! By the way, if you enlarge the photo and look through the tree branches, you can spy Nellie's brown spot.




This picture is of the raspberry patch. It has taken five years or so but the bushes -- canes from Ken's patch -- are growing, bearing fruit, and multiplying. Mike spent an hour this morning scraping lichen off the propane tank.




The picture to the right was taken last night after supper. Mike counted ten whitetail deer in the south field. He enjoyed watching them through the telescope.






Mike took this picture of quail in the side yard this morning. Seems like we're seeing more quail right here at the farm. Also, we have a resident rooster pheasant who loves to crow as the sun comes up.






The storm pictures were taken today. The storm last night was more wind than rain here at the farm, peaking at 8:00 with winds at 22 mph and gusting to 27.2 mph. Storms continued to pass throughout the morning and afternoon. Period of precipitation were brief but included sleet and hail.

Our hired labor came today and spread our topsoil over the hoof divots in the lawn. Then Mike spread grass seed over the dirt. I hope our work improves the lawn.

Today was embroidery club day in Moscow and I missed it. Kinda feels like I missed a day of school -- like I wasn't where I was supposed to be. They were doing a really cool project, too -- like always -- but we had to be here at the farm. It's been great seeing Chris regularly and I've learned so much at embroidery club just listening as I work. KW

LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY

I have just been through a time that seemed quite stressful for me. Really, it wasn't that bad, but I attended a convention in Boise that took me out of my comfort zone. I stressed over it for weeks. Then as the convention drew near, I had to devote considerable time to preparation for the half-day trip, convention responsibilities, and visiting Milo. Upon returning home, I had to write a report which was "due" at Tuesday's chapter meeting. All went well, but "life as usual" seems "long ago and far away."

My mother said that when I was little, she didn't dare tell me that we were going someplace tomorrow because I would beg to go right then. I remember that feeling of wanting to do whatever and get it out of the way rather than having to wait. As I grew older and complained of the dread of anticipation, Mother said I misread my feelings – that I was really excited. Whatever it is, I still have that angst from time to time and the convention in Boise was a case in point. I just kept telling myself that I could and should serve as delegate -- that I should do it for myself because one has to cope with life and that I could do it for my sisterhood.

Yesterday I gave my delegate's report and that experience was finally behind me. I was beginning to feel the euphoria of relief. I was also really tired. It was about 10:00 when I took my iPod and moved off to bed. "I have news," said Mike after checking his email. "Clint is driving in Thursday after work. He and Paul are going to spend the weekend rebuilding the transmission in his pick-up and then a transmission for Paul's vehicle. He wants to stay here."

Oooooo! I'm so glad he's coming, but remember the guest bed loaded with projects? Well, as of last night it was still loaded. I had finished the two afghans and found storage for my fabric stash, so, you might say I'd made a good start on clearing it off, but it had a ways to go before someone could use it. I slept soundly for two hours, then came wide awake mentally stashing the things on the bed. So, I got up and got work – yes, in the middle of the night. It really went quickly and I didn't have to worry about any other pressures. Being wide awake and in work mode, I lost hours of rest, but I'm retired, you know. I can catch up on my rest.

I was up by 6:00 and ready to leave for the farm at 8:30. It felt really good to get here. The temperature today was pleasant (maybe 75) as Mike and I went about our chores. He mowed the lawn while I unpacked boxes and weeded.

We have sustained no more damage from the horses but efforts to repair the lawn continue. Last week the lawn was power raked and this afternoon we received a load of good topsoil from Boyer's in Lapwai – 8 or 9 tons dumped between the pond and the barn. Tomorrow workers will spread the topsoil over the lawn, especially where the horses hooves created divots.

We saw a number of whitetail today. Wild flowers are in bloom, including black-eyed Susans and Indian paint brush. The first of the hummers are drinking from the feeder this evening. A stand of purple iris blooms in the side yard. More later . . . [KW]

P.E.O. CONVENTION DELEGATE

As president of my P.E.O. chapter in Lewiston, I was a delegate to the 95^th Convention of the Idaho State Chapter P.E.O. Sisterhood in Boise over the weekend. Mike drove me to the convention center and then he visited with Milo and family while I attended the convention sessions. The camera went with Mike, so available photos have more to do with travel and grandsons than the convention venue.

Most of us like food, so let's talk about the banquet menus.

Friday night banquet: leaf lettuce salad; variety rolls; salmon steak with sauce; plain white rice; steamed vegetables (baby carrots and two slender broccoli spears). Dessert was alternated by place setting at the table – a small piece of plain cheesecake or a huge slice of some decadent cake involving four layers of chocolate – dark chocolate, sweet chocolate, a dry cake layer, and a soft frosting. I got the chocolate cake. This was altogether the best meal we had. The salmon was delicious, though some diners grumbled about having fish.

Saturday lunch: spinach salad with a few toasted walnuts and a dressing I wished I hadn't applied; variety rolls; chicken breast (very plain, as in microwaved); white rice mixed with some wild rice; steamed veggies (two baby carrots and two slender broccoli spears); and a lemon tart (the kind in a store-bought shell).

Saturday dress banquet (husbands invited): leaf lettuce salad with two weird olives and two small mozzarella cheese balls, strange dressing; variety rolls (yes, the same variety); prime rib; twice-baked potatoes (at least twice!); steamed vegetables (two baby carrots and two slender broccoli spears); alternating desserts (lemon tarts and dry chocolate cake). I got the lemon tart. The prime rib at our table was in varying stages of rareness. Mine was so rare as to be inedible in my opinion. I took one bite and deemed that entrée a lost cause. Besides, I didn't like the way the fat looked – raw – and there was plenty of fat. Another person at my table asked the waiter if he could zap her portion in the microwave, and he said there was no microwave on that level of the hotel and carrying it to the kitchen was not feasible. From there she inquired about the recurring steamed vegetables, and he said broccoli and carrots were the only vegetables they ever serve and suggested she complain.

Questioning other diners about the Saturday dinner, I learned that there was great variation with the prime rib. One said hers was so overdone she couldn't slice it. Another said hers was done to perfection and delicious.

So, that's the way the food was – prepared elsewhere, frozen, and delivered for mass preparation. Gone is the pride in providing a culinary experience – at least at that venue. By the way, as a convention delegate, I was not aware of the monetary value placed on my meals, but had Mike attended, the cost would have been $48 for his. I was sorry not to have had him at my side, but we agreed that we made the right decision. Mike said, however, that the lasagna I fixed for him to take to Milo's was very good and that Milo made delicious hamburgers Saturday night. And my grandsons thanked me for the home-baked cookies as soon as they saw me.

We were home by 7:45 Sunday night. Nellie was waiting in her kennel and glad to see us, though her eyes demanded an explanation for being thus separated from her pack. Ken took care of her food and exercise and the neighbors played with her in our absence. KW

[Photo 1: From a point on the Old White Bird Grade overlooking the Nez Perce Battlefield; part of the Seven Devils also visible in the distance. Photo 2: Mike retrieving a geocache, this one placed as part of a Boy Scout educational project. Photo 3: Son Milo with grandsons Mason, 9, and Gage, 6, on a geocaching excursion with Grandpa Mike. Photo 4: Mason mowing the lawn. Photo 5: Gage in a tree.]

IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHING

We hadn't been to the farm since March 27, the weather and our social schedules keeping us in town. It's well past time for us to begin to establish our "summer residence," so Saturday morning (May 8) Mike and I packed the Dakota with the Montmorency sour cherry tree, the supplies and "needfuls" we had gathered, and Nellie (of course)and headed out to the farm. As we traveled we listened to a Louis L'Amour audiotape, "Law of the Desert Born," and companionably anticipated the planting of our sincere little cherry tree. It felt really good to be going to the farm again.

At first sight of the farmyard from the old Plank place, we were relieved to see the tall pines in the grove still standing like sentries, having survived another winter. From that distance, the house and grounds looked good. But as we drove into the yard, Mike exclaimed, "Oh no! The horses are here again!" The yard was trampled and flower pots sitting on the porch had been pulled off and broken. Manure everywhere. Truly – it smelled like a barnyard. I'm not a forensic scientist but upon examination of the natural stuff, it looked as if the horses had been in residence some weeks, including that very day.

Of course we had to deal with the situation, but taking first things first, we decided to plant the cherry tree. You may recall that the cherry tree is Hallie's gift for our 35^th wedding anniversary. We chose a spot in the grove, back of the area designated as the orchard, and Mike dug a hole according to instructions – as deep as the root ball and twice as wide.

In the course of the planting, we provided plenty of water.

The tree seemed to perk up immediately it was in the ground, apparently sensing it was home. As the final step, Mike placed fencing around it that will hopefully provide some protection from the deer if not the horses.

After lunch we set about assessing the damage and righting the yard as much as we could. The horses' hooves made divots in the soft ground, and they had trampled all around the house and the woodshed – also behind (on the east side) of the barn. What we know is that soon the ground will harden like the clay it is and those divots will be permanent dents unless we do something to smooth the ground soon.

Mrs. Dobson's little girl Kathy was not raised to shovel manure, but shovel I did. I filled the composter with the stuff around the woodshed and as I worked I entertained myself with thoughts of all the beautiful dresses I have had in my life. "If only the ladies of the club could see me now," I thought. Then Mike helped me – or I helped him – and together we scooped more and established a secondary pile. Actually, the manure is the least of our worries – perhaps even a good thing for fortifying our gardens.

Sunday morning Mike made a trip to the canyon and took pictures of the defunct fence. The owner showed up about noon and said he would make repairs. As you can see from the pictures, the fence really needs to be replaced / renewed rather than repaired. The horses have just freely moved between the canyon and our property for so long that a little fence doesn't hold them. And why should the owner care if we aren't complaining? KW

ANOTHER ONE DOWN . . .

When we got up this morning, it promised to be a beautiful day. The forecast hardly mentioned rain. Mike and I worked in the drought-tolerant perennial beds. It was a lovely day.

But about 2:30 this afternoon the sky began to darken ominously. Mike cleaned his shop and then hurried to get in a bike ride before the storm. He didn't make it, though. He's out there someplace in cycling shorts and it's pouring rain. Nellie and I had actually just set foot outside the house for our afternoon walk when a close flash of lightning was followed by a clap of thunder. It was hard explaining to her that I thought staying home was the best course of action. I think she understands now.

Here's a picture of different kind of flower bed created by the afghan I finished yesterday. Since every round of the separate medallions is a different color, there were lots of loose ends, and I spent hours tying them. I used up bits and pieces of yarn from my extensive stash to make this afghan with the exception of the white.

We saw Clint yesterday. He was in town to meet friends for their annual camping trip. He took time out from camping preparations to ride dirt bikes with Mike. Stopping back here, he raided my refrigerator and I gave him fresh-baked cookies. KW

EMERGENCY PREPAREDNESS, 1950s

We have friends on the Mississippi Gulf Coast where it seems the next weather catastrophe is always just around the corner, mostly hurricanes. Now the Gulf Coast is bracing for the effects of the "worst oil disaster in history," which will affect their lives and their environment. One friend said he could smell the oil at his house, but an AP article in today's Trib states "that some are seeing and smelling oil where there is none." Some Mississippi friends have signed on to work as volunteers, washing water fowl and such, but the same AP article says no one knows why the jellyfish and water fowl are dying.

Considering the great devastation some areas of the world suffer because of natural disasters, it seems almost ridiculous to mention Monday's ferocious windstorm with gusts of 60+ mph here in the great Inland Northwest. The wind uprooted trees, caused electrical outages in some parts of town, and even jack-knifed a truck on the Interstate Bridge. Even so, our problems were light – no loss of life and most people just suffered minor inconvenience. I would hazard a guess that they probably didn't even hear about this storm in Mississippi. Still, it's the talk of our town.

"I couldn't do anything," said one of the ladies of the club. "We've become so dependent on electricity. Fortunately I had some baked chicken breasts in the refrigerator that I could use to make sandwiches for supper."

It just points out again how much we need to give some thought to disaster preparedness. Could you fix a meal without electricity? Do you have ready-to-eat food in your cupboard that would allow you and your family to survive several days without cooking? What about water? And – even though none of us can take on the world -- would you be able to help a neighbor with food and/or supplies?

The concept of preparedness has fascinated me since childhood – once I got over being traumatized, that is. Back in the '50s, people thought atomic war might be imminent, and in its infinite wisdom, the government made sure little school children were well-versed on what to do in the event someone dropped "the bomb." We were shown films in school including information on how to identify locations of bomb shelters (there was one in the basement of the post office in Orofino), how to prepare a bomb shelter in the basement of your house, and then what foods would be safe to eat when we finally crawled out. Yes, even though someone bombed you, you might survive just fine, but there would be weird stuff, called "fall-out," and it would affect your food. You could trim mold off of bread and eat it but moldy meat should be discarded – or something like that. You should throw away the mayonnaise because it contains eggs. It's hilarious when you think of it, isn't it? I wonder if they have those old films online.

And there was this audio signal, called the conelrad signal. Perhaps you've heard it because "they" will still use it when "they" want to get information to you – these days usually a weather warning. I think they just call it an emergency signal now. The radio station in Orofino would play it for a full minute at 1:00 p.m. every day. "This is a test and only a test," the announcer would say. "Had this been a real disaster, you would have been instructed to turn to channel 1250 for further instructions." Hey! It was a scary world I grew up in. Every bit as scary as anything you could tell me about the world today – and the government did it to us.

At some point, all of this bomb shelter preparedness stuff went away, and rather quietly, too. Apparently someone someplace (one of "them") realized how impractical these ideas of basement shelters were. We would probably kill each other fighting for places in the shelters because obviously we couldn't accommodate everyone underground, and then what kind of world would we come out to? The fall-out, which before was just affecting our food, would naturally have devastated our whole world.

But what remains for our consideration is emergency preparedness. I think we probably don't receive enough information or encouragement along these lines – from "them."

Today is "Cinco de Mayo," and every commercial email site to which I subscribe has sent recipes for tonight's Mexican meal. Instead I'm going with an old favorite – Bennie's enchiladas – made with pheasant.

[Top photo: The weather is still unsettled. Note the rain gutters on the shop / garage that Mike had installed last week. Bottom photo: Mule deer move through the field above the town house.] KW

MOVE IT, GIRLS!

The rummage sale went well. We made $2,000 to support our projects and everyone feels good about it. It's just that it's a lot of work and many of us don't work like we used to. Well, that's what I thought anyway.

Friday morning we set out the stuff we had gathered in the big multi-purpose room of a local church. Many of us were already complaining of exhaustion as we headed home in the early afternoon, satisfied that all was in readiness for the sale early Saturday morning. I've already written about my wonderful "Friday finds."

Saturday found me on my way to the sale before 7:30 a.m. By the time I arrived, extra rummage had already been laid out and a line was gathering at the door. Daisy the Clown (one of our members) was in make-up and costume, ready to greet customers.

Despite the rain – and now and then it rained hard – we had a good crowd for the sale. We sold on a "per item" basis until 1:00. Then paper grocery sacks were handed to customers and selling continued at "all you can fit in the bag" for $3.00 for the last hour or so. As you can imagine, morning customers returned in the afternoon in hopes of finding items they want still available for the bag sale.

As the sale ended, we were left with an abundance of stuff that didn't sell – mostly clothing and low-end household items like mugs and plastics. It's our responsibility to clear the stuff away and everyone wants it done quickly so that we can go home. As the working members began to fill large garbage sacks with stuff, our chairman called out:

"Opportunities Unlimited is on the way to pick up the stuff. They will stay just 20 minutes." For a long moment the room was silent as workers digested the implications of the information.

I don't know what possessed me, but I called out, "We can do it!" And you never saw "gray power" work so fast! (These ladies are mostly old enough to be my mother, and some battle physical difficulties.) But bless their hearts! They packed those garbage sacks in double time. We were moving! The guys from Opportunities Unlimited loaded what they could and then returned for another load. "It's a lotta stuff," one said to me. "A lotta stuff.

Before the bag sale began, I picked up a few more items – more pillowcases, more books, a naked Barbie doll, a purple Beanie Baby, pretty garden boots, one of those Yankee Candles with Christmas shade (I've always wanted one of those), and a Sunbeam waffle maker (a big one). I am unapologetic for the fact that I continued to be a good customer through the sale, though the best finds were the "Friday finds."

It's always interesting to me to see what sells and what doesn't. The Christmas ornaments sold, but not the wrapping paper, bags or bows. The Beanie Babies didn't sell at 50 cents; four sold immediately when the price dropped to 25 cents; the rest – at least a dozen – didn't sell. Toys and stuffed animals didn't sell. The books didn't sell. Action figures from 30 years ago didn't sell. The VHS tapes sold last year but not this. Beautiful decorator items didn't sell. You know – pretty much nothing sold, but we made $2,000. Go figure.

[The pictures are just more from our day around town last week.] KW