NOTHING HAPPENING

 

Murray with Vitus

Nothing interesting happening here. We’d like to begin our visits to the farm, but we’re waiting for our plumber to schedule us in. (We are lucky to have an ongoing relationship with a plumber.) And besides, here in town we had frost three mornings last week. It’s still cold and even colder at the farm. I’m concerned that we won’t have fruit on the trees again this year. 

Mike with Vitus

Mike and son Murray refurbished an old bicycle, a “Vitus,” and I think they both enjoyed the project. Then they decided another type of bike would be better for Murray’s everyday exercise and bought a Kent from a pawn shop. Yay! Another bike to fix up!

And we have plenty of yard work here in town. Mike pruned the lavender and sprayed the weeds, and I’ve been cutting back the silver sage (wormwood). The first daffodils are beginning to pass while the mid-season varieties are coming into bloom. The imitation cherry is in full bloom now. Lots of its petals danced in last night’s wind and rain storm, but the tree is still beautiful.

A while back, Mike suggested that I make protectors for the backs and arms of the recliners. It would be nicer than towels, he said. So, when I noticed a “quilt as you go” project with hexagons, I decided to give it a try. I used 5-inch charm squares from my stash in a fabric line titled “Tell the Bees.” I worked right along and finished in a few days. I had so much fun doing it that I want to keep right on making those hexies. I’ll probably do a set for the recliners at the farm, but maybe it would be best to wait until I can measure. Or not. We’ll see.

Mike wondered if we should somehow protect the protectors. “Oh no you don’t,” I said. If/when they wear out, I’ll simply make more. KW

SENIORS COPING WITH LIFE – THEN AND NOW

Warm weather last week brought our budding imitation cherry tree quickly into bloom. Now it’s chilly again – highs in the 50s, lows in the 30s.

As a late-life child, I was in my 20s and 30s as my parents grew older while living in the family home. To my dismay, I observed some things about the aging process.

Technology was difficult for them. In the 1980s, the most advanced technology in the home was the VCR. They had one, but they struggled to use it, and in fact, those first units weren’t user-friendly. Today, as Mike and I sit in front of a TV that’s smarter than we are, I can relate to my parents’ struggle. Sometimes we don’t even realize that the remote is upside down! But we do try to keep up with technology because we know it’s fundamental to independent living.

So often things went wrong in my parents’ world. The new oven didn’t work right and the furnace was a lemon, and they couldn’t solve these problems. Of course, if you can’t get satisfaction from the retailer / manufacturer, sooner or later you have to junk it and replace, but their frugality just wouldn’t allow it. I thought of this as I limped along with that Kenmore dishwasher for five years before we finally replaced it, and we still have that strange refrigerator. If it keeps the milk cold, the produce freezes. The thing is, though, you just don’t know these days. You can trade in your working unit for one that doesn’t work at all.

My parents had other difficulties as well. Often, they would drive to my house with a dilemma in hand, and before my children were in school, I would move car seats from my car to theirs and drive them wherever they needed to go. (My dad called me “efficient” – high praise!) I did the driving and sometimes I even did the talking. And sometimes I would say, “Hey, we can do this with a phone call,” whereupon I would make the call while they sat by in awe of my abilities.

Fortunately, Mike handles our business, or we support each other through what we need to do. Everyone has these things, and staying on top of it is part of staying among the living.

And it wasn’t just that my parents found it difficult to keep up with technology and solve problems. They continued to be interested in politics and world affairs. They watched the news followed by Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, but they didn't follow current movies and celebrities, AND they simply didn’t care. It made me sad, but today, I can relate. I don’t know today’s celebrities, and I don’t care. KW

A JOYOUS EASTERTIDE TO YOU

 

Daughter Hallie sent photos of Silas’ first Easter basket decked out with the eggs and bunnies I crocheted. I wonder what he will think about that basket of goodies. Note the absence of candy. I think Hallie said she would have some healthy treats for him.

The weather promises to be sunny and warm this weekend. Mike looks forward to a bike ride and then grilling a roast for our Easter dinner.

Brother Chuck has opined that when it stays cold late into the season, it suddenly becomes hot rather than gradually warming. The result is that the mountain snowpack melts quickly, causing flooding. All we can do is wait and see. After a few hot days, the forecast is for highs in the 50s and rain. KW

DISCOURAGEMENT

Home, home on the range,

Where the deer and the antelope play,

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word . . .

. . . unless, of course, your "home on the range" has plumbing.

“More disappointing than surprising,” Mike said as we drove out of the farm yard Wednesday afternoon.

We had driven back to the farm that morning to turn the water on, taking son Murray with us as an extra set of eyes and ears. Unfortunately, we have plumbing problems again due to the cold winter in this isolated place. Fortunately, we were careful as we turned the water on, and any damage to the house is minimal. Mike has already contacted our plumber. We are also fortunate to have a relationship with a plumber who is willing to schedule us in when we need him.

But – we are discouraged. I always dream of a cozy farm Christmas, but we have to winterize so early that it just isn’t possible. Our plan is to have the plumber winterize the house, probably between Halloween and Thanksgiving. As much as I hate to let go of my dream, it’s better and a lot less stressful to have a firm plan. And after all, Grandma Ina and my menagerie of imaginary characters goes with me everywhere.

It was 45 on the farm and about that in the house, too. We were chilled, and the sun-warmed Jeep felt so good. We were back in town before 3:00, and then Mike commenced to spray weeds here and wash the Jeep in a balmy 60 degrees.

Meanwhile, I’ve started some covers for the arms and backs of our recliners using a pattern for a hexagon quilt. “What!?? Another project?!! What happened to all those other quilts and that afghan you’re crocheting and the doll dresses,” I hear you asking. And you’re right. I’m off on another tangent, but I’m hopeful that I will finish this project. They will look so much better on the recliners than the towels from the rag bin. I also took a break and crocheted eggs and bunnies for grandson Silas’ first Easter basket, but I forgot to take a picture of them. KW

MEMORY LAPSES

Cherry tree begins to bud

“I’m going to spray the weeds after lunch,” said Mike.

“Are you sure you should,” I asked. “The wind has come up.”

And so, he settled on another activity.

And that’s the way it goes in early spring. The weather is so changeable. The sun shines one minute and it clouds up the next. And it’s quite breezy. Nothing much is happening yet. Our summer projects are still in the planning stage.

Mike and I tried to stream a movie the other night. Mike had one in mind, but we couldn’t find it, so we began to surf through the menu for something to watch. I hate that! It’s a waste of time. But eventually we agreed upon a certain documentary.

Same tree, different direction

“Hmmm,” I thought to myself. “How long should I sit here before I mention that I think we’ve seen this?” It’s not unusual for either one of us to select programs we’ve already seen, and it can be a while before we realize it. Ten minutes in, I gently ventured, “Do you think we’ve seen this?” Mike laughingly agreed, and we went back to the menu.

“That looks interesting,” I said of the documentary on Calamity Jane.

“But we’ve seen it,” said Mike.

“We have?” I questioned.

“I think so,” said Mike.

Two minutes in, I realized he was right.

Finally, we settled on some lackluster biography, but the next day I couldn’t remember the subject. “What did we watch last night?” I asked Mike.

He paused. “It will come to me,” he said. And it came to him first – a biography on Gary Cooper. I’m not sure, but I think we had seen it. KW 

FIRST FARM TRIP OF THE SEASON

Cottonwood Butte from the pond

If you read here often, you may recall that when we closed and winterized the farmhouse, there was so much snow that we had to park the pick-up at the neighbor’s driveway. Mike then walked in and came back for me on the 4-wheeler. We had to leave a lot of stuff behind, including our packing crates. We were unable to enjoy a farm Christmas due to continued snow and cold temps.

Anyway, fast forward to spring, and we were anxious to check things out at the farm. We wanted to go two weeks ago, but a neighbor discouraged it, saying that the roads were soft.

“If we don’t go to the farm on Tuesday,” Mike said thoughtfully as he studied his weather app, “then we might not be able to go for weeks. It’s raining as far out as I can see.” I’m skeptical that it will ever rain again, but we have to give some heed to the weather forecast. To ascertain whether or not conditions at Gilbert were favorable – or at least not unfavorable – we called Neighbor Pete Monday afternoon. He wasn’t home just then, but he said he would “go back there” as soon as he could and let us know.

At 6:20 a.m. Tuesday morning, Mike’s phone rang. “I’m sitting in your yard, Mike,” Pete said. And he said that we would be able to make it into the farmyard with no problems. The last thing we want is to be stuck.

So, we loaded up the old pick-up with stuff for the farm, the largest of which was the 4-wheeler blade. It was late morning before we could get away because Mike and Bess had a care visit at a nursing facility. We found the lane just as Pete had said – washed at the bottom by running water but passable and otherwise okay. It was overcast and 45 degrees.

After unloading and a quick lunch, we set to work. I went upstairs to locate a few sewing items while Mike set to work in the yard. We found three mice in traps and the yard is riddled with rodent holes, though not mounds. We discussed enlarging the vegetable garden – a rather daunting task, but we’ll see what we can do.

The wind had blown more limbs out of the maple tree, and Mike cut the larger ones into firewood which we stacked at the woodshed. I picked up pine cones in the grove to use as fire starters in the town woodstove.

The pond is not overflowing its banks, and it was easy to hop over the spillway. Maybe April will bring more water. We can hope.

A large limb broke in a pine tree at the pond. It isn’t high, so Mike will be able to saw it off and pull it to the burn pile. We’ll probably add some of it to our lifetime supply of firewood in the barn.

The daffodils are up a good six inches or so, and I was delighted to see the rhubarb poking through.  

At 2:30 we packed up and headed back to town.

Our plan to begin a spring clean-up of our town yard today was cancelled by rain. Yippee! I have other things I want to do. KW

MISMATCHED SOCKS

Nina and Charlie Portfors

Bending over in a fold during our yoga session, I got a good look at my socks and noticed that they were mismatched – one gray, the other tan. Naturally, this meant I had a pair exactly like them in the drawer. So as not to make the same mistake twice, I took the mismatched pair out of the drawer and laid it on the dresser. Then I promptly washed the pair I was wearing and corrected the problem. (I’m fastidious about some things.)

Mismatched socks reminded me of my Grandfather Portfors. He was color blind, so dark blue, brown, and maroon all looked black to him. In order to match his socks, he would lay them on the tea cart in his kitchen, which was directly under the light. Then he could tell them apart – maybe. He would ask Mother to doublecheck.

Grandpa owned the Ford garage in our town, and I would say his one and only extravagance was his car – always a Lincoln. Mother told me that once when his new Lincoln was delivered, he seemed reserved in his reaction. “What’s the matter, Pop,” she asked.

“Well, doggonit,” he said, “I didn’t want a black car.”

“Pop, it’s not black. It’s maroon,” Mother replied. And she said he was quite happy knowing it wasn’t black, even though he saw it as black.

But I think he did prefer white cars. His last two Lincolns were white. The very last one was a 1956, and he drove it for ten years or so until he quit driving altogether. KW

[Note the white car on the left -- undoubtedly Grandpa's Lincoln.]