My Sweetheart drove me to the big city yesterday for somewhat of a medical appointment. As we drove into the city I noticed the beautiful Christmas decorations on the light posts. It was snowing. And my mind recalled another time, 35 years ago, when as a young 9 year old girl wearing a very fashionable maxi coat that had been bought at the Salvation Army in the same big city, I was riding in the car with My Mom and Dad and brothers on my way to my Aunt's for Christmas; my aunt who was the twin sister of 'Uncle Hairy Monkey.' It was snowing that day. The Christmas decorations, although different, were also hanging on the street lights.
I was excited to be going to Aunt Louise's. Excited to see cousins whom I rarely saw. Excited to be with aunts and uncles that I hardly knew. Excited because Grandma was going to be there. We were going to celebrate Christmas with My Mom's side of the family. We had always celebrated this special day with my Dad's sisters and their families up to this point. And every year since, while growing up, Christmas was always with Dad's side. So this Christmas was going to be very special.
I remember Grandma sitting on the couch. I remember thinking she seemed awfully old. She was 68 after all, and I was only 9.
My cousin Bev was at Auntie Louise's that year. Cousin Bev and I are the same age, and being the only girls that age at Auntie Louise's, we played together. I remember receiving a Dawn Doll for Christmas that year from Cousin Bev. It was a great time!
I don't remember too much about Christmas day, other than playing with my new Dawn Doll from Cousin Bev, and sitting beside Grandma on the couch. I remember thinking that Grandma Maggie Kalis must be very tired because she was still in her housecoat. I remember sitting beside her and having her hold my hand for a few minutes while we talked. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember her holding my hand.
We probably headed home the day after Christmas. We had a long drive ahead of us and probably left right after breakfast so we could be home early afternoon.
2 days after we arrived back home I remember seeing My Mom cry after talking on the phone. I had only seen My Mom cry once before and that was when my cousin Tammy, my cousin on my Dad's side of the family, had been hit by a car and was in a coma. It was very rare to see My Mom cry and I knew something bad must have happened.
My Grandma, Maggie Kalis, the special lady wearing the housecoat, holding my hand while having a conversation on the couch on Christmas day, had died.
I am so glad we had went to the big city that year for Christmas. I am glad to have had the opportunity to hold my Grandma's hand 3 days before she died. Looking back, I know that was even a better gift than my Dawn Doll.
Lady and the Cats
bonding on the farm!
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Telling Stories
"Wouldn't it be fun," My Sweetheart ruminated last night as we were laying in bed, "to tell stories, with the kids, like we used to?"
Fun? Perhaps. Likely? Not a chance.
When DD and DS were much younger, when they would crawl into bed with us for bedtime stories, we would make up stories. One of us would begin with an opening line. Then someone else would make up the second sentence of the story. A third person would add the next, and so on and so on, until the story was completed. We would never know how the story would end up. It might start off with a family of pirates swashbuckling on stormy seas and end with a family of puppies doing their Christmas shopping at the local Coop. Although the ending of the story was always going to be a surprise, the journey getting there was so much fun.
My family loves stories. When DS was very young I started reading him the classics. By the time he was in grade 1 we had explored Narnia, went on Magic Tree House adventures, travelled in the days of Dickens, built treehouses like the Swiss Family Robinson. Every classic book in this house had been read and enjoyed.
As well as stories from the pages of beloved books, my family loves true stories of family adventures. DD and DS love hearing about My Sweetheart's and my past. I enjoy hearing My Mom weave stories of her growing up days. My Sweetheart wishes that he would have listened more and asked more questions of his Grandpa who immigrated to Canada from Norway in the 1800's. How did he travel? What port city did he arrive at? What mode or modes of transportation carried him from his home in Norway to the land he homesteaded? What was his story?
Mostly the stories of our growing up, and our ancestors growing up years, are funny. My Mom tells hilarious stories of her younger brother, Les. His story telling was even more funny. He was, I'm convinced, a master story teller. He would open his mouth and we would laugh as crazy story after crazy story would emerge.
DD and DS remember my Uncle Les as 'Uncle Hairy Monkey.' They dubbed him so when, after meeting him for the first time, he enamored them with his crazy antics. We were in Home Hardware in the big city, when all of a sudden Uncle Les, at Dear Son's and Darling Daughter's urging, took off his shirt in the middle of the store, and proceeded to swing around like a monkey. Uncle Les was a very hairy man- thus Uncle Hairy Monkey. That episode has now become a treasured story.
On our recent family trip to Disneyland, we were delighted to have my Sweetheart's sister join us. We could hardly wait until meal time, when the audience was captive, to hear her stories of her life. What adventures she had!
When I started writing this blog a couple years ago, I wondered what I would write about. What possibly could be interesting enough to tell others? But then I decided to write about what I know. In my case, that is my family, our farm, my life, my faith. Every person has a story. Sometimes I have to look deeply to figure out what part of my story will be told. But I do have a story. I hope you're enjoying it.
Fun? Perhaps. Likely? Not a chance.
When DD and DS were much younger, when they would crawl into bed with us for bedtime stories, we would make up stories. One of us would begin with an opening line. Then someone else would make up the second sentence of the story. A third person would add the next, and so on and so on, until the story was completed. We would never know how the story would end up. It might start off with a family of pirates swashbuckling on stormy seas and end with a family of puppies doing their Christmas shopping at the local Coop. Although the ending of the story was always going to be a surprise, the journey getting there was so much fun.
My family loves stories. When DS was very young I started reading him the classics. By the time he was in grade 1 we had explored Narnia, went on Magic Tree House adventures, travelled in the days of Dickens, built treehouses like the Swiss Family Robinson. Every classic book in this house had been read and enjoyed.
As well as stories from the pages of beloved books, my family loves true stories of family adventures. DD and DS love hearing about My Sweetheart's and my past. I enjoy hearing My Mom weave stories of her growing up days. My Sweetheart wishes that he would have listened more and asked more questions of his Grandpa who immigrated to Canada from Norway in the 1800's. How did he travel? What port city did he arrive at? What mode or modes of transportation carried him from his home in Norway to the land he homesteaded? What was his story?
Mostly the stories of our growing up, and our ancestors growing up years, are funny. My Mom tells hilarious stories of her younger brother, Les. His story telling was even more funny. He was, I'm convinced, a master story teller. He would open his mouth and we would laugh as crazy story after crazy story would emerge.
DD and DS remember my Uncle Les as 'Uncle Hairy Monkey.' They dubbed him so when, after meeting him for the first time, he enamored them with his crazy antics. We were in Home Hardware in the big city, when all of a sudden Uncle Les, at Dear Son's and Darling Daughter's urging, took off his shirt in the middle of the store, and proceeded to swing around like a monkey. Uncle Les was a very hairy man- thus Uncle Hairy Monkey. That episode has now become a treasured story.
On our recent family trip to Disneyland, we were delighted to have my Sweetheart's sister join us. We could hardly wait until meal time, when the audience was captive, to hear her stories of her life. What adventures she had!
When I started writing this blog a couple years ago, I wondered what I would write about. What possibly could be interesting enough to tell others? But then I decided to write about what I know. In my case, that is my family, our farm, my life, my faith. Every person has a story. Sometimes I have to look deeply to figure out what part of my story will be told. But I do have a story. I hope you're enjoying it.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Emmanuel
I cried, on the Thursday before Thanksgiving this year, when we were listening to the radio. The weather guy said there was a huge storm system pushing up from the States into southern Manitoba in to Northern Ontario. Northern Ontario, where my blue suede brother and his family lives, was where we had planned on heading that day for the long weekend. We hadn't been to my brother's for 8 years and we were all so excited to be going there.
What we had anticipated for months became somewhat devastating. After watching the weather network, reading the weather advisories on the 'net, after texting back and forth, we made the painful decision to stay home. Then what? Our plans had changed. Someone said, 'maybe, if you would have went, you would have been in an accident.' I thought, 'maybe not.'
So with the change of plans I decided to make the best of it. Yes, we were so discouraged and disappointed, but we have family at home- my cousin and uncle and Mom and My Sweetheart's Dad. I would have Thanksgiving at home. I would be with family after all and the weekend would be good.
That day My Mom and I went to the city so I could buy all the groceries needed for the weekend. Fortunately everthing was still on sale. That would give me all day Friday to clean and all day Saturday to start with the Thanksgiving meal- the salads, the make ahead mashed potatoes, the buns and dessert.
On Saturday morning I was going to go to my neighbor's to buy some eggs. Before heading there I was going to go to the south farm to take some pictures. Dear Son and My Sweetheart were at the south farm tending to a controlled burn. And Dear Son wanted me to take some pictures.
When I left there I was going to go straight to my neigbor's for the eggs. I phoned her, just before leaving the south farm, to let her know I was on my way.
I didn't make it though. Before crossing the highway, I had checked at the intersection to make sure no cars were coming. It's an intersection that I have always dreaded because of the blind spot. When you are stopped, looking east, there is a dip in the highway where a vehicle might be. If there is, that vehicle is not visible because of the dip and the curve. So, I crossed the highway and my car hit something and I was spinning out of control. I came to a stop, in the ditch, and didn't have a clue what had happened. I thought that perhaps I hit a moose, or some other big animal. Maybe there was a big post in the middle of the highway that had never been there. I was clueless. When I decided that maybe I was okay enough to get out and check to see what I had hit I was shocked to see the other vehicle in the ditch. Sickened to see the other driver slumped over his steering wheel. His wife, at least I think it was his wife, was standing outside their vehicle screaming at me. Swearing at me. Up one side of me and down the other. Her husband eventually made it out of his vehicle, walked around, didn't say anything, just nodded when I asked him if he was ok. But SHE was relentless. I was in shock.I started to shake and cry uncontrollably. I went back to my banged up car, crawled in the driver's door, called 911, phoned My Sweetheart and waitied.
I couldn't sleep for 3 nights. I relived that over and over and over. On the 3rd night of no sleep, I remember praying and asking God "WHY?" "Where were YOU?" "Why couldn't I have stayed at the south farm for 2 extra seconds?" Why? why? why?
And then, as soon as I poured at my heart, the Lord showed me something quite miraculous. As my car was spinning around, I saw Jesus in the passenger seat-as clearly as anything I had seen before. The inside of my vehicle was enveloped in white. The white of an angels' wings? I think so. I could have been hurt, but there was not a scratch on me. The air bags didn't go off. I was spared.
Jesus, Emmanuel, was with me. He never left me. When I thought I was alone, I wasn't. He was always with me.
I still had a few weeks of horrible sleeps and flashbacks. My neck bothers me on occasion. But I was spared.
On the 4th day after the accident I wrote a song that, perhaps out of all the songs I have written, is the one that speaks the most to me. It comforts me in a way that no other song has ever comforted me. I sing it at least once a day, sometime more, when I need to be reminded that my God is always with me.
What we had anticipated for months became somewhat devastating. After watching the weather network, reading the weather advisories on the 'net, after texting back and forth, we made the painful decision to stay home. Then what? Our plans had changed. Someone said, 'maybe, if you would have went, you would have been in an accident.' I thought, 'maybe not.'
So with the change of plans I decided to make the best of it. Yes, we were so discouraged and disappointed, but we have family at home- my cousin and uncle and Mom and My Sweetheart's Dad. I would have Thanksgiving at home. I would be with family after all and the weekend would be good.
That day My Mom and I went to the city so I could buy all the groceries needed for the weekend. Fortunately everthing was still on sale. That would give me all day Friday to clean and all day Saturday to start with the Thanksgiving meal- the salads, the make ahead mashed potatoes, the buns and dessert.
On Saturday morning I was going to go to my neighbor's to buy some eggs. Before heading there I was going to go to the south farm to take some pictures. Dear Son and My Sweetheart were at the south farm tending to a controlled burn. And Dear Son wanted me to take some pictures.
When I left there I was going to go straight to my neigbor's for the eggs. I phoned her, just before leaving the south farm, to let her know I was on my way.
I didn't make it though. Before crossing the highway, I had checked at the intersection to make sure no cars were coming. It's an intersection that I have always dreaded because of the blind spot. When you are stopped, looking east, there is a dip in the highway where a vehicle might be. If there is, that vehicle is not visible because of the dip and the curve. So, I crossed the highway and my car hit something and I was spinning out of control. I came to a stop, in the ditch, and didn't have a clue what had happened. I thought that perhaps I hit a moose, or some other big animal. Maybe there was a big post in the middle of the highway that had never been there. I was clueless. When I decided that maybe I was okay enough to get out and check to see what I had hit I was shocked to see the other vehicle in the ditch. Sickened to see the other driver slumped over his steering wheel. His wife, at least I think it was his wife, was standing outside their vehicle screaming at me. Swearing at me. Up one side of me and down the other. Her husband eventually made it out of his vehicle, walked around, didn't say anything, just nodded when I asked him if he was ok. But SHE was relentless. I was in shock.I started to shake and cry uncontrollably. I went back to my banged up car, crawled in the driver's door, called 911, phoned My Sweetheart and waitied.
I couldn't sleep for 3 nights. I relived that over and over and over. On the 3rd night of no sleep, I remember praying and asking God "WHY?" "Where were YOU?" "Why couldn't I have stayed at the south farm for 2 extra seconds?" Why? why? why?
And then, as soon as I poured at my heart, the Lord showed me something quite miraculous. As my car was spinning around, I saw Jesus in the passenger seat-as clearly as anything I had seen before. The inside of my vehicle was enveloped in white. The white of an angels' wings? I think so. I could have been hurt, but there was not a scratch on me. The air bags didn't go off. I was spared.
Jesus, Emmanuel, was with me. He never left me. When I thought I was alone, I wasn't. He was always with me.
I still had a few weeks of horrible sleeps and flashbacks. My neck bothers me on occasion. But I was spared.
On the 4th day after the accident I wrote a song that, perhaps out of all the songs I have written, is the one that speaks the most to me. It comforts me in a way that no other song has ever comforted me. I sing it at least once a day, sometime more, when I need to be reminded that my God is always with me.
Emmanuel
As you hurry through your life,
maybe thinking 'come what may'
when things go your way
and then one day
your world crashes in.
Take Jesus at His Word
when He says, 'come unto Me,
My yoke is strong
so come along
and rest in Me.'
He has always been.
will always be Emmanuel.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God with us. Revealed to us.
All is well
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God is near.
Christ is here.
Emmanuel.
When the doctor calls you back,
says,'there's nothing we can do.'
thought you had the flu,
you never knew you'd hear those words from him.
when your love walks out that door,
they don't love you anymore.
Jesus' yoke is strong,
so come along
and rest in Him..
He has always been.
Will always be Emmanuel.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God with us. Revealed to us.
All is well.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God is near. Christ is here.
Emmanuel.
God with us. Before us. Behind us.
Beside us.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God with us. Revealed to us.
All is well.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God is near. Christ is here.
Emmanuel. Emmanuel.
God is near. Christ is here.
Emmanuel.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Light
When I was in grade 1, my brothers and I were the first ones to be picked up on the school bus. In 1970, Saskatchewan would change the clocks in the fall and in the spring. So, back then, in the winter when it was cold, we would get on the school bus in the dark, and we would be dropped off after school in the dark.
I remember looking back at our farm house on those cold, dark winter mornings, as the bus would leave the yard, and see a light on. That bright yellow light against the cold bitter dark would comfort me. Home was a haven, and when the bright light was shining forth on those winter mornings I felt safe and secure. Returning home after a long bus ride after a long day of school was the highlight of my school years. It would be dark outside, or turning dark, and the light emanating from the house would welcome me home.
Usually, when we arrived home, Mom would already be in the kitchen preparing supper. We always ate supper around 5:00 pm. The bus would pull in the yard close to that time. The sight of the light shining from the window along with the delicious aroma of supper cooking was comfort at its best. I was safe and secure in my farmhouse.
This morning, the alarm went of at 6:45. I could hardly wait to get out of bed, turn the thermostat up, and turn the lights on on the Christmas tree. For a few peaceful minutes the lights from the tree were the only lights on in the house. It was cold and dark outside, but inside- the house was warm and inviting and bright from a few simple lights. Comforting and welcoming.
Jesus said, to His followers, "you are the light of the world. Let your light so shine that others may see you and glorify Your Father in Heaven.." (Matthew 5:16) In a dark, gloomy world, HIS light shines through His followers and provides warmth and comfort to a world that so desperately needs Him- THE LIGHT of the world.
This Christmas season, every time I turn the lights of our Christmas tree on, I am reminded of that. Jesus, the Light of the World (John 1:4) shines His light through me, of all people, to bear witness of that. How comforting Jesus is. How welcoming He is. How brightly His light is still shining.
I remember looking back at our farm house on those cold, dark winter mornings, as the bus would leave the yard, and see a light on. That bright yellow light against the cold bitter dark would comfort me. Home was a haven, and when the bright light was shining forth on those winter mornings I felt safe and secure. Returning home after a long bus ride after a long day of school was the highlight of my school years. It would be dark outside, or turning dark, and the light emanating from the house would welcome me home.
Usually, when we arrived home, Mom would already be in the kitchen preparing supper. We always ate supper around 5:00 pm. The bus would pull in the yard close to that time. The sight of the light shining from the window along with the delicious aroma of supper cooking was comfort at its best. I was safe and secure in my farmhouse.
This morning, the alarm went of at 6:45. I could hardly wait to get out of bed, turn the thermostat up, and turn the lights on on the Christmas tree. For a few peaceful minutes the lights from the tree were the only lights on in the house. It was cold and dark outside, but inside- the house was warm and inviting and bright from a few simple lights. Comforting and welcoming.
Jesus said, to His followers, "you are the light of the world. Let your light so shine that others may see you and glorify Your Father in Heaven.." (Matthew 5:16) In a dark, gloomy world, HIS light shines through His followers and provides warmth and comfort to a world that so desperately needs Him- THE LIGHT of the world.
This Christmas season, every time I turn the lights of our Christmas tree on, I am reminded of that. Jesus, the Light of the World (John 1:4) shines His light through me, of all people, to bear witness of that. How comforting Jesus is. How welcoming He is. How brightly His light is still shining.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Let The Games Begin
October is my second favorite month. Fall is my favorite season. December is my favorite month. I enjoy everything that leads up to Christmas. This year I feel a little more organized than usual. Tonight, after supper, I cooked another batch of potatoes so that tomorrow I can whip up my 3rd batch of lefse. Yesterday I made flatbread for the first time in my life. And so the freezer is slowly filling up: krumkakke, butter tarts, cookies. I feel prepared.
Tonight when I was cooking the potatoes Dear Son drove into town to bring My Mom out. The potatoes were boiling when My Sweetheart was preparing the table for the main event. The games were soon to begin. As soon as the potatoes were riced and mixed with cream, as soon as DS and Grandma arrived, as soon as I sat down the games would commence.
Tonight when I was cooking the potatoes Dear Son drove into town to bring My Mom out. The potatoes were boiling when My Sweetheart was preparing the table for the main event. The games were soon to begin. As soon as the potatoes were riced and mixed with cream, as soon as DS and Grandma arrived, as soon as I sat down the games would commence.
Games and December seem to go hand in hand. Even when I was growing up there was never an end to the game playing. Actually, game playing was a common occurence all year round for me. I grew up in a game playing family. Cribbage, Bridge, Whist, Yahtzee, Monopoly, Rummoli, Mousetrap, Rummy- there was always someone in my house on the farm, who was ready for a game.
My Sweetheart never played cribbage until about a month ago. His parents didn't play cribbage. I found that very hard to believe when I questioned him about it the other night when he was suffering through a game 'because he loves me'.
He's come a long way since marrying me. When we were first married we enjoyed playing 'tens' with My Mom and Dad. It was similar to whist with a few different twists. We haven't played it since Dad died. I'm not even sure I'd remember how to play it. Not that it matters now- what mattered was being together enjoying time spent together with people we love.
Tonight, when My Sweetheart phoned My Mom to see if she'd like to come out and play a game, she didn't hesitate. My Mom loves playing games. On Thursday she came out in the morning and stayed all day. She watched TV while I was finishing up that day's batch of lefse. After lunch she watched TV and napped while I was making meatballs for supper. In the afternoon, after the naps, after the supper was slowly cooking in the oven, the cards came out. Buy Rummy has always been one of My Mom's favorite 2 person games. Cribbage is my favorite. And all afternoon, while the meatballs were simmering, we played games.
Tonight we played 'Sequence'. Not that it matters what we played. What mattered was being together enjoying time spent with people I love.
Friday, November 30, 2012
The Letter
In the spring of 1979, when I was 15, I was waiting for a letter. Every day, when Dad would come home from town, I'd anxiously wait for him to put the mail on the old oak kitchen table in the bright yellow kitchen. The kitchen with the avocado green fridge and stove and the brown kitchen carpet.
Finally the day came. The letter was from LCBI. I was accepted. Then I had to deal with the waiting for Sept when I would leave home and start my boarding school life- a life that I had been looking forward to immensely since 6th grade when Tamra, from church, convinced me that would be a great place to be. And it was.
Dear Son has been waiting for a letter. It came yesterday. This time it was I who had the mixed emotions. He was very happy. And I am happy for him. Extremely happy. Next Sept he'll be leaving home to start his studies in civil engineering. I will miss him terribly. So, for now, I am treasuring up every moment of his life that I can. Tonight I even watched a 'guy' movie with DS and My Sweetheart.
I never thought, back in 1979, how difficult it would have been for Mom and Dad to have me leave home. Until the past little while. I'm having my weepy moments just thinking about it. But I am also so excited just thinking about the world 'out there' for DS and DD.
There's lots of stuff that we'll be doing in the next year. Less than a year actually. Lots of planning, preparing, packing, praying. When the day comes we'll be ready. Maybe.
While I've been thinking about this new phase of life that we'll be entering, I've also been thinking about Advent. I've been thinking about Mary's parents preparing to send her off on her journey. I wonder what they were thinking about...Tomorrow we'll be ripping the November page off our calendars and flipping to December. The advent candles are out. The Christmas trees are lit. The house is decorated. The presents are wrapped. The external stuff is all ready. Now is the time to start preparing my heart for what's really important in this season. The season of preparing, the season of planning. The season to continually welcome Jesus into our every day and every day activities. The season to ask Him to guide us. The season to offer to Him everything we have so He can do whatever He wants with it.
Finally the day came. The letter was from LCBI. I was accepted. Then I had to deal with the waiting for Sept when I would leave home and start my boarding school life- a life that I had been looking forward to immensely since 6th grade when Tamra, from church, convinced me that would be a great place to be. And it was.
Dear Son has been waiting for a letter. It came yesterday. This time it was I who had the mixed emotions. He was very happy. And I am happy for him. Extremely happy. Next Sept he'll be leaving home to start his studies in civil engineering. I will miss him terribly. So, for now, I am treasuring up every moment of his life that I can. Tonight I even watched a 'guy' movie with DS and My Sweetheart.
I never thought, back in 1979, how difficult it would have been for Mom and Dad to have me leave home. Until the past little while. I'm having my weepy moments just thinking about it. But I am also so excited just thinking about the world 'out there' for DS and DD.
There's lots of stuff that we'll be doing in the next year. Less than a year actually. Lots of planning, preparing, packing, praying. When the day comes we'll be ready. Maybe.
While I've been thinking about this new phase of life that we'll be entering, I've also been thinking about Advent. I've been thinking about Mary's parents preparing to send her off on her journey. I wonder what they were thinking about...Tomorrow we'll be ripping the November page off our calendars and flipping to December. The advent candles are out. The Christmas trees are lit. The house is decorated. The presents are wrapped. The external stuff is all ready. Now is the time to start preparing my heart for what's really important in this season. The season of preparing, the season of planning. The season to continually welcome Jesus into our every day and every day activities. The season to ask Him to guide us. The season to offer to Him everything we have so He can do whatever He wants with it.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Treasures in the Deck Box
We finished our harvest on August 30 this year. Since then we've been blessed with mostly beautiful weather and have been able to tackle some of the outside stuff that's been on our ever-increasing to-do list.
Yesterday, when I took some kibbles out to the cats, I looked around at the trees. We have many, many trees in our yard- mostly evergreens. My Sweetheart has been watering them for the past week, so when the kitty feeding was complete I walked over to the little trianglular area where he was and started looking at the trees. Most of them in 1 particular row looked fine, but there was 1 that looked quite sickly. Upon further inspection we discovered it was full of spiders and other crawlies. Needles were dead, the tree was dying. Out came the chain saw and down came the tree. Then we were on a mission. Dead tree limbs were cut down and hauled away. The garden boxes were cleaned out. Flower beds were dismantled. Fall has officially arrived at the farm.
Next on the list was the task of cleaning out the deck boxes. We have 3 big rubbermaid deck boxes- perfect for storage and extra seating. The cats enjoy lounging on them. One of the deck boxes stores our barbecue stuff and patio cushions; one stores dry dog food and off season boots- and apparently 14 cans of mosquito spray. We found them at the bottom of the deck box, along with 2 dog collars and mismatched gloves and old rubber boots with holes in the soles. The other deck box held treasures. Treasures that, as I was kneeling in front of it going through the contents, reduced me to tears. I tried to keep them under control, but just as DD came out to help, and DS got off the bucket tractor and glanced my way, the tears gushed. Geyser-like. No holding back. I was a mess.
There were, in that box, 10 years of childhood memories. Every thing in that box brought back a memory that I had forgotten about. I was perpexed as to why there were so many big rocks in the bottom of that box until I saw the one that had been painted- by DD. When she was 7. I could picture her sitting on the table, on the deck, on a beautiful summer day, paint colors spread out, and creating works of art. I found a notebook of maps, hand drawn by DS, the summer between grade 1 and 2. I had just found a picture of him the other day- he was wearing shorts with a backpack on his back, and he was holding a clipboard with a notebook. When I saw the picture I knew he was mapping and I wondered where that map book went. It was in the deck box. I rescued a couple pieces of sidewalk chalk- a couple of the many dozen that went in the bucket of the tractor to be dumped. DD spend many hours drawing masterpieces on our driveway. Flattened soccer balls became memories of DS kicking them around the yard. "Do you want any of this?" I asked my 2 teenagers. They looked at me almost strangely, almost sadly, almost happy. "No..." they both said.
I would not have believed that time could disappear so quickly. When each treasure had been put in that deck box 'until next year' I never dreamt that 'next year' would come and we'd be getting rid of this part of their childhood. Where once my sweet little painting, drawing daughter stood with her rocks and her chalk now stands a beautiful young woman. My map drawing little boy with glasses has now become my kind, strong young man ready to leave home in probably less than a year. And I cried. The treasures, except for the few pages that I salvaged, are gone now. But my real treasures are still with me- outside the deck box and in my heart forever.
Yesterday, when I took some kibbles out to the cats, I looked around at the trees. We have many, many trees in our yard- mostly evergreens. My Sweetheart has been watering them for the past week, so when the kitty feeding was complete I walked over to the little trianglular area where he was and started looking at the trees. Most of them in 1 particular row looked fine, but there was 1 that looked quite sickly. Upon further inspection we discovered it was full of spiders and other crawlies. Needles were dead, the tree was dying. Out came the chain saw and down came the tree. Then we were on a mission. Dead tree limbs were cut down and hauled away. The garden boxes were cleaned out. Flower beds were dismantled. Fall has officially arrived at the farm.
Next on the list was the task of cleaning out the deck boxes. We have 3 big rubbermaid deck boxes- perfect for storage and extra seating. The cats enjoy lounging on them. One of the deck boxes stores our barbecue stuff and patio cushions; one stores dry dog food and off season boots- and apparently 14 cans of mosquito spray. We found them at the bottom of the deck box, along with 2 dog collars and mismatched gloves and old rubber boots with holes in the soles. The other deck box held treasures. Treasures that, as I was kneeling in front of it going through the contents, reduced me to tears. I tried to keep them under control, but just as DD came out to help, and DS got off the bucket tractor and glanced my way, the tears gushed. Geyser-like. No holding back. I was a mess.
There were, in that box, 10 years of childhood memories. Every thing in that box brought back a memory that I had forgotten about. I was perpexed as to why there were so many big rocks in the bottom of that box until I saw the one that had been painted- by DD. When she was 7. I could picture her sitting on the table, on the deck, on a beautiful summer day, paint colors spread out, and creating works of art. I found a notebook of maps, hand drawn by DS, the summer between grade 1 and 2. I had just found a picture of him the other day- he was wearing shorts with a backpack on his back, and he was holding a clipboard with a notebook. When I saw the picture I knew he was mapping and I wondered where that map book went. It was in the deck box. I rescued a couple pieces of sidewalk chalk- a couple of the many dozen that went in the bucket of the tractor to be dumped. DD spend many hours drawing masterpieces on our driveway. Flattened soccer balls became memories of DS kicking them around the yard. "Do you want any of this?" I asked my 2 teenagers. They looked at me almost strangely, almost sadly, almost happy. "No..." they both said.
I would not have believed that time could disappear so quickly. When each treasure had been put in that deck box 'until next year' I never dreamt that 'next year' would come and we'd be getting rid of this part of their childhood. Where once my sweet little painting, drawing daughter stood with her rocks and her chalk now stands a beautiful young woman. My map drawing little boy with glasses has now become my kind, strong young man ready to leave home in probably less than a year. And I cried. The treasures, except for the few pages that I salvaged, are gone now. But my real treasures are still with me- outside the deck box and in my heart forever.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Missing Dad
Although he's been 'gone' for over 15 years, I still find myself missing dad. I find myself thinking about him less and less as the years go by, but there are times when I miss him quite intensely. Especially at harvest time. Especially the other night.
My Dad was a farmer. Even after he sold some land to build the new house on "Snob Hill", he would venture out to the old farm and putter and tinker and do whatever he did out there when there was nothing really to do. I, even though I grew up on a farm, never considered myself a farmer. Never. My brothers and Mom were the ones who helped out at harvest. They would haul and shuttle and do whatever they could to help Dad. I was an inside girl. I would venture outside to play with the cats or go for a walk, but for the most part I would be inside doing inside stuff. I would clean, bake, read, play the piano. But I wouldn't get my hands dirty. I never learned to drive a standard. I never hauled a load of grain to the bin. Never.
And then I fell in love with a farmer. My Dad died before I learned to haul the grain to the bin. He was in Heaven when I learned how to operate the combine.
The other night, as Dear Son and I were operating the combines on durum at the north farm, I started thinking about Dad and wondering what he would be thinking if he could see me now.In my mind's eye I could see him standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly with a slightly amused look on his face. His 'inside' girl was doing something that he, in his life, would never have dreamed she would do. Would he have been proud of me? Well, My Dad was a very humble man and pride in anything never really materialized in him. When he was alive and heard me sing he would get tears in his eyes and not be able to speak. Those were, in my opinion, some proud quiet moments in his life. If Dad had been alive on earth the other night when we were harvesting, I think he would have been out there with us. Perhaps he would have been on the buddy seat in my combine with me, maybe he would have been riding shotgun with DS. And if he would have been there with one of us I know that he would have been marvelling at the sunset that night. My Dad loved sunsets. So much so in fact that at his funeral Fern Bang sang "Beyond the Sunset."
And so it was, the other night while operating the combine, and being in absolute awe of the Great and Loving God that I serve for painting such a beautiful sunset, that I missed Dad. I am so looking forward to being reunited with him and seeing with new eyes the other side of the sunset.
My Dad was a farmer. Even after he sold some land to build the new house on "Snob Hill", he would venture out to the old farm and putter and tinker and do whatever he did out there when there was nothing really to do. I, even though I grew up on a farm, never considered myself a farmer. Never. My brothers and Mom were the ones who helped out at harvest. They would haul and shuttle and do whatever they could to help Dad. I was an inside girl. I would venture outside to play with the cats or go for a walk, but for the most part I would be inside doing inside stuff. I would clean, bake, read, play the piano. But I wouldn't get my hands dirty. I never learned to drive a standard. I never hauled a load of grain to the bin. Never.
And then I fell in love with a farmer. My Dad died before I learned to haul the grain to the bin. He was in Heaven when I learned how to operate the combine.
The other night, as Dear Son and I were operating the combines on durum at the north farm, I started thinking about Dad and wondering what he would be thinking if he could see me now.In my mind's eye I could see him standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly with a slightly amused look on his face. His 'inside' girl was doing something that he, in his life, would never have dreamed she would do. Would he have been proud of me? Well, My Dad was a very humble man and pride in anything never really materialized in him. When he was alive and heard me sing he would get tears in his eyes and not be able to speak. Those were, in my opinion, some proud quiet moments in his life. If Dad had been alive on earth the other night when we were harvesting, I think he would have been out there with us. Perhaps he would have been on the buddy seat in my combine with me, maybe he would have been riding shotgun with DS. And if he would have been there with one of us I know that he would have been marvelling at the sunset that night. My Dad loved sunsets. So much so in fact that at his funeral Fern Bang sang "Beyond the Sunset."
And so it was, the other night while operating the combine, and being in absolute awe of the Great and Loving God that I serve for painting such a beautiful sunset, that I missed Dad. I am so looking forward to being reunited with him and seeing with new eyes the other side of the sunset.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Cooking With Patti
The summer of '74, when I was going into grade 5, was a time when I got together with my very first friend, Patti. I'm not sure whose idea it was, hers or mine, or one of our mother's, but we took turns, on Saturdays, going to each other's home. And the 2 of us would practice developing our culinary skills. It would be just the 2 of us in the kitchen. I don't remember where our moms were at the time. Likely, when it was my turn to host 'cooking school', my mom hid out in the living room.
Our very first creation together was rice krispie squares. How I remember that, I'm not quite sure. But I do remember. We got the big bowl ready, made sure we had the necessary ingredients, measured, counted out marshmallows- 40 of them, and we set to work. We were very careful while stirring at the oven. The task of all the hard work was nothing compared to the excitement of watching our skills develop. We anticipated the end result. The rice krispie squares turned out just fine, as I remember. We even cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen when we were finished.
I don't remember everything we whipped up that summer. I do remember having pizza for the first time in my life at Patti's house. We made it from the Kraft pizza kit that would have been bought at the local co-op. I thought it was very delicious. It must have made a huge impression on my because the next Christmas my main gift from Mom and Dad was a pizza kit, 2 pizza pans and a pizza cutter. I could hardly wait to practice making pizza for Mom and Dad and my brothers. We had never had pizza at our place until I was in grade 5. And all because 2 friends decided to get together on Saturdays.
Today, as I was counting out the 40 marshmallows for rice krispie treats, I smiled as I remembered cooking with Patti.
Our very first creation together was rice krispie squares. How I remember that, I'm not quite sure. But I do remember. We got the big bowl ready, made sure we had the necessary ingredients, measured, counted out marshmallows- 40 of them, and we set to work. We were very careful while stirring at the oven. The task of all the hard work was nothing compared to the excitement of watching our skills develop. We anticipated the end result. The rice krispie squares turned out just fine, as I remember. We even cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen when we were finished.
I don't remember everything we whipped up that summer. I do remember having pizza for the first time in my life at Patti's house. We made it from the Kraft pizza kit that would have been bought at the local co-op. I thought it was very delicious. It must have made a huge impression on my because the next Christmas my main gift from Mom and Dad was a pizza kit, 2 pizza pans and a pizza cutter. I could hardly wait to practice making pizza for Mom and Dad and my brothers. We had never had pizza at our place until I was in grade 5. And all because 2 friends decided to get together on Saturdays.
Today, as I was counting out the 40 marshmallows for rice krispie treats, I smiled as I remembered cooking with Patti.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Eyeballs
The other day I picked up Mom and we headed to the city. We arranged, a year ago, to have our eye appointments the same day. "That way," Mom said, "I won't be a bother."
She wouldn't have been a bother if her appointment was on a different day. I hope she knows that.
We arrived at the optomestrist's just in time for the appointments. "Have there been any changes since your last appointment?" the receptionist with the tattoo on her forearm asked me. There hadn't been. "The doctor would like you to have this test done today. "THIS" test was the one with the long name I couldn't remember. "It will take a complete picture of your eyeball. Here..." she said as she proceeded to hand me a piece of paper with a picture of an eyeball on it. I promptly told her, in no uncertain terms, that I would not look at a picture of an eyeball. I was instantaneously nauseated. As I waited to be called into the little room for THAT test I tried, in vain, to not listen to the video playing over and over on the TV in the waiting room- the informative DVD of eyeball stuff. I couldn't even look at the TV. And, I forgot my very good book out in the car. I didn't dare run out to the car- my name would more than likely be called when I was out there. So I waited, and listened to the stupid eyeball TV stuff. By the time I was called to the little rooms for the little eye exams that made me queasy, and then waited in the eye doctor's office for my exam, I was flat out nauseous. When the doctor came in, I tried everything I could think of to distract myself from an eye exam. Seriously I would rather have a PAP. And that's not saying much.
I noticed the doctor's shirt as he was reading through my file. The sleeves did not have cuffs. Rather, they were pleated at the wrist area. I wondered if My Sweetheart would wear a shirt like that. I could tell, just by looking at it, that the eye doctor probably bought it at Rittinger's Men's Wear. He was very stylish. I KNEW that My Sweetheart would NOT buy pants like the eye doctor was wearing. They would definitely be too bold for my Farmer Stud. However, if I bought them for him and told them they were on a very good sale, I'm sure he would wear them. Just for me. But where would he wear them too? Church? Too fancy for our little country-ish church. Then I decided in order for My Sweetheart to wear pants like that we'd have to go on another cruise. He would wear them on a cruise. He would probably wonder, as he was putting on his pleated shirt to go with the bold pants, where the buttons on the cuffs were. It would take too long for My Sweetheart to get dressed for our cruise dinner if he was donned like the eye doctor. I wonder if the eye doctor's wife picked his clothes out for him? I bet she did.
Then I made the mistake of turning my head to the other wall. I saw a poster of an eyeball. I needed to find something else to concentrate on. Ok - I found it. On the bulletin board I spotted a picture of a cougar on a tree. The picture had been printed off the computer I'm thinking. So, I think someone must have emailed the eye doctor a picture of a cougar that was in their tree. OR maybe the eye doctor had been vacationing in Victoria and took the picture himself and printed it off. Oh, my mind did need to wander that day.
Before I knew it, the exam was finished. Thank the Lord for that! While I was waiting for Mom to be finished her exam I ran out to my car and got my good book.
On the way home Mom started telling me about a picture of an eyeball she had seen. She was fascinated by it and by all the beautiful colors of the eyeball. It was so beautiful, she thought, that it would make a lovely framed picture. Seriously? Are Mom and I even related? Was I adopted?
She, obviously, did not need to let her imagination take over during her eye exam. She, I'm sure, enjoyed every minute of it!
She wouldn't have been a bother if her appointment was on a different day. I hope she knows that.
We arrived at the optomestrist's just in time for the appointments. "Have there been any changes since your last appointment?" the receptionist with the tattoo on her forearm asked me. There hadn't been. "The doctor would like you to have this test done today. "THIS" test was the one with the long name I couldn't remember. "It will take a complete picture of your eyeball. Here..." she said as she proceeded to hand me a piece of paper with a picture of an eyeball on it. I promptly told her, in no uncertain terms, that I would not look at a picture of an eyeball. I was instantaneously nauseated. As I waited to be called into the little room for THAT test I tried, in vain, to not listen to the video playing over and over on the TV in the waiting room- the informative DVD of eyeball stuff. I couldn't even look at the TV. And, I forgot my very good book out in the car. I didn't dare run out to the car- my name would more than likely be called when I was out there. So I waited, and listened to the stupid eyeball TV stuff. By the time I was called to the little rooms for the little eye exams that made me queasy, and then waited in the eye doctor's office for my exam, I was flat out nauseous. When the doctor came in, I tried everything I could think of to distract myself from an eye exam. Seriously I would rather have a PAP. And that's not saying much.
I noticed the doctor's shirt as he was reading through my file. The sleeves did not have cuffs. Rather, they were pleated at the wrist area. I wondered if My Sweetheart would wear a shirt like that. I could tell, just by looking at it, that the eye doctor probably bought it at Rittinger's Men's Wear. He was very stylish. I KNEW that My Sweetheart would NOT buy pants like the eye doctor was wearing. They would definitely be too bold for my Farmer Stud. However, if I bought them for him and told them they were on a very good sale, I'm sure he would wear them. Just for me. But where would he wear them too? Church? Too fancy for our little country-ish church. Then I decided in order for My Sweetheart to wear pants like that we'd have to go on another cruise. He would wear them on a cruise. He would probably wonder, as he was putting on his pleated shirt to go with the bold pants, where the buttons on the cuffs were. It would take too long for My Sweetheart to get dressed for our cruise dinner if he was donned like the eye doctor. I wonder if the eye doctor's wife picked his clothes out for him? I bet she did.
Then I made the mistake of turning my head to the other wall. I saw a poster of an eyeball. I needed to find something else to concentrate on. Ok - I found it. On the bulletin board I spotted a picture of a cougar on a tree. The picture had been printed off the computer I'm thinking. So, I think someone must have emailed the eye doctor a picture of a cougar that was in their tree. OR maybe the eye doctor had been vacationing in Victoria and took the picture himself and printed it off. Oh, my mind did need to wander that day.
Before I knew it, the exam was finished. Thank the Lord for that! While I was waiting for Mom to be finished her exam I ran out to my car and got my good book.
On the way home Mom started telling me about a picture of an eyeball she had seen. She was fascinated by it and by all the beautiful colors of the eyeball. It was so beautiful, she thought, that it would make a lovely framed picture. Seriously? Are Mom and I even related? Was I adopted?
She, obviously, did not need to let her imagination take over during her eye exam. She, I'm sure, enjoyed every minute of it!
Monday, August 13, 2012
166,400 hours
166,400 hours ago, exactly, I received a phone call that changed my life. I had just come into my mom's and dad's house, the new house on Snob Hill, as Dad called it, when the phone rang. "do we have a meeting this month?" the man on the other end asked. I was suspicious right away. I knew that he knew there wasn't, and I was waiting with baited breath for the rest of the conversation to transpire.
Mom and Dad were away, camping with Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Stan, when I got the phone call. I had just been at the store to buy some ingredients to make myself some bran muffins and ran into the house when I heard the phone ringing. And after the conversation I was too ferhoodled to even try and make muffins. Eventually I did, but by then my stomach was too crazy to even try to eat. And for the rest of the day I paced and waited and paced and waited. I think I might have vacuumed. But even that simple task was made difficult. I could have vacuumed for 3 hours for all I know.
But at a few minutes before 6 pm the waiting was over. The carriage arrived to take Cinderella to the ball. And my knight in shining armour emerged from the carriage. The carriage was actually the family sedan. The long, very long family sedan. My knight in shining armour was donned in black polyester pants, white socks, black dress shoes, and a red polo shirt, tucked in. I remember his attire very clearly. It was almost nerdy. I was wearing brown jeans, a brown printed sleeveless casual top, and a pair of flats.
Instead of the ball we went to a movie. And I was definitely home by midnight. I was home by 10:00 pm as a matter of fact. But, obviously, everything worked out just fine. 2 weeks later, yes, weeks, not months or years even, we were engaged. And 6 months after that first date, over 166,000 hours ago, I married my knight in shining armour.
Mom and Dad were away, camping with Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Stan, when I got the phone call. I had just been at the store to buy some ingredients to make myself some bran muffins and ran into the house when I heard the phone ringing. And after the conversation I was too ferhoodled to even try and make muffins. Eventually I did, but by then my stomach was too crazy to even try to eat. And for the rest of the day I paced and waited and paced and waited. I think I might have vacuumed. But even that simple task was made difficult. I could have vacuumed for 3 hours for all I know.
But at a few minutes before 6 pm the waiting was over. The carriage arrived to take Cinderella to the ball. And my knight in shining armour emerged from the carriage. The carriage was actually the family sedan. The long, very long family sedan. My knight in shining armour was donned in black polyester pants, white socks, black dress shoes, and a red polo shirt, tucked in. I remember his attire very clearly. It was almost nerdy. I was wearing brown jeans, a brown printed sleeveless casual top, and a pair of flats.
Instead of the ball we went to a movie. And I was definitely home by midnight. I was home by 10:00 pm as a matter of fact. But, obviously, everything worked out just fine. 2 weeks later, yes, weeks, not months or years even, we were engaged. And 6 months after that first date, over 166,000 hours ago, I married my knight in shining armour.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
100 years
Today was the 100th anniversary of the church we attend- Scandia Lutheran!
The celebrations began with visiting over coffee and muffins before the service began. Pastor Carlyle Johnson (with the white beard) and his wife came for the special day. He confirmed one of my brothers and myself.
I was so glad to see Ursula! She is a resident at our local health care facility and has been a faithful member of Scandia for many years!
Jean (in the blue dress) is the youngest, most stylish 90 year young woman I know! I love her! One of her beautiful daughters, Heather, is in the flowered dress. Heather is one of my favorite people! I think she is a favorite person of many! She came from our neighboring province to the west!
Pastor Greg and Dear Son are having a little visit! You would love Pastor Greg! He has a huge servant heart and genuinely cares for people!
There was a display set up at the back of the sanctuary. This Norwegian outfit belonged to Birgit. (She was our original neighbor across the road) Birgit's brother, Olaf, was My Sweetheart's grandfather.
This is a beautiful piece of Hardanger - made by Ursula!
Debbie, DD's and DS's bus driver, and I both have the same idea! Debbie is one of my favorite persons! In the background, looking through the open window in the kitchen, is Sharon and Olive! (more of my favorite people) At the table is Wanda and her 2 lovely children- Teanna and Greyson. They travelled from our neighboring province too. Wanda and I were in Sunday School together!
The congregation is beginning to assemble before the worship service.
It was great to be able to celebrate 100 years as a congregation. I am in awe at the faithfulness of the Great God we serve! The song I wrote for this Sunday is all about my Wonderful God.
WONDERFUL GOD
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Me
Eternal Wonder- Your quiet voice thunders
and speaks to this cold heart of mine,
God of all ages
Your love still amazes.
You grafted me into Your vine.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Eternal Jesus- dying to free us,
rising to bring life from death.
Conquering Savior
Redeemer and Healer,
I'll praise You until my last breath.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Spirit Eternal, Flaming Inferno,
speaking the Truth for all time.
Sweet breath of Yahweh-
leading me always-
My comfort, my teacher, my guide.
Beautiful holiness
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Wonderful God.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
wonderful God.
Wonderful God.
wonderful God.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Licking the Beaters
The little town I was born in was booming in 1967. That was the year Francana Minerals was formed, and by 1968 the plant was completed.
The engineer for that project was Mr. Pierce. Our family moved into Kruse Apartments in the early winter of 1967. We were there for Christmas so we moved in before - maybe even in November. We walked up 1 flight of stairs, turned right, and there was our little apartment. Mr. Pierce lived in an apartment below us.
I asked Mom, this morning, why we even lived there. It was because, as far as she knew, the roads were bad and they didn't want to be on the farm, so far from town, when the roads were bad. So Mom and Dad moved their brood into Kruse Apartments. Kruse Apartments, before it was Kruse Apartments, was the hospital. I was one of the last babies born in that building that was built in 1930, and was a hospital for over 30 years. It seems strange that we made that our home for 1 winter shortly after.
But we did. We lived in a little tiny 2 bedroom, very open concept apartment up 1 flight of stairs. Mr. Pierce ate his suppers with us during the week. On the weekends he either went home to Saskatoon or stayed in his apartment when his wife would come down. His wife must have been very stylish. She had pink shoes, and when I saw her pink shoes I wanted pink shoes. So, she traced my 3 year old feet and took the tracings with her back to Saskatoon to hunt for pink shoes for me. One weekend they brought a pair of green shoes for me. They didn't fit, so back they went to Saskatoon . The next time they brought me some shoes they were orange. Bright patent orange shoes. They couldn't find any pink shoes, but I was thrilled with my orange shoes. I wore them all the time! I felt so stylish.
Not as stylish, however, as I did on my 4th birthday, which was celebrated in the Kruse Apartments, when Uncle Stan brought a white purse for me. I remember everything about that purse. I remember the sound of the clicking when I opened the clasp for the very first time. I remember the little "sleeping beauty" booklet birthday card that was inside the purse. I remember the quarter that was also inside. I was rich! And I even remember the smell of that purse. I was so proud of that white purse. All I wanted to go with it was a pair of go-go boots. I never got those, but my orange shoes were a perfect accessory to go with my new white purse.
I remember my birthday party that year. Robin, who lived across the hall from us, was at my party. My cousins Laurie and Vince were there. As were my cousins Teresa and Wesley. Wanda Berg was at my birthday party too. My very first friend, Patti, was also at my party. It was Wanda's gift however, that made a huge impression on me. Her gift was a pair of little standing pigs. One pig had bubble bath, and the other pig had lotion in it. I remember the birthday menu- hot dogs and angel food cake.
The memory from the Kruse Apartment winter that makes me smile the biggest was of the morning I spent with Barbara Johnstone. Barbara was from Australia and was teaching in our little town that year. She lived in the apartment right beside us. I was so excited when, on a Friday, she told me that I could come over the next day and bake a chocolate cake with her.
Saturday morning couldn't come soon enough. Our apartment was very quiet when I climbed out of my bed in the bedroom that I shared with my 2 brothers. Mom and Dad were still sleeping, my brothers were still sleeping, and I tiptoed past our couch in our hallway, opened our door, opened Barbara's door, and walked in. I walked past her kitchen, and peeked into her bedroom. I thought she looked so beautiful laying there with her long hair covering her pillow. I remember her lifting her head and looking at me- this little waif with very short hair, and probably still in her jammies. "Can we bake the cake now?" I more than likely asked her. I remember she smiled.
Before I knew it, I was standing beside her in her kitchen, helping her put the ingredients in the bowl, waiting with anticipation for what I knew was coming - the beaters!
I've thought of the kindness of our neigbors in Kruse Apartments often since then. I hope they know how special they made me feel when I was a little girl.
"Be kind to one another..." Ephesians 4:32
The engineer for that project was Mr. Pierce. Our family moved into Kruse Apartments in the early winter of 1967. We were there for Christmas so we moved in before - maybe even in November. We walked up 1 flight of stairs, turned right, and there was our little apartment. Mr. Pierce lived in an apartment below us.
I asked Mom, this morning, why we even lived there. It was because, as far as she knew, the roads were bad and they didn't want to be on the farm, so far from town, when the roads were bad. So Mom and Dad moved their brood into Kruse Apartments. Kruse Apartments, before it was Kruse Apartments, was the hospital. I was one of the last babies born in that building that was built in 1930, and was a hospital for over 30 years. It seems strange that we made that our home for 1 winter shortly after.
But we did. We lived in a little tiny 2 bedroom, very open concept apartment up 1 flight of stairs. Mr. Pierce ate his suppers with us during the week. On the weekends he either went home to Saskatoon or stayed in his apartment when his wife would come down. His wife must have been very stylish. She had pink shoes, and when I saw her pink shoes I wanted pink shoes. So, she traced my 3 year old feet and took the tracings with her back to Saskatoon to hunt for pink shoes for me. One weekend they brought a pair of green shoes for me. They didn't fit, so back they went to Saskatoon . The next time they brought me some shoes they were orange. Bright patent orange shoes. They couldn't find any pink shoes, but I was thrilled with my orange shoes. I wore them all the time! I felt so stylish.
Not as stylish, however, as I did on my 4th birthday, which was celebrated in the Kruse Apartments, when Uncle Stan brought a white purse for me. I remember everything about that purse. I remember the sound of the clicking when I opened the clasp for the very first time. I remember the little "sleeping beauty" booklet birthday card that was inside the purse. I remember the quarter that was also inside. I was rich! And I even remember the smell of that purse. I was so proud of that white purse. All I wanted to go with it was a pair of go-go boots. I never got those, but my orange shoes were a perfect accessory to go with my new white purse.
I remember my birthday party that year. Robin, who lived across the hall from us, was at my party. My cousins Laurie and Vince were there. As were my cousins Teresa and Wesley. Wanda Berg was at my birthday party too. My very first friend, Patti, was also at my party. It was Wanda's gift however, that made a huge impression on me. Her gift was a pair of little standing pigs. One pig had bubble bath, and the other pig had lotion in it. I remember the birthday menu- hot dogs and angel food cake.
The memory from the Kruse Apartment winter that makes me smile the biggest was of the morning I spent with Barbara Johnstone. Barbara was from Australia and was teaching in our little town that year. She lived in the apartment right beside us. I was so excited when, on a Friday, she told me that I could come over the next day and bake a chocolate cake with her.
Saturday morning couldn't come soon enough. Our apartment was very quiet when I climbed out of my bed in the bedroom that I shared with my 2 brothers. Mom and Dad were still sleeping, my brothers were still sleeping, and I tiptoed past our couch in our hallway, opened our door, opened Barbara's door, and walked in. I walked past her kitchen, and peeked into her bedroom. I thought she looked so beautiful laying there with her long hair covering her pillow. I remember her lifting her head and looking at me- this little waif with very short hair, and probably still in her jammies. "Can we bake the cake now?" I more than likely asked her. I remember she smiled.
Before I knew it, I was standing beside her in her kitchen, helping her put the ingredients in the bowl, waiting with anticipation for what I knew was coming - the beaters!
I've thought of the kindness of our neigbors in Kruse Apartments often since then. I hope they know how special they made me feel when I was a little girl.
"Be kind to one another..." Ephesians 4:32
This is a very fuzzy picture of where we lived the winter of 1967-68. Our kitchen window was to the right of the main door.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
A Sunshiny Day
Every farmer around this neck of the woods must be smiling today. And spraying. The sun is shining, and has been all day.
My Sweetheart went out after breakfast to see if the conditions were favorable for spraying. He checked at home and over north, but the ground was a little too tacky. But by shortly after lunch he was off to the races. With all the rain delays so far, I'm pretty sure that every farmer around here was out spraying if he could be- except for those who might have went to the Farm Progress Show in the big city.
We went to the Farm Progress Show a few years back. We travelled in style on a bus. We met at the co-op in the city, had breakfast there- farmer breakfast- early breakfast- then boarded the bus for the big city. If memory serves me right, there was one other woman on that bus.
My Sweetheart was quite happy walking around the grounds, checking out the newest technology, visiting with other farmers. I, on the other hand, was indoors, at the 'family' exhibits. I looked at mops, cleaners, irons, some more mops, some more cleaners. After an hour I was ready to come home. It was a very long day for me, and one that I'm sure I wouldn't necessarily want to repeat. Unless of course My Sweetheart wanted me to go along with him to another Farm Progress Show.
But this year he didn't want to go. And this was a good year for him to be home. The sun is shining after all. And there's work to do.
Even I have to admit that I enjoyed this day- this first full day of summer. If every day in summer happened to be like today I think I might even enjoy this season. Perfect temperature. 24 degrees celsius. No wind. Birds are singing. It's peaceful here. It's a beautiful sunshiny summery day.
My Sweetheart went out after breakfast to see if the conditions were favorable for spraying. He checked at home and over north, but the ground was a little too tacky. But by shortly after lunch he was off to the races. With all the rain delays so far, I'm pretty sure that every farmer around here was out spraying if he could be- except for those who might have went to the Farm Progress Show in the big city.
We went to the Farm Progress Show a few years back. We travelled in style on a bus. We met at the co-op in the city, had breakfast there- farmer breakfast- early breakfast- then boarded the bus for the big city. If memory serves me right, there was one other woman on that bus.
My Sweetheart was quite happy walking around the grounds, checking out the newest technology, visiting with other farmers. I, on the other hand, was indoors, at the 'family' exhibits. I looked at mops, cleaners, irons, some more mops, some more cleaners. After an hour I was ready to come home. It was a very long day for me, and one that I'm sure I wouldn't necessarily want to repeat. Unless of course My Sweetheart wanted me to go along with him to another Farm Progress Show.
But this year he didn't want to go. And this was a good year for him to be home. The sun is shining after all. And there's work to do.
Even I have to admit that I enjoyed this day- this first full day of summer. If every day in summer happened to be like today I think I might even enjoy this season. Perfect temperature. 24 degrees celsius. No wind. Birds are singing. It's peaceful here. It's a beautiful sunshiny summery day.
On this sunshiny day Bentley was having fun dropping his kong in every planter!
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I Guess It's Official Now
At approximately 5:03 pm, today, spring morphed into summer. I guess it was inevitable. For people like me, whose least favorite season is summer, the good thing about it is that the daylight hours will now start to diminish. Before we know it, summer will be over.
Don't get me wrong. There are aspects about this season that I really do enjoy. I enjoy being able to walk outside without winter boots. However, until the weather changes this year, the winter boots have been replaced with rubber muck boots. We seem to have had no end to rain for the past few weeks. And our yard is disgustingingly mucky. And with all the rain, the weeds have gotten away, the grass is overgrown. The outside of the house is a continual mess with muddy boot tracks, muddy paw prints. Well, you get the picture.
I also enjoy having Dear Son and Darling Daughter home for summer holidays. That, for me, is the BEST part of summer. Tomorrow is their last day of classes for this school year. Final exams start on Friday. Reason to celebrate!
Friends gathered around the bonfire is another good thing about summer for me. Although we started the bonfire season of 2012 on January 3 for Mom's birthday, the bonfires really get going in the summer! Weiners will be roasted, marshmallows burned, and friendships will be made even deeper as we sit around the fire laughing, visiting and catching up.
Hopefully, this summer we will be able to get to Banff to camp. We had it booked last summer, then had to cancel when I got my surgery date. The year before we had to cancel due to the crazy weather. And the year before that, there was too much on our calendar to get away camping.
But, tonight, as soon as I got home from the Hospital Auxilliary supper meeting that was in town, My Sweetheart suggested I get my work clothes on and come and help him "bring out the camper!" We have a fifth wheel, and it was stuck back in the corner of the pole shed. Way back. Right in front of the combine, but still way back in the shed. And it was right tight against the wall. AND, there was 3 tons of stuff, or so it seemed, that needed to be moved by My Sweetheart and I. DD and DS were studying after all. Or so we were led to believe. So, after dragging all the farmy, junky- looking stuff, cords, cables, containers, etc. from one side of the pole shed to the other, being very careful lest a little mouse pop out from under the pile of 2 by 4's, it was time to back the truck up- across the very muddy yard.
Usually I get to back the truck up, but tonight for some reason, I had to push the button on the 5th wheel- the extend button, or was it the retract button- while My Sweetheart backed the truck up. It works much better if I'm the truck backer upper because My Sweetheart gives way better instructions to me than I do to him. When he backs the truck up, he tends to jump out of the truck many times because he doesn't understand my instructions. He has to jump out to take a look for himself. When I back the truck up, he is very clear in his instuctions, and the truck gets backed up without any problems. So, after 15 minutes of backing up, and wiggling the truck in, the 5th wheel was pulled out of the camper, driven up by the garage, set up, and now is ready to be cleaned and stocked.
I guess it's officially summer now! The camper is out of hibernation and hopefully will be pulled out of the yard before summer ends!
Don't get me wrong. There are aspects about this season that I really do enjoy. I enjoy being able to walk outside without winter boots. However, until the weather changes this year, the winter boots have been replaced with rubber muck boots. We seem to have had no end to rain for the past few weeks. And our yard is disgustingingly mucky. And with all the rain, the weeds have gotten away, the grass is overgrown. The outside of the house is a continual mess with muddy boot tracks, muddy paw prints. Well, you get the picture.
I also enjoy having Dear Son and Darling Daughter home for summer holidays. That, for me, is the BEST part of summer. Tomorrow is their last day of classes for this school year. Final exams start on Friday. Reason to celebrate!
Friends gathered around the bonfire is another good thing about summer for me. Although we started the bonfire season of 2012 on January 3 for Mom's birthday, the bonfires really get going in the summer! Weiners will be roasted, marshmallows burned, and friendships will be made even deeper as we sit around the fire laughing, visiting and catching up.
Hopefully, this summer we will be able to get to Banff to camp. We had it booked last summer, then had to cancel when I got my surgery date. The year before we had to cancel due to the crazy weather. And the year before that, there was too much on our calendar to get away camping.
But, tonight, as soon as I got home from the Hospital Auxilliary supper meeting that was in town, My Sweetheart suggested I get my work clothes on and come and help him "bring out the camper!" We have a fifth wheel, and it was stuck back in the corner of the pole shed. Way back. Right in front of the combine, but still way back in the shed. And it was right tight against the wall. AND, there was 3 tons of stuff, or so it seemed, that needed to be moved by My Sweetheart and I. DD and DS were studying after all. Or so we were led to believe. So, after dragging all the farmy, junky- looking stuff, cords, cables, containers, etc. from one side of the pole shed to the other, being very careful lest a little mouse pop out from under the pile of 2 by 4's, it was time to back the truck up- across the very muddy yard.
Usually I get to back the truck up, but tonight for some reason, I had to push the button on the 5th wheel- the extend button, or was it the retract button- while My Sweetheart backed the truck up. It works much better if I'm the truck backer upper because My Sweetheart gives way better instructions to me than I do to him. When he backs the truck up, he tends to jump out of the truck many times because he doesn't understand my instructions. He has to jump out to take a look for himself. When I back the truck up, he is very clear in his instuctions, and the truck gets backed up without any problems. So, after 15 minutes of backing up, and wiggling the truck in, the 5th wheel was pulled out of the camper, driven up by the garage, set up, and now is ready to be cleaned and stocked.
I guess it's officially summer now! The camper is out of hibernation and hopefully will be pulled out of the yard before summer ends!
Monday, June 18, 2012
After the Hail
When I looked out the window at the library today, I wondered when the storm would hit. The sky was getting darker by the minute. It was black before long. Then the absolute stillness made way for pounding rain and hail. It didn't hail too long in town. Looking outside I didn't think it looked like any damage had been done. And perhaps in town there was no damage.
But at the north farm it was a different story. My Sweetheart phoned me at work just before I closed up and let me know that at Walter's, the crop was flattened, there was water everywhere, and the hail was thick on the road.
Road trip!!
Shortly after supper My Sweetheart and I swung by town and picked up My Sweetheart's Dad and my Mom for the drive.
But at the north farm it was a different story. My Sweetheart phoned me at work just before I closed up and let me know that at Walter's, the crop was flattened, there was water everywhere, and the hail was thick on the road.
Road trip!!
Shortly after supper My Sweetheart and I swung by town and picked up My Sweetheart's Dad and my Mom for the drive.
On the way we saw this field somewhat submerged after the deluge.
Hail on the road beside the wiped- out lentils. However, because this is so early in the growing season, we are hopeful that the lentils will come back!
Lots of water on this road! Thankful for 4WD!! You can also see the water to the side of the ditch - washing our crop out- the crop that was wiped out by the hail!!
3 boys out for a walk down a muddy road. We are now heading east- the further east we drove, the less hail damage!!
This is a good place to turn around and head the other way!
After checking out the north farm, we drove to the south farm and saw these 2 antelope enjoying the lentils in 1 of our fields!
What is good about having our land so spread out (about 20 miles from the north end of the north farm to the south end of the south farm) the likelihood of hail touching everything is slim. However, that wasn't the case in 2008, when in July almost every acre of our land was hit hard. We were amazed that most of it then grew back and we had a fairly good harvest.
This year the storms seem to be coming earlier. We've had hail in the middle of the night. Today, when it hailed, it really wasn't very hot out. That is an oddity too. Usually, at least in past years, it seems that the hail comes when the temperatures have been very hot.
I read, today, that on the weekend, 8 tornadoes were reported to have touched down in Saskatchewan.
The weather, this year, has been unpredictable. We've received more rain now, then we received all of last year.
The summer storm season is just beginning and I'm a little concerned, based on how it's been already. Fortunately, our hope is in the Lord. Tomorrow is no surprise to Him- He's already there.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
First Date
Darling Daughter was excited last night to be going on her first date. My Sweetheart and I have encouraged her not to date until age 16, but last night an exception was made. Last night the bar was raised.
Her date is the type of guy any parent would be pleased to have dating their daughter. He is kind, considerate, thoughtful, hard working, fiercely protective, trustworthy, fun, handsome, respectful. I heard, through the grapevine, that he took extra special care of his mother while she was alive. He is also a committed Christian, AND he owns his own vehicle!
He even asked me if he could take my daughter on a date. How old fashioned is that? Obviously, he had my blessing from the start.
This morning while having breakfast I asked DD how her date went. She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she said, "Oh, it was so good. I had fun!"
DD's date last night was My Sweetheart. They went to a movie. They talked on the way down to the city. I'm not sure what they talked about, but they were bonding.
I've heard it said, many times, that girls tend to marry guys who remind them of their fathers. I wasn't conciously thinking of that tidbit when I met My Sweetheart, but after being married to him for now 18 years, I can see that that was the case for me. My Sweetheart and My Dad have many similarities.
My Sweetheart has set a pretty high standard for DD to attain to. But I am hopeful that when the time comes, she will end up marrying a wonderful young man. Her first date set the bar very high.
Her date is the type of guy any parent would be pleased to have dating their daughter. He is kind, considerate, thoughtful, hard working, fiercely protective, trustworthy, fun, handsome, respectful. I heard, through the grapevine, that he took extra special care of his mother while she was alive. He is also a committed Christian, AND he owns his own vehicle!
He even asked me if he could take my daughter on a date. How old fashioned is that? Obviously, he had my blessing from the start.
This morning while having breakfast I asked DD how her date went. She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she said, "Oh, it was so good. I had fun!"
DD's date last night was My Sweetheart. They went to a movie. They talked on the way down to the city. I'm not sure what they talked about, but they were bonding.
I've heard it said, many times, that girls tend to marry guys who remind them of their fathers. I wasn't conciously thinking of that tidbit when I met My Sweetheart, but after being married to him for now 18 years, I can see that that was the case for me. My Sweetheart and My Dad have many similarities.
My Sweetheart has set a pretty high standard for DD to attain to. But I am hopeful that when the time comes, she will end up marrying a wonderful young man. Her first date set the bar very high.
Monday, June 11, 2012
"This is Stupidness!"
A little over a year ago My Sweetheart had to cut a little hole on our deck flooring- back when we were having trouble with our electricity and had to have an emergency opening into our house for power. And since then, it has been covered by a 2 by 4- to keep the cats from jumping below and doing their cat thing under our deck. But, one day this spring, just before Grandma Cat was due to have another batch of kittens, Lady, the Golden Retriever, pushed the 2 by 4 off the little hole on the deck flooring, and Grandma Cat jumped down and proceeded to have her kittens under our deck. Needless to say, we couldn't cover the hole up with the 2 by 4.
And so, Bentley, still being as bound with energy as ever, loved to stick his head down the hole (it is big enough for the dogs to stick their heads down) and look for the elusive kitties. He had watched Lady to see how to look down below for the kittens.Bentley is kind of goofy looking when he bends down, peeking into the darkness of the bottom of the deck. Sometimes he would forget that he shouldn't be looking down the hole. Like this evening for example. He really shouldn't have stuck his head down the hole while he had his favorite ball in his mouth. Obviously he didn't remember that just last week he had dropped a favorite squeaky toy down the same hole.
My Sweetheart was concerned, by looking at Bentley after dropping his ball down there tonight, that maybe he might just be stupid enough to try and wriggle his whole self down the hole. He's skinny enough to think he might fit. So, after trying unsuccessfully to distract Bentley by taking all the dogs for a walk and hoping that he would forget about his ball, My Sweetheart decided he would have to help him out a bit.
I ran down to the basement for my tool kit- a square screwdriver was needed to take the lattice work off the front of the deck, and then my job was complete. I was then able to laugh during the rescue mission as Bentley was peering down the hole while My Sweetheart was suffering through the hoardes of mosquitoes to dismantle the lattice.
And so, Bentley, still being as bound with energy as ever, loved to stick his head down the hole (it is big enough for the dogs to stick their heads down) and look for the elusive kitties. He had watched Lady to see how to look down below for the kittens.Bentley is kind of goofy looking when he bends down, peeking into the darkness of the bottom of the deck. Sometimes he would forget that he shouldn't be looking down the hole. Like this evening for example. He really shouldn't have stuck his head down the hole while he had his favorite ball in his mouth. Obviously he didn't remember that just last week he had dropped a favorite squeaky toy down the same hole.
My Sweetheart was concerned, by looking at Bentley after dropping his ball down there tonight, that maybe he might just be stupid enough to try and wriggle his whole self down the hole. He's skinny enough to think he might fit. So, after trying unsuccessfully to distract Bentley by taking all the dogs for a walk and hoping that he would forget about his ball, My Sweetheart decided he would have to help him out a bit.
I ran down to the basement for my tool kit- a square screwdriver was needed to take the lattice work off the front of the deck, and then my job was complete. I was then able to laugh during the rescue mission as Bentley was peering down the hole while My Sweetheart was suffering through the hoardes of mosquitoes to dismantle the lattice.
Here he is, desperate to retrieve his ball!
Bentley is really, really desperate!
Here My Sweetheart is taking the lattice off, while Bentley is up on top of the deck peering down at his ball!
"This is Stupidness" I heard My Sweetheart saying as the mosquitoes were having a feast! Needless to say, Bentley ran under the deck and retrieved his ball, and is now a very happy 2 year old!!
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Snickle-Fritz
"Fangs!" My handsome blue suede brother dared to call his much younger little sister "Fangs!!" Sometimes that moniker was switched to 'Dracula'. I suppose he had good reason. My grade 4 school picture did indeed portray me, with my static electrical short shag hair style, smiling with only 2 teeth popping out of my mouth - the teeth on either side of my top middle ones. No other teeth were showing in that photo- the photo that made it into the yearbook for all to see. Not only were my eyes scrunched really tightly, my hair all askew from the static in the air, but my 'fangs' were prominently displayed. And the fangs made me want to cry.
You can imagine my relief when I found out that I was going to get braces! My fangs would be gone! And, according to my orthodontist, whom we made the 3 hour trip to go see, I would have a beautiful smile!
And so, on this date, May 29, 1975, we- Mom, Dad and I, headed off to the big city so I could have braces put on my top row of teeth. 37 years ago today was the start of my metamorphosis from Ugly Duckling to Beautiful Swan. Or so I hoped.
My orthodontist, Dr. C. Ronald Hill, dubbed me "Snickle-Fritz" That was much easier than "Fangs" to handle for an 11 year old. I would tolerate any pain from Dr. Hill because I knew in the end, it would be worth it. And painful it was! As the metal railroad track was cemented on, then the wires tightened I probably could have cried. But I didn't. No more fangs for me! And once a month for close to 3 years, Mom, Dad and I headed for our 3 hour drive so I could hear Dr. C. Ronald Hill call me "Snickle-Fritz". About halfway through my braces ordeal I was given the dreaded head gear to wear - first for 12 hours a day, then just for the nights. It was very similar to a football helmet. Without the helmet part - just the part that goes over the mouth. I would hook 1 sharp metal piece on to the top right back tooth, and then I would hook another sharp metal piece on to the top left back tooth, and then another part would wrap around my head. I was styling in my head gear!
I was the only person in my school to wear braces at that time. Back then it wasn't cool. It was -ugly! I rarely smiled. My school pictures in grade 6 and grade 7 showed me smiling with just my lips. No braces were in sight. In fact, there are no pictures of me in that time period to prove that I even had braces. But, when those braces came off, I smiled for the world to see! No more fangs! My handsome blue suede brother, who had left home by the time my fangs were gone, would have to come up with a new nickname for me. He never did though. I guess he must have grown up!
You can imagine my relief when I found out that I was going to get braces! My fangs would be gone! And, according to my orthodontist, whom we made the 3 hour trip to go see, I would have a beautiful smile!
And so, on this date, May 29, 1975, we- Mom, Dad and I, headed off to the big city so I could have braces put on my top row of teeth. 37 years ago today was the start of my metamorphosis from Ugly Duckling to Beautiful Swan. Or so I hoped.
My orthodontist, Dr. C. Ronald Hill, dubbed me "Snickle-Fritz" That was much easier than "Fangs" to handle for an 11 year old. I would tolerate any pain from Dr. Hill because I knew in the end, it would be worth it. And painful it was! As the metal railroad track was cemented on, then the wires tightened I probably could have cried. But I didn't. No more fangs for me! And once a month for close to 3 years, Mom, Dad and I headed for our 3 hour drive so I could hear Dr. C. Ronald Hill call me "Snickle-Fritz". About halfway through my braces ordeal I was given the dreaded head gear to wear - first for 12 hours a day, then just for the nights. It was very similar to a football helmet. Without the helmet part - just the part that goes over the mouth. I would hook 1 sharp metal piece on to the top right back tooth, and then I would hook another sharp metal piece on to the top left back tooth, and then another part would wrap around my head. I was styling in my head gear!
I was the only person in my school to wear braces at that time. Back then it wasn't cool. It was -ugly! I rarely smiled. My school pictures in grade 6 and grade 7 showed me smiling with just my lips. No braces were in sight. In fact, there are no pictures of me in that time period to prove that I even had braces. But, when those braces came off, I smiled for the world to see! No more fangs! My handsome blue suede brother, who had left home by the time my fangs were gone, would have to come up with a new nickname for me. He never did though. I guess he must have grown up!
Thursday, May 17, 2012
The Hottie Chick
Her hands were trembling as she walked by Mom and I on her way out of Tim Horton's yesterday. But her smile was beautiful. "Oh my..." "Oh my..." was all she could say as she walked out the door. Her husband, chuckling behind her, seemed to have a little more bounce in his step. And everyone in the long line up, waiting to place an order, has just witnessed a random act of kindness. Everyone's mood changed- just like that! Where just a few moments ago everyone in line was absorbed in their own little worlds, all of a sudden we were smiling at each other! Strangers became friends- even if only for just a few minutes.
The very debonair, charming, well dressed, well coiffed business man who exuded charisma with his "joie de vivre" attitude brightened everyone's day- especially the lady with the trembling hands. I heard him say to her - "what do you take in your coffee?" And then I heard him say to the person behind the till - "And I'll have a cup of coffee for the hottie chick! The "Hottie Chick" - no wonder she was flustered as she left! No wonder her husband couldn't keep the chuckles stifled. Her day had just been brightened by not only a free coffee, but by being called a 'hottie chick' by a younger man. Can you imagine the conversation in their car as they drove away? "Oh wait til the grandchildren hear this!" I can imagine her husband exclaiming on the drive to their destination. Who knows, maybe this 80 something grandmotherly looking hottie now has a new nickname from her smitten husband. I wonder if she felt like a cougar?
I came very close to saying, while he was still at the till, "Hey, Mom here is a Hottie Chick!!" If there wouldn't have been 4 men in front of me I would have! I know it!! And judging by Mr. Debonair I believe with all my heart that he WOULD have bought my hottie chick mother a coffee. He was, after all, buying 2 cases of donuts that he was taking someplace where they weren't expecting him to show up- just to brighten their- whoever THEY were- day!
He made me want to perform a random act of kindness. I wanted to throw a 50 dollar bill on the table beside me- the table that had a very young looking mom with her 2 adorable daughters sitting at it- just to see their reaction. I refrained. But I vowed to myself that sometime, when someone is least expecting it, I will perform a random act of kindness. The ripple effect is contagious. And everyone deserves a burst of happiness when they least expect it!
The very debonair, charming, well dressed, well coiffed business man who exuded charisma with his "joie de vivre" attitude brightened everyone's day- especially the lady with the trembling hands. I heard him say to her - "what do you take in your coffee?" And then I heard him say to the person behind the till - "And I'll have a cup of coffee for the hottie chick! The "Hottie Chick" - no wonder she was flustered as she left! No wonder her husband couldn't keep the chuckles stifled. Her day had just been brightened by not only a free coffee, but by being called a 'hottie chick' by a younger man. Can you imagine the conversation in their car as they drove away? "Oh wait til the grandchildren hear this!" I can imagine her husband exclaiming on the drive to their destination. Who knows, maybe this 80 something grandmotherly looking hottie now has a new nickname from her smitten husband. I wonder if she felt like a cougar?
I came very close to saying, while he was still at the till, "Hey, Mom here is a Hottie Chick!!" If there wouldn't have been 4 men in front of me I would have! I know it!! And judging by Mr. Debonair I believe with all my heart that he WOULD have bought my hottie chick mother a coffee. He was, after all, buying 2 cases of donuts that he was taking someplace where they weren't expecting him to show up- just to brighten their- whoever THEY were- day!
He made me want to perform a random act of kindness. I wanted to throw a 50 dollar bill on the table beside me- the table that had a very young looking mom with her 2 adorable daughters sitting at it- just to see their reaction. I refrained. But I vowed to myself that sometime, when someone is least expecting it, I will perform a random act of kindness. The ripple effect is contagious. And everyone deserves a burst of happiness when they least expect it!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Mother's Day
"Are you going to sleep in?" DD asked me Saturday night just before she went to bed.
"No," I replied, "why do you ask?" She has never asked me that before, so I was curious.
DD looked a little crestfallen as she said, "I was going to make your breakfast in bed."
I felt bad and sad. My darling daughter really wanted to do something special for me on Mother's day, but I was to be part of the plan for her to carry it out. All I needed to do would be to sleep in. But on this particular Sunday, Mother's Day aside, it just couldn't happen. Not only are the boys extremely busy on the farm with seeding- yes, the farming gets done even on Sunday at this farm, but our church was hosting the annual traditional Grad Sunday. Grad Sunday is a very special occassion in our little community. For many years the churches have taken turns hosting the annual event. The grade 12 graduates, their parents, the school staff and the entire community is invited. It's a celebration, usually taking place the weekend prior to the high school graduation.
I knew when I went to bed Saturday night that it would be an early morning for me. Not only did I have lunch to make for My Sweetheart, I had a big salad to put together, and I wanted to be in our church a good hour before the service began so I could practice the hymns and my song.
When the pastor had phoned last weekend to see if I would look after the special music for Grad Sunday ,I heartily agreed. My plan was to invite a few very musical friends from the other churches to join me and pick out a song to practice and perform it. But everyone that I asked just couldn't commit, and all for very good reasons.
So on Wednesday night I decided that I would sing by myself. But what song would encompass my relationship with the Lord, Mother's Day, and graduation? I went to bed that night perplexed, but not defeated. Past experiences dictated for me that the right song was 'out there' somewhere.
And on Thursday morning I knew that I would be writing that song. My thoughts were jumbled and waiting to somehow find their way on to a piece of paper that was on the piano. And then I started reflecting on my journey as a mom. I knew I had to write about my experiences, but how would I tie graduating, and the Lord in to that song ?The dominant theme in my thoughts and song writing process was 'letting go.'
I started recalling all the times in my 'mother' life that I had to 'let go.' The very first time was when, after holding my new babies in my arms, the nurse came to take each one away from me. I had to 'let go'. I hated letting go then, but I had had surgery to bring them into the world and needed rest to heal my body. Each phase of their lives have brought a season of 'letting go'. I held their hands as they took their first teetering steps, then eventually 'let go' to give them the opportunity to venture on their own. I held their hands as they crossed the street. Then, 1 day, they walked across on their own. I held on to them as they wobbled on their bikes, then 'let go.' Every season is one of letting go. But each season is also a time of rejoicing when they discover their wings. DS will be leaving home next year. The 'letting go' then will be difficult for me, but I have been preparing him the best I can, and I know that, with God's leading in His life, he will be fine. In fact, he will thrive. And he will thrive without me holding on. How? Because I know that I know that I know that God loves him more than I do. And that gives me comfort. And it was that thought that birthed the song that I sang yesterday on Mother's Day, and Grad Sunday, and it was that song that ministered to many 'mother's hearts' that are preparing to let go of their children who will be graduating. I share the words, a prayer really, with you in hopes that it will encourage you if you are at a stage of 'letting go.'
Letting Go
copyright 2012
Didn't know how fast the years would fly
since the first time I looked into your eyes,
I held your tiny hand and said,'hello'
the hardest part of holding on is letting go.
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will keep you safe from harm,
if you should stumble on life's journey, may you fall into His arms,
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will guide you day by day,
as I let go- go with God- I pray.
Looking back, reflecting on the years,
all the bumps and bruises, growing pains and tears,
I held your hand until you said, "mom, no"
the hardest part of holding on is letting go.
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will keep you safe from harm,
if you should stumble on life's journey, may you fall into His arms,
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will guide you day by day,
as I let go, go with God I pray.
Go with God, I pray.
"No," I replied, "why do you ask?" She has never asked me that before, so I was curious.
DD looked a little crestfallen as she said, "I was going to make your breakfast in bed."
I felt bad and sad. My darling daughter really wanted to do something special for me on Mother's day, but I was to be part of the plan for her to carry it out. All I needed to do would be to sleep in. But on this particular Sunday, Mother's Day aside, it just couldn't happen. Not only are the boys extremely busy on the farm with seeding- yes, the farming gets done even on Sunday at this farm, but our church was hosting the annual traditional Grad Sunday. Grad Sunday is a very special occassion in our little community. For many years the churches have taken turns hosting the annual event. The grade 12 graduates, their parents, the school staff and the entire community is invited. It's a celebration, usually taking place the weekend prior to the high school graduation.
I knew when I went to bed Saturday night that it would be an early morning for me. Not only did I have lunch to make for My Sweetheart, I had a big salad to put together, and I wanted to be in our church a good hour before the service began so I could practice the hymns and my song.
When the pastor had phoned last weekend to see if I would look after the special music for Grad Sunday ,I heartily agreed. My plan was to invite a few very musical friends from the other churches to join me and pick out a song to practice and perform it. But everyone that I asked just couldn't commit, and all for very good reasons.
So on Wednesday night I decided that I would sing by myself. But what song would encompass my relationship with the Lord, Mother's Day, and graduation? I went to bed that night perplexed, but not defeated. Past experiences dictated for me that the right song was 'out there' somewhere.
And on Thursday morning I knew that I would be writing that song. My thoughts were jumbled and waiting to somehow find their way on to a piece of paper that was on the piano. And then I started reflecting on my journey as a mom. I knew I had to write about my experiences, but how would I tie graduating, and the Lord in to that song ?The dominant theme in my thoughts and song writing process was 'letting go.'
I started recalling all the times in my 'mother' life that I had to 'let go.' The very first time was when, after holding my new babies in my arms, the nurse came to take each one away from me. I had to 'let go'. I hated letting go then, but I had had surgery to bring them into the world and needed rest to heal my body. Each phase of their lives have brought a season of 'letting go'. I held their hands as they took their first teetering steps, then eventually 'let go' to give them the opportunity to venture on their own. I held their hands as they crossed the street. Then, 1 day, they walked across on their own. I held on to them as they wobbled on their bikes, then 'let go.' Every season is one of letting go. But each season is also a time of rejoicing when they discover their wings. DS will be leaving home next year. The 'letting go' then will be difficult for me, but I have been preparing him the best I can, and I know that, with God's leading in His life, he will be fine. In fact, he will thrive. And he will thrive without me holding on. How? Because I know that I know that I know that God loves him more than I do. And that gives me comfort. And it was that thought that birthed the song that I sang yesterday on Mother's Day, and Grad Sunday, and it was that song that ministered to many 'mother's hearts' that are preparing to let go of their children who will be graduating. I share the words, a prayer really, with you in hopes that it will encourage you if you are at a stage of 'letting go.'
Letting Go
copyright 2012
Didn't know how fast the years would fly
since the first time I looked into your eyes,
I held your tiny hand and said,'hello'
the hardest part of holding on is letting go.
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will keep you safe from harm,
if you should stumble on life's journey, may you fall into His arms,
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will guide you day by day,
as I let go- go with God- I pray.
Looking back, reflecting on the years,
all the bumps and bruises, growing pains and tears,
I held your hand until you said, "mom, no"
the hardest part of holding on is letting go.
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will keep you safe from harm,
if you should stumble on life's journey, may you fall into His arms,
I pray the Lord who loves you more than I do
will guide you day by day,
as I let go, go with God I pray.
Go with God, I pray.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Rockin' Around and Rollin'
I was enjoying a lovely evening in the city last night with DD and Mom ~ it was a perfect time to get away while the getting away was good. My Sweetheart, because he knew he wouldn't be any where to shop before Mother's Day, told me to spend $x on myself and pick out something special just for me- whatever I wanted. So, with 2 dear women along, I shopped. My Sweetheart bought me a lovely top and an equally lovely purse for Mother's Day. I found that kind of odd- that he would buy me "another" purse. But he did! After shopping for me, we 3 women went to BP's for a lovely relaxing dinner out. We laughed about being out shopping, dining, all that fun stuff, while the men were back home- working! My laughing came to an abrupt end with one little phone call. It's a good thing I love My Sweetheart as much as I do. You see, he phoned me to see if I had anything going on "tomorrow". I scanned my brain as best I could, couldn't think of anything, so said,'No!' "Oh good- I'll get you to roll tomorrow." Ugh...
Well, that put an end to my joviality!
He had given me a practice run a few weeks ago- at the south farm. I wasn't impressed.
"Oh Mom!" DS quipped, "land rolling is so easy- you can operate a combine; you can definitely run the land roller- it's all automatic. You don't need to steer or anything..."
But I remembered my practice run and my stomach promptly started to seize up and nauseate the rest of my body. I remembered, uncannily, how the tractor jostled me and tossed me around. It is not a smooth and sleek ride like my combine.
So, after a restless sleep, after a nutritious breakfast, after packing our very unhealthy lunches, it was time. Time to face the inevitable
I almost phoned the school to inform Marlis that it would be quite ok with me if Dear Son wanted to leave after first class and come home and roll and make some money. But I refrained. He needs his education. My Sweetheart, after all, had splurged on my Mother's Day gift.
My Sweetheart opened up the field for me. That means he rolled the headlands - the east to west direction of the field- back and forth with the rollers 3 times, then we switched directions heading north and south to set the a-b line. That is necessary for the GPS and auto steer I guess. And it terrifies me. What if I accidently hit the wrong button? What if I shift up to 12 instead of down to 7 or 8? Which thingie is the clutch? How do I slow down? Which lever do I push? What's this thingamabob for? What happens if I hit a gas well? But the worst, the absolute worst and most terrifying thing for me, other than having no place to go to the bathroom, is the possibility of turning off the a-b line. I'd be doomed then. I'd be sitting, and crying, in the middle of the field, waiting for My Sweetheart to get off the other tractor that he's seeding with to come and reset it for me.
But I girded up my loins- can a girl do that?- and off we went- heading south, then north and back south, then back north. Then My Sweetheart, after he said that "this is like a date", jumped off the tractor and left me by myself, to roll- by myself. And I did! South. Then north. Back south. North again. Almost 30 times from one end of the field to the other. I was relieved when DS came out to the field after school. So relieved! All that rockin' around in the tractor while rolling the land was very hard on my neck. I believe I might be a little sore tomorrow.
The things we do for love...
Well, that put an end to my joviality!
He had given me a practice run a few weeks ago- at the south farm. I wasn't impressed.
"Oh Mom!" DS quipped, "land rolling is so easy- you can operate a combine; you can definitely run the land roller- it's all automatic. You don't need to steer or anything..."
But I remembered my practice run and my stomach promptly started to seize up and nauseate the rest of my body. I remembered, uncannily, how the tractor jostled me and tossed me around. It is not a smooth and sleek ride like my combine.
So, after a restless sleep, after a nutritious breakfast, after packing our very unhealthy lunches, it was time. Time to face the inevitable
I almost phoned the school to inform Marlis that it would be quite ok with me if Dear Son wanted to leave after first class and come home and roll and make some money. But I refrained. He needs his education. My Sweetheart, after all, had splurged on my Mother's Day gift.
My Sweetheart opened up the field for me. That means he rolled the headlands - the east to west direction of the field- back and forth with the rollers 3 times, then we switched directions heading north and south to set the a-b line. That is necessary for the GPS and auto steer I guess. And it terrifies me. What if I accidently hit the wrong button? What if I shift up to 12 instead of down to 7 or 8? Which thingie is the clutch? How do I slow down? Which lever do I push? What's this thingamabob for? What happens if I hit a gas well? But the worst, the absolute worst and most terrifying thing for me, other than having no place to go to the bathroom, is the possibility of turning off the a-b line. I'd be doomed then. I'd be sitting, and crying, in the middle of the field, waiting for My Sweetheart to get off the other tractor that he's seeding with to come and reset it for me.
But I girded up my loins- can a girl do that?- and off we went- heading south, then north and back south, then back north. Then My Sweetheart, after he said that "this is like a date", jumped off the tractor and left me by myself, to roll- by myself. And I did! South. Then north. Back south. North again. Almost 30 times from one end of the field to the other. I was relieved when DS came out to the field after school. So relieved! All that rockin' around in the tractor while rolling the land was very hard on my neck. I believe I might be a little sore tomorrow.
The things we do for love...
that's me in the tractor, just after My Sweetheart jumped down to snap a picture. The land roller is like rolling pins. They flatten the land after the pulses- in this case lentils- have been seeded. Because they grow so low to the land, it has to be smoothed out for easy combining at harvest time.
My Sweetheart got a smile out of me!!
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
While out for a drive
My Sweetheart and I went for a drive last night. It had rained most of the weekend and he wanted to see if the land had dried up enough for seeding to resume. A wheel hadn't been turned since the last Thursday in April- due to a much needed lovely rain. And then to bookend the week it had rained again this past weekend.
So after supper, when he asked if I'd like to go for a drive, I looked at the kitchen mess, and said, "sure!!" Secretly I thought that by the time I got back home the kitchen would be sparkling and everything put away. Wishful thinking.
On a whim I grabbed my camera- just in case! It is working again, so comes in handy on occasion.
Less than 3 miles from home, on our way to the north farm, my wishful thinking paid off!
So after supper, when he asked if I'd like to go for a drive, I looked at the kitchen mess, and said, "sure!!" Secretly I thought that by the time I got back home the kitchen would be sparkling and everything put away. Wishful thinking.
On a whim I grabbed my camera- just in case! It is working again, so comes in handy on occasion.
Less than 3 miles from home, on our way to the north farm, my wishful thinking paid off!
Standing stately, just long enough for me to take this picture, was this antelope. He was all by himself. Quite often there will be a herd of them. And quite often they will be eating the new crop that is nicely out of the ground. But this one was standing by himself, for a small moment in time - just long enough for me to snap this picture of his curious self. And then he was off! Did you know that an antelope can run about 43 mph? I found that out twice last year. Once, when DS and I were moving equipment at the south farm from field to field - an antelope began chasing DS on the quad, and I was behind in the truck- honking and screaming to no avail. DS couldn't hear me and the antelope, if he could hear me, could care less. And the second time was while My Sweetheart and I were out for a walk with the dogs. Lady thought it would be fun to chase the antelope in the field. Man, were we scared! The antelope can run amazingly fast. And they can be amazingly agressive- as we found out with the "Lady chase"! I was grateful we were as close to home as we were then, and that we had our cell phone so DS could jump in the truck and come and rescue us.
This time though, My Sweetheart and I were in the truck, far enough away from the antelope. And we carried on our trek to check the fields.
After our drive, the fields were deemed dry enough to seed. And so today, as soon as My Sweetheart finishes up the spraying he is doing, he will be out in the field seeding. And then, a few weeks after seeding is finished, My Sweetheart willl probably ask me if I want to go for a drive to see if the crops are coming up. And I will look at my sparkling clean kitchen and say, "Sure!"
Monday, April 30, 2012
Gathering Up Containers
At the auction on Saturday, My Sweetheart said, someone bought some pails. Some 5 gallon pails. A farmer can never have enough pails. There is always a need for a pail. It can by used for gathering up spills, throwing odds and ends into, holding dog food.
I'm always on the lookout for ice cream pails- empty, clean ice cream pails. I never have enough ice cream pails in my house. In the summer I use them for when I make slush. They're perfect for transporting cookies. I use them for cleaning too. In the summer we keep an ice cream pail full of water, on the deck, for the dogs. If the pail gets empty though, Lady will usually carry it off. And then Bentley will grab it from Lady and chew it to bits. I don't know how many useless, chewed up ice cream pails we find around the yard.
When it comes to defrosting the freezer I am always scrambling to find whatever containers I can to put on the freezer shelves- cake pans, tupperware bowls, baking sheets - there are containers put 'just so' to catch the ice drips. Those containers have to be continually emptied when the freezer starts to thaw or the water would overflow on to the porch floor.
This morning, during my quiet time with the Lord, as I was reading in Romans, this verse jumped out at me - "We can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit." (Romans 5:5) I was so encouraged when I read that. In all my scrambling to gather up containers for menial, yet necessary tasks around the home, I can always find enough containers. There is a limit to the cookies I bake and take, there is a limit to the amount of ice water that the freezer will thaw, there is a limit to the amount of dog kibbles that will fit into an ice cream pail, BUT there are NEVER enough containers to hold all that God generously pours into my life through the Holy Spirit.
I hope and pray that you want all that God wants to pour into your life. I pray that you won't be able to find enough containers for that amount of generosity. And what God does pour into lives is all good! No messy spills! No grease! Oil perhaps- oil of joy from the Holy Spirit, but not any disgusting, dirty oil. No dog food, but better food- the Word of God for sustenance. Forgiveness? There definitely are not enough containers for the amount of forgiveness God lavishes on those who ask! Further, in the same Romans 5 chapter, I read, "Christ arrives right on time to make this happen. He didn't, and doesn't, wait for us to get ready. He presented Himself for this sacrificial death when we were far too weak and rebellious to do anything to get ourselves ready. And even if we hadn't been so weak, we wouldn't have known what to do anyway. We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. BUT God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him." (vs 6-8)
Accepting and believing in Jesus is just the beginning of the "ALL that God generously pours" - there is no limit to God's love, forgiveness, grace and mercy. We just need to stand with open arms and accept all that He wants to pour out on and in us!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Coveralls, Cookies and Kittens
Life on the farm, as John Denver sang, is not, on this farm anyway, kind of laid back. We aren't early to rise, early to the sack kind of people. Nor are there cakes on the griddle when the sun comes up. Goodness! That sentiment might have been somewhat commonplace in the 1940's or 1950's - depending on when Charlotte's Web was written- all idyllic and serene-like, but now? No. Now it's seeding time-the time of year that when the sun is shining, and even when it has been set for hours, the farmers around here are very busy. Some farms keep their operation running 24 hours til the work is done. Our farm isn't that big, and even if it was bigger, we don't have the manpower to work around the clock. The alarm clock is set for 6 am. This farm-wife (hate that term) stays in bed until her alarm goes at 7:30. No flapjacks for My Sweetheart- poor guy. He has to settle for toast, or cereal;whatever he fancies whipping up for himself. And then he's off! Off to fuel up, grease up, load up and go. Seed, seed, seed until Dear Son relieves him after school. Then, while DS is seeding, My Sweetheart occupies his time with spraying or land rolling, or myriads of other stuff that needs doing and that I won't do. DS typically works until 10:30 or 11ish- My Sweetheart works as late as need be. Midnight is common; although 1 night last week, after being up since 6am- he crawled into bed just before 2.
We almost look forward to rain- for when it rains we rest- for a while anyway. This weekend has been one of rest. The rain started Friday. Just in time to make a mess for the auction. The farmer who we bought land from last year was having his auction this weekend. And My Sweetheart was looking forward to going to that auction. Saturday morning- the day of the auction, dawned- well, not bright and cheery, but rainy, very rainy, and snowy. Perfect auction weather! No farmers would be out seeding on a day like that - they would ALL be able to go to the auction. So, shortly after 9 am, My Sweetheart, dressed in true cold weather farmer fashion, left the house donned in his long underwear, t-shirt, pants, 2 pairs of sock, shirt, bunnyhug, coat, toque and rubber boots. DS was excited to go too- he opted for his coveralls and winter jacket and toque. They picked up My Sweetheart's Dad in town, then headed out to the south farm for the auction.
DD and I were enjoying a nice, leisurely breakfast before heading to the city to have lunch with my good friend and DD's good friend, City Girl. Then, after lunch City Girl's mom and I were going to hang out while the girls went to a cookie decorating class. And an hour before DD and I were going to head to the city my cell phone rang. It was My Sweeetheart. His feet were freezing. Could I please head out the auction site with his winter boots on my way to the City. Well, sure I could. I figured out how long it would take me to navigate the muddy roads, and would leave here in plenty of time!
So, DD and I headed to the garage. Just before opening up my door of the car, I glanced down. There was a box right beside my car. And in that little glance I noticed the new little kittens- 3 little fluff balls. Fluffy Cat had just given birth-in the garage of all places. Oh well, I'd deal with that later. I must get those boots to My Sweetheart.
I was enjoying the drive- until I turned off the highway and headed south. Good thing the road wasn't any longer than it was. It was solid grease. By the time I was off THAT road- and I was going fast at 5 mph on THAT mud, I was a nervous wreck. Then I had to manuever on the gravel road. ALL the farmers were at the auction, and EVERY truck from miles around was lined up on the grid road- on both sides. I felt like I had just enough room to squeeze my litle car between the rows of trucks and pray that I wouldn't slide one way or the other. I finally made it to the lane of our south farm yard, that was also lined up with farmer trucks, and I was met by DS and My Sweetheart. I had never seen DS so dirty. The mud went up to his knees of his coveralls. And he wasn't feeling good, so 'could I please drive home?' I thought I would be able to bypass that nasty little road off the grid road on my way to the City, but no- I had to turn right back and head back the way I had come. Back on that nasty little stretch of very greasy mud. Well, eventually we were back in the yard, I dropped off DS, and then DD and I were on our way!
After lunch, dropping off the girls, spending the afternoon shopping, and then picking up pizza for supper, DD and I were on our way home!
Today, Sunday, has been very restful. Today has been our 'laid back' country day. Today was a no-church Sunday for our congregation, so we slept in. We had a leisurely brunch. My Sweetheart and DD gathered up Fluffy Mama and her 4 babies- she had another one when we were in the city- took them out to the pole shed to be with Black Mama Cat and her babies. We watched a movie. We enjoyed the time together. We relished the pause in the midst of a very busy season.
DD baked and decorated these cookies today, using skills learned in her class yesterday!
Fluffy Cat's Kittens - 1 day old!
Black Mama Cat's 3 week old kittens!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)