Weebles Wobble And, Yes, They Do Fall Down

I did it! I finished Bed No. 1 – well, it is as finished as I can do right now. Yes, I will have to add some more to it, but I don’t quite feel the urgency as much any more as I did before. It took quite a few bucket loads with the skidloader to get all the mulch put down, but a couple lows later – as there was a lot of shoveling and forking, and I was done.

Bob and I had gone to Farm & Fleet yesterday and as long as we were there, I wanted to pick up the obelisks that I had wanted for my birthday. No one got them for me, so as a little present to myself, I picked them up and an even greater gift was that they were also on sale. Yippee for me! Bob, on the other hand, did not find it amusing because we already had a cart full and I was able to get one on top of the cart – sort of looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but it did the trick. That left him to carry the other one. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for him, that stopped me from doing any other shopping.

His frustration, however, did not stop there. Once we got to the car, we then had the daunting task of trying to put these towers of frustration into the car. By sizing them up, I knew they were too long to lie in the back seat. Bob didn’t think so (because women are usually wrong about things like that!!), but he quickly found out this time he was wrong. Then he tried to stick them in the trunk and the bases were too wide to go in that way. After a little constructive "criticism," I told him I thought I had it figured out, to which his words were – "you bought ‘em, you had better figure it out." My reply was simply action, not verbalization. I opened the back door on the driver’s side and put the back seats down, slid the "towers" in (we had already stacked one over the other) and, finally, they were in. All it took was just a little womanly coaxing and ingenuity.

He also had a couple choice words to say about the fact that I had picked up a couple pink flamingoes, but my old ones were faded and the sticks were too bent and it was time they hit the flamingo retirement home; so I had been in search of a new set of younger birds and I just happened to find them there. I told him, everyone knows, every garden has to have a set of pink flamingoes! It is just natural, common sense. I now had flamingoes to roost in my gardens again.

After we stopped to eat at the Draft House in Verona and shortly before we left, sister-in-law Faye and niece, Jessica, came in and we visited with them for a bit, and then we headed for home. Once unpacked, I wanted to hit the flower beds again.

Bed No. 1 needed its final weeding before I could do anything further. I grabbed my trusty little cooler with my gardening tools inside that I also use as my stool to sit on when I am weeding. I can only kneel for so long because of the screw I have in my right knee from my ACL/MCL surgery. It lays on the bottom of my knee when I am kneeling and hurts badly when knelt on, so a little stool does the trick. My cooler does double duty. I can also put my camera in there to take pictures when I want.

I was just about done with weeding around my tulips and some of the bare spots that I had left for some future plants to call home when Bob came back to see how I was doing. I actually had my back to him as he was first approaching but then had picked up the cooler to change to another spot when I spied him. He was trying to sneak up on me to scare me, but fortunately for me, he didn’t. So, as we were talking, I moved to a spot on south end of the bed and set the cooler down on a mound of mulch that I had placed earlier around one batch of tulips. I plunked my butt down and was intensely looking for the roots of some weeds when I put my head up to say something, straightened my back and then the dang-dest thing happened – I feel backwards and thought that would be it – just a little tumble backwards. But, no, I did a full tumble – ass over tea kettle. If I would have been graceful about it, it would have been a practiced tuck-and-roll. NOT!! This was a full backward head over heels topple that left me sprawled out on the grass, with dirt and red mulch stuck to my backside. I looked to Bob hoping that he would have a sympathetic look on his face, but I knew better. As he exploded into laughter, my first thoughts were that he was either going to have a heart attack from laughing so hard or pee his pants. (I was secretly hoping for peeing his pants but then I figured I would have to clean that up, too.) The first words were, "where was your camera when I needed it?" To which my reply, luckily, was that it was right next to him sitting on a lawn chair and fortunate for me he didn’t have it in his hands. His next words were, "it reminded me of a Weeble tumbling over." Hahaha!! Not funny!! Well, not comical as I toppled over; later on, I could laugh at it but I can quickly get over it. Bob, on the other hand, can’t. In fact, even today, Bob still bursts out in laughter and says, "I don’t know what I was thinking about needing a camera, because it is still stuck in my mind and I can’t stop laughing about it." Ugh!! I have to admit, though, that I bet it was quite a comical thing to see.

As he slunk away to start milking, giggling to himself like a little school girl, I finished up weeding and then headed to get the skidloader. Just as I was finishing up I was starting to go into a low and knew that it was supposed to rain that night or in the morning, so I wanted to finish things up. I got one more bucket full and grabbed the fork and started pushing mulch around until I was happy and just about ready to fall on the ground. I had just enough energy left in me to safely crawl back into the skidloader, put it away and still be able to walk to the house. Once I got my low under control, I went back out and pushed the mulch around a little more, and then set out my obelisk. The flamingoes also found a little spot to in which to roost.

Again, as with Bed No. 2, I am pretty satisfied with this bed. I can’t wait to see the blooms from all the plants in this large bed. Although, it is, as I said, quite large, it will be a nice break to the bean field once that matures behind it. Usually, there is corn that is planted in there, but this year it is beans so from the road that goes past the farm you might be able to see some of its glory once it, too, matures.

The only thing, hopefully, that you can’t see from the road, is a middle-aged Weeble tumbling over. Hmmmmm . . . what was that about Weebles – oh, yea, Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down.

I guess no one ever told them that once they get to be a certain age, their wobble and tumble turns into a very unbecoming tuck-and-roll.

Fall Projects Galore

Fall seems like it is the time to get projects done around the house. This past weekend, it seemed as if I was trying to accomplish so much, and I actually did, even though it was little iddy-biddy projects. I’ve been cleaning out cupboards and re-organizing, organizing and then re-organizing. Last night, I went to Menard’s because they had a sale on their blinds. I have been meaning to do this for some time to hang up in the kitchen windows.

I met up with my cousin, Jo, and she helped me out. It was a fun, fast little shopping trip that actually meant so much because I got to spend a little quality time with Jo, and accomplished a lot in the meantime, too. She even helped me pick up more (120) tulip bulbs for my flower gardens, so it was a very productive shopping trip. Now, Bob has to hang them for me. To aid in that situation, I even picked him up some peanut M&M’s that were on sale. (A little bribery goes a long way, sometimes).

Jo was in search of some more mini-lights for her faux fiscus tree. She wasn’t successful there, as they didn't have their Christmas decorations out yet and nothing in the Halloween department. The Halloween decorations were out and seemed to even be a little picked over. We had fun looking at some of the big, big blowup decorations. One in particular Jo pointed out was a horse-drawn hearse. It was comical, needless to say. There were shelves of planting items which were on sale, I suppose to make way for the incoming slew of Christmas items. I should get back over there to help them make some more room. I could be good at helping to clean out a few items of their summer garden stock. Hmmm....that is sounding like a plan. Jo even remarked about it when she saw the sign on the doorway that went into the garden center stating “50% off garden items” and which was boldly whispering my name saying, “Shari, come in, come in.” But, Jo held me back and stated, “you probably shouldn’t go in there. Save it for another trip.” Such a good person she is!!

Next, on my list, is I have some furniture that I want to re-do and paint, so before snow flies, I want to pull out the sawhorses in the garage, lay down some plywood and get at it before I put them on the back burner and another year flies by.

Wow, when I talk about the garage, that will have to be another weekend project, as it is in desperate need of cleaning and reorganizing before Winter sets in and the car goes back in the garage.

So many projects and so little time. Menard's was not a good place for me because it was giving me more project ideas, which means more shopping trips. I’ll have to make a note to take Jo along on some more of my next shopping trips. She sure knows how to help me spend my money, but then she knows just the right moment to hold me back, too.

It's Springtime and I'm Not Ready

I love the way everything smells so fresh in the morning. This time of year the air is so crisp and the sights, smells and sounds are profound.

I went into a low early this morning. Once I had worked through it, I decided to step outside to take some trash to the dumpster, feed the cats, let Pongo out for his morning potty break (he gets up with me no matter what time it is) and run up to the milkhouse to get some milk. All the time running around outside in my robe and pjs. That’s the thing about the farm, no one sees or cares what you look like or how you are dressed. I sat down on the front steps to let a couple cats curl into my lap until my butt got too cold from the cold cement.

These are the mornings that I long for. Quiet solitude, gearing up for the day. The cranes and geese were squawking up a storm outside. In the darkened quiet, I heard the cranes, geese, a cow or two, Pongo barking while playfully chasing a cat and the purring from Midnight and Sunny in my lap. Pinky came grazing by my side, hoping that he too, could sneak in a few pets from me, and he definitely also had his purr motor going.

Once I had gone through my morning routine of eating breakfast with Bob, taking my insulin, doing the treadmill, showering, packing my lunch and getting ready for work, I headed off to the nursing home to visit with and feed Auntie before I head to the office. As soon as I got out of my car there, I noticed the smells of fresh-cut grass. I love that and the smell of fresh-cut hay.

The other thing fresh-cut grass reminds me of, though, is that I need to get moving on with my lawn work. I just don’t have the time right now. Bob still needs to get our mower tuned up and ready for the season. He is a bit behind on that and the grass is not going to wait for him. I need to get some pruning done which I just recently read the Spring pruning should be done by Tax Day – April 15th – that’s tomorrow. My taxes are done and filed, but my pruning won’t get done by Tax Day.

Additionally, I need to get into my flower beds and do some spring weeding before laying mulch and planting new plants. And that would be those plants that await being planted because they have been shipped to me already. Hope the others don’t show up at my doorstep yet. It seems like the season has come earlier this year. Or is it that I am just not ready for it yet? Most likely the latter. I have an ambitious list for my spring yard work. It is just that the one thing my list lacked this year is time.

Furthermore, I have to decide how big or much of a vegetable garden I want to put in this year. I am going to lose my garden helper and I will surely miss her. She would never complain about how much I planted or if the weeds got a little ahead of me. She knew I would catch up with the weeds eventually and the same with the picking. Auntie will surely be missed there. When I visit with her, whether she can understand me or whether she hears me or not, I reminisce about my garden projects with her. Sometimes she nods at me and sometimes she smiles. Maybe she is smiling, thinking, “whew, I don’t have to help her this year!” Maybe she is nodding at me, thinking, “yes, girl, you better get going on that.” Either way, we are having our conversation about it. It won’t be our Saturday morning telephone conversation any more. But for now, it will be just she and me talking about what needs to be done. Once she is gone, I’ll have to crank my neck up to ask her and maybe I’ll get a sign of some kind. She did this kind of work until she was 86, I certainly can hang in there for a few more years. If I can say that I am still mowing my lawn and planting flowers and a vegetable garden at 86, I’ll be one happy camper.

For now, I’ll just tell Auntie about what I intend to do. When it is time for her to go, then I’ll get to work.

The Bell Tolls

Boy, what a whirlwind weekend!

Our dog, Pongo, had pneumonia and I had to take him to the vet Friday morning. I had massive amounts of cleaning and laundry to accomplish. My sister, Suzi and family from Minnesota, along with Casey and Kim and Brady were coming back to stay for the weekend. We had my Aunt Avis’ 80th surprise birthday party to attend on Saturday. But with everything happy going on this weekend, it was also pinched with sadness.
　
Some of the happenings this weekend made me reminisce about younger days -- days back on the farm growing up. One thing, the spike of my sadness, which set this off was I received the news Saturday afternoon that my cousin, Ron Lee, passed away. Ron led a full life and, in fact, his obituary said it the best "Ron lived his life to the fullest and did it his way." As we all should. I really think that there should not be a moment in anyone’s life that they don’t live life to the fullest and to the best of their ability, to do it their way.
　
I may have talked about this before (see my 2/18/10 post "Spring May Not Have Sprung But I Am Preparing For It"), but Ron was the cousin who bought the bell from our family farm auction. He wanted to have something to remember our farm by. Memories that he recalled from his younger years when he would come out to our farm were that his mother, Helen, would always holler at him to stay away from the bell and not to be constantly ringing it. (Let's just put it this way -- the Lee boys were mischevious!!! Hahaha!!) So when the bell came up to be sold at the farm auction, he bid on and got it so that he could now "ring that damn bell whenever he wanted to." Hahaha! That was Ron.
　
Ron is actually my third cousin. His dad, Vern, was my dad’s first cousin and in Vern’s earlier years, he farmed on his family farm not too far from our’s. He gave up the farming life after a few years and moved his family to Madison where he worked in construction, as did all his three sons, Ron being one of them.
　
Growing up, there was always one thing constant with Sundays at the farm. Either we went visiting (which was not as often) or someone was always visiting us. We had a few relatives from Madison that loved to leave the city and go visit the country folk (us). The main ones who came to visit were Vern and Helen, and Sherman (my dad’s first cousin, also) and Virginia. As their families were growing up, they (like Ron did) learned to come to enjoy the trip to the farm. If we had plans to be home and the weather was nice, we usually knew that someone would probably stop out. Most times there were never phone calls, just dropping in. So we always planned a big Sunday dinner. Living on a farm meant that you could always embellish what food you had by what you had frozen or canned from the garden, could currently handpick from the garden or what meat you had frozen from the last butchering. We had cows, pigs and chickens, which meant we usually had plenty of meat on hand. We also had a big vegetable garden so fresh veggies were plentiful. And my mom loved to can peaches and pears when they were in season and not too expensive at the grocery store. We would buy them by the crateful and can them immediately.
　
Sunday dinner at our place with company would be something like a beef or pork roast (from one of our cows or pigs), mashed potatoes (from our potato field) and gravy, cream style corn (frozen from our sweet corn field), a tossed salad (all the greens and fixings from the vegetable garden), homemade bread or rolls, canned pears or peaches (off the shelves from the last year's canning sessions), milk (brought in fresh from the milk tank every morning and home-pasteurized) and a homemade dessert or cake. In our family, you could be short on money, but would always have plenty to eat by pulling something out of the freezer, off the canning goods shelving from the basement, from the milk tank or from the root cellar.
　
I didn’t like the butchering process, I didn’t mind the canning process, picking things in the garden was much more fun than the constant hoeing that was needed, but most of all, I hated planting the potatoes and even more hated digging them up. When it came time to pick the potatoes, we would pick until our backs felt like they would break but at the end of the day we would drive back from the field to the house with a heaping truck box full of potatoes and that would last a whole year. (I didn't mind if when riding or walking behind the truck, a couple would fall off. Sometimes I would be tempted to jump off the truck or stoop to pick up any stragglers jumping ship, but most of the time my back hurt so bad, I'd let them roll away, just to plant their seed for the next year). Later in the year and when running toward the end of our potato stash, we would have nothing left but the little runts and when you are feeding a family of nine, one meal could mean peeling a lot of runts. But, all-in-all, we were very self-sufficient on food and that, of course, meant doing (and/or putting up with) all the above work.
　
When Vern and Helen and the kids (Ron, Jim and Gary) would come to the farm, they enjoyed the homemade farm meals even as much. Helen would comment frequently that she missed the amenities of the farm. Farming had been in their blood for years, so they loved to come out as much as they could, many weekend throughout the year. Sherman and Virginia would stop out often, too, with their youngest kids (Susan and Sharon), and sometimes both families would drive out at the same time. They lived on the same block in Madison. Sherman was a carpenter in Madison and when he finally got around to having some spare time, he even remodeled our kitchen. Even after Helen and my dad passed away, Vern would still find the time to drive out to the country to visit. It was all these visits years ago that ignited the need for Ron to buy the dinner bell on our farm.
　
At the time, Ron felt he was keeping it in the family. Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn’t realize it until years later that he was on my dad’s mother’s side of our family and the bell had been passed down on my dad’s father’s side of the family keeping it with the family farm. For how long? It has a date on it of 1869. That’s a long time. After I got older and more sentimental about family heirlooms, I told Ron many times that if he ever decided he wanted to sell the bell, he should let me know and he agreed he would give me first dibs at it. But, in the meantime, he had mounted it on the back of his truck and wherever he went, he rang the bell. He had tied a rope to the handle of the bell so he could ring it from inside his truck even when driving. When he was on construction sites, he would be asked to ring the bell and even driving around Madison, the same would happen. Most of all, though, he would just ring the damn bell whenever he felt like it.
　
Ron finally decided a year-and-a-half ago that he would sell the bell back to me. I hadn’t gotten around to getting it from him yet, when my sons took the secretive effort to surprise me with it for my 50th birthday. They had taken the initiative to contact Ron and to set up a time to pick it up. I remember my son, Casey, telling me how Ron had told him to be up to his place (on the Saturday morning of my party) at 8:00 a.m., as Ron wanted to complete the transaction in time to be able to go to the Farmer’s Market early on the Square in downtown Madison. He initially wanted him there earlier than 8:00, but since Casey was coming from Chicago, he thought it would be too difficult. In fact, he was having my brother-in-law, Greg, come along so he could pick it up with Greg's truck to take it to the party because Ron was selling the bell with the mounting he had built. Anyway, Casey said that he hadn’t realized that Ron was such a talker and storyteller. He said when they got there, he figured he would hurry and pay for it, then load it into the truck to head out right away so Ron could go to the farmer’s market. He soon found out different. He said Ron started talking and telling stories, and Casey soon realized that Ron wasn’t in as much of a hurry as he thought he would be. Casey said that his one regret on that day was that he couldn’t stay longer to listen to these stories. At that time, his health had started to deteriorate, so it didn’t surprise me entirely when I got the call from his baby brother, Gary, on Saturday that he had passed away. I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t entirely prepared for it either.
　
I last saw Ron at his brother Gary’s 50th birthday party in October at a country VFW just outside of Madison. Gary had told me about the party and said he wasn’t inviting any other extended family because he didn’t want them to have to drive the distance to get to the party. Gary and I had always had a close bond, being the same age. In addition, he had made the special effort to be at my surprise 50th so I wanted to be at his, too. So, Bob and I took the time to attend, which even if Bob wouldn’t have gone along, I would have gone by myself. I’m especially glad that I went because it was the last time I saw Ron. We, in fact, spent most of the afternoon visiting with him, his girlfriend Sally and his son, Ronnie, along with Gary and his girlfriend, Shirley. (One fact to know, we have always called Ron and his son, Big Ron and Little Ronnie – I don’t think that, even now, that will change any time soon).
　
I had family staying at my house most of the weekend and so later in the day on Sunday after everyone left, I cleaned up the house, relaxed for a little bit, and while Bob was out spreading manure on the fields, I took Pongo outside to let him romp a little bit.

That is when I saw the bell. I smiled when I saw it because I knew exactly what I needed to do. I went over and I rang the bell. As it tolled away, clanging from side to side, I thought to myself, God needed another storyteller to add to his pack and he gained a good one this time. It was my little signal to Ron that every time I toll the bell, I toll it for him and he can go ahead and tell another story.