The Rascals Return

With a frost predicted, we moved the plants and flowers into the house that we wanted to keep for another season: Boston ferns, angel wing begonias, fuchsia, and a large purple shamrock.  Geraniums and hydrangeas can tolerate a light frost, so we left them outside with plans to put them down into covered the window wells later. The double glass doors to the back yard filled with plants no longer served as a route outside, but the plants are protected and offer a greenhouse atmosphere  for us to enjoy all winter long.

After a day working in the yard preparing for wintry weather, we went to bed tired but satisfied. During the night I was awakened by the wind chimes hanging from the tree in the center of the back yard. Drowsily I thought to myself it must really be windy for that chime to be going like that because the center piece that each chime hits to ring was broken.  Before long the chimes were silent and my assumption was that the wind had died down.  Then I heard it, even with the window closed.  A sound that had agitated me so much several weeks earlier--the raccoons were back.

I considered the options I had.  With the temperature in the upper thirties if  I went out to chase the coons out of the yard, I would need shoes and a jacket, unlike my barefooted nightgown assault last time.  I would have to go out the door by the garage instead of straight into the yard through the glass doors.  I would wake my husband and we would both be agitated and wide awake for some time after.  Considering all of these negatives, I rationalized that the raccoons had already destroyed most of the water hyacinth on the pond and either did not seem interested or able to catch the fish, so I went back to sleep instead of accosting the invaders.

The next morning, the evidence was clear.  Raccoons had once again created mischief.  The one last water hyacinth was chewed up and on the edge of the pond.  The tangled wind chime hung silent in the tree.  The squirrel trap, closed overnight to prevent an untimely captive, lay upside down and the few remaining peanuts eaten.  I had strict instructions that if I heard the raccoons again, I was to let John know so he could deal with the situation in the night.  We certainly do not want this to become a common occurrence.  Ah, the joys of city wildlife!

Mysterious Marauders

We enjoy our back yard so much,  having lunch outside nearly every day, relaxing in the shade and coolness under the shady trees, or sitting by the pond watching the goldfish swish and swirl around the water plants.  Last week in preparation for watering that day, John came inside while I was getting ready for work and told me to go look at the pond. Puzzled I asked if the fish were still alive.  "Just go look at the pond," he responded. When I got out to the pond, I was astonished at the destruction before me.  Nearly every water hyacinth was decimated, chewed and strewn around the pond, the water grass shredded and limp in the water, but the fish were fine.

We considered the cause of this spiteful event.  We have too many squirrels in the area, and they insist on chewing the bark off the tree that provides the main shade in the center of the yard.  John has a live trap that he uses to relocate these destructive animals to rural areas. However, squirrels have never damaged anything other than the tree, but they were the first suspects.  Since the damage was in the pond, raccoons came to mind, but all of the fish were fine, so we dismissed that idea.  At lunch that day, a rabbit popped in through a space at the back gate.  Even though we were talking and very close, the rabbit calmly hopped around nibbling on various plants. Surprised at his boldness, we thought he might be the culprit.  John coaxed and directed the rabbit out of the yard through the spot the unwanted visitor had entered and then he blocked up that entry. We hoped that this was our culprit and the problem was solved.

Several nights later about one in the morning through the open window by our bed, I heard strange noises.  I told John to go look out the back door so when I turned on the light he could see what was out there.  The high-powered backyard light exposed the intruders--four raccoons, three large ones and one super-sized one. They looked curiously at the house, but did not scamper away.  John hollered at them and they ambled over the fence and away.  Agitated but enlightened to the real culprits of our backyard destruction, we turned off the light and went back to bed.  About half an hour later, I heard the noises again.  I jumped out of bed, switched on the back light to see the coons wrestling and tumbling in the grass having a delightful time.  Angrily, I threw open the door and charged out barefooted in my nightgown to make sure they left my yard.  Three full-size raccoons scampered over the fence.  The fourth and largest one paused at the base of the tree by the pond looking up as if to use that escape route, but decided that would take too much effort to climb, so she ambled to the back corner hoping to hide in the bushes.  I was having none of that and kept after her scolding and insisting she leave the yard.

Getting back to sleep proved elusive that night as I breathed deeply to slow down my heart beat and indignation.  I continued to listen for any more indication of the coons' return but heard none. Since that night, the days and nights have been rainy and stormy with no further indication of coons.  I certainly do not want those raccoons to decide our yard is their playground.  The pond still has all of our fish even though the plants no longer provide them cover.  We wait to see if this story is concluded or not.  I certainly hope so!

Cabela's and Ikea

We were considering what to do with our three-day weekend, and I suggested we visit the newly opened Cabela's in Denver (we missed the grand opening several weeks ago), and since Ikea had been open over a year and we had not made it there yet, this seemed like a win-win situation for both of us.  So with that  plan and we headed off to Denver.

  John had a knife he had been looking at in the Cabela's catalog that he wanted to see.  Unfortunately, the south Cabela's did not have it in-store, but we did see a friend from my husband's home community in the southern part of the state and enjoyed catching up with them.  The amazing animals and fish on display in the store are much like a natural history museum emphasizing God's amazing creations.  I did not really know what to expect from Ikea other than advertisements I had seen in magazines, and people warned me that it could take all day.  The huge store with arrows on the floor from one section to another made me feel like a rat in a maze, and the volume of merchandise flooded me with sensory overload.  I might want to go back at some point, but for now it is a "been there, done that" experience.

As we headed home northbound, we were so thankful not to be in the lengthy traffic crawl on the southbound lanes.  With time to spare, we decided to stop at the north Cabela's.  Though a smaller store, the knife he wanted to see was on display and this provided additional information to consider. We got home in time to watch a college football game and see Todd Helton hit the 2500th hit of his career. It was a lovely day and we were both happy.

As I think about this day and the fact that we will soon celebrate our 42nd anniversary, I realize that days like this make for a happy marriage.  We can have very different interests and yet enjoy sharing what the other enjoys.  Mostly, we enjoy being together, and we plan to continue that for as long as the Lord allows!
 

Adventures with Grandsons

Our grandsons, ages seven, five and two-and-a-half live on the family ranch about five hours away in northern New Mexico.  We visit frequently and when we do, I usually go on a hike with the boys through the trees and brush over rocks, up hills, and down the creek.  We enjoy these adventures exploring, discovering, pretending.  This last week, they wanted to go down the hill to a pond formed by a dam across the road filled by recent heavy rains. We all knew that when boys are near water, they are likely to get muddy, so they wore old shoes and boots for this adventure;  I, however, did not.  The boys wanted to ride their bikes down the winding narrow road for the thrill of speed and turns. I drove the Expedition to the pond to bring their bikes back up the hill and take the youngest with me. 

Once at the pond they located flat rocks for skipping or finding the biggest ones they could lug to the edge to toss in.  I do not think there is any limit to how many rocks boys can throw into water.  The edges of the pond near the dam are steep, so the two older boys started around the edges of the pond where they could get closer to the water.  A sand bar at the far end of the pond offered a chance to get close to the water; this area was sandy and only slightly muddy.  I observed their route and declined to come with them because I had on shoes that I did not want to get dirty, but I saw no reason they could not proceed.  Soon the oldest hollered out that he was stuck and the middle grandson echoed his plight. They tried to help each other pull their feet from the muck but to no avail.  A grandma to the rescue was forthcoming.

I took off my shoes, rolled up my jeans to mid-calf and went out to help.  Since I am quite a bit heavier than these small boys, I sank to the edges of my rolled-up jeans quite quickly.  With effort, I pulled each foot out of the muck to reach the boys, shaking my head at our predicament.  The youngest was wearing cowboy boots, so when he pulled his foot up, the boot remained in the mud, but I could pull each mud-encased empty boot out and to set him on firmer ground with his boots in hand with instructions to scrape the mud off.   He had on socks, so his feet were still clean.  The older boy had on athletic type shoes that sucked in the mud the moment his foot pulled free. I had to quickly dig down to the shoe or there would be no chance of finding it.  Once he was on firmer ground as well, I brought his shoes to the shore.  We found sticks to scrape the gooey mess from their shoes and boots.  I scooped handfuls of mud from inside the shoes and then rinsed them in the pond water so he could get them back on.

With both boys rescued and their shoes and boots at least wearable, I had to figure a way to clean my feet so I could put my shoes back on.  We tried putting rocks down to the edge of the pond to give me a path to the water.  The boys searched for larger rocks and packed them down to the edge.  We thought we had a good path set, but when I set foot on these, the rocks started sliding into the water, throwing me off balance onto my bottom.  We all laughed at our hilarious failed efforts.  The boys were getting thirsty from being out in the hot sun and working so hard packing rocks, and I decided that I was not going to be able to get my feet clean to put my shoes back on.  I began slowly picking my way through the pasture around the edge of the pond back to the car.  The cactus, yucca, dried sunflowers and rocks along the way demanded carefully placement of each foot step.

Once back at the car, I loaded the bikes  and boys and headed back to the house.  There I scrapped dried mud off my legs and feet.  The boys brought me a bowl of water and I rinsed the mud off to get cleaned up.  We all laughed, got a cook drink and shared our adventure with their mom, dad and papa.  This might have been the biggest mess we have been in to date, but it was a memorable adventure!

Freezing Sweet Corn

Fresh sweet corn, full yellow kernels bursting with flavor, lasts only for a short time in the summer, but freezing this corn on the same day it is picked preserves this peak fresh flavor all winter long.  My dad's sister and her husband raised sweet corn and other crops on their farm about 70 miles from the ranch.  Every year my aunts, mother, brother, sister and cousins would load up and drive to their farm early in the morning to pick the sweet corn.  The thick rows of corn filtered the hot sun, but the moist soil in the irrigation rows made the humidity rise.  Corn stalks offered multiple ears  sprouting transparent silk with brown tips.  We had empty burlap sacks to fill with ripe corn, pulling back the husk slightly to see if the kernels were filled out enough. With so many people picking we soon had the back of the pickup filled with sacks of corn.  After a quick lunch, we headed back home to preserve our harvest.

All the kids were sent to the garage which had a dirt floor and provided a shady place to work to shuck all those ears of corn.  We all had something to sit on and a box to put the corn in.  We had a great time laughing, teasing, and working together.  Sometimes we would find a big fat corn worm eating away at the tender kernels, which we would flick onto the ground and squish--disgusting! The silk on each ear of corn needed to be carefully removed as well.  One of the kids would take the full box into the kitchen where our moms were busy preparing the ears of corn for freezing.  One would wash the ears, check for any remaining silks, and cut off the worm-damaged portion.  Another put the ears into a pot of boiling water to blanch for several minutes.  Once the hot ears came out of the boiling water, another mom plunged these into a sink of ice water to cool them down.  Then another person cut the kernels from each ear and finally bags were filled with these kernels to be put into the freezer. We all kept at this process until all the corn, except for what we would eat in the next several days, was tucked away in the freezer to enjoy throughout the year.  This might take until way into the night, but we saw it through to completion.  We would put up enough corn to feed four families until the next year's harvest.

The kids loved being together and had a great time.  Moms were exhausted but satisfied with their work, and our dads enjoyed the fruits of our labor.  These memories make me appreciate the extended family circle we enjoyed.

A Perfect Summer Day

Birds begin to chirp and twitter in the pre-dawn morning light.  A light cool breeze gently drifts in the open window bringing a fresh scent of abundant foliage. No alarm, no pressing schedule to meet, just savoring the freedom of a summer day.  Although no alarm buzzes, I am eager to savor the delights of a long summer day.  Soon the sun is up. First thing after breakfast, we go for a walk through the neighborhood lined with mature trees observing the beauty in the variety of landscaping.  On the final leg of our walk we meander through the neighborhood park with an island in the small lake which various birds use for nesting and raising their young and a lily pond with a bridge over a waterfall. These daily walks provide ample opportunity to talk and enjoy each other's company uninterrupted.

When we reach home, we focus on taking care of the yard before the day warms up too much.  We start with picking raspberries requiring bending and searching for the ripe luscious berries that we enjoy on homemade yogurt or ice cream in addition to freezing enough to savor throughout the entire year. We water the flowers and garden noting the growing plants and produce. It is fun to see the progress we have made over the years in the yard that had nothing more than grass and several old trees on the perimeter when we moved in twenty years ago.  Now a tree in the center backyard provides ample shade and the fish pond adds serenity and a focal point surrounded by flower borders. Two trees in the front yard keep the house cool from the morning summer sun.  Flower beds hug the house in front and a berm with perennials, flowers in pots and bushes anchors the grass next to the street.

We enjoy lunch in the backyard under the tree in the center. With the vine covering the fence, the abundant shade, the pond and flowers, we have a secluded venue to visit and enjoy deviled eggs, homemade yogurt and fruit.  Even after school starts and I am back at work, we do lunch outside as long as the weather permits. During the heat of the afternoon, we find projects inside to work on.

After supper, I feed the fish, sprinkling their food on the surface of the pond, watching them hungrily nibbling till the surface is clear.  They swish and swirl around the water hyacinth that floats on the water and the tall grass spikes.  I enjoy sitting in my Adirondack chair savoring the beauty of the growing plants in the garden and flower beds.  The evenings usually cool off enough to open the windows before going to bed. Through the open window I listen to the crickets happily chirruping in the evening calm.  I love summer!

4-H Calves

My seven-year-old grandson begins his 4-H experience this year as a Clover Bud--a program for children who are not yet 9 years old.  He has a young calf that he has bottle-fed which he will show at the county fair next week.  He is the fourth generation in our family to participate in 4-H--his great-grandfathers, grandparents, parents, and now our grandson.

I joined 4-H when I was nine years old.  My dad and his siblings had been in 4-H when they were young and my two older cousins were already in the program, so I was excited to take part as well.  Our club the Whitecrest Hijacks, named for a small community down the highway to the east a few miles from the ranch, had about 10 members which met monthly for meetings.  I took market beef and sewing for my first projects, giving both Dad and Mom responsibility for my progress.

In late November Dad helped me choose a steer from a group of calves that our dads had selected from the ranch herd.  For a child's first year in 4-H, they would let that child choose a calf first, and later on the person in their last year got to choose first.  I named my calf Chip.  We had another steer to keep him company; I called him Dale.  Since I was the only one in our family in 4-H, my Dad focused his energies on getting me and Chip ready for fair. One of the first things we needed to do was train him to lead, something a calf does not naturally want to do.  We spent a number of days over Christmas break accomplishing this.  Dad and my uncles also broke all of the sale bulls to lead, so there were a lot of animals learning to respond to the tug of the halter.

 I had to feed Chip in the morning before school and evening chores consisted of feeding Chip, helping Dad with other chores and brushing my steer as soon as he finished his grain. This helped tame him down and developed a great coat of hair that would make him look sharp at fair.  This continued through the school year and then in the summer began the training for the show ring.  Dad had a string of bulls and a heifer that he showed at the state fair, so as he took each one of his animals around the yard, I would take Chip every time.  Dad had us both well trained by the time fair arrived.

At county fair, the judge selected Chip as the Grand Champion steer.  Dad was quite pleased and I was delighted as well.  We took Chip to the state fair and there the judge choose him for Champion Hereford steer.  So, my 4-H career started on a very good note.  I continued in 4-H for the next nine years, finishing after senior year in high school.  I have many good memories of being in 4-H; I learned responsibility and many skills that have served me well over the years.  I look forward to seeing my grandson have some similar experiences.