Still Bloomin'

Gorgeous day.
No one wants to be indoors. Warm, calm, sunny heaven.
Everett is raking. I’ve been out pulling weeds, pinching off sweetpeas in bloom; in washing up and dressing (why does this take more than 30 seconds? I'm sick of it; must relax, slow down and enjoy looking after my body), reading email, doing a bit of computer work. Gorgeous day.
Friday, which always makes me want to slack off and play tourist or something. Drive to town for an ice cream. See if there's a garage sale (bet there won't even be one, this weekend).
Best drop in on Emil today; make sure all is going well. I've remade his bed with a quilt Mom made, and am reminded every time I walk by that he is not here. You'd think it was the first time he hasn't been here for a few days or something. What a drama queen.

Quick 'n' Dirty

All Emil's worldly goods were loaded up yesterday for his move into a group home in town.
















He seemed thrilled to finally be there to stay. Here he bids us adieu from the front step.

On Sunday we drove to Kelvington to visit Grandma. On the way we surprised a coyote pup playing on the road. It started, seemed to be about to play with us, then thought better of it and ran into the ditch and peered out through the long grass. By the time I got the camera ready, it had taken off.

In recent months Grandma's taken to lying on her bed a lot, and saying nothing unless she is addressed directly. I swear this time I heard her snore at least twice. Sleeping with her eyes open?
At the end of her hallway these alpacas were trying to see in the windows:
















After leaving the lodge we discovered a flat tire. Fortunately the CAA man hadn't put his ribs on the barbecue yet, so he answered our call within a half hour. I had been considering letting my roadside assistance membership lapse, but now I'm thinking -- who else could I have called that would have dropped everything to change my tire in the mud?
I'm glad he was at my service, anyway. He damn near died getting the bolts off; I wouldn't have been able to do it.
















I went for a walk with the dogs last night. Wondered why the two old girls were slower than usual; forgot I'd doped them up earlier because it was thundering. We've had more rain. Neverending rain. I haven't had to water my flower garden once this year. Just the pots, and even those not often.
The leaves have begun to turn and drop, overnight.
These are the cattle keeping the pasture around our house shorn. Who says cows aren't pretty? Look at the light-coloured one and tell me that isn't a pretty face:

















I make Everett take me for a drive every day. He needs to practise if he hopes to get his licence. Apparently he couldn't care less, but I do.
This hawk was particularly bold, flying up off the road and watching us from a tree nearby. When we got home, Scott described the unusual behaviour of a hawk in the same location, so I guess we all saw him. Our guess is that he's a ferruginous hawk; at least, that's the closest thing to him in our bird book.

Front of Third Avenue United

This photo doesn't do the overwhelmingness of these pipes any justice at all.

Ricky Gervais can sing too

I love Ricky Gervais. It's because of his laughing.

But he can sing too!

One Human Family Gospel Choirs

One of Eric Dozier's One Human Family choirs.

This is a song we learned in the weekend workshop with Eric Dozier and Kim Pacheco and sang in concert at a Saskatoon church on Sunday afternoon. We were a much smaller group than the one above; maybe 50 of us.

I was pleased when many people in the audience stood, clapped, and sang along. That's the way it should be!

Here's another one he taught us; one of my favourites:

Off to the City

Everett, looking like he hasn't bathed for a month, and typically rumpled.

I say to one or the other of my sons, "When's the last time you had a bath?"
He says, "I don't know."
I say, "Well, if it wasn't yesterday, then go have one!"





















Emil, in a rare natural-looking photo, for usually he's overdoing the smile till it looks like a grimace.

My sister Joan took these photos when the boys and their dad visited Kelowna in July. The link to her website is in the sidebar: Sweetlight Photography.

***

It's 11:35 a.m. and I am planning to leave for Saskatoon at 1 p.m. to meet up with my longtime friend Julie and attend a gospel-singing workshop that starts tonight and finishes up with a concert Sunday afternoon.

I'm no churchgoer, but everytime I've seen Black choirs on TV singing spirituals, I've thought Damn! that looks like fun. If any of the local church congregations sang like that, instead of the droning dirges the organist always plays in too high a key, I might consider dragging my ass out of bed on a Sunday morning to attend.

Might.

Amelia Earheart Immortalized

Water Water Everywhere

And I'm pretty sure no one wants to drink a drop.

These were baled up a few weeks ago and they've been soaking wet ever since:















Around the yard:















The pack.

And where MomCat and Kittens go to escape them:

Baby Barn Swallows

Seen on the way into the Credit Union. The third ducked back into the nest.

The adult birds were very busy feeding these little fellas.

A pump is running constantly at the dugout behind our house, and when it quits during the day, I tramp out there, refill the gas tank, and pull the cord to start it again.
But I did enjoy a few silent moments this evening before steeling myself to put up with the noise once more. The cold wind that enveloped us most of the morning had vanished and I'd spent a couple hours deadheading shasta daisies and yanking up the most gigantic dandelions I've ever seen. I managed to stick some more purple coneflowers into the ground after rescuing them a week or two ago from a sweltering greenhouse. Tomorrow: another half-dozen delphiniums go in. I'm still waffling about where.

Rain Rain Go Away

This cloud means business.

This photo was taken through the windshield as Everett and I were on our way into town on Friday afternoon. I considered turning around and coming home, but ... as is often the case, when I've a goal in mind, it's almost impossible to deter myself from it. So on we went. It was to spend a couple hours at the laundromat, since we have no facilities at present except those at Scott's parents' place, which requires three trips for every load of laundry by the time you've put it into the washer, moved it to the dryer, and picked it up again. I prefer to get it all done at once and get it over with. Sure it costs $20 but four huge loads are done in two hours. I can live with that.

We'll be buying a new washer and dryer, but not until water-in-the-basement problems are dealt with, and we've installed a new water-treatment system so that heavy iron and minerals don't ruin the appliances. Because the groundwater level is so high, it isn't possible to dig a hole for a septic tank yet. And so we wait for the rain to stop and things to get back to normal. It's starting to seem as if they never will. But at least we haven't had to face the disaster that is occurring in China and Pakistan. That is horrible and we are fortunate by comparison.

The nasty cloud carried on away from town, but the sky did dump rain for several hours and only today is the sun out again. At the moment I hear through my office window a pump running, working at lowering the level of the water in the dugout, which connects to a slough, which has been running over and into the lagoon, which, if nothing is done about it, will end up in our basement. Or so I hear.

Acreage living is lovely. It's not without its problems, but they aren't much different than town dwellers get their fair share of. When they get sewer backup, it's not just their own sewage. I imagine that's even worse to think about when you're cleaning it up.

Princess and Pea

The Princess and the Pea: Mom's first quilting project, which now hangs on my bedroom door.

Not only does this hanging have sentimental value because Mom gave it to me and went on to become an expert quilter — so much so that she always tried to get me to throw this wall hanging out, as she was embarrassed by it — but because I recognize the material that makes all the mattresses: a bedspread Mom made, two of her dresses, and a pair of Grandpa Johnson's pants. And at the time the hanging came my way, I had that long blond hair.

***

We have more water worries, after a week of heavy rains. I was actually wearing Emil's rubber boots (my own are only ankle-high) out shovelling in a grass- and water-filled ditch for a while today, trenching so that water could get away from our yard. Will this rain never end? Scott said he saw a rainbow, today, that looked like it was painted onto a cloud -- that's how bright it was.

Shoot, it's late, nearly 1 a.m.
Think I'll make like the princess and climb onto a mattress.

For the Birds

In an effort to alert the birds to the large panes of glass that are our windows, I bought a bunch of these suncatchers and stuck them up.
















It didn't work and this northern flicker was downed last Tuesday. When he tried to walk, for two days he'd fall on his face. The third day he was jumping to the top of the box; the fourth, he was scrambling around to get out; on the way to the small animal clinic in the city on Saturday, he was poking his head through the holes in the cardboard box in his efforts to escape. But alas, he still couldn't fly.
















We dropped him off at the clinic and phoned back on Tuesday to see how he was. The vet told me the flicker had a broken shoulder/collar bone and they would rest him for two weeks. In that time it would repair itself and the flicker can be released. They'll even try to release him back out here, if someone happens to be coming out and will give him a ride.

Next: I crunched tin foil into balls, tied embroidery thread to it -- after all these years I'm using up some of my embroidery thread again; last time was when putting appliqués on the quilt I made with Mom. That's more than five years ago -- and Everett climbed a ladder and stuck them to the window frames with sticky-tack.

You can see why the birds might be confused when they see the reflection of the trees and sky, as they do.
















The balls move easily in the breeze but I think we may still add a few. Uncle Neil says to hang some old CDs out, too. We'll try that, but further out from the glass.

Emil phoned Neil the other day and invited himself over for a visit. We went yesterday afternoon — I made Everett drive, now that he has a learner's licence; he needs all the practice he can get, even though he'd as soon not, he says — and Emil showed off his singing skills, with The Morning Song (well, that's what I call it) and The Juicy Fruit song, from a commercial.

Then he asked me "Am I a good singer?"

Well, I lied. Sometimes you have to.

Four-Legged Companions

Jenna, eight years old, is a newcomer to the farm. Scott's aunt has sold her acreage and Jenna needed a new home.
















Ducky is here to stay after several visits while my sister and her hubby were away on holidays. He actually belongs to my niece Danielle but when she took him down south with her to live in Carlyle he wasn't happy and she decided to let me keep him.
















And here's Casper, the 15-year-old with arthritis and an incredible fear of thunder, who bounded across the yard toward me this morning with such vigour I could hardly believe it.

When I sit in the garden swing, all three of them are ranged nearby, on the grass. When I go for a walk, I am well escorted. I swear Ducky grins, although his little legs are a blur as he tries to keep up with the bigger dogs. He has a crush on Jenna, who will play with him as he runs circles around her.

The other day a coyote flashed across the road some distance ahead of us and these three, along with Sara Doodle from the old place, who visits occasionally, all lit out after it. Don't worry, Karen, I called Ducky back before they ran out into the field. [Karen always worries because Ducky would be a mere mouthful to a fox or coyote, but he thinks he's a German shepherd.]

Rainy Day

My morning coffee spot on the back step.

Today, more thunder, more rain. I've had to have the computer unplugged most of the morning and will have to get caught up later. This afternoon will be spent in town, getting a haircut for my shaggy boy and having the oil in my Mommy-van changed. I've been driving a minivan for at least 10 years; next time I buy a vehicle, it needs to be something different. Though I have to say I still like it: you can sleep in it if you need to; you sit up high; and of course, it's the easiest thing for Emil to get in and out of.
















Everett and I picked him up from Camp Easter Seal on Sunday morning. As always, he was in no hurry to leave. He had to say goodbye and hug each of his counsellors a good number of times. That's them, above. Adorable gals, every one; you can see why he loves the place.

And always, after I've dropped him off and am leaving alone, I'm reminded that he is one of the lucky ones. Most of the kids who spend a week there are living with much more severe handicaps; Emil at least can walk, talk, and feed himself.

I've mentioned that he's moving into one of the group homes in town on Sept. 1st, haven't I? We're excited about it, all of us. But I think I'm repeating myself so I'll say no more for now.

***

Emil recently turned 22, and I've given up insisting that he shave. He's never liked shaving, or been any good at it. So now he's got a scruffy beard. I don't like it, but it's not my face.

Moms Should Wear Pants

Everett, walking behind me down the hall, says in an exasperated tone:
“Mom, why aren’t you wearing any pants?”

I inform him that I am wearing a bathing suit, thank you very much.

Heh.

Another hot day, though we had thunder and rain last night and the power was out for several hours.

I'm working, so had best get back to it, during these hours of intense heat. Though Everett is out there now, pulling thistles that are as tall as he is from the back of the garden. He was having no part of getting up early to avoid the heat of the day; now he's paying. I spent an hour out there before the sun got up to full speed.

Next year, I am planting nothing that can't be weeded with my trusty stirrup hoe. To hell with hand-weeding half an acre of violas. Live and learn.

Wadena Museum

Museum Days, or whatever they call it -- we missed it again. Apparently they have threshing and stooking demonstrations and serve home-made pies, bread and borscht.

The old train station is Wadena's museum, as is often the case in our little towns.

Got home from Camp Easter Seal mid-afternoon and after watering all the potted plants I started weeding and was out there in the heat for an hour or two. Silly. I know I should wait till the day cools down but I see one weed and pull it and that leads to another and before you know it I've got an armload to carry to the brush pile and on it goes.

Not that I'll ever have a fully weeded flower garden.
It is to dream.

Scott's been busy cutting clover and baling:
















They were unable to put any seed into the ground this year due to the monsoonish spring, so the clover crop must have volunteered.
I'm not very knowledgeable for a farm girl. Have probably got it all wrong.

Corpsing

Holiday for You, Maybe

Trea loves Kade.

Apparently I am three thousand years old, for I have been a great-aunt for four years already.

These two are my sister Karen's grandchildren.

Kade is known for being an entertaining little character. About a week ago he told his mom that he was having "Porn Cops" for breakfast.

***

Shelly bolted out the door without either breakfast or coffee at six o'clock this morning. Several hours later the sky opened up and dropped an inch-and-a-half of rain on us in a heavy downpour. Once again, I had to unplug my computer to be on the safe side. Thus, now that the sky's blue again, I need to get back to work. No such thing as a long weekend for Moi.

Karen came out for supper last night and at Shelly's request brought her guitar. We cooked dead animals over the firepit for supper and then had a singsong. I tried to get a photo of Shelly's gigantic grin as Karen sang and played, but naturally the battery on my camera had to go and quit just then. Hmph.

Got Company

Feverfew

Pick the dried flowers, toss them in a flower bed, and they'll grow and reseed themselves every year. The leaves and flower petals are supposed to be helpful against migraines. The friend who gave me the seed said to put a flower under my tongue when a headache threatened.

***

Shelly's here and we've had sultry days to enjoy lazing about in.

What's Going On

Word is, purple coneflowers are hardy and will spread.

That hasn't been my experience. I plant them pretty much every year and count myself lucky when one comes back in the spring. Then I buy a few more. Never, yet, have I had a nice patch of them. But I keep trying.
















The highlight of the week so far has been a visit from Little Kath, who came out Monday and left yesterday afternoon.

She is the daughter of an old beau who has three kids; when we met, the kids were 11, 7, and 4. Kathy is the eldest, and she was never really a child, and although her dad and I were only together four years, she and I have remained in touch. His youngest sister has also been a close friend since then. I figure boyfriends might only be a way that gal-pals are brought to me. The beaus fall by the wayside, though I still count them as friends, but the relationships with women last a lifetime. I think I was 23 when I met his kids and did my best to "stepmother" them during summer holidays and school vacations, but now, since having two boys to raise from infanthood, I know I could have done a lot better by those three kids and wish I had.


















Scott has been busy cutting clover.

And fixing machinery. Seems to me a lot of farm labour is repairing machinery. He bought a used baler last week and has been working on it for two days already. This morning he headed off to the field to cut hay. It hasn't rained for two days. Woo hoo!

















On Sunday afternoon we went to a barbecue at Faye and Rick's. Rick is the burger-meister.

Today I'll be making raisin-rye bread, working here at my computer, perhaps running to town to pay my Revenue Canada late-penalty at the credit union, and looking forward to Shelly's arrival. She's leaving Edmonton in the early afternoon and will get here around suppertime.

Saturday in Summer

Some of the kittens checking me out.

Their mother has brought them in from god-knows-where to the shed we feed them in, but they scatter the minute I approach. Yesterday I stood around for a while and they were curious but didn't come within eight feet of me. All five are alive and well; we hadn't seen them for several weeks, when Scott spotted them playing under one of the old combines left here by the previous owners.

Took Karen's tiny little female Yorkie to meet her new owner yesterday, and then carried on to do some shopping in Yorkton, which is still recovering from its severe flood. Arrived home in the evening to work email in my inbox and a countertop full of dirty dishes; I haven't done them for a day or two. And would like to, but alas ... it's Saturday and I believe there may be a garage sale in town, and it's a sunny day, and although I was unsuccessful at keeping Scott from his farm work to go for breakfast with me and attend a few sales, he did fish a $50 bill out of his wallet so I could pick up beer ... so I might as well go see if I can find anything to spend his change on. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Need Some Dough?

I always show off the bread after it's out of the oven. Never before.
There. Remedied. This was your basic whole wheat before it was baked.

I'm told the deep freezes are getting full of bread and that maybe I shouldn't bake this week. With the boys away, we don't go through a batch every seven days. However, I think of this as an opportunity to get ahead of the game, for it's a certainty that one of my weekly bread-baking days will be a "lazy" day when I won't be able to face sticky countertops, and I'll say To hell with it, even if it means throwing out a cup of sourdough starter. Wasteful, wasteful! I can't stand to be, thus the weekly batch of whole wheat bread, whether we need it or not.

My reply to the above suggestion:
"You cannot have too much homemade bread."

Around the Yard

Wildflower bed. I cheated by adding poppy seeds this spring and violas last year.
















The cat-tails and water in the ditch are sneaking up on the plough.

















The new rain gauge, and part of the slough.

















Noticed this in the lilac trees along the driveway last night. Don't know what kind of bird ... maybe a goldfinch.

















Everett says he'll remember to use this rock for my headstone. The path of woolly thyme leads into the herb garden. This year there's only thyme, oregano, lavendar and feverfew among the poppies and brown-eyed susans.

















Hens and chicks. The hens look like they're going out to a party with their hair all done.

















It's only the peppers, on the right hand side, that aren't doing very well. They need less rain and more heat.


















These daisies are in a bush that stands as high as the bottom of my rib cage. They're huge.

For Potato Lovers Everywhere

Scott's theme song.

Rosebud Hall

There's an old country hall a mile from our place as the crow flies.

On nights when there is a dance and you are outside, the sounds of music and engines and voices can carry across the field and through the trees to our yard.

There are only half a dozen dances there a year nowadays, if that, put on by the hall committee. They had their annual horseshoe tournament last Monday.

Coyote Crop

Look closely; you'll see the head of a coyote as it sits watching.

Somebody found Casper and I interesting while out on our walk the other day. For a moment it looked like he might come closer; it was as if he was sitting there thinking about it as he watched. And I walked backward, watching him, wishing he would, but remembering that even though a coyote has never been known to attack a person around here, it has been happening -- last year a young woman out hiking in Nova Scotia was killed by two coyotes, and someone in Manitoba had a run-in with one, too.

The bad news is, coyotes have killed a month-old calf and yesterday, I'm told, three of them marched down the road as if they owned it, turned in the driveway at South Forks (my handle for the family "complex" a mile from here, where we lived before moving to GGFarm; it includes a big white farmhouse), and went right into the yard where the house is, where the vehicles are parked, where the kids play, where from in front of the barn they dragged away another calf carcass.

Bold as brass.
The blue heeler, who normally would keep them at some distance, was cowering in the basement because it had been thundering.

Lord T'underin'

Thunder throughout the night is no longer an infrequent occurrence but has almost come to be expected. It's prudent to shut down and unplug the computer to avoid having to get out of bed and do it in the wee hours.

The vet sent sedatives for the old dog, to be given at the onset of a thunderstorm or when we notice she is hearing thunder even if we are not: she pants and paces. Instructions on the bottle said "Give two. Give a third if necessary. No more than three in any one day." Scott gave Casper two last night around 10. Twelve hours later she put us in mind of a dead dog, exceedingly slow to respond to our calls, to raise her head, to stand. Even tonight she looks like she's been "rode hard and put to bed wet," as the saying goes, although she eagerly accompanied me on an evening walk so clearly she's okay.

Next time we'll try just one pill. It was pretty pathetic, watching her oh-so-slowly lift her head this morning when I stepped out the door and called her from her sleeping position under the caraganas. For a few tense moments we worried that she was not going to move ever again.

The Standing People

Usually by this time of year the R.M. or a local farmer has hayed the ditches (farmspeak for "cut down whatever's growing there and made it into bales for cattle). This year it's far too wet. There are cattails growing, for heaven's sake. But also, there are wildflowers I haven't seen close by here before.

Normally there are brown-eyed susans, prairie lilies, yarrow, bergamot, anemone, camas, harebells and so on and so forth. But this year I found wild licorice and wild mint out there too. The root of the licorice is supposed to relieve symptoms of menopause. The mint I won't bother with because I've got some in my garden, trying to choke out one of the lily patches. Mint is easily identified by its square stem. It's time to start making tea out of it, and put a dint in its vigour.

**The Standing People is a book by Kahlee Keane, a folk healer who lives in Saskatoon, and her partner Dave. The book identifies medicinal wild plants found in western Canada. I keep it tucked in my purse so it's with me when I see some strange "weed."