Six Years

Everett wipes the raindrops off his glasses. He has started a load of clothes in the laundromat across the street, and joined me in the cafe for a bite to eat, killing time till they need to be transferred to dryers.

Noon
Six years since Mom died. While she was sick, I used to try to imagine what life would be like after she was gone; I tried to imagine the future without her, five, six, ten years after, and was unable to. Here it is, six years, and it still doesn’t seem real. Oh, it’s real. That’s not the right word I guess, though it brings a hot tear to my eye.

I sent a short memoriam verse (author unknown) to the paper:
Sometimes a note of a song 
brings us a thought of you.
Sometimes a flower as we pass along,
Or a sky that is azure blue,
Or a silver lining in the clouds
When the sunshine's peeping through.

Scott's mom called, asking if Everett could help plant her garden today. I said I’d bring him as soon as he was dressed. It’s sprinkling out there, and cold, but she was bent over the ground when I dropped him off. It’s raining hard enough near Yorkton to bring the farmers in from the fields, but here they’re still out. A news article today says about 43% of this area’s crops are in; it’s late enough that there will be a lot of worry about fall frosts.


8:34pm

From Everett's side of the café booth

Home with clean laundry and an extra boy for the weekend, and thanks to the rainfall the young leaves on the caragana trees have doubled in size in just a few hours. And the scent out there ... glorious. Now just to put up with anxious grumpy farmers who can't finish seeding till the ground dries out.

View from the pickup window at Scoops drive-thru

Message left by sister Karen on answering machine this morning:

"Sorry to call so early, but I'm leaving for work right away. Cara had her baby last night, a boy. They haven't named him yet, and the nurses have been too busy to weigh him. Bye!"

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Came home with two dogs yesterday, so that was a relief. Old Casper's got some good days ahead yet, apparently, and only needed her nails cut and an antibiotic against the infection between her toes. Ducky got heavily sedated and his four lower incisors pulled out by pliers. He was a tongue-lagging sack of lard after that, but looks good as new today.

That ye pet-owners may covet our veterinarian:
The Bill
14 pills: $4.20
2 rabies shots 36.00
sedate dog, pull loose teeth 10.00
clip toenails 3.00
Total: 53.20
(taxes extra)

Hounds

Pete

The house where Emil lives has a supervisor; actually, three, who take turns staying at the group home for several days in a row. They work 24- or 36-hour shifts, and often bring their pets with them. I'm fond of all the dogs, of course, but absolutely adore Pete, who has the softest, most pettable fur and is full of piss and vinegar. He gets quite excited whenever I (or anyone, I suppose) comes to the door, and yaps up a storm, and jumps all over me, and I love it. I could just eat him up.

Today is a dog day. I was up early to run into town for a lab test at the hospital, and now am breaking my overnight fast with a fried egg and two slices of buttered toast made from Everett's delicious wholewheat bread. Next, we'll put a collar on Ducky and a leash on Casper, and heave her into the back of the GM before heading for Kelvington, where Dr Rob, the best vet in the world, has his clinic.

Poor old Casper has sores on her feet and has been limping around. I've been reluctant to take her in, because I'm afraid Dr Rob will say it's time to put her out of her misery. She is about 15 years old and fairly stiff already at times, due to arthritis we suppose, but has really failed lately. She still has happy, bouncy days though, so it's not as if it's easy to decide to end her life. My hope is that some medicine will fix her up and she'll have some good times left. Scott, however, doesn't think she'll make it through another winter.

Ducky, on the other hand, seems as spunky as ever but there were a few days last week when all he wanted was to be outside. That was not so surprising, as it was nice weather and why wouldn't he want to be out with "the girls?" But he wasn't interested in his canned food, which looks so appetizing it could pass for a meaty stew for humans. Then Scott noticed that Ducky has lost a front tooth and has another one quite loose. Oh oh. His breath is not rotten, so we wonder what is going on there.

And now, to see if my little penguin niece (expecting her third baby next month) is home and ready for perennials. We'll go dig some up before we leave. It's turning into a glorious day of sun and heat and it will be hard to settle down into this office to work when we return. Or perhaps it will be easier because it'll be so damn hot out I'll want to be in here where it's cooler.

The tractors are out in all the fields now, the poplar leaves have all come out and the ditches, emptied of water, are green. Scott's gone this morning to pick up some oats for seeding, for feed for the cattle. Life in Saskatchewan is in full swing.

Froze Hard

Bleeding heart bush, third plant to bloom this spring

Good thing I got this photo, because last night we had a serious freeze. Today the bush is drooping, hangdog, a broken shell of a plant.

***

Done work for the day, about to go outside in the cold sun with a travel mug full of hot tea.

But first:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LI'L SIS!

Isn't she cute? Turns 43 today, if I'm not mistaken

Everett made you something:

We'll eat them for you

Here's the recipe he used:

Chocolate Chews

1 c milk
1 c cocoa
4 c brown sugar
3 c peanut butter
3 c oatmeal

Preheat oven to 325F.
Mix milk and cocoa. Add remaining ingredients. Put one-inch balls on greased cookie sheet.
Bake 20 minutes.
When warm they will seem almost toffee-like on the inside; when cool, they are chewy.

Cats and Flowers and Birds, oh my!

Purple martin house awaiting paint job, and Ace

The kittens born last spring have names that start with an A, so we'll be able to figure out how old they are in years to come, and maybe even remember who their mother was. Last year we had one batch of kittens— a litter of five— and three have so far survived farm life, which takes its toll on barn cats. Perhaps when they go hunting across the road or in the fields, they get lost. But I doubt it. It's more likely that foxes and coyotes get them. Even the odd speedy vehicle past our driveway hasn't left a cat carcass yet.

Everett holding Alice; Ace has to get into the picture

We seem to have two year-old females, one of whom, Ash, is shy and timid compared to her siblings. I expected they'd both have kittens this spring, but no ... no sign of plumpness in either of them.
Their mother, however, is busy with this year's offspring in the attic of the tractor shed behind Everett. She's got all the little Bs well hidden.

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Holey sheet, it's cold out there today. The thermometer in the Chev said 6 degrees, according to Scott, who left here shortly after seven this morning to meet with a customer. I will be bringing my one tray of bedding plants indoors tonight, in case it freezes. Did you notice I said one tray? When I say I am simplifying and paring down, it is no joke.

I have been digging holes under the oak trees and digging up perennials to relocate there. It may well be the only safe place in the yard, if Scott does as he intends to, which is re-level the entire lawn and garden area so that the ground slopes away from the house. Last summer it was too wet to do anything; this summer we wait and see what happens groundwater-wise.

Under trees is not the best place for flowers, what with the heavy shade and the thirsty roots of the oaks, so only plants that I think can handle it are going there: delphiniums, columbines, maltese crosses. They may not thrive, but at least they won't be plowed under... they'll have a chance. They'll get lots of light in early spring before the oaks leaf out, and in the summer they'll enjoy dappled shade, which flowers seem to love, and the rays of the evening sun will slant beneath the oak branches.

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No use talking to me. All I think about at this time of year are flowers ... and birds. A male baltimore oriole visited the oaks this morning, black and bright orange. There are about two dozen American goldfinches around the yard, chasing each other at lightning speed through the branches. Chipping sparrows have arrived, and last week I saw a couple Harris sparrows. When I sit out on the deck overlooking the slough, a song sparrow perches nearby in the lilacs and sings for me. There are woodpeckers about, and a pair of magpies is nesting in the tall elms on the west side of the yard.

Out on the dugout yesterday I saw—aside from the redwinged blackbirds and the numerous species of ducks and the Canada geese pair, who only seem to visit long enough to preen themselves on top of the muskrat house— a sora sneaking along behind the thin grass on shore. A sora is more often heard than seen. This one plopped into the water and swam across to my side of the dugout, just like a duck. It's small, about the size of a robin. If you click on the link you can see a photo and hear the sound it makes. There are few things I like more than leaving the window open at night and listening to it, and the frogs. Have I mentioned that I often fall asleep with a smile on my face?

This is the life.

Violet, the previous owner, left these tulips under the oak trees

✿⊱╮I've been busy digging holes and digging up plants, moving them to new locations in order to reduce the area that needs weeding by hoe or hand. This morning I woke up stiff, but it can't all be blamed on the shovel. On the way into the hardware store the other day I saw a bike I wanted, and bought it. Scott picked it up yesterday and I took it for a short spin when he got it home. Stretched out some unused muscles, methinks. But it's dandy; the old-fashioned handlebars allow a restful ride rather than one that strains the neck and shoulders from leaning forward.

Violas are the first to pop up around the yard, everywhere, like weeds. Only better.

Gorgeous Days

We both need a haircut.

12:47pm

Took my coffee onto the step after Scott woke me, and watched a pair of geese plus an interloper at the dugout — the pair doing a performance thing with their necks and heads, or maybe only sounding an alarm — and Everett joined me for a while, till I got him to dig three deep holes under the oaks and move three delphiniums over. So glad he is here to help me, because that job requires weight and strength I don’t have.

I’ve watered all the recently transplanted violas and the cosmo, calendula, bachelor button and wildflower seeds, and scattered the red poppy seeds along with zinnia seed from the year before last, which is unlikely to do anything but what the hell, never know.

Also watered yesterday’s greenhouse purchases: five green pepper plants and two packs of petunias. Marilou didn’t have portulaca, nicotiana or jalepenos for sale, and I forgot to look for a new rosebush while I was there (I've planted one in memory of Mom every spring since she ... went. It's hard to find a word I can stand to write). It looks like the five already here did not fare well over winter. They seem to have died back almost completely. Scott warns me the yard needs to be torn up so none of the existing flowerbeds are safe, and there's not much point in buying another bush this year. But I still want to.

And that’s my day so far. I’ve just sat down to work. Everett and I are going to town in a few hours to do laundry, pick up Emil for the long weekend, and buy groceries. Supper will need making and I'll want to do some hoeing, then get another hour’s paying work in tonight. We’ll see. The days seem particularly plump full when the sun is warm and calls me outdoors, if even only for short walks around the yard.

***

Almost forgot to give the farm report! I am such a bad "farm wife."
Scott's been in the field for the past two days; lots of tractors pulling equipment in the fields now. I do not know if they are cultivating, or harrowing. I think cultivating. Doesn't harrowing come after seeding?

Skip Skip Skip to My Lu

Luanne prepares to drive home to Flin Flon

She suggested I hop into the passenger's seat and wave a breezy goodbye to my family as we headed out the driveway, but I managed with great effort to restrain myself.

We had a short but satisfying visit, only Friday to Saturday, but she had been away from home a week already so wanted to get back and have a day of rest before starting work on Monday.

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Every spare moment is being spent outside, now, while the weather is welcoming. I've been transplanting violas, sowing flower seeds, and bossing Everett around — he hates gardening, he tells me. Can you blame him? Guess who has to fill the pots with a shovel and carry them around, and rake straw off the grass where the bale house for the dogs was, and do the turd tour.

He reports that there is one batch of newborn kittens in the attic of the tractor shed.

One of the best things about farm living is you can throw a jacket on over your jammies and go for a walk in the morning sunlight.

Off and Running for Another Week

Last weekend: Scott holds the door for Emil, who's going "home" for the week

9:53 a.m.
Now that it's summer(ish)time, Emil gets his wish, which is to stay here at Golden Grain Farm till "after supper" on Sundays. We still need to get him back by nine, which is bedtime for the residents of the group home, and having him come in later would likely be disturbing for them.

Luanne hadn't seen Emil in person since he was six years old, so she wasn't prepared for the beard or the deep voice.

Someone in bed with me last night tossed and turned and moaned and groaned for hours; thus I may be due for a nap after work this afternoon. Right now the wind is pretty cool so the horseshoe remained leaning up against the house in the minutes before my morning coffee was poured, but with luck I'll be tackling another section of the flower garden later on today. Got one cleaned up yesterday; love that magic hoe.

During their stopover, which has lasted a week so far, this Canada goose pair suns together in the mornings on top of a muskrat house next to the dugout. The photo was taken from the back step; if I went closer, the geese would fly off pretty quickly. (Click to enlarge.)

Summertime Summertime SumSumSummertime

Chocolate cake, from scratch

Today's warm and sunny, so we've been outside quite a bit -- except for Scott, who has a cold or flu again and is lying about, groaning. I hauled the plant pots from the brooderhouse to the hill of black soil, where they'll be filled, and transplanted perky little violas from the garden into pots under the oak trees out front. Emil walked around the yard for several hours and Everett and I lugged the garden swing from the barn to the shady spot where we hope to spend many leisurely hours this summer. He has swept out the camper and made up a bed out there, where the air will be drier than in his basement bedroom. And Skip-to-my-Lu, who spent last night with us, headed down the road toward Flin Flon around 1 o'clock, so should be safely home by now after her whirlwind tour of Winnipeg, Yorkton and Wadena.


I won't tell you how many engorged woodticks the kids picked off the dogs. It was a bloody killing field, I will say.


Two new species of ducks on the dugout this morning: a lesser scaup pair, and another we haven't identified yet.


Tomorrow, out comes the horseshoe hoe. I will be spending the day in the garden, liberating my perennials from the hordes of dandelions.

A Child's Garden of Poetry

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Lately I’ve been turning the TV on for a short time during the day to see what’s on Ellen Degeneres (who makes me laugh and/or get up and dance) or Oprah (winding down her 25-year talk show so may have some good ones – unfortunately there are still too many commercials throughout, so I rarely watch a whole show) or All My Children (also going off the air, so may for a change fairly feature some longtime characters, favourites of mine from the days when I’d sit down and watch the show in the afternoons while nursing Emil — twenty-some years ago).

Today I flipped through the channels while eating breakfast— whole wheat toast with leftover  egg salad — and when I’d find a title that seemed interesting, I’d click on it and find only a commercial. I’d sigh, and go back to the guide, where I start at channel 300 and work my way down the screen, up in numbers to the 600s. There I found A Child’s Garden of Poetry, which captivated me from the first moment. I cranked up the volume to cover the noise of the dehumidifier in the kitchen and of Everett clanging dishes around on the countertop, and watched, and listened — moved, and spoken to.

And I had some “profound revelations” at the same time. But then, that’s no surprise. Poetry will do that to you.

Look for the half-hour documentary on HBO. For more: click here.

Busy Week Ahead

A horned grebe is out behind my house this morning; this is a first, for me; maybe it will nest here! (Photo from Eagle Wing Tours)

Yes, we live in a slough! as Scott says. But can't you see it's worth it?

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Get out there and spoil your mothers, all of you, if you're still lucky enough to have one. Or a grandmother.
Or a mother-in-law. This is mine, in the light blue top, and beside her in the violet is her sister.

Kate, Pat, Ann, Leithe, Kathy (a.k.a.KateduNord)

I should be out with Scott and his mom and aunt, at the Mother's Day brunch in Kuroki, but instead I've decided to work for a few hours before I have to run out for the afternoon. Tomorrow we're driving Reta and Carl (my aunt and uncle) to Saskatoon to spend a day with friends before they fly back to Phoenix. This afternoon I have to take Emil to see them; they're staying at Neil and Rose's (my other uncle and aunt). A dear friend (Luanne) is coming Thursday and staying till Saturday. You can see I need to work ahead. Or, I do if I want to get paid. Or enjoy my time with friends and family. I could always pull off a power weekend after Luanne leaves, and will if I have to, but to have my work done in advance ... now that's the ticket to satisfaction. Though I must say, my work seems more inspired when I'm under pressure. That's when the brilliant ideas come, if any.


Yesterday afternoon the gals above (fondly called the Likeminded Ladies because of shared interests) dropped in for tea. They brought me a lovely potted plant, which I've got indoors because it's so damn cold out. When I walked them out to their vehicles after we nibbled on Everett's Chocolate Chews (he found a recipe on the internet for cookies without eggs or flour, and they turned out stellarly), a jacket was required. How do you like mine? Do I not look like a lumberjack? (Jean, your mom and dad gave me this jacket. I think they'd gotten it from Arty.)

All the women in the photo above are mothers.

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When I was in my twenties I went to a concert at the Yorkton Exhibition. Tom Jackson was a guest or maybe the opening act, and Buffy Sainte-Marie was the main attraction. I don't remember anything about the concert except this one thing she said: "Every person on this planet must come here through the spirit of a woman." Something like that.

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The local greenhouses opened this weekend. In this weather they won't get much of a turnout— doorprizes and draws or not— although many people I suppose are picking up a potted plant for their moms and grandmas.

Spring Day

click on image to enlarge

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I want to be outside, not in here at my desk. The window is open so I can hear the frogs and birds and feel the breeze. It’s a beautiful day.

3:46pm
As you can see, I got out. Everett and I walked as far as the ravine, which is where the road was washed out a week or two ago. These two Canada geese watched us and the dogs closely (and loudly, in the male's case); then as soon as we turned around and headed home, they took flight across the field.

5:01pm
For instance, "2012 is just the end of the biggest cycle of time that the Maya had. There was no association between the end of a cycle of time and the end of the world," he explained.
-CBC news story about an exhibition of Mayan artifacts coming to Canada: click here to read.

Roads Washed Out All Over

People for some inexplicable reason drive around and over barricades, and damage signs.

A mile from home, on our way to Faye and Rick's for another Stellar Supper.

We went for a little drive around our area on Sunday afternoon and had to take a few detours.

The Wadena News came out today with loads of photos of the flooding in our district. I hadn't realized that there are families who've had to leave their homes, and one is even having its grocery supplies delivered by quad, as it's no longer possible to drive up to their farmhouse. Others are battling water that is trying to fill their basements; they're hauling out carpets, furniture and other stored items, and manning sump pumps till the wee hours. People are getting tired and more than a little worried about the cost of repairing everything. By comparison our family is sitting high and dry — as long as the pumps don't seize up.

Today it's cloudy and cold, after an early morning rain. Fingers are crossed and braided in hopes we don't get more precipitation.  

This farmer's field is now more of an island.

 I made an early run to town with Scott, to have a truck repaired before he headed off to work at my sister Karen's new Aurora Beach house, which he's drywalling. While we waited for the mechanic to finish, we took ourselves out for your basic prairie breakfast — toast, fried eggs, hashbrowns, sausage and/or bacon — and then visited the credit union, the post office, and a construction customer of Scott's. So I'm getting a late start to my working day, and had best get at it.

Froggies are A-courtin' in My Backyard, Uh Huh

Before mating season is over, the volume will be twice as high in our yard. I love it. This short video was taken from our back step, just to give you a taste of ... frog heaven.

Kiva

Cambodia - wants to buy two dairy cows

This is the lady I lent $25 to this morning.









My first Kiva loan of $25 went to this fellow, who paid it back in small increments— around $2 per month:

Paraguay - added onto his bakery

After he paid back the $25, I re-lent it to this lady:

Peru - makes and sells rope

From now on I'm going to make a $25 loan on the first day of each month.
Check out Kiva; it's an interesting way to give people a hand up instead of a hand-out.

Hooray Hooray

Joanne and Grace

Do you know what day it is? she says, with a smile in her voice.

Hooray, hooray, it's the first of May!
Outdoor screwing starts today!

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Mom used to phone and remind Joanne every year on this date.

Movie Night

Near town

Buttered popcorn, and a plethora of movie choices.
It is cold out there! I'm amazed it hasn't snowed.
In Yorkton, they had snow on the ground this morning.
I went out for a few minutes only, and was glad to have on my ski pants and gloves and winter coat with a hood.
Choices:
The King's Speech
The Social Network
The Fighter
A s--tload more, thanks to Gord, but this looks like a pretty good start. I'm after watching The King's Speech.
My cold is keeping me tired; mending, but need to stay home and rest. Had some plans for tonight but ... will have to skip the par-tay and take "My Girl" out for a meal instead.

Kids These Days

Not our first choice for chariot

10:31a.m.
Scott didn’t start up the pump at the dugout before leaving. Maybe he forgot, but more likely it’s because the gas can is empty. So I can hear the frogs! I’ve turned off the radio station, eschewing manmade sound, and opened the office window wide, instead. Between the determined croaking and the trilling harmonies added by the birds, me and my fluffy housecoat are firmly ensconsced in heaven, here.

Made Everett drive Scott’s red and white GM, his work truck, to town yesterday. That kid bitched all the way there, and all around town, about having to drive the truck. I told him I’d heard his message the first 10 times, and now Just Stop! But he couldn’t seem to. It was Bemoan This, and Belabour That. The truck felt different to drive. The brakes didn’t work properly. He can’t see out the back. There’s so much dust in the cab it’s hard to breathe. The signal arm doesn’t work right. No way he’ll be able to parallel park. It’s broken; you have to guess at the gear shift positions. Blah Blah Blah BLAH. Wash Rinse and Repeat, Drive Your Mother Insane.

Dog Doctor

Sara, age 6, who visits regularly and for long periods

I was out in the back yard a while ago, re-filling the pump with gas and admiring the dozens of croaking frogs that are floating spreadeagled on the surface of the dugout, when I noticed Sara had three porcupine quills stuck in her snout. I came in for scissors to cut the tips off, and then she patiently let me remove them.

I'd no sooner gotten back to work here at my desk than Everett asked me if Jenna had had those porcupine quills in her nose when I was out there. She hadn't. It seems the dogs are being uncharacteristically quiet while dealing with this particular beast. We called Lucky Ducky, the deerfaced chihuahua, into the porch (he has to be checked over for woodticks before he gets further into the house; he had two yesterday) for his own safety.

Jenna snapped at my fingers once when I brushed against her head, which made me a bit nervous about helping her, but I did manage to snip the quills and get one out. The bottom one is not budging; I need to find a pair of pliers and get a better grip.

Jenna, 8 years old

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Water report:
Scott told me this morning that we have "a little bit of leeway now," should we get rain or something. "Just a little bit, though," he added, lest I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm not sure if he's had the pump at the lagoon running in the last few days (probably), but the one behind the house (which I hear through the closed window behind me, dammit— it drowns out the frogs. So far. When they really get going, they'll be louder) has been going steadily for a week or more during the day. Water is being pumped from the nearby dugout to a slough closer to the road, so that it can get away down the ditch and away from our yard. It will flow on down to the ravine (seen in yesterday's snapshot) and onward. Meanwhile, the sump pump in our basement is doing its job admirably; I hear it start up every half hour or so. There's some water on the concrete but I've seen the floor a lot worse down there. For a while last summer we used a dustpan to scoop up water that filled a five-gallon pail, twice a day.

Flooded Roads

At the ravine

 There are three ways to get to our place, and the road in this picture is the one we usually take.

Yesterday it was as warm as a summer day so I took a walk down there, and the water had already receded and the gravel had been spread.

My company is here for coffee — Bev Semko, a friend from high school — gotta go!

***

9:11pm
I hear our area (Fishing Lake) was on the news last night. Oh oh.

Fifty Reasons We Love Karen

My little sister just turned 50, and I put out a call for her friends and family to send me their reasons for loving her. It's been suggested that she post them so they can all see what each other added, but that would be a strenuous task for Karen, who doesn't read and write. (Heh! I mean, WON'T read and write!)

Here you go:

1. She reminds me of your mom. (Gord)

2. Her whole body shakes when she giggles, tee hee hee. (Danielle)

3. She’s an animal lover; whether it be dogs, cats, rodents, snakes, owls or Richard. (Danielle)

4. I love Karen because she is the daughter of my all-time best friend, Grace. She was a natural-born animal lover and continues to be. One year we had a snow in May, and she looked out the window and said, "Boy, that was a short summer!" (Joanne Bohl)

5. Her beautiful singing voice. (Damon)

6. Her amazing pierogi as well as pretty much everything she cooks. (Damon)

7. Her smile, which is always warm and infectious. (Damon)

8. Her overall happy demeanor. (Damon)

9. Those crazy little glass figurines that multiply and are in danger of overtaking the house. (Damon)

10. I remember Karen cutting patterns out of Grandma Benson's kitchen curtains. Grandma had plastic drapes in her front room (very common in the day!) but Karen did not choose to cut those; she sat at the kitchen table with a pair of scissors and cut the little patterns out of fabric ones.  (Joanne)

11. Karen gives freely and without end. (Vickie)

12. Her shining smile lights even the dimmest of moods and always challenges a grin. She is one of my best lifelong friends and I will cherish that always.  Unconditionally I will love her forever and am proud to call her my friend. Cheers to you on your birthday Karen, you just keep getting better! (Vickie)

13. Hey Karen, turning 50 is well.... turning 50 and that’s it!! Just another day!       with a few more grey hairs! You are a great person and have been a great friend all those years to me. (Barb Barteski)

14. I adore Karen because she has been a fantastic friend while I was far away from my family and she is one of the reasons why I think so highly about Canadian people in general. She is one of the reasons why my stay in Canada has been an unforgetable experience which I cherish all my life. She has made a difference in my life. (Eric Oord)

15. The last time I saw her (probably at a curling game or something in Margo), she had the time to chat and always has a smile on her face. She enjoys friends, community and loves her family! What more can a person say! (Kathy Daviduk)

16. Karen is someone who will be your friend forever. You know how it is-- you grow up and you really don't talk anymore. With Karen it doesn't matter how long ago you talked, nothing changes. What I mean is I feel just as comfortable around her now as I did years ago. She'll always be a very dear friend. (Annella Domeij)

17. I love the way Karen tells the pig joke especially after she has had a couple of drinks, and Darcy loves Karen's buns. (Brendalynn Wallen)

18. The thing I think of when I think of Karen is her smile. I don't think I have ever seen her without a smile on her face. Maybe she just likes me and I make her smile, but I somehow don't think that is what it is - haha. (Cheryl Eskra)

19. I could tell you a lot of reasons why we love Karen but I’m sure they are reasons that you already know! Karen is a wonderful person. I will give you my perspective of Karen as I see her at work, and the joy she brings to the residents when she is there. She puts her heart into her job and it shows.       Karen is a very caring and giving person; she tries to do whatever is necessary to make the residents happy. I enjoy working with her as a fellow staff member. She is not only a fellow co-worker but Karen is also my friend, and I am very happy about that. Karen is a gem, stunning and beautiful, inside and out! (Denise Redman)

20. Where to start! I remember Karen French-braided my hair for all the school and church events until she got too old and Joan took over. I also loved babysitting for Karen during the summer and going to all the James Gang ball tournaments. I love my cousin Karen and have also been told I look a lot like her! (Karla)

21. I love Karen because she’s got one hell of an arm and her aim isn’t bad either. (Cameron)

22. Karen has/had a kick-ass throw to second base from home plate. (Dawn Wallin)

23. She's got the best wit of most people I know —when she lets herself loose and throws a few daggers. (Dawn)

24. She's the most reliably fun person to make music with EVER! hehehe. (Dawn)

25. Oh yeah…and she only ever phones me when she wants something...LOL.     (Dawn)

26. I love Karen ’cuz she’s voluptuous and cuddly. (Gary)

27. I love her dimples. (Gary)

28. She is a fantastic cook. (Joan)

29. She is never depressed. (Gary)

30. She’s always got time for me. (Gary)

31. She thinks she’s a good singer! (Gary)

32. She would adopt any of my pets that needed a home. (Joan)

33. She wouldn’t be scared to get mice out of her washing machine, like Gary is. (Joan)

34. I love her because she dotes on my children. (Joan)

35. I love Auntie Karen because she has a farm. (Jordan)

36. She is nice. (Jordan)

37. She’s the best companion, up for anything, willing to try new things. (Joan)

38. She “gets” my dry humour and laughs at my wisecracks. (Kathy)

39. She is the most loyal friend a person could have and can be trusted with any secret. (Kathy)

40. She’s lovable and gives great hugs. (Uncle Carl)

41. We love her music and her smile. (Aunt Reta)

42. We have fond memories of her visit with Cameron to the States: she liked the antebellum homes, and the French quarter, and the pecan pie. (Reta)

43. She is as kindhearted as they come. (Kathy)

44. Everything she does, she does well. (Reta)

45. She is the mother-in-law from heaven. (Michelle)

46. She has a strong work ethic. (Michelle)

47. She is community-minded and will do whatever she can to keep her
      little town going. (Michelle)

48. She is generous and has given me tons of Princess House. (Michelle)

49. She is a forgiving mother, thank goodness. (Marc)

50. She is ridiculously modest and self-effacing, not realizing how sweet she is and how pretty, nor how special she is and why so many of us love her for so many more reasons than we can manage to put into words. (Kathy)

Of course, there are many of your friends and relatives, Karen, whose reasons for loving and admiring you are not included here. Take this list and multiply it by 100, and maybe you’ll begin to understand how special a place you occupy in the hearts of many. You are one of a kind and your presence in it makes the world a little bit better for all of us.

If I had to pick just one person to be in my corner, I’d pick you.

****

Our sister Joan has added a few more to the list, on her blog:
http://ramblingsofaprairiechild.blogspot.com

In Memory

It's been a busy week, between Grandma's last days, those that followed, and a couple of extra projects I signed up to help with at work. Then I had the good fortune to catch Emil's cold, so haven't had one ounce of extra energy in the past two or three days.

If you were at the funeral yesterday, you've already read Grandma's obituary, written by me and read at the church by my sister Joan. She could be a public speaker; who knew! She did a great job of it. And my sister Karen played her guitar and sang this song at the service. She did ask me to sing with her, as she often does, but I don't like all eyes on me, let's face it, and was glad it was her and not me up there. Just as well, too, because my voice isn't in tiptop shape with this cold anyway. Afterward our cousin's little girl said to Karen, who has been singing around the countryside since she was in her teens, "You should be a singer someday!" 

We had a fine day for the funeral, with a bite in the air but sunshine to keep it pleasant, and afterward met at the community hall for a lunch of sandwiches and squares whipped up by the church ladies.

In a two-story farmhouse three miles east of Margo, Doris May was born to May and John Bartley on Dec.7, 1916. They had a family of four daughters and five sons and, although two children wouldn’t survive their early years, the household was a happy one, with music and friends and plenty of community activity as well as the hard work of farm living in those days. One of Doris’s earliest jobs, when she was about four, was to sit at the bottom of the stairs to alert her mother in case her grandfather, who was ill, should need help to come down from his bedroom on the second floor.

Doris, the youngest of the sisters, was also the tiniest; when she started Grade 1 at Olivet School, she could still walk under the kitchen table. She was small but such a swift runner that she won all the races at school and collected the prize “hankies” till they gave up awarding them. Those trusty legs served her well throughout her life. She loved to dance and many people remember her performing the Highland fling at community functions around the countryside till well into middle age and beyond; her minuscule feet flew so fast they were a blur. Right up until her late eighties when she moved to Weneeda Park Lodge in Wadena, she walked everywhere she went in the town of Margo, and at a pretty good clip too.

Doris married Emil Benson in 1939 and they moved out to a farm north of Margo, where they raised a family of four. She busied herself with a wide variety of pastimes aside from keeping the house highly organized—everything in its place—and the children spic and span. She liked to play cards but was particularly fond of whist; she played bingo and took home more than her fair share of small prizes. After she and Emil built a house in town in 1967 she never missed a Sunday service at the Lutheran church and her high voice was unmistakable throughout the singing of all the hymns; she crocheted afghans and doilies; she was a member of the Margo Homemakers Club and the Lutheran Ladies Aid, and as a senior citizen was actively involved in the Silver Threads Club. She was a fan of hockey, curling and baseball (the Blue Jays were her team) and enjoyed watching games whether they were played in town or on TV.

A few things her family will remember: she collected pitchers for her china cabinet, took great care with her clothing and kept her hair “set,” and made hot lunches throughout the school year for the grandchildren, who were completely at home in Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Her skill with a box of Kraft Dinner (what kid doesn’t love KD?) was particularly notable, and her delicious fried potatoes seem impossible to replicate. She took pride in the accomplishments of all the town’s schoolchildren; she always attended their games and plays and was upset when the school was closed down. Dinners and suppers were never complete until the freshly brewed pot of tea had been emptied; the table was neatly set with either a tablecloth or placemats for every meal, and dishes were washed and put away promptly afterward. She took up search-a-word puzzles in her later years and did them every day till she was in her nineties, usually while watching game shows on TV. For the pure pleasure of it, she would occasionally sort through all the clothes in her closet and the jewellery in the box on her dresser. Although she didn’t get behind the wheel herself, she liked to go for a drive with Emil on a Sunday afternoon and remark on the progress of the crops or harvest, or the amount of snow in the fields, and appreciated this sort of outing right up to the fall of 2010. And let’s not forget how she doted on Blackie the cat, the faithful companion of her years in Margo after Emil passed away. The noisy beast even had his own spot on the kitchen table so he could look out the dining room window; there was only one person he really trusted, and that was Doris.

In 2006 Doris became a resident of Weneeda Park Lodge and was happy and busy there among new friends as well as old friends from Margo. In the winter of 2009 she moved to Kelvindell Lodge in Kelvington, where she was affectionately and well looked after and remained content until she passed away in her sleep on April 14, 2011, one week after suffering a severe stroke.

Doris was predeceased by her parents and siblings and a newborn daughter, her first child. She lost Emil in 1997, their daughter Grace in 2005, and their son Bruce in 2010. Left to remember Doris are her sisters-in-law Gladys Bartley, Vera Benson and Trudy Bartley and many nieces and nephews; her daughter Reta (Carl) Morris and grandsons Damon and Nathan and families; son Neil (Rose) Benson and granddaughters Leanne, Jolene, Heather and families; daughter-in-law Shirley Benson and grandchildren Gerald, Karla and families; and son-in-law Don Johnson and grandchildren Kathy, Karen, Cameron, Joan and families.

Our mom, our dapper little grandma, lived her life with determined resignation to its hardships and a firm yet quiet faith that we do indeed go somewhere else after we die.

                                    “Thou lovest these souls that we love
                                     With a love as far surpassing our own
                                     As the glory of noon surpasses the gleam of a candle.
                                     Therefore will we be still, and trust in thee.”

Guitars and Grandma

Glen in his workshop

Scott and I picked Aunt Reta up in the city on Sunday. She stays with her friends Glen and Janet when she's there, and on Sunday Glen gave us a little tour of his guitar-making factory, which is in their backyard. He has himself engineered and built most of the machines used to make his Fury guitars. Scott was quite fascinated and we will have to go back again so he can get his fill; as it was we wanted to get back home so Reta could see Grandma. Scott had a million questions and was obviously curious about the details as Glen showed him how the instruments are made.

Grandma's condition hasn't changed since she had her stroke on Thursday night. She is eating and drinking virtually nothing, and has not been put on any life support system. She seems comfortable, is unable to move or talk, is mostly asleep, and doesn't seem to recognize anyone when she does the odd time open her eyes. Unless there is some miraculous recovery, it is only a matter of time now.

Snow's Going Fast

Scott rented a backhoe to push snow away from the back yard, behind the garden.

In the front yard he used the tractor, and Everett is shovelling snow away from the house.

In other news, Grandma had a stroke on Thursday night and I'm just about to head north to go see her. Aunt Reta is flying in from Phoenix and I'll drive to Saskatoon tomorrow to pick her up.

Bit Wet

Moisture Map: we live in the red, northeast of Wynyard about 30 miles. Click on image to enlarge.

For the story (or non-story, to be honest; dull reading), click here.

We're off to town in a half hour, so Everett can drive, and drive, and drive some more. We'll do laundry, pick up Emil, get groceries (his favourite place to go is the Co-op Store, though he doesn't help me shop) and probably treat ourselves to something from the local drive-thru, which opened for the season just a week ago. Everett is dying for an ice cream Blizzard. The sun is shining so it seems appropriate; I have just paid off the last $300 of debt I had in the world, and am forthwith footloose and fancy-free, so I deserve a milkshake. And it's the weekend! My work week is nearly done except for a few hours I'll put in over the next two days. Scott has earned us a steak supper tomorrow night; sometimes his clients spoil him (and as a result, me) when he's finished a job. Anyone's cooking but mine — yippee! I was all over that invitation.

And that is life down on the farm ....

Too Nice Out to Sit in Here

The porch, repository of homeless stuff; remember the basement is a flood zone

At the Festa Campetre in Italy, they know how to have a good time

The little dog laughed to see such sport

Can't Make a Move Quite Yet

In the hallway I finally tacked up this set of wall hangings Mom made; I could not find one arrangement that was appealing to my eye, but at least they're up.

It'll be a while before I can do anything about flowers. But that doesn't mean I haven't started dreaming. And purchased seed packets for sunflowers, bachelor's buttons, wildflowers and sweetpeas.

Will be reducing the size of my existing flower garden this year, for several reasons: 1) it takes me three hours a day to keep it weeded to my satisfaction. I like being out there, but that's too much, particularly when it rains and I can't do it, but the weeds still grow; 2) the garden is clay, with only a couple inches of topsoil; I've added to the topsoil, but really my flowers deserve better; and 3) the garden area needs to be built up and angled to keep water draining away from the house, so we're going to do that and plant grass instead.

This means a lot of digging again this year as I move dozens of perennials to new locations. Can hardly wait.

Still lots of snow; Everett is out shovelling it away from the south side of the house right now. Water's started coming into the basement, as expected. Scott broke out more of the concrete floor with a mallet last night, to make a place to put a different pump or something. He tells me what he's doing but might as well tell a bowl of cold oatmeal about this stuff. I'm just grateful he knows what to do, and does it.

Back to work. Maybe when office hours are over (I work 10 to 2:30, with a five-minute break every hour to get away from the computer and move blood into my legs, and a half-hour for lunch; don't you wish you had my job?), Everett and I will take a drive into town. He needs the practice and Emil needs his rubber boots to walk in the puddles on the way home from work; my library book is overdue and though it's doubtful I'll whiz through the rest of it before we go, I still tell myself I'll return it today, though I won't if it's not done. I'd rather pay the fine; a good book is worth it. Note: The Best Laid Plans for good reason won the Canada Reads competition this year. Recommend.

The Basement Slog

Old sweetie Casper Doodle accompanies me to check out perennials frozen in pots and still buried in snow.

   So far today I’ve done most of the dishes (plugged pipes require emptying a basin of dirty water into toilet, several times when you're washing two days' worth) while listening to Colin James and the Little Big Band (to listen, scroll down), and am taking a break to let my fingers unwrinkle.
   It is 11 a.m. and I need to eat breakfast. Scott is making space in the quonset for some things from the basement, so he can break up concrete floor down there and change some plumbing in hopes of solving this teeth-grinding problem. He has phoned his cousin Kurt the Intrepid Photographer to help carry things from the basement, and I’ve rousted Everett from his bed so he will be ready when called upon.
   My plans for this afternoon were to work about 3 hours on a website project, and get my tax numbers pulled together to deliver to my friendly neighbourhood accountant tomorrow morning while Everett is getting his road test. Since Scott announced this morning that today’s the day to slog out the basement, I'll need to be helping instead.
   Had I had a day's warning I would have made sure to get the project hours in yesterday, instead of lazing about as I did. And oh it made for a fine day.
   There are a projected 15 hours or so to be done by next weekend, and since these things often take longer than expected, a week may not be enough. I’ll work on the computer tonight, I guess. It’s not the best time but since I won’t be in this chair all day, maybe it’ll be fine. Usually I'm not the brightest "prose medic" (my colleague's term) by the end of the day, and prefer to work earlier, when I'm sharper and my body complains less.




Everett has posted a new video to his page. Some of you are old enough to remember playing this game:
click here.

Joanne Bohl has sent a note too:
click here.

Old Lamps

This pair of lamps belonged to my grandparents, and if I'm not mistaken (correct me if I'm wrong, Reta) they came from Great-Grandma Bartley's house. Or not. Maybe they came from Great-Grandma Benson's. (Reta! Reta! Help me out here.) The white shade on the lamp below looks like something Grandpa picked up at an auction, and my sister Karen insists that the shade in the top photo is also not original, although it looks to me like it was meant for the globe beneath it.

My questions to you are these:
1.) What would you buy to give them a matching pair of new shades?
and
2.) What do you think the shades they came with were like?
and
3.) Have you seen lamps like these?

Last of the Snow Days

might just be the last snow pic this year ... if you're lucky

Lately, the air is mild and sweet to walk in, and there's even water on the road in places, but there is also so much ice that it is hazardous. I'm afraid to slip and fall, and turn back sooner than usual.
Yesterday, four Canada geese flew in formation low over the farmyard. One had a big chunk out of its right wing. And I heard crows. And the snow is snowball-fit. I'm enjoying this, the slow melt before the pump in the basement starts up again after its three-month respite from running every half-hour. The cats are courting each other out by the barn; a female lounges on the ground, rolls, stretches all sexy before the two interested males following her. Last week a bald eagle flew across the road while we were on our way to town.
Debbie Psovsky, I dreamed about you last night. You gave me a roll of nickels and asked for my advice on your writing. I woke up before having the chance to say Just Pick Up A Pen!
God, I love dreams. They're so goofy. But nice to see you, Deb! Also I need to call your mom. She agreed to make perogies for me every month, but I've had no space in my freezers for quite a while, and still don't. But I am missing those delicious potato dumplings.
On top of the chickens, beef and pork the two deep freezes are full of, it's time to stock up on homemade bread (since summer baking often warms the house too much). I don't know how we'll make space. Last week cheddar and mozzarella were on sale really cheap, and it's a staple around here, so we bought a shitload, grated it in the food processor, measured it into one-cup bags, and stuffed the freezer. These are really handy. Yesterday Everett made a double batch of baked beans; today we'll measure them into baggies and freeze those. Probably need to buy another deep freeze. Or start eating more. It's dangerous to open the freezer door these days, for fear of what may come tumbling out.

Since the weekend I'm feeling normal again, mostly, except for this powerful desire to sleep for a couple hours every afternoon. That is not me, or never has been, but this week it is, so I'm listening to my body and its request for rest. I lie in the lovely green bedroom, which delights me. After five years in a low-light basement bedroom, this cheery warm sunny room is a perfect heaven and a little arrow of appreciation goes out to Scott for it each time I fall gratefully onto the bed. Perhaps I don't really sleep, but maybe I doze a little throughout the time snuggled into my feather pillow. I thank my lucky stars for working conditions that allow me to do this; so much flexibility.