Making Memories

So much to be thankful for! This year we trekked to my cousins' to count our blessings! This is where it all started for us, you know. Mike and I met here 'long years ago' (seems like only days)! The house was bursting with kids; theirs and ours, blessed daughters in laws and rough 'n tumble grandkids and dear friends who came to share the day. Such fun! We are the ones with silver shining in our hair now. They are the ones to fly the super cub, call the coyotes, with knitting needles that click and clack, purl in front, knit in back. Little boys chase little girls with gold flying curls! Oh my! Phone calls come from those far away, come to surprise us and brighten our day! A grand daughter's 13th birthday... wasn't it only yesterday they were bringing her home to meet us for the very first time!  Our patriarch's wing in a sling! Pies cover the counter of every size and description. Each of us eating way (weigh) beyond his ration! Playing cards, passing on stories of years gone by, toasting the future while wine bottles go dry! We thank the Lord for blessing us with abundant love. We are thankful for those who gather this day and for those who are so far away. We ask for His guidance as we go on our way with thoughts looking forward to next Thanksgiving day!

The Collector

To say he was a collector is an understatement! For a start my dad was a collector of years. Last Nov. 17, he had collected 90 years. What a day that was! He started out saying he wasn't going to get up that day. He didn't like birthdays! And...he ended that day saying it was the best day ever! We all gathered at Bob's to surprise him. Which brings us to his collection of friends! He had so many, of all ages. Not just 'friends' but the good true, blue sort! Even in his most mulish of moments they stood beside him! One day a high school boy said,   " He told me to do good and I am going to do my best to do that!" Some of his best friends he had from childhood. He gathered more in his army years and more as the years went by. He didn't let any slip away. One day a fella came by asking for Oliver Johnson. He said he had told himself when the war got over he was going to look him up. And find him he did. We asked, "Who was that?"  Dad said, "Hell if I know! He said he knew me and I wasn't going to tell him I couldn't place him!"

He was a collector of stories. "And then he would push that button on that dog collar and that ol' mare would put her ears back and come at me again! I only had time to jump that fence and get outta there!  "And then that bear climbed out of that box and right in the window of the pickup! You should have seen her gather up those 2 kids and move! He could tell you stories about all his favorites...horses, mountains, lakes, hunting trips, camping spots, dogs...Where he used to find the biggest bucks or catch the biggest fish. Which gun was the best for which quest.

And a collector of wisdom! There really wasn't anyone who knew more. "Did you hear that? That was a bull bat." He knew about anything you could ask him; why your horse had a belly ache and what to do to fix it! How to catch a bullfrog, what to feed a newborn kitten or colt! How to braid a halter. What grew between the bark and the trunk of a tree. How to teach a horse to pack! Where to find icknish. The best way to catch a chipmunk...

He intriqued kids with his boxes of pocket watches, pocketknives, padlocks and keys, bottles and jars of marbles, old toys, all the things kids couldn't resist! And... GUNS! He had a gun for every grandkid...oh did I say "A" gun...I really meant a passle of guns to dole out at every visit. And when that kid went away G'pa went on a search to gather more for the next visit.  He made them promise to have a .30 .30 shoot every year. And when they grew up even their wives got guns!

And he was a collector of hearts. It seems a conundrum that just when one is finally old enough to realize and appreciate the special treasure he has that time has slipped away. Now we are all collectors of memories. The memories get shinier and more precious as time marches on. They are brought out at each and every occasion of a get-together and each time the treasures grow more dear.

Great Expectations

All righty then! I think it's time we talk about this "retirement thing".  I have lots of retired friends, almost all of them in fact. I hear them talk on their computers over hot coffee in the mornings, trips to Branson and Dollywood, guys off on hunting trips, gals off to quilt shows. This retirement thing must be an all right deal! I have quilts to do, piano to play, books to read, sweaters to knit, journals to write...I think I can do this!

The first couple of weeks of retirement was a pity party, well maybe it was for about a month, because I missed the excitement of school starting, my new kids and such. Then I decided I needed to pick myself up and dust myself off. I thought, "You have things to do that you couldn't do while you were working. Now you have the time to do them so get with it!" And I did. Off to Alturas to the yarn shop, off to Cedarville to the Weavers. Hither and yon I went! But then it began to look like there were things at home that needed doing and... I could be doing them.

This morning snow covered the bottom field. Mike's horses needed to be in that field but there were still pipes on it. They needed to be moved. Mike was at work. That's when I decided it was up to me to fill the role of the hired hand! Cheney thought it was a great idea! She pulled on my jacket sleeve. She was either telling me "Let's go for a grand adventure," or "Come on. Check out my favorite vole holes!"  I could hear the cottonwoods whispering. It seemed they were saying, "What is she doing?? What happened to that retirement thing? Doesn't she know what can happen?"  It did take me a bit to figure it out. I pulled the pipes one at a time for quite a long time before it dawned on me to pull them two at a time. That indicates my heritage! I won't mention which one! The ice had frozen inside the pipes. They were heavier now than in the summer. The snow had stuck them together where they met and also to the ground. We had quite a tussle before I worked this all out but in the end I had a good 50 pipes stacked up like matchsticks in a box!

And when Mike got home from work..."Hey Hon!! Who moved the pipes? You? Really? Good job! I didn't know you could do that. Now that you're retired maybe moving pipes can be your summer job!! What do you think?"

Autumn Blessings

 

This morning I smell smoke from someone's wood fire. The cottonwoods along the creek are dressed in their finest glorious gold and  the wind is undressing my peach tree! The weatherman says the temperature will register "cold" tomorrow. Old man winter must be hiding out right around the corner! Two daughters in law, a "new be" and a "to be" have shown interest in my canning.  Today is apple canning day at my house.  Perfect timing! A friend has sent four boxes of beautiful red and yellow dappled apples my way!  My mission...apple pie filling! I have an Amish apple recipe that can be used for more desserts than just an apple pie. My family loves it. My favorite is Apple Crisp with lots of crunchy oatmeal topping!

The apples will to be peeled and sliced and put in tall, shiny quart jars, crowned with silver lids and rings. Sugar; 4 cups, cinnamon; 2 tsps, nutmeg; a dash, cornstarch; 1 cup, all poured into 10 cups of water. Mix and heat to a boil. Simmer until clear and brown to make the syrup. I slice my apples into a pan of lemon water to help them keep their pretty color. When enough apples are sliced I settle them into hot jars, crowd them down tight and cover them to their shoulders with the syrup. Close your eyes. Can you smell the rich, warm, spicy smell filling my kitchen?

Four jars at a time go into a boiling water bath for about twenty minutes. They come out bright and shiny and line up on a towel on my counter to cool. Listen for their lids to ping announcing they have sealed. Soon they march their way onto the pantry shelf, carrying a load of love and family tradition on their shoulders. One generation to the next, from my mom to me, to those who come after me and want to give it a try; autumn blessings

Euel Gibbons?

If you remember Lassie telling Timmy that he must come Grampa is in the well...you can well imagine Cheney tugging on my shirt sleeve telling me we need to go for a walk! When we are finally out of the driveway she lets go and romps off toward the woodpile where the cottontails are hiding or up the hill where the chukkars are chuckling!

I noticed on our last walk that the ditch was spilling over its bank on the back side of the hill. I thought I should check it. It was another beautiful late October day, perfect for a morning walk. This time I took my hoe, some plastic bags and my camera! Sure enough the water was still running down the hill. Maybe more now than a couple of days ago. The ditch is being overrun with the roots of willow trees that grow here. After several attempts I could see the hoe did little good in this situation. I did manage to make some makeshift dams that slowed the water in most places to a trickle. "Good enough," I thought. "At least until Mike can deal with it better."

 In my family one of the bright spots of the year was a springtime "mess of greens" as my mom used to call them. It would usually be mustard greens gathered from the fields or watercress gathered from a ditch. On my last walk I had noticed the watercress in our ditch was growing. Thus the plastic bags! It looked clean and healthy to me, bright green, not blooming.  So... I plucked a bag full. I couldn't see why it wouldn't taste just as good in the fall as it does in the springtime.  When I got home I picked it over to make sure there were no leaves or sticks, snails or other wigglers, then soaked it in cool, salted water just in case I may have missed something. While it soaked I dug new potatoes and pulled an onion from my garden. My pork "boil meat" was already doing just that, boiling in the pot with a bit of garlic. I added the onion and potatoes. After a bit  in went the watercress. In no time at all the house like "home"! When suppertime came that watercress tasted just as good as I remembered... springtime or fall makes no difference!

Happy Trails

Our Friday adventure actually began a couple of weeks ago when my friend asked, " Do you ever go to Lovelock? How far away is it anyway?". She has been writing an online history of a little Northern California town. In her investigations she discovered that one of the past residents was buried in Lovelock, Nevada. She needed a picture of the gravesite for her history. "Why not?" I thought. "This could be fun!" My son had a day off and my husband was away on a hunting trip. I recruited my son and a date was made. Our journey began with a stop at the Empire Distributing Store to buy a bouquet for our new "friend". We chose fall flowers in a horseshoe rocking chair made especially for us by Gay! Perfect! Our trip took us up Jenny Creek and over Limbo, the backway to Lovelock. We were in no hurry so we followed C-punch cowboys with their horse trailers who graciously opened all the gates for us! It was a perfect day. Blue sky, lots of sunshine, t-shirt weather and no time frame to put a damper on our day! It had been such a long time since either of us had been this way that we tried several of the "roads not(usually)taken". Our first landmark "Adobe Flat". Too far south so we headed north. Gray, white, and spotted desert burros curiously watched as we made our way along the narrow road. A shiny, silver windmill stood sentry in the middle of the expanse. Another band of burros wandered our way as we stopped to play at the water tank. Thinking I might get a picture of them I climbed up into a cattle chute. Ahh... but to no avail! They were not to come that close. The only thing I got there was covered with creosote from the fences I had climbed! On to Lovelock we went. It seemed like we were there in two flicks of a burro's tail. With the help of our GPS we easily found the pretty little cemetary; Big Meadow Cemetary, 3 miles south of Lovelock, between I-80 and the railroad tracks. The contest was on! Who could find Mr.Sovy's resting spot first? I did! Right away! We took our pictures, one of the cemetary sign and one of the grave site. We were on our way...successful mission complete! Wonderful memories made!

Buckskin and Blue

Cheney, Mike's yellow lab pup, and I just got back from a walk on this beautiful October day! The leaves on the cottonwood trees down along Squaw Creek are a patchwork of gold and green. The sky is a brilliant blue with only a wisp of cloud here and there. In places the sagebrush matches the sky. The desert weeds have lost their green and taken on a buckskin color. There is not the breath of a breeze. Only the quail talk in the rose bushes along the ditch. Granite Peak watches all that tarry beneath her skirts!