…it’s hard to determine exactly what our season is, right now.

The fall decorations go along with the calendar…

but the crepe myrtle, hot summer’s favorite bush, is still blooming merrily along.

The oaks, loaded with their acorn crop, have convinced the squirrels it is fall….

but the periwinkles in this old iron shovel are blooming as heartily as they’ve done all summer.

This burning bush hedge is showing the first signs of turning the shrub’s signature red…

but the tomatoes keep growing out of the tops of their cages.

I’ve moved the ferns to the screened porch, in preparation for the ultimate move indoors…

yet the dwarf hollyhocks are going crazy.

The horses wonder why I’m in their pasture with camera in hand on this misty morn…

and the teenage chicks are at that awkward stage, gawky and homely (though Bertha, has only gotten more elegant and beautiful with motherhood.)

Chip and Justacat could not care less what the season is…they only want breakfast!

Happy Mid-week to all!

 ...even though it was 90 degrees and felt like the middle of summer, we went to a fall festival!

This particular festival is close to our hearts because it is hosted by my husband’s cousin. Dale Thomas of rural Douglas County, Missouri, lives on property that was homesteaded in the 1800s by Tom Brown, Dale’s great-grandfather and my husband’s great-great-grandfather. A few years after Dale inherited the property, a beautiful farm on Bryant Creek, he decided that he would invite all the cousins in this large clan to a gathering on the old homeplace. That year, 30 showed up. The next year his invitation garnered 200 attendees, and the third year about 500! Last year, the Thomases lost count, and this year I wouldn’t even guess at how many folks drove 4 miles down a dusty, unpaved road to this unique event.

 They call it the Pioneer Descendants Gathering, and after the first year, it was opened to anyone who wants to come. Now folks come from all over southern Missouri and even a few other states. Local people who do heritage crafts are invited to demonstrate. There is no admission fee, and the Thomases do their best to keep this non-commercial and authentic. It’s simply one of the best festivals I’ve ever attended, a true CELEBRATION of a shared past. Here are some of the sights:

This precious lady is talented in so many ways, only one of which is basket making. She was spinning with a drop spindle in her idle moments.

The delicious aroma of apple butter cooking over an open fire whetted our appetites.

Mowing hay with a team of horses was exactly how Stan’s great-great-grandfather did it 100 years ago, in this very same field.

Tony Stillings (right, above) is an expert at cooking molasses. In fact, he and wife Linda had their own festival when they cooked up some of the good stuff two weeks ago at their place. There is positively nothing better on a hot, homemade biscuit than a generous dab of creamy butter topped with a spoonful of this sweetnin.

Joining us were Stan’s mother, Julia, daughter Susannah, son-in-law Derek and grandson Wyatt. This typical little boy was fascinated with the antique tractors on display, and he stood for five minutes figuring out how the steam engine that drove the grain mill worked.

David, also a Brown cousin, is a Civil War buff and attends re-enactments. He explained how his musket worked, while standing in the hot autumn sun in his all-wool uniform.

Can you tell that Wyatt wasn’t wanting to get close to this native American, with his real coyote headdress? It was eye-catching! He’s a Cherokee from Tahlequah, Oklahoma. As they progressed westward on the Trail of Tears, some Cherokee stopped off in the Ozarks and took to the hills, which reminded them of their native North Carolina.

Cousin Dale Thomas is a self-taught wheelwright…his interest was sparked when he found his grandfather’s old wagon abandoned in the woods and wanted to learn how to restore it. He demonstrates making wooden wagon wheels all over the country for various events.

This lady was cooking beans in one pot and yummy bread in the other…she gave out samples. Chickens on the spit added to the wonderful aroma.

Long before Rit, there was indigo! Dawn is demonstrating how to achieve different colors with natural materials, such as goldenrod, indigo and dozens of other plants. She is a true expert and goes to schools all over southern Missouri presenting her program. She is also a master weaver and raises sheep to provide the wool for her projects.

I hope you all had as nice a weekend as we had and that you’ll find at least one fall festival to visit before the snow flies!

…I thought I’d share my devotional thought with you for today. It really spoke to me:

“I believe that nothing that happens to me is meaningless, and that it is good for us all that it should be so, even if it runs counter to our own wishes. As I see it, I’m here for some purpose, and I only hope that I may fulfill it. In the light of the great purpose all our privations and disappointments are trivial.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Isn’t there tremendous comfort in the thought that we are here for a worthwhile purpose, that our life means something in the grand scheme of things?! What would life be if that were not so? How would we live our lives if we did not believe that a Great Purpose existed? I would not want to live in a world that operated on chance and happenstance. And I know that the seemingly negative things that happen, the things that cause us pain or grief or disappointment would then destroy me.

The darkness that is in this world did destroy Bonhoeffer’s physical body, but the fact that his words spoke to me in a clear way this morning is testament to the fact that his spirit lives and that his life was ANYTHING BUT meaningless. If you have a minute, go to http://www.victorshepherd.on.ca/Heritage/deitrich.htm for a brief summary of this amazing Christian’s life story. He was only 39 when he died. But what a legacy he left us!

If you’re facing trials or privations or disappointments this morning, my prayer is that these thoughts are encouraging and comforting to you. My heart is singing as I ponder them!

P.S. My friend Georgene, the diligent Bible scholar, would ask for a scripture supporting Bonhoeffer’s thoughts. Romans 8:28 comes to my mind…any others?

…we’re home once again.

This was our first trip in a while. Last year we planned to go in September, out west to the national parks in Utah, but my appendix decided I needed to visit the hospital instead. And this whole year has been challenging in so many ways, with losses and new responsibilities and changing roles for both Stan and me. We’ve had our shoulders steadily to the plow, and so this trip felt overdue.

I believe that no one else appreciates hearing about my vacation as much as I enjoy sharing the details. So I won’t bore you but will just say that we didn’t go so very far afield this time around, nor did we do anything particularly dramatic. We ventured north to Minnesota and Wisconsin, and in so doing we got to see harvest time in Iowa and Illinois along the way.

Every day was enjoyable and beautiful, even when it rained. Fall is definitely a good time to travel; the crowds have thinned, the heat has abated and the traffic is bearable. And we were pleasantly surprised to find we’d picked prime leaf-peeping season in the northern reaches of our trip…lovely orange, red and yellow icing on the cake!

Highlights included the surprising beauty of the upper stretches of the mighty Mississippi as we traveled the Great River Road,

eating fabulous walleye while gazing out over Lake Superior, hiking a really remote, rugged trail to a gem of a lake that was only a stone’s throw from the Canadian border,

watching Stan catch a nice bass on his first cast into the lake, hearing the loon’s strange and wild call, “discovering” Bayfield, a postcard of a village on Superior,

drinking freshly pressed apple cider from a roadside stand, and touring the Amana Colonies and admiring the beautiful old homes and buildings there.

Another bit of icing on my cake?

Seeing quilt patterns on the sides of the barns in Iowa! I practically jumped up and down in the car when I saw my first one….Pin Wheel…and remembered the story of the Iowa governor’s wife asking women in quilt guilds to adorn their barns in this way to commemorate something a couple of years back. Does anyone remember the occasion or reason? Whatever it was, the huge painted quilt blocks are still there on the sides of the big, old barns, and it does a quilter’s heart good to see them…like finding unexpected treasure!

It is such fun to get to go someplace new, yet it is supremely satisfying to get back home. For I find that travel gives me a new lens for my heart’s eye, with which to more clearly see and fully appreciate my own life. My shoulder is now rested and ready to get back to the plow…and my own bed is going to feel so good tonight!

“Not traveling is like living in the Library of Congress but never taking out more than one or two books.” Marilyn Von Savant

….Hi, ho, hi, ho….it’s off to the BIG WOODS we go!

I keep saying to myself, “Unless something happens!” But at this point, it appears that we’re heading off tomorrow for some much-needed vacation time. Hopefully, nothing will happen in the next 12 hours to prevent it!

One of our helpers on the ranch has instructions for taking care of the dog, cat, chickens and horses. The cattle are all worked, the hay is put up, the garden is done, and the yard is in the autumn of its life. It’s a good time for us to slip away.

We’re heading for the Boundary Waters Canoe Wilderness of northern Minnesota, right up on the Canadian border. Helen Hoover’s books about the years she and her illustrator husband roughed it in the rugged big woods inspired this trip. So did Louise Dickinson Rich, who wrote about her family’s adventures in We Took to the Woods . Their adventure was in Maine, but Helen and Ade Hoover lived very near where we’re headed. I can’t wait to see it for myself!

The rubber boots, rain suits, fishing rods and long johns (I hope we need ‘em!) are packed. There’s a cooler in which to haul home the BIG FISH we plan to catch. The camera is primed and cocked, all ready for pictures of moose, bear, wolves and whatever else we can find to “shoot.” And I really am looking forward to hearing a loon….

Will catch up with you all again in a while…Happy Autumn!

Currently re-reading: The Gift of the Deer by Helen Hoover

 ….I’m going to give you a clue.

Can you guess where I was over the weekend? The Sunflower State was our destination! A farm auction promised lots of good, used equipment, all to be bought at a bargain price, come rain or shine. So off we went, four and a half hours from home. I took my knitting, just in case I didn’t find anything to bid on. And sure enough, this was a man’s sale. From trash…

to treasures…

For youngsters…

And oldtimers…

A farm auction is the perfect place to catch up with old friends…

And make new ones.

There’s a festive atmosphere, even though an auction usually means (as this one did) that someone can no longer farm. There were reminders of days gone by…

…when digging a post hole meant doing it the hard way. And a rake…

 was much simpler than the fancy ones of today.

We didn’t buy a thing. Although the equipment was gently used, it fetched a high dollar, and no bargains were to be had. Even so, we had a good time. It’s always nice to get out and see how other folks are doing things. Here in our hilly country, there’s not much of a chance to raise crops. The folks in Kansas are going to have a bumper crop this year, due to the plentiful rainfall they’ve had. It was nice to see lovely, lush rows of soybeans and 10-foot corn ready for the picker. Some lucky Kansans even have crops that we won’t even dream of finding on our farm.

And now for the CONTEST RESULTS!

The strangest “people” name came from anniemockingbird who suggested a couple we both knew back in Mississippi: Tinky and Tiny. There were the aunt and uncle of dear friends, who called them Uncle Tinky and Aunt Tiny….or was it the other way around? Doesn’t matter much, does it? In fact, the entire town of 3000 knew them as Tinky and Tiny, and I never learned their real names. They probably have Tinky and Tiny on their gravestones. Another good one was from doorathea, whose aunt was Pansy Rosebush…what a wonderful, flowery name!

And the strangest place name is one you’ll have heard of, and like me, you probably would just hate to have to give someone directions to….Intercourse, PA. Suggested by Jasmine of swantzfamily, her mention of this place reminded me of a time when I was with my family in PA and asked our innkeeper about something at Lititz….of course, I got that one wrong, too….much to my red-faced dismay! Thanks for sending me good names….it was fun to hear yours. Oh, yes, the horse….still unnamed, but we’re pondering Pepito (probably would be called Peppy….he’s got some Pep in his lineage), suggested by innacanoe … I like it but it’s not really up to me. The BOSS has yet to rule.

We now have five baby chicks. Hope y’all have a good week!

…I’m thinking about names. We have a new horse,

and he needs a name. I love names and naming things and usually claim the honor of giving our pets and other things their monikers. But I have to deal with my husband, who does NOT like “clever” names. He prefers regular guy names, like George or Jack or Tom, easy to remember and say. Right now, we have Tex, Lucky, Bandit and Buddy. Past horses have been Roper, Red, Cato, Danny Boy, Rusty, Fox and a few others I can’t recall right now. With registered horses, you usually look at their papers and choose a name related to one of their predecessors. But we’ll just choose something we like and hopefully it will suit this new horse.

Besides animal names, I love place names. In our rural county, there are some unique ones. At one time, there were 90 one-room schools in Ozark County, the highest number of any county in the state. And the school defined the community it served. I love the names Igo, Barefoot, Never Fail, Romance, Truevine, Tranquility, Bald, Lone Pilgrim, and the ubiquitous Hog Danger. Wouldn’t it be neat to be able to say you were a graduate of the Romance…or Barefoot….School??

When school number 88 was organized, the patrons couldn’t agree on a name, so it was always known as Eighty-Eight. Many communities were named for women, perhaps a daughter or sweetheart of a founder. Recently I’ve been to Fay, Theodosia, Isabella, Ava and Dora, and I live in Almartha (named for both of the couple.)

People are giving their children such strange names these days. It’s difficult to look at a sweet newborn and think of calling her Apple or Rain. But the idea of strange names is nothing new. My own family tree includes Aunt Etter and Uncle Nimrod, my husband had an Uncle Parrot and an Aunt Edgie, and I had an Aunt Cleffie. There’s a grandmother Jimpsey and an Uncle Burr.

I’d like to hear some of the strangest or most unusual names you know. Let’s have a contest. Submit your suggested name, in one of two categories: people and places. I’ll collect the “entries” and a winner (ta-da!) will be announced. Pass this exciting contest on to your friends and fellow Xangans, so we’ll have plenty from which to choose!

And if you have any horse name ideas for our sorrel gelding, send those, too. Remember that he’s a ranch horse. I’m sure my husband will appreciate simple, to-the-point, easy-to-remember suggestions. Like Ed, or Fred, or Ted….

(P.S. Here’s a chick update….there are now 4! Bertha is SUCH a good mama. See below…)

...the maternity ward is busy!

From this,

to this,

to this!

Bertha (the black hen) and Gaudie (the striped one) have been broody all summer. The signs were obvious…wanting to sit on eggs all the time instead of joining the rest of the flock outside, not scratching, dusting, eating, squawking, and just generally being chickens. They also have this way of fluffing up their feathers when they do go out that really attracts Delbert…must be a hormone thing. Anyway, he simply can’t keep away from them when they’re like that.

This broody business has happened to some of my other hens before, and they would lose interest after a while, and the eggs would simply be abandoned, to be destroyed. So I’ve discouraged their thoughts. I’d get the eggs out from under them each day and force them to go outside and eat and drink and be with the others for some socializing.

But Bertha and Gaudie were determined this time. So back in June I let them set. They would move around from nest box to nest box, trying to keep straight which eggs they were sitting upon, but they seemed nervous and unsettled. Then one evening, just at dark, when I went down to close up the house for the night I found a visitor to the henhouse. Mr. Blacksnake was enjoying a tasty meal of eggs, and from the looks and size of him, he’d been visiting often. No wonder the girls had been nervous! Stan took care of him, but alas, there were no eggs in the nests….he’d taken care of them all.

Even with this severe setback, Bertha and Gaudie persisted, so three weeks ago I decided to let them try again. I believed that their mothering instincts were not going to go away until they had at least tried to hatch some eggs. The funny thing was, they wanted to sit on the same eggs! Eventually there were eleven eggs in one box, all different colors, shapes and sizes…but they did not care. If one girl got out to get a drink of water, the other immediately took her place. Those eggs were never left unattended during the entire three weeks.

Still, I didn’t believe they would actually hatch the eggs. Until Monday evening, when I went down to gather the day’s eggs and give them some fresh food and water…when, glory be, there was the sweetest little fluffy yellow head peeking out from under Gaudie’s wing! (Oh, ye of little faith! I was wrong!) I hollered for Stan to come. He, of course, thought we had another snake and started to grab his .22, but thankfully there was no need for it.

Tuesday evening, things had changed. Gaudie was in the nest box, and a darling little striped chick peeked out from under Mama’s wing. Meanwhile, Bertha was on the floor, with the little yellow chick cheeping away beside her. I don’t know the baby got to the floor, about four feet down from the nest box, but it happened. And still there were nine eggs under Gaudie, along with the little striped baby.

This evening, Bertha has both babies down on the floor, and both are cheeping away and exploring the henhouse. The little bowl of scratch feed that I put in for them is scattered around on the floor, as if the babies have been pecking at it. Back up in the nest, Gaudie is hatching a new baby. Wonder what color it will be? This is absolutely delightful!

Do I dare hope that these babies will survive? Again, I don’t have much faith. There are so many critters around that Bertha and Gaudie will need to be constantly vigilant. (I think my doubt is protective…I don’t want to be terribly disappointed.) But so far, they’ve been wonderful mamas and have done all they should do, even though they are new at this mothering business.

I’ll keep you posted….in the meantime, I’m going back to see what…and who… the new babe looks like…

...I’ve found a quote that I find intriguing. “When our life is filled with the desire to see the holiness in everyday things, something magical begins to happen: ordinary life becomes extraordinary, and the very process of living begins to nourish our soul! As long as we can find even a kernel of holiness in a situation, our soul will grow and feel cared for.” Harold Kushner

I’m not Jewish, but I love what this Rabbi has said. It showed up on the little flip calendar on my desk last Tuesday morning, and since then, I’ve read it every time I’ve sat down. Seems the more I read it, the more truth…and comfort…I see in it.

What does he mean by “the holiness in everyday things?” I think he means God’s touch; at least, that’s what I interpret it to mean. Do I look for and see God in all that is around me, in all the events of my life? The things I deem to be bad (or just not-so-good) as well as the good? The extraordinary as well as the mundane? The simple as well as the complex? For if I believe that He is master of all, then I must also believe that His touch brushes every aspect of my life. And that’s the comfort factor I find in this quote.

I went to town last Friday morning… took my mother-in-law’s car to a repair shop to be serviced. Wanted to go to the fitness center while in town so had on some questionable looking clothes, but did it anyway, hoping I wouldn’t see anyone I knew (how likely is that in a town of 632?)

As I sat down in the waiting room, I noticed an ancient, mildewy-looking car in the bay next to mine. Two ladies were talking to the mechanic about it. They then came to join me in the waiting room. The mother was about 65, I would guess, with hair pulled back in an old-fashioned bun. She had on an obviously homemade blouse (made of a calico I’ve seen in Walmart…yellow with orange and green flowers) and long, full, gathered skirt, with leather brogues that had seen a better day…long, long ago. Her daughter was identically dressed, and I thought she was probably 25 or 30.

The Mrs. sat down and began to read a book and the daughter grinned at me. So of course, I began a conversation. Asked them if they lived “around here.” The mother said they lived at Noble, which, as the crow flies, is about 4 miles from my house. I excitedly replied that we were neighbors. When you live in the country like we do, your neighbors may be 15 minutes from you and yet live only three or four miles away. Well, neighbors can always find something to talk about, so the Mrs. and I chatted away.

The daughter, Brenda, eventually tried to join in, but her tongue was tied and she had trouble getting the words to string together. After several attempts at getting a sentence out, her mother smiled at her and said, “Brenda, if you want to talk with us, you’ll just have to jump in.” Brenda gazed back at her with a childlike grin, and I realized that her trouble communicating was something she lived with. She didn’t try to speak after that, but she seemed content.

These women were different. I found out that they live without the benefit of many modern conveniences, such as air conditioning. They raise most of what they eat, and from the looks of them, never buy any clothing. Yet they were very friendly and seemed to appreciate my interest. When I asked where they were originally from, the Mrs. said Minnesota and seemed pleased when I said that we were planning to vacation there next month. I asked if she had been to Ely, our destination, and she said that she had never been to the rest of the state beyond her southern MN home. I doubt if she has seen much of the world at all.

When my work was finished, we parted with smiles and best wishes, and I left them to await the repairs on their decrepit old vehicle. I wondered if it would get them back home, even after being fixed.

For the next couple of days, I was unable to get the Mrs. and Brenda out of my thoughts. I mentally compared what I had witnessed of their lives to mine and realized, once again, how very blessed I am. I began to feel sort of sorry for them and tried to think of things I might do to “help” them. Could I find an air conditioner that might ease them in this extreme heat? Could I help them find a better car to drive? What could I do to help them?

And then one night, as I was trying to sleep and thinking of those two women and wondering why our encounter had affected me, I realized that no one had told me my lifestyle was superior to theirs. No one had told me, least of all them, that they were unhappy with their lot in life, that they were missing out on “things” that I have. I realized that they dressed in their particular way because it suited them to do so. And their old clunker of a car, once it was fixed, would get them wherever they need to go. As for dealing with this heat, I realized that they were NOT fanning like I was or brushing their hair back or dabbing “dew” from their foreheads…it was only me doing that. They acted quite comfortable, really.

Instead of figuring out if I could somehow be a blessing to Mrs. and Brenda, I’ve come to realize they are already a blessing to me. It came from the simple kindness on their faces, their innocence and genuine happiness at meeting a friendly stranger and their disregard for the judgment of others and their willingness to simply be themselves. It was an example of a touch of holiness in an everyday encounter. And my soul has grown because of it.

…it’s a dry Monday. Well, not completely dry–we got a scant one-third inch of rain, while a couple of counties over got almost a foot! Feast or famine, I guess…maybe next time it will be our turn.

Our neighbor and dear friend, Tom, is a retired barber. Since moving to the place just down the road, my husband and son-in-law have been getting haircuts gratis, thanks to Tom’s generosity. Yesterday, when Susannah, Derek and Wyatt came over to visit, it was apparent that a visit to Mr. Tom was in order. Stan also needed a trim, so they called to see if the “shop” was open. It was and they went….and so did Wyatt.

Wyatt’s blond curls have been a source of joy for all his grandmas (and he has quite a few!), but his daddy thought it was time to give them (the curls) a trim. But Wyatt had balked when Mommy took him to the beauty shop a few weeks ago; however, this time there was no problem. Mr. Tom’s workshop/studio in his backyard was transformed into a very comfortable tonsorial emporium. An apple box was placed on a chair and the cape was donned. Thank goodness, the trim was minor…the curls are still there, just not as obvious.

Back at Mimi’s house, it was time to gather eggs. What did we find in the henhouse?

Two broody hens attempting to sit on a clutch of eggs together. Bertha and Gaudie have been taking turns on this nest for a few days, but yesterday neither was willing to give up her shift. So, they both crowded in….the unborn babies must have felt well-sat-upon.

This little fellow roosts in the maple tree beside our driveway every night and starts crowing at 4:00 a.m. each morning. Hi-Step is a bantam, and looks exactly like a miniature Delbert, the one who really rules our roost. Delbert considers him a threat to his girls and keeps him away from them…he’s banished but still hangs around…literally. Hi-Step’s four-beat crowing is so funny; it’s only “cock-a-doodle”…he leaves off the “doo.”

Today was ironing day. I’d put it off long enough…couldn’t stand the sight of all those hangers full of unironed clothes staring at me each time I entered the utility room. So, to keep it from seeming like such a chore, I dragged the ironing board into the living room. I’d been saving a special movie and now was the perfect time for it.

I never buy movies…seems like such a waste, and rarely do I find a movie that I’d ever want to watch more than once. (My family thinks I’m terribly critical, and I admit to it freely. I hate violence, profanity and all the yucky stuff that seem to be the subject almost all today’s movies.) But a friend who is also a very talented musician had told me about Ladies in Lavender. With Maggie Smith and Judy Dench, wonderful British actresses, this sweet story charmed me! If you love beautiful violin music, don’t hesitate to watch this. I was ironing away, but all that tea drinking finally just got to me; halfway through, I had to stop and make myself a cup of Twinings’ English Breakfast, dosed with a liberal dash of cream. The ending brought tears….NOT of sadness but because it was so very perfect. If any part of you is an anglophile, this movie is for you!

Hope you all have a perfectly lovely week…now back to the ironing….seven pieces to go….