Wondering?

    Kaia and I went for our walk/run at 6:30am, it being Sunday. Toward the conclusion of our exercise there was the sound of distant thunder. Moments after returning to The Little House a morning thunder shower brought a bit of rain. The gauge in the back yard registered .26".  That certainly helps.

     It would be interesting to know how that brief shower translates to crop production in corn or soybean fields. What is the monetary impact of .26" of moisture at this time? Certinly there is some benefit but, how much? Something to think about without an answer. Perhaps some research has been done. 

    Yes, I'm grateful for any rain that comes.

Takk for alt,

Al

                  The Baltic beach in Lithuania.

What's in a name?

        After a recent posting about the pre-historic glacial gift of rocks the genesis of Sinai's name came to mind. Early white settlers were walking by Lake Sinai after a prairie fire. The west shore of Lake Sinai is extremely rocky. One of those settles exclaimed "This is as rocky as Mt. Sinai." Thus, the name stuck and the lake has been called Lake Sinai ever since.

       In the 1880s when a congregation was founded it was called Lake Sinai Lutheran. A church was built about a mile south of the Lake and was used until 1950. The cemetery where Joanne is buried is where the church stood.  In 1907 when the railroad was laid, which ran from Sioux Falls to Watertown, it was a half mile east of the church. A town was platted and took the name 'Sinai'. In 1950 a church was built in Sinai and the one in the cemetery eas dismantled. 

      So Sinai's name is result of a gracier. Locally Sinai is pronounced 'Siinyii' ( first I is long) which is quite similar to the Norwegian pronunciation. When stories of Mt. Sinai are read here in church, the dilemma is which pronunciation to use: the traditional Biblical or the local varient. 

Takk for alt,

Al

PS Another day, another load of rocks. 😃

                  The Richtstag, Berlin, Germany.

Grief Lurks, Part 2.

     The post a couple of days ago, about lurking grief, struck one of my two readers. She was in the midst of a joyous time with a granddaugter.  In the midst of that joy she was struck by grief. Missing her parents, who are deceased, and realizing that there are those in her family who miss the joy of grandchildren, tears came.

    That's another illustration of how grief lurks. In moments of joy grief appears as reminder that life's not perfect and that, in spite of joy, life is lived in the land of grief. Every adult has experienced losses and those losses can trigger grief at any moment. Many things can remind of the prsence of absence, and that absence is what we grieve. 

     Gratitude is one of the best antidotes to grief. In the midst of sadness feelings and expression of thankfulness can move one to a less sad place. "Count your blessings, name them one by one..."

Takk for alt,

Al

     Einer Lunde, Norway, speaking at our 50th wedding anniversary event.

Prehistoic Gift!

      On the land that was recently baled I unearthed a prehistoric gift, most likely about 10,000 years old. Doesn't that seem like a long time?  It does to me. Only a small portion of this gift was above ground so it took some digging to unearth it. See picture below.

    When the last gracier retreated it left rocks in its wake. Removing these rocks is as good as a trip to the gym and also cheaper. They create havoc with machinery. Every year frost action brings more to the surface. That means that 'rock picking' is an unending task. It's also an opportunity for physical conditioning and today was a perfect weather day...70s, sunny with a nice beeze. Yes, I'm grateful that I can do this.

Takk for alt,

Al

Grief lurks....

       Four and a half years ago, around the death of Joanne, grief was a constant theme of this blog. Asked about that experience I would say blogging was very helpful for two reasons. First, blogging forced me to identify what I was feeling. That's not the easiest thing for this typical male. Identifying my feelings was a significant part of healing.

     Second, blogging created a virtual community. Many readers knew and loved Joanne. Others made her aquaintance through the writings. A friend said "When I see you I don't have to ask how you are because I read your blog." It was relationships with family and friends who carried me through those darkest days. Often I've said that grief moved from feeling like a knife in the ribs to a dull ache as the land of grief is traversed.

      Where does grief go?  Is it hiding under the bed, or in a closet? Is grief hovering overhead, or glued to one's back like a kick me sign? Have you ever stopped to wonder where grief goes when one "moves on?"  Perhaps it's someplace low becaue the person grieving is supposed to "just get over it." Maybe  grief is a condition  like arthritis which is carried in the body flaring with pain at some trigger. 

     One of those friends who helped carry me trough the hardest days and beyond saves newspaper clippings for me. MJV finds fascinating editorial articles and news clippings. Her latest care package included an editorial, Remembering a lost friend, Kurt Ullrich, he wrote.  "...a little over a year ago an old man took up residence in my heart. Now he's gone, gone to join his beloved wife, herself gone these many years and one day I will join mine. We cried over our losses. I still do, and now I cry over the loss of an elegant man who was my friend, a friend I loved."

    Where does grief go? It goes nowhere it just lurks inside waiting for something to trigger it; a song, a smell, a place, etc., to remind of its presence and our loss.

Takk for alt,

Al

PS A pop-up thunder shower brought .25" rain at dinner time last night. 😃

Rollie and I have been friends since 1964, here seen speaking at our 50th wedding anniversary event. Rollie turns 80 in a few days.

Twice wrong...

      With yesterdays light rainfall I guessed we received a quarter of an inch. Wrong, that was too optimistic. A check of the rain gauge this morning revealed a tenth of an inch. That was disappointing, as was the forecast of rain this morning that was wrong...none came. That's my first wrong.

      With the mown grass now baled I ventured out to pick rocks, which I did for an hour. My assessment of my physical condition was my second wrong. That activity quickly demonstrated that I'm not in as good  shape as I though I was. Repeated forays of rock picking will be good conditioning exercise.

      Having reached my advanced age, new sightings are enjoyable, Today it was the sight of four mink crossing the road single file. They looked to be two thirds or three fourths grown and likely were a sibling group. They were all the same size. Mink litters run up to 8 or 10. They have an irascible temperament and four unrelated mink would not likely be together. Seeing four together was a first for me.  Should have had a dash camera...

Takk for alt,

Al

                           Winrowed and baled.

Lord, deliver me....

         There have been times that my sense of humor has gotten me in trouble. Some of those times were when another didn't know I was joking. But, some of those times have been when the other person had no sense of humor. Uffda, what a sad life that would be. See below:

     After writing yesterday about the lack of rain today its been raining. It's a light rain, off and on, my guess it will accumulate to .25". While wishing for more it is certainly better than none and accompanied by some cooler weather which is also helpful.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                Tractor past....

North, east, south but....

       Rains have been going around us nearby on three sides. It's now been long enough since significant rain that the corn fields with sandy patches are showing stressed corn. The stalks are shorter and the leaves show the lack of moisture. Some of the irrigation units have not been repaired since the derecho in May that tipped them over.  One of those fields has several sandy patches and irrigation would have been helpful. This dry spell during tasseling will likely effect corn yields. Soybeans are likely not effected yet. They have a better capacity to wait for rain than does corn. Initial cuttings of hay were good but rain is needed for future cuttings. Pray for rain and don't forget your umbrella. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                           Geezer by hay bales.

So much to learn!

      During 2020 when I was reading books at a rapid pace some asked "How do you remember it all?" I replied "I don't, I'm not going to be tested on it!" 😀 Thinking I knew about prairie I picked up To Find A Pasqueflower: A Story of the Tallgrass Prairie, Greg Hoch, and discovered how little I know. It was comforting to learn that I'm doing somethings right with my grasslands. For example, I've wondered about the wisdom of cattle grazing on some of it. Hoch claims that grazing next to ungraced is advantageous to wildlife. Not all wildlife needs unbroken, uncut grass. The mixture of cut and uncut, grazed and ungrazed, is better than all of either. 

    The book is not an easy read, partially due to the author's writing style. Yet, it full of valuable information and a good reference for anyone managing grasslands. Three separate fields of my property are virgin prairie, that is, they have never been plowed. The hills and rocks have protected the land from the plow. With seasonal grazing on one field until July 1, the invasive brome grass has been slowed allowing the late summer, native big bluestem, to emerge. Biologists walking in the fields that are pastured all season point out a plethora of native forbs thriving in the midst of the grazing. 

     Perhaps not a book for the general reader it's a treasure for those interested in prairie...

Takk for alt,

Al

                 Standing in a field of big bluestem.

Counting blesings!

         As Kaia ran and I walked I was struck by how fortunate I am. Living without adult supervision, as I  do, three things are particularly necessary. Vison is very important, though a person can get along even if vision is partially impaired. Glasses correct my vision making it feasible for me to read at length. I am grateful.

      Memory is significant for persons living alone. Everything from taking medications to turning off burners is dependent on memory. Perhaps I forget to bring my shopping list, yet I buy what was on the list while I'm at the store. For reliable memory I am grateful. 

    Living alone requires mobility. For that I was aware and grateful as I was walking and Kaia ran. Walking may be a bit slower but walk I do, daily and for some distance. Yes, I'm grateful.

   In addition to these three gifts there is so much else for which to give thanks. Family and friends were key to my recovery from the deepest grief when Joanne died and remain a great blessing. Good health, medical care and medical insurance....more gifts. Financial stability that allows me a rented apartment in the OFH and A Little House on the Prairie is gift. The companionship of a great dog is a blessing at this stage of life while I live alone. 

    These are just a few of the things for which I am grateful. I am truly blessed.

Takk for alt,

Al

        Grass cut awaiting the baler destined to feed cattle this winter.

Wildlife...

      Pods of pelicans move around to various sloughs. They nest in colonies, where I don't know, so I never see pelican chicks. Seeing pelicans always makes me happy especially with their circling, gliding flight. Snowy egrets and great blue heron stalk the shallows hunting frogs. A young mink crossed the road in front of me. That brought back the memory of seeing a mink cross the road in Thailand when I was riding the back of a motorcycle on my way to school. No, I did not see the mink on the way to school. 😁 A single seagull was swimming in a small pond. Four small coons were wading in the shallows of a slough. An occasional monarch butterfly wings past. Striped gophers, 13 lined ground squirrels, whistle their alarm in the cemetery. Kaia pokes her nose in their burrow but doesn't dig. The "dead" garter snake I went to move to a gopher burrow rapidly moved there on its own. Killdeer, an upland plover, are ubiquitous on gravel roads. Two tiny, fuzz ball, baby killdeer run rapidly on their long legs to keep up with mama. Mama does her broken wing stunt to lead me away from them. Turtles have finished egg laying so they're not stopped in the middle of the road contemplating suicide. Fawn are old enough to have outgrown their spots. Geese and ducks are in their annual molt so are reclusive until they can fly again. Birds have finished nesting in the spruce trees surrounding the cemetery so they no longer scold as we walk.

     This is the report of neighbors at midsummer.

Takk for alt,

Al

Wat Chaiwatthanaram, one of the temples I passed going and returning from school in Thailand. 

Wondering?

 Martin Niemöller (1892–1984)

First They Came

First they came for the Communists,
- but I was not a communist so I did not speak out.
Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists,
- but I was neither, so I did not speak out.
Then they came for the Jews,
- but I was not a Jew so I did not speak out.
And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.

    Wondering for home should we speak today?

Takk for alt,

Al

                              Prairie sunset. 

Waiting!

       A powerful memory from my childhood was the annual waiting for rain. Sometimes it came but many times it didn't. Being a farm family rain was crucial to our well being. In the 40s and 50s average annual rainfall was less than 25". Now that has increased to 28". All this is leading to "we need rain." It's not desperate but with the corn tasseling and hot days, rain is needed.  There is a 50% chance of light rain on Saturday...let's hope.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                                     A neighbor.

Prairie

        Quarters, as in living, were very crowded during the months at sea while in the Marines. This was made tolerable when I could get "topside" and see the horizon at a distance over the ocean. Tight spaces do not make me claustrophobic. At Chu Chi, Vietnam, I was able  to wiggle thru the Viet Cong tunnels without panic. What I perceive as mild claustrophobia comes from living without a view of some distance. Both the 15th floor downtown condo and the 4th floor apartment with a view over the Mississippi in the OFH provide that. So, also, The Little House On The Prairie, looking over a pond to a grassy hill beyond.

       It was in the 1960s, living in a suburb of Minneapolis, I made a discovery about myself.  When I'd drive towards Sinai, on Minnesota Highway 19, west of Red Wood Falls I'd experience a lightness. With some reflection it dawned that that was the start of  more open prairie landscape. Was I claustrophobic in metropolitan Minneapolis? Certainly not in the panic sense, yet there was a tension.  Becketwood is a lovely OFH in south Minneapolis. Joanne expressed interest in moving there which I vetoed because it's nestled down among huge trees; no vista.

     In his book, To Find A Pasqueflower: A Story Of The Tallgrass Prairie, Greg Hoch quotes Wallace Stegner; "I may not know who I am , but I know where I am from."   Meaning the prairie. Me, too!

Takk for alt,

Al

                    A view of restored prairie.

"Have you ever seen a butter fly..."

      Anyone remember the old nonsense song "Have you ever seen a butter fly...a barn dance...? It came to mind while I was sitting on my front steps watching two white butterflies dipsy doodling their way around the yard.  Then a monarch flew by, a monster compared to the white ones.

    My grasslands are host to multitudes of milkweed, so it makes me glad to do some small part in the preservation of monarchs. When there have been controlled burns of the grass, milkweeds are the first to emerge. It appears that the fire benefits the milkweeds as much as it does the native grasses like big and little bluestem. The recent good news about monarchs increase is heartening. Brother, sister butterfly!

Takk for alt,

Al

                    Starting a controlled burn.

Finished another!

     In the quest to read all of Ann Patchett's books one more is done. The book was published 30 years ago. Per usual in Patchett's books family secrets are central to The Patron Saint Of Liars. Set primarily in an Kentucky home for unwed mothers the family secrets never gets fully revealed. As is true of family secrets those secrets have consequences for all involved.

     As typical for Patchett's book this was very engaging. It left more to be resolved at the end than some of her other books. Better that things be unresolved than tied up unrealistically.  The ending of Bel Canto struck me as less than helpful, for example.  Now I need a copy of Taft.

Takk for alt,

A

       Perito Moreno Glacier, Patagonia, Argentina 

Cattle Tales!

       The cattle are gone, moved out by the 4th of July per the agreement. Ever since I bought this pasture, about 30 years ago, Steve has used it. For many years he pastured sheep on it but for the last several he's had cow/calves there. The ground is native prairie spared the plow because it's rocky and hilly. Even native prairie degrades with the infestation of invasive plants. In this case it is smooth brome, kentucky blue grass and reed canary grass that have invaded. Pasturing it from May until July 4, eats back the invasives allowing the native late season grasses: i.e., big and little bluestem to flourish. With good rains there is still abundant forage left  this year after the cattle were removed.

      In last year's dry time the cattle consumed the grass and Steve supplemented their feed with baled hay. That was not enough to satisfy the herd and they broke out of the fence. Where did Steve find the missing cattle? They were in his pasture, to which he would have moved them in a few days! 😀 They took it upon themselves to make the move in spite of the electric fence. Perhaps they thought the grass was greener on the other side of the fence, and, it was.

Takk for alt,

Al

                            I made the funnies!

Annoying thistles!

       "Annoying thistles" is a double entendre. Thistles really are annoying and today's subject thistle is canada. They are now ubiquitous and very annoying. When I was a boy driving the tractor that pulled the grain binder, on which my dad rode, harvesting small grain, we'd stop if we saw a thistle. There were that few. Getting our pliers we'd pull them. Now knowing more about their root system it's clear that that was not an effective method of control. With modern herbicides they are not much of a problem in crops. However, they are a problem in grasslands and that leads to the other meaning of "annoying thistles".

      Today it was my task and turn to annoy thistles. They often occur in clumps, colonies, groups, bunched together.  There were infected spots in a grass field. How did I annoy them? By mowing them and they were in full bloom about to go to seed which is the perfect time to annoy them. Why do I say "annoy". It's my choice of description because mowing may not kill them. Sometimes, after mowing, the grass will out compete them and they do wither.  That is the hope.

   Mowing at this stage of their development also greatly inhibits the spread of thistle seed. That is reason enough to mow. A side benefit this morning was disturbing insects and the flock of barn swallows took full advantage of that. They would swoop around the mower  catching insects in flight. Suddenly they'd all fly away together to feed their babies what they'd gathered. A few minutes later they would return to the hunt.

   This story is a clue that Kaia and I are back at The Little House.

Takk for alt,

Al

                        Grass with milkweed.

Lillian Jespersen, September 21, 1923-July 1, 2022

      Lillian's funeral was yesterday. Lillian was positive, friendly and kind. Alzheimer's stole her memory the last four or five years. Raised near Westhope, ND., she was the youngest of nine children and the last to die.

    Lillian was married to Frode for seventy three years. Frode, 99, was her care giver until she died.  He's still driving, his memory is intact, and if you first saw him you likely guess him to be in his 70s. Frode, the late Dick Olson, and I played golf every week during golf season for 28 years. In 2017 Dick, at 90 thought he was too old to play that much and Frode couldn't leave Lillian, so our golfing days wound down. Without my regular group I lost interest in playing.

    Frode was a bomber pilot in Asia in WW II, flying a Douglas A-20. He'd tell us stories of his experiences as we played golf. He kept our scores on his computer and tracked our handicaps. Lunch, typically at McDonalds was the responsibility of the two highest scores.  

   Rest in peace Lillian, good and faithful servant.

Takk for alt,

Al

        This is a Douglas A-20, in the air museum in Dayton, OH., like the one Frode flew.

Coyote games!

       At about 6am, when we're in the OFH, Kaia and I climb the hill to Highland Park. With few others around Kaia runs off leash driving the squirrels up trees. Because she's non-reactive to other dogs or persons this works. Today a coyote came out of the trees and barked at us. When there was fesh snow this winter coyote tracks were common.

    Kaia gave chase to the coyote for a little way and then turned off.  As soon as Kaia stopped chasing the coyote returned, barking at us. This went for several times. The hair on Kaia's back stood up so it was clear that she recognized the coyote as  a wild animal. After several forays the coyote retreated to the woods and we went on our way. Likely the coyote was protecting puts that were hidden in the woods. She showed no interest in me. This encounter added a bit of interest to our morning.  

Takk for alt,

Al

     While I was instructing the girls in the class in Thailand the boys would lie on the floor.

Busy Day!

  Lunch with a friend was followed by a visit with two friends in a neighboring OFH, after which there was a dental appointment, and then dinner with friends. So blogging was delayed until fatigue struck and I'll write more another time!

Takk for alt,

Al

"Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you, because it is, at least in my experience, the most healing of pleasures."  Harold Bloom, Writer's Almanac

We are here, then!

    Here is the Old Folk's Home, at which we arrived today. This trip is prompted by Lillian's funeral, about which I'll have more to say later. Anita, a staff member of the OFH, cleaned my apartment while I was gone so it sparkles. This feels like home, as does The Little House on The Prairie when I am there. Homes are where the heart is.

Takk for alt,

Al

                   The house in which I grew up.

54th!

      The 54th anniversary of my ordination on July 7, would have rolled by without my remembering it had not a friend reminded me. For 39 years I worked until my retirement in 2007. Time certainly slips by as now it is over 4 years since Joanne died. She was a very significant part of those working years for me. July 7, was also the birthday of the late Priscilla Hammer Tapper, my youngest cousin. With her death some years ago I became the youngest surviving cousin. Counting my brother and me there are six cousins surviving. The youngest and the oldest, 97, are in Old Folk's Homes.

Takk for alt,

Al

The last baptism I performed was for y granddaughter, Sella, and it was on my birthday.

Corn follies!

     There are numerous times when I should pay more attention. One of those times was when the Game, Fish & Parks people put two bags of corn in my trunk. Had I been paying closer attention I'd have seen that they were 40lb bags, not the 60lb bags of the past.

   When the lighter  bags were discovered it didn't much concern me. With an unopened 60lb bag from last year in my possession that would be more than sufficient to complete planting, and it was. The problem didn't surface until later. Though the bag had not been opened it did not germinate well. Consequently that corn field looks like a snaggle tooth monster. The first field looks great the second field not so great!

   Well, what can one do? Next year pay attention but for this year it is what it is.

Takk for alt,

Al

                              Prairie sunset.

Don't try this at home!

      Kaia and I were out for our daily run/walk, she runs I walk, when she came upon a garter snake. She gave it a vigorous shake before I could rescue it. After rescue it made it to it's den. That caused me to wonder what she'd do if she encountered a rattlesnake? Fortunately there are none in this vicinity.

    Kaia's encounter with the snake brought back a memory from the Marines. Stationed at Camp Pendleton, CA, the Marine Base between San Diego and Long Beach, we were out in the hills for several days of infantry training. During this field exercise a small rattlesnake, about six inches long, fell into a Marine's foxhole. Seeing the snake the Marine pulled out his bayonet and pinned the snake's head to the ground. So far so good. His next move was a major mistake. After pinning the snake's head he took the snake by the tail and released the head. The rattler immediately struck him on the finger. Small rattlesnakes tend to be the most lethal becasue they have likely not struck a victim.

    A medical corpsman rendered first-aid and radioed for an evacuation helicopter. He was taken to the Navy Hospital on the base and kept for two weeks. Likely he'd learned a lesson.

    During that time on Camp Pendleton, which has a long shoreline on the Pacific Ocean, a fair-skinned Marine went to the beach to tan. He fell asleep in full sun for eight hours and did a great imitation of a boiled lobster. He, too, spent a couple weeks in the hospital and likely learned what not to do.

   Oceanside was the town nearest our entrance to the base. That town was full of tattoo parlors.  A Marine got a tattoo that he later regretted.   It wasn't elaborate and was on his upper arm below the shoulder. When we relocated to Okinawa he was off duty in Naha, Okinawa's major city. An Okinawan told him he could remove the tattoo for $10.00. Agreeing the Marine offered up his arm, the Okinawan brought out a syringe and gave him a shot in the tattoo. Back on base the Marine told me that his tattoo was fading. The next day his arm was swollen to twice it's normal size. The tattoo? Yup, he still had it. Fortunately this was long before the aids epidemic and he survived but with tattoo intact.

Takk for alt,

Al

  This picture was taken on Okinawa  but none of the above mentioned Marines are on it.

Kaia!

      This will be bragging about Kaia, so if you don't want to read you're excused. When I'm at the OFH about 6am Kaia and I walk up the hill to Highland Park. There are few, if any, people there at that time of the morning so I let her off leash. She flies around the Park putting squirrels up trees. She runs full tilt around the Park but always keeps eye contact with me. As long as I walk, she runs, but, if I stop, she comes to me. Occasionally a dog walker walks through the park but she totally ignores both the walker and the other dog. It is a good way for her to work off some of her energy.

     This morning we walked behind The Little House to check the rain gauge (.25"). A neighbor's dog was standing a few steps away in the alley. Kaia gave the other dog a wide berth and did her looping run following the direction I was headed. 

      Because she non-reactive to other dogs and persons she is an ideal dog for the OFH. She does have a mischievous streak. When I'm involved in a lengthy phone conversation she'll raid wastebaskets for tissue to shred or find objects to carry around; hats, gloves, socks, etc. She doesn't chew them, just carries them. Yes, she's currently the best dog in the world. 😄  

Takk for alt,

Al

       Kaia on squirrel watch in The Little House.

Retreat!

     "They've got us surrounded!" "Good, they can't get away from us now!"  That bit of bravado from time in the Marines leads to our relocation. Out on parole from the OFH, Kaia and I are now resident in The Little House. The rain gauge at the pasture showed 1.5" measuring the week I was gone. Multi-million dollar moisture at this time of year and now, 3:00 Tuesday, it's raining in Sinai. An inch a week would be ideal through the growing season.

    The week at the OFH was spiced by connecting with many family and friends. Now I'm back in Sinai in time for the bankers/butchers lunch tomorrow. It's a good way to catch up on the "news". 😉

Takk for alt,

Al

Stein Mydske, Fredrickstad, Norway singing Kjaerlighet Fra Gud at our fiftieth wedding anniversary. He sang that at our wedding 6/6/1964.

Another Book!

     Ever since I got some farmland in 1989, the Soil Conservation Service (SCS) of Brookings County, SD. has been helpful to me. When native grasses have been planted SCS has done that with their special drill. They've planted hundreds of trees and SCS has sold me replacement trees for replanting. SCS is a drop-off site for free seed corn for wildlife food plots so I've often gone there for that. They also advise the USDA about the suitability of land for enrollment in the Conservation Reserve Program (CRP). The genesis of SCS was unknown to me until I read The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of those who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl, Timothy Egan.

   The focus is on the high plains,  a balloon shaped area of Nebraska, Kansas, Colorado, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico. The incredible suffering of those of those who faced, not only the depression, but the drought of the 'dirty thirties' boggles the mind. My mother talked of having to light the lamps at noon during dust storms in eastern South Dakota but, that was nothing compared to the high plains. 

   In the administration of  Franklin Roosevelt, Hugh Bennet, Secretary Of Agriculture established the Soil Conservation Service which continues it's work of preservation today. Planting tree shelterbelts was another solution. My father, and his three siblings, planted two miles of shelterbelts that thrive today.

   While it's not the easiest reading of such terrible suffering the history and its lessons are worth the effort. Yes, I recommend it.

Takk for alt,

Al 

"July 4th: worst day ever for dogs."  Headline in today's paper.

                        Joanne loved flowers!

Summer

     4th of July weekend and didn't expect many at church but the surprise was connecting with several of the old 'after church coffee gang' that hadn't been together for months. Luther's third sacrament: "the mutual conversation and consolation of the saints." A nice finish to the morning at church.

"Today is the beginning of the dog days of summer, 40 days of especially hot and humid weather with little rainfall, according to the Farmers' Almanac. The name came from the ancient Greeks. They believed that Sirius, the "dog star," which rose with the sun at that time, was adding to the sun's heat. They also believed that the weather made dogs go mad. The Romans tried to appease Sirius by sacrificing a brown dog at the start of the dog days. For the Egyptians, the arrival of dog days marked the beginning of the Nile's flooding season, as well as their New Year celebrations.

"Dog days" has been adopted by the stock market because the markets tend to be slow and sluggish; it's also come to mean any period of stagnation or inactivity." Writer's Almanac.

Takk for alt,

Al

                   The wall of an ancient monastery, Riga, Latvia. 

Who'd thought?

     Who'd thought! Not me! Venturing over to Costco, Saturday morning of 4th of July weekend it would be uncrowded. Oh, there were people there but a very manageable crowd. It was a good time to stock up for an imminent return to The Little House. Certainly would not want to run out of heavy cream!

    Being a little different is something I've long recognized about myself. There was a time it bothered me but no more. Not in full bloom of geezer hood, living in the OFH, different is just fine. This leads into saying that shopping at Costco is actually enjoyable. Once the layout of the store is mastered maneuvering for the shopping is quite easy. Standing in line for checkout? What else do I have to do?  Then a 20oz, all beef hotdog and soda cost $1.50, cheap lunch!...and they're good.   

Takk for alt,

Al

               At our fiftieth wedding anniversary.

July 1!

      Frequently I've quoted the frog "My how fun the time is when having flies!"  Time does fly and the older we get the faster it seems to go. There's a plausible explanation for that. A year is 20% of the life experience of a five year old. A year is 2% of a fifty year old's experience thus time seems to speed up with age.

   Residence in the OFH is a good opportunity to connect with family and friends, and I am.

Takk for alt,

Al

              Three travelers in Helsinki, Finland.