And to think I have an apartment in an Old Folks Home

 

Impulse buy!

      At Saturday's consignment auction I attended intending to bid on the disc that followed me home. Aware that there was also a stalk chopper for sale, after buying the disc, I wandered over to the chopper curious how it would sell. I bought it on impulse when no one else cared enough to make a couple of bids. 

   It's a John Deere, Model 27, and, judging how much of the road it covered, a 16'. After pulling it to my shop I lubricated it and attached the PTO and hydraulic hoses. Much to my pleasure it worked. Both it and the disc came with the requisite hydraulic cylinder which increases their value. The chopper attaches to the 1000rpm power take off shaft.  After replacing a couple of tires I towed it to the field where it can rest until next spring when it will find use.

   So that's how I spent my work day. What did you do?

Takk for alt,

Al

Tire Follies!

        One of the tires on the disc that followed me home from Saturday's sale looked very old and weather checked. That disc's home is several miles from town. So, it seemed wise to head off possible trouble by replacing that tire. It was removed from the disc and, accompanied with a replacement tire, was transported to a tire repair shop in Volga 10+ miles away. Then the follies began. The tired tire had a 15" rim and the replacement I brought was 14". Stretching is not an option. Dilemma? Return to Sinai for a15" tire, or try the old one?  Folly two...deciding to put a new inner tube in the old tire and use it. Back in Sinai with the tire remounted on the disc it blew out in the first block while heading to the field. Off with that blown tire and back to Volga with the 15" tire I should have brought at the beginning.

     There was a time that this scenario would have frustrated me. No more, it's more entertaining than anything. The disc is now safely parked in the field and resting until it's time to use it next spring. The day's activity is another one that's better than a gym membership. The person who consigned the disc for sale was very lucky that the tire held air until it reached the Sinai sale ground.

Takk for alt,

Al

No comment...

 

June!

 

What Is So Rare As A Day In June

"And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature's palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o'errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?"    James Russell Lowell

    Yesterday's consignment auction was at a new time. In the past it's always been the second Saturday of August. The date change didn't seem to inhibit the consignments nor the bidders. The weather was so cool that a jacket felt good, unlike the hot August days of the past. Will it be June again if there is one? We'll wait and see.

Takk for alt,

Al

Malacca, Malaysia is very interesting because of the layers of cultures. First there was Malay, then Portuguese Colonial, followed by Dutch Colonial, which was followed by English Colonial and finally independence in 1957. 

Look what followed me home!

      From a casual observer the Sinai Volunteer Fire Department consignment auction today looked like another success. There was a commercial source of many brand new attachments for a skid steer. Selling brought significant money but they sold for much less than would have been paid at a dealer. Good for the Fire Department and good for the buyer. This is one picture of less than a fourth of what was for sale.

  

    But, I did not escape unscathed. This disc followed me home as I  had hoped. There was one other interested bidder so I paid a fair, but not unreasonable, price.

 Then there was this stalk chopper, which I can use, but no one else wanted, so, it was cheap and also followed me home.

Takk for alt,

Al

Pretty much , my life!

 

Incredible!

       Every year before (and after) Sinai Firemen's consignment auction we say "It's sold now, next year there won't be a much." What happens? Next year there's more. This year is no exception. It's hard to get pictures that do justice, but I'll try. Bidding begins at 10:00 and ends ??? when everything is sold. The professional auctioneers volunteer their time and effort and their 10% normal commission goes to the the fire department. Those volunteers do an incredible amount of work to keep the department solvent.

    Perhaps the amount of consignment shouldn't be a surprise in a culture that is continuously building more rental storage lockers. In the classified section of the Minneapolis Paper there are columns of advertisements listing lockers that are abandoned and the contents to be auctioned. 

   We're slow to learn that every thing we own ends up owning us. A former prisoner of war said, after his release, "I had a tremendous feeling of freedom when everything was taken from me."

Takk for alt,

Al   

Showered!

       Sinai's been showered recently, including today.  It's been unusual. Several times there have been small rain showers. These have been up to .3" a couple of times Other's smaller as today it was .2". Cumulatively, perhaps something over 1.5" total. This is certainly helpful and an advantage is that there is no run off.

    Bird sightings: twice it has been Red Headed Woodpeckers, which have lost population numbers. They were in separate woodlands so not the same bird seen twice. Three Brown Thrashers were seen together. These birds with a beautiful song are quite reclusive.  A Mallard Hen with 11 newly hatched ducklings were swimming near the road. A local farmer reported seeing a Pheasant hen with a brood of chicks. These chicks and ducklings will be fully grown by winter increasing their chance of survival.

   Sinai Firemen's annual consignment auction is Saturday. Included in the sale is a never erected Quonset building. The final sale advertisement took a half a page in the local advertiser and late consignments continue to arrive. So far the only tractor offered is a John Deere 4020. No, I'm not bidding.

Takk for alt,

Al

The gorgeous Red-headed Woodpecker is so boldly patterned it’s been called a “flying checkerboard,” with an entirely crimson head, a snow-white body, and half white, half inky black wings. These birds don’t act quite like most other woodpeckers: they’re adept at catching insects in the air, and they eat lots of acorns and beech nuts, often hiding away extra food in tree crevices for later. This magnificent species has declined severely in the past half-century because of habitat loss and changes to its food supply.

It can be tricky to glimpse a Brown Thrasher in a tangled mass of shrubbery, and once you do you may wonder how such a boldly patterned, gangly bird could stay so hidden. Brown Thrashers wear a somewhat severe expression thanks to their heavy, slightly downcurved bill and staring yellow eyes, and they are the only thrasher species east of Texas. Brown Thrashers are exuberant singers, with one of the largest repertoires of any North American songbird.

The advantage of hearing loss!

 

Book Report!

     Before passing it on to me L told me it was a very good. Reading it revealed that to be an understatement. It's one of those books that engages from the first page while getting better steadily in reading. Seldom do I read books currently on the NY Times current best seller list, but this is one.

    The Correspondent by Virginia Evans is totally in the form of letters sent and received, except for one that's more like a diary. Sybil, the primary character, a retired attorney living alone, has written, and, consequently received, letters since she was a girl. Now her pattern is to sit at her desk at 10:00 am every day and write letters.  These letters, and the replies she receives, constitute the book. A family tragedy much earlier in her life had a huge impact on her, to which she only comes to terms in her final years. 

   A brilliant and self reflective woman, her engagement with others causes her to significantly change in her latter years. The book is filled with the wisdom that comes with such reflection and her willingness to engage honestly with others. These include life long friends, family inc. a son and daughter, neighbors and young boy who's the son of a friend. She also writes  to authors, public figures and people in the news, often receiving a reply. Not only does she change with her correspondence so do others through her missives. Almost by accident long secret family members come to light.

   In her acknowledgments at the end of the book Evans give strong tribute to her husband, Mark. Then below the last line the acknowledgment is this.

   James 1:17

Takk for alt,

Al 

Shades of Thailand

        Joanne, the woman who'd go out in sub-zero weather with a wind breakers, did not like heat and humidity. She braved the tropical heat of SE Asia once, to visit our daughter. Walking in the cemetery today brought back memories of my time teaching school in Thailand. "Thailand was like this I thought." Living there without A/C was tolerable. 

      But, today?, with a cool house and good book I opted to leave the heat and humidity. There was nothing pressing on the work front. Cedars and rocks will wait. An exceptionally good book was a way to focus some time.

    Living the good life in The Little House!

Takk for alt,

Al

Find Al in this picture!

Puzzle?

        My two cornfields are 12 miles apart and as different as night and day. Field one is where the geese grazed last year. It's on a south slope with mature trees to the north. Geese grazed two thirds of it down to bare soil. With few cornstalks to bother I did minimum tillage before planting. The corn is growing nicely and weeds, especially water hemp, blanket the ground.

      Then there's the other field. No geese grazed there so there was much corn standing into the winter. When I chopped the stalks this spring the ground was yellow with shelled corn. During the days between chopping a plowing birds ate much of that waste corn...but not enough. Now the volunteer corn is no thick it's hard to determine where the rows are. Some weeds have begun to germinate. Both the corn and the weeds are much smaller in this field than in the other.

    Why is there such a difference in the two fields. Perhaps it's soil temperature. Where the growth is slow the soil was covered with chopped cornstalks acting as a blanket which wouldn't allow the ground to warm up. Then the ground was plowed, tilled and planted in a couple of days. After planting there were many days of cool or cold temperatures not conducive to warming the soil. That contrasts with the other field which tilts toward the sun and the black soil absorbing the sun's heat.

    This post is a testament to the simple life I lead.😄

Takk for alt,

Al

Erased!

     Yesterday while I was out cutting cedars, what else?, there was multi-bird serenade. Turning on the Merlin app, what else?, over twenty species were recorded. Many of the usual suspects; Bobolink, Grackle, Pheasant, Red-Wing and Yellow Headed blackbirds, Marsh Wren, Etc. Another one, very common in my experience, but one I'd never heard...a Pie Bill Grebe, a water bird.

    While standing in the grass recording, water behind a dam was not far away. In my youth we called Grebe's 'Hell Divers'. Swimming in the water a few yards away if anything alarmed them they'd dive and re-surface a long way away. In fact they were so elusive that attempts to shoot them was futile. So quick they'd be under water and away before shot reached them. (I know, shooting at them wasn't good and was even illegal.)  Recording one was a revelation to me. 

   Unfortunately I neglected to save the recording. Attempting to replay it back at the house and it was not retrievable. Perhaps I can re-record it later.

Takk for alt,

Al

 

The Pied-billed Grebe is the most widespread grebe in the New World, and the most familiar in most temperate parts of North America. Far less sociable than most grebes, almost never in flocks, sometimes found singly on small marshy ponds. When disturbed or suspicious, it may sink slowly until only head is above water. Rarely seen in flight. Often secretive in the breeding season, hiding in marsh, making bizarre whinnying, gobbling, cooing noises by day or night.

June 6, 1964

     It was beautiful June day, five days after graduating from Augustana, that Joanne and I were married. The wedding was at First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls, S.D. Pastor Marcus Gravdal presided and Joanne's father, The Rev. Dr. Oscar C. Hanson did the homily. Choral music was provided by the Augustana College Choir. The late Mary (Hanson) Trodahl was the maid of honor and David Negstad the best man.

   Here's bit of humor connected to the event. As I was living at First Lutheran, assistant custodian and night watchman, the Norwegian wedding cake, kransakake, for the reception was kept in my apartment. Joanne's mother was very concerned that ants not find the cake, though in the year I'd lived there I'd never seen an ant. She provided my with ant poison to protect the pastry. Waking in the middle of the night, I realized I hadn't placed the poison so I got up and protected it. No ants found either the poison or the cake.

   I'm very grateful that we had a big fiftieth wedding anniversary party because three years later, she died. So, now for 8+ years I've lived in the land of grief with the presence of absence. Our marriage was a wonderful blessing to me, for which I'm eternally grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

A kransakake that my granddaughter baked.

    

Best Gift Ever...

 

  

       For her 50th birthday I gave Joanne six weeks of dancing lessons. Her family of origin saw dancing as evil, but, with her musical background she understood rhythm. Living in Germanic Davenport, IA., every wedding featured a dance at the reception. We sat like bumps on a log while others danced.

      Lost in time is what led me to give her the Arthur Murray dancing lessons. After six weeks we renewed and renewed, for the two years we remained in Davenport. We picked up on the lessons when we moved to Minnesota.

      We'd go to a lesson tired from work and soon the fatigue would lift as we concentrated on the music and our steps. Now wedding dances were fun as we joined the dancers on the floor. 

      Joanne's father wrote a pamphlet That Dangerous Dance. We were dancing at a wedding reception which was attended by on of her father's friends. That friend accosted Joanne saying "What would your father say about you dancing?" Without missing a beat she replied, "He's in heaven now so he's free from those rules." The friend was speechless but his wife laughed out loud.

Takk for alt,

al

Marking Time While Weeds Sprout!

       The corn in my modest fields was reluctant to sprout. Was it planted too deep?  Was it cold soil and weather? The fact that weeds have also been slow to germinate suggests the corn's emergence is related to temperature and not depth of planting.

     The good news is that there is no sign of goose predation. Yesterday there were no observable geese on the water. The soybean field on the other side of the water has been fenced to keep the geese out. An electric fence powered by a solar unit keeps the geese at bay. If it's anything like other electric fences I've encountered one zap should be all a goose would need to learn a lesson. Local farmers who plant sweet corn also use electric fences to keep racoons out. Racoons with access to sweet corn will decimate a patch in one night.

    With the two pastures where cedars are invading are encircled with activated electric fencing. The shock of those fences is almost enough to knock me down. The cattle in one of those pastures are removed in early July. When they're gone I'll pursue those cedars. 

    Why do they leave in early July? These cattle graze on the invasive grasses which emerge in early spring. Their cropping encourages the native, summer grasses to flourish. It's taken over 30 years but gradually the native big bluestem grass has partially returned.

Takk for alt,

Al

Story

 

       There's a story about potato beetles that Dad told. Of course this was long before pesticides when potato beetles were menace. "An advertisement appeared in a farm paper. 'Sure fire method for ridding your potato patch of potato beetles. Send $5.00 to (address).' In response the sender received this message. 'Fill a quart jar half full of turpentine, drop the beetles into the jar.'"  The $5.00 at the time of the ad would be equivalent to about $100. today. 😀 Of course I neglected to ask if he'd sent $5.00!

       When I opened the door of my truck I was greeted by a jar of strawberry/rhubarb jam and six  chocolate chip cookies! Which reminds me of this story.  "Bruce was home visiting his mother in Sinai.

When they drove downtown she made sure to lock the car doors. 'Mom, do have to lock in Sinai?' 'Yes, if you don't lock your car in August, when you come back to it, it will be full of zucchini.'" 

Takk for alt,

al

Potato Bug also known as a Jerusalem Cricket. 

Little House!

        Leaving the OFH at 6:00 allows travel across Minneapolis at posted speeds, or, faster with the stream of traffic. Proceeding down Interstate 494, the four lane thoroughfare in South Minneapolis, what did I see in the rearview mirror but flashing red lights. "What did I do now?"  Five patrol cars, "I'm not dangerous!" weren't after me. They were pursuing a motorcycle at 100?mph. Seems very dangerous.

     Being a creature of habit my route to and from the OFH varies little. It suits me because most of it is on county roads with few towns and little traffic. About 90 miles from Minneapolis I connect with Hwy 212. Driving to town Wednesday I found 212 detoured a few miles. Perhaps a roundabout is being added. So today I took Highway 169 to St. Peter, then Nicollet and Highway 14. The 169 junction to Jordon is still one lane, which wasn't backed up at 6:30. Multiple signs proclaimed "USE BOTH LANES DURING BAKCUPS."  The detour on 212 is probably better.

    Driving through Nicollet means a mandatory stop at world famous Schmitt's Meat Market. Tonight's dinner was a scrumptious stuffed pork chop from Schmitt's. That stop is a definite plus for that route.

Takk for alt,

Al

Detour, there's a muddy road ahead, detour
Paid no mind to what it said
Detour, oh, these bitter things I find
Should have read that detour sign

Headed down life's crooked road
Lots of things I never knowed
Because of me not knowin', I now pine
Trouble got in the trail
Spent the next five years in jail
Should have read that detour sign

Detour, there's a muddy road ahead, detour
Paid no mind to what it said
Detour, oh, these bitter things I find

Should have read that detour sign

Tex Ritter

Schmitt's Meat Market

Ed never did this!

 

      Field stripping, i.e., disassembling our M-1 Rifles, became second nature. Woe betide the Marine who called his rifle a 'gun'. Care and maintenance of our rifles was a high priority.

       Beetle Bailey's experience with his rifle is similar to my experience of car or tractor mechanics. It seemed every time I disassembled an engine when the re-assembly was finished? there always remained a few parts. If any proof was needed this would have been sufficient evidence that being a mechanic was not my calling. 

Takk for alt,

Al

   

Seeing how I look after a couple weeks of a field exercise on Okinawa it's easy to imagine that my rifle would need cleaning.

Family day!

       Hanging at the OFH gave opportunity to connect with family. Meeting for dinner at a Thai/Lao restaurant, new to me and not far away it was quiet, with excellent food so good opportunity to visit. My preference is for Lao food over Thai. Laos was a former French colony and I think that has influenced its cuisine. 

   Seldom do I seek out Thai restaurants having eaten so much Thai food in Thailand. It being a long time since I'd had Thai food, this was a real treat. Then, too, the food was especially good. A good time was had by all and Al, too.

Takk for alt,

Al

This is a restaurant in Ayutthaya, Thailand, at which we'd sometimes eat. 

Friends!

    This has been a day of friends, which is half of the reason I return to the OFH with some regularity, family the other half. First it was breakfast with a friend. Eating in the OFH dining room gave us a full menu of breakfast choices. Besides the total convenience of the dining room is the plus that it's quiet. That's huge for someone as hearing impaired as I. 

    Early afternoon it was coffee with friends from the condo building in which I lived downtown. Both are authors and avid readers so books are often a significant part of the conversation. His quest to read all the Noble Prize and Pulitzer Prize books, is complete. He reports that many of them do not pass the test of time.

   Then there was dinner with friends who winter in AZ. Consequently our last in person visit was in November. Words were had! Friends make me glad and grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al 

No cattle so I don't need a big stick!

 

One of those days!

     There are days with little novelty. This is one of those days. Infrequent occupant that I am in the OFH, newer inmates sometimes ask "Are you new here?" New, doesn't very well apply in anyway to me. Actually, I'm one of the earlier occupants nabbing the last apartment available in the first go around. That was 4.5 years ago, since moving in. Many have come and gone during those years, quite a few of whom I've known.

   Perhaps I'll just post a random picture and call it good.

Takk for alt,

Al

The stairway of the Budapest Opera House where we heard a Puccini Opera in 2008.

Complete the process!

      The other reader didn't comment about my failure to post yesterday. While writing that missive the Lynx were on TV. That's my excuse for failure to post, and they beat the leading team in the league and now they lead. This even though their starter had surgery on both ankles and hasn't returned to the floor yet. Go Lynx!

Takk for alt,

Al

Where are you?

     "Where are you?" "Here!" "Where's here?"  "The OFH."  It's true, Kaia and I just arrived and she's sound asleep by the desk. With the family back in town it was time for a little turn in the OFH spa. We'll spend a few days at this 'here' and return to that 'here' known as The Little House.

Takk for alt,

al

Berger and Ellen photographed on my last trip to Norway, 2018.

Grassland Birds!

       When I left The Little House for the OFH last fall I gave KK permission to hunt on my land. In thanks for being allowed to hunt she's been trapping pocket gophers there. Perhaps that's why I didn't find any today. which is good news.

      Pausing to take in the view 

I was serenaded by many birds. Can you guess what came next? Yup, I activated the Merlin Bird App recorder and in 20 minutes recorded 20 varieties of birds. 

    This is what I heard: Goldfinch, Northern Yellow Warbler, Vesper Sparrow, Crow, Marsh Wren, Brown-headed Cowbird, Grasshopper Sparrow, Canada Goose, Eastern Kingbird, Barn Swallow, Mallard, Common Yellowthroat, Dickcissel, Sora, Red-winged Blackbird, Western Meadowlark, Yellow-headed Blackbird, Bobolink, Song Sparrow and Pheasant.  It was an ideal spot to find grassland birds with over 600 acres of contiguous grass. Squared off it would be a mile on each side.  600 is very conservative estimate of its reach. 

Takk for alt,

Al

When I was a boy we called Bobolinks 'skunk birds' because of their color.

 

• The Bobolink is one of the world’s most impressive songbird migrants, traveling some 12,500 miles (20,000 kilometers) to and from southern South America every year. Throughout its lifetime, it may travel the equivalent of 4 or 5 times around the circumference of the earth.
• The species name of the Bobolink, oryzivorus means “rice eating” and refers to this bird’s appetite for rice and other grains, especially during migration and in winter.

• It may not seem like it, because seeing a Sora takes some effort, but the Sora is the most abundant and widespread rail in North America.

Furnace to A/C

       While enjoying some nice hot weather sitting on the front steps the rooster  across the street serenaded. That made me wonder what the Merlin Bird App would do with a chicken. Nothing, as it turns out because it kept crowing while I recorded and the App didn't register it. There was a number of birds calling so I kept the App open for six minutes.

     These are the birds recorded: Pheasant, Eastern Warbling Vireo, Baltimore Oriole, House Sparrow, Chimney Swift, Song Sparrow, Grackle, Eurasian Collard-Dove, American Goldfinch, Red-winged Blackbird, and Common Yellowthroat. A nice feature of the App is that it plays back the bird songs. Press on American Goldfinch, e.g., and it plays the Goldfinch recording, while showing a file video of the bird.

Takk for alt,

Al

A bird best identified by silhouette, the smudge-gray Chimney Swift nimbly maneuvers over rooftops, fields, and rivers to catch insects. Its tiny body, curving wings, and stiff, shallow wingbeats give it a flight style as distinctive as its fluid, chattering call. This enigmatic little bird spends almost its entire life airborne. When it lands, it can’t perch—it clings to vertical walls inside chimneys or in hollow trees or caves. This species has suffered sharp declines as chimneys fall into disuse across the continent.

Lucky Ones!

         On the eve of Memorial Day, it's a reminder that Ed and I were lucky ones who completed our enlistments unscathed. On frequent visits to the VA Hospital I encounter many with permanent disabilities, that I assume are service related. Then, too, are the myriad who died serving the country. Too those in both categories I tender deep gratitude for their sacrifice.    

Takk for alt,

Al

Ed and I posing at Camp Hansen, Okinawa, 1962, when we were promoted to corporal.

Rain report!

      What's more exciting than checking rain gauges after a much needed rain? So, that's what we did, Kaia and I. So what did the gauges reveal you ask?  They received .7", which effect was amplified by the gentle, slow nature of the rain. Hard rain on dry surfaces can run off.  Yesterday's gradual rain over several hours all soaked in. The previously dry surface now is saturated to compliment the sub-soil moisture. Yes, it's a gift for which I'm grateful.

    Pretty much summarizes the excitement here!

Takk for alt,MI uni

Al

This commercial sewing man a spot on Bangkok, sidewalk.

The Gift Of Rain

      Actually The Gift Of Rain is the name of a book that I enjoyed. It's set in a city in Malaysia, Penang, where I spent some time. But, the title of this post refers to today's rain. The rain began at 6:00 am as forecast and it been raining all day. No storm, just a gentle rain over several hours. Excavating rocks a few weeks ago demonstrated good subsoil moisture. The rain will moisturize the surface which is very helpful. The first crop of alfalfa has not yet been cut. This will boost that cutting and energize the plants for the second cutting. Corn, soybeans, if they didn't freeze, pastures and trees all benefit.

     With the rain falling it was a good day to work in the shop. Kaia sat in the truck and watched me. She's resting today and, with a call to her, she joined me in the shower. Pretty much what passes for excitement here.

Takk for alt,

Al

Think I'll buy another Cornish Game hen for the air fryer.

Cumulative

      Kaia is tired and so am I. Several days in a row of cutting cedars has tired my body, though my back is fine. With time in the field Kaia makes up for her shortened winter runs. From the time we arrive until we leave she runs vigorously. It's as if she thinks, "free at last, free at last." Most of the time she keeps me in sight. If she runs out of sight of me she soon returns to see where I am. As long as I am moving she runs. If I stop for awhile she comes over. When I head for the truck she beats me to it, the door opens and she leaps in. 

     Should I trust tomorrow's forecast? The prediction is for rain most of the day! Here's hoping. There is a project awaiting the shop. That would be a good rainy day activity. Well, rain or no, it would be a welcome respite from cutting cedars.

Takk for alt,

Al

The scenery is good while I hunt cedars. After purchasing this 160 acres (a quarter section it's a half mile square) I constructed five dams to hold water for wildlife. This is the largest. Muskrats tunneled through the dam and it washed out. Two years ago it was repaired and now there's this nice pond.

No gym membership!

      A few days ago while I was cutting cedars out of the pasture fence when a neighbor stopped to chat. "Cedars and pocket gophers, never ending." he said. I replied "Yes, and I'd add rocks to that."  With the tree swallows nesting in the boxes by the pasture fence, not wanting to disturb them, I've move on.

     That moving on is to cedars in a different venue. Now it's cedars in open grassland. With something like 300 acres in grass there is a lot of ground to cover. Tuesday a heavy Carhart jacket was swell, and even wearing leather gloves, my hands got cold. Today, I quickly shed the light jacket, and then the outer shirt, wearing no gloves, I still got warm. 

   There was frost here last night. The low registered on my thermometer was 34. Brookings, 15 miles away, announced 28. The dry pond across the street was very frosty this morning. Corn is probably OK but soybeans are a question.

Takk for alt,

Al

I have extra pruning shears if anyone wants to volunteer to accompany me searching for cedars.

Another Day, Another Book!

      Looking for something to read one day, I opened Kindle. There I found an unread book. Much of it I then read, and, since it is short stories, I put it aside to read Lighthouse Keepers. Returning to it yesterday I discovered there was only one story left.

    It's by a Thai author and it's set in Thailand. Sightseeing by Rattawat Lapcharoensap often references places in Thailand that are familiar to me. Also, the lives and situations described match the experiences of my time teaching and living with a Thai family. 

     Thai names are typically multisyllabic (note the author's). Thai mothers give their child a short nickname at birth. Some of my acquaintance's nicknames with their meanings are; Gai=chicken, Max=stapler and Poo=crab. Nicknames were very helpful when I was teaching. The first day with a new class I'd write each student's nickname on a 3X5 card. Then I could quickly memorize them and I used the cards for roll call at the beginning of class. It was very helpful to call students by name.

    The book is a good read that you'd likely enjoy if you can find it.

Takk for alt,

Al

Good Book!

       A subscription to WNBA League Pass brings myriad WNBA games to my computer. Games that are not available live can be replayed. Replay has the advantage of speed. Games are seldom less than two hours and with fouls, timeouts, etc., can go much longer. Replaying games takes about an hour as timeouts, free throws, etc., are skipped. The down side of access to all these games is that it cuts into my reading time.

     The Lighthouse Keeper's Daughter, Hazel Gaynor, is a historical novel, which I didn't realize until finishing it. It's a retelling of the heroic rescue of survivors of a shipwreck on the coast of Scotland in 1838.  Grace Darling became famous for accompanying her father, in the gale that wrecked the ship, to reach the survivors clinging to rocks. Never had a woman participated in such a dangerous rescue. She helped row into the wind and controlled the boat while her father brought the survivors on board. When her courageous efforts became known she achieved fame far and wide. This part of story is historical.

   Gaynor creates the novel as she imagines Darling's negative reaction to her fame. It makes good reading. She also creates a fictious descendant of Sarah Dawson, one of the persons rescued from the shipwreck. This, Matilda, is placed in a lighthouse with a relative, in Newport, R.I. She was sent from her home in Ireland to America in 1938. While not historical, except for a hurricane that devastated the East Coast, it makes a good novel.

    It's a tale well told and I recommend it.

Takk for alt,

Al  

Birds!

       While I was sitting on my steps enjoying a nice day, birds were serenading me. So, turning on my Merlin app, I recorded them. This is the variety singing to me: Chipping Sparrow, Eurasian Collard-Dove, American Redstart, Song Sparrow, Pheasant, Chimney Swift, Brown-headed Cowbird, Tree Swallow, American Goldfinch, Robin, Starling, House Sparrow, Red-winged Blackbird, Grackle, and Baltimore Oriole.  The Grackles get very nervous when Kaia approaches the Lilac bush. Likely there nest with fledglings.

Takk for alt,

Al

Plans Change, again...

         Sometimes old stories stick in my mind. This one is decades old, and it's brought to mind by something current. A solitary Indian man lived in a teepee by a white settlement. Sam, a white man would visit the Indian every day to get the weather forecast, which was often accurate. One day Sam asked for the forecast and the Indian said no forecast today. Sam "Why no forecast today?"  Indian "My radio's broken."

       Seldom have I changed plans based on a weather forecast. Today's events are a reminder of why. Yesterday's forecast was for a day of rain today totaling 1". It was predicted that the rain would begin at 9:00 am and continue through the day. This morning that forecast was changed to rain beginning at noon. Now it's predicted at 5:00pm with a total of .35".  Perhaps we'll get a sprinkle if we're lucky.

      Looking at the forecast yesterday I planned a day inside today! Ya, then...I should have known better! So, I'll post random picture and call it good.

Takk for alt,

Al

For over ten years I volunteered in a Hmong Charter school. This is one of my students in her traditional dress.

Plans change...

       Working diligently, or perhaps more accurately, sporadically, to remove the cedars from the pasture fence, that was today's plan. Strung along this fence are seven nesting boxes. Most years they fill quickly with tree swallows, though not last year. Last year a wren filled most of them with twigs. No twigs this year but still several boxes are unoccupied. The last cedar cut from the fence was close to an unoccupied box. Today, returning to that site to remove another tree, I saw swallows by that box. Late arrivals? 

    Not wanting to disturb the nesters, the small area unfinished will wait until the birds have migrated and the cattle gone home. With the fence not available I repaired to a grassland to look for invasive cedars. There were a few to be found. That's good news because last year there were many in this area. With many acres of grass there's no lack of hunting ground for cedars.  

Takk for alt,

Al

There is much grass in which to search for cedars.

Better to try...

     Better to try and fail than to not try at all. With the news that there will be no goose fencing of my corn I made my own effort. Water borders the entire long side of the rectangle field. Last year the predatory geese used a single path to invade. Too lazy to attempt a long fence, I fenced off the path today. Tall stakes with bottles and cans on top to rattle and swing in the wind augment the fencing. If it will work remains to be seen. But, I tried...

Takk for alt,

Al

The grass is green in the field that was burned a month ago.

30 to 50

      What a day!   Even behind the tree rows the wind beat me up. After removing one large cedar that had sprouted immediately below the fence and had grown up intertwined with the wires, and a few small ones, I gave up. The soil trading farms from a 30mph wind gusting to 50, reminded me of mother's story. She said, "During the dust bowl years, during the worst dust storms, it would get so dark I'd have to light the lamps at noon."  The wind was blowing 30mph, today, with gusts to 50! The air was unsafe for sensitive groups.

      The wind is a danger to newly emerged crops, especially soybeans. The wind whipped soil and grit can damage the new plants. Corn has a growing point that doesn't emerge for a few days. If frost or wind damage the corn plant when the growing point is underground the plant will recover. Not so, with beans. If beans freeze, or are damaged by wind too severely, they die.

    Rain is in the forecast for the weekend.  Let's hope....

Takk for alt,

Al

Fondly remembering my 1954 Austin Healy 100. One on the internet is listed for $110,000. I didn't pay that much.

Evidence!

      Wandering that field a few days ago, the peninsula in Lake Joanne, looking for gophers and finding none, there were cedars. Today I went back to remove the cedars, twelve in all. It is a gorgeous day, windless after yesterday's hurricane, and finally warm enough to be out in shirtsleeves. 

    Finishing with the cedars I walked back to the truck on my neighbor's side of the property fence. What did I find? Pocket gophers heading for my land...actually within five feet. Gopher mounds are a clear indication of the direction they are moving and they were on a line to my property. This is clear evidence that they do invade from populations on the neighboring property. Never seen above ground they do their distance moving at night. Suddenly dirt mounds will appear long distances from established colonies, as  was true in this case.

Takk for alt,

Al

Today's random photo is the Church of the Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg, Russia.

Retreat!

      Marine lingo is full of bravado: e.g. "We're surrounded, good, they can't get away from us now!" Or, "We never retreat, we just attack in the opposite direction." Today I retreated without shame.

    When there's a 25mph wind with gusts to 35 it was time to catch up on some chores. Busy for several days, things were hastily deposited in the garage. As a refuge from the wind it was perfect. Now it's all ship shape and tidy again until another spasm of activity disturbs it's order.

     A washer and dryer were included with the purchase of The Little House, nineteen years ago. Had they not been included I would have added them. With the organizing in the garage complete it was time to do laundry, another escape from the wind.

    Entering the butcher shop gave me opportunity to congratulate, Doug, the butcher. His wife, Heidi, gave birth to a baby boy last week. They now have four children, a girl and three boys. One of the boys is named Shadrack so perhaps this son should be Meshack...but not so. Not wanting to leave empty handed, I purchased three ribeye steaks for $78.43. Why three, you ask? Josh next door does them on his grill and his son, Drew, also gets one.

Takk for alt,

al

I love the sign above the door: GARAGE.  Built in 1907, long before .com, so why the dot?

Well, that didn't work!

     Today's plan was to walk some grassland surrounded on three sides by Lake Joanne. It's a peninsula that is seeded to native grasses, bordering a neighbor's grassland that is rife with pocket gophers. These pesky critters don't stay home. They frequently go looking for greener pastures and invade my property. Today's walk was to see if any have invaded. None had.

     With water so accessible I hoped to keep Kaia on dry land. Why? you ask. When we were burning that CRP ground recently Kaia hit the water and emerged a total ball of mud. Hoping to avoid a repeat of that, I struck on a strategy. Filling her water dish by the truck I though, perhaps not being thirsty she'd stay out of the water. What happened? She drank heartily from her dish and then ran right into the water! Actually, she was in the water at least three times. Fortunately she came out clean...no mud.

   On one venture into the water she chased a duck, which flew away. When she's gone after geese on the water they swim just out of her reach. They lead her far out in the water until she finally gives up and returns to land.

Takk for alt,

Al

Kaia, the wonder dog.

Gravity in play!

      

    Where oh where did my agility go?  It's certainly gone. Proof of the loss comes when attempting to cross a pasture fence. Seeing some cedars growing in the pasture, crossing the fence was mandatory if I was to reach those trees. The fence, at this point, was a on a sidehill slanting away. With the gift of gravity I easily rolled under the fence. With that accomplished, I made short work of the cedars, well, perhaps slowly cut them down. 

     When I was finished with a number of cedars it was time to return to the truck. Back at the fence gravity reminded me that it is more difficult to roll uphill. But roll uphill I did and didn't risk getting my feet tangled crossing the fence. "Where there's a will there's a way" someone said. It's sometimes true at least.

   That's about what passes for excitement in my life!

Takk for alt,   Opps forgot to hit Publish yesterday...so will count it for today...my bad!

Al

   The current book I'm reading is about lighthouses. It reminded me of this one near Melbourne, Australia, which Amy and I climbed.

Bad News!

      Last year the wildlife food plot near water became a pasture for geese. Perhaps a fourth of the corn remained standing when the geese were finished. During their molt the geese are flightless and walk in search of food. Finding my corn they had a feast. They even ate the water hemp leaving the ground bare.

    A wildlife official told me that they would fence the geese out this year. After planting the corn I told him I was ready for a fence. Today, the man in charge of the fencing called me. He said fencing was only to protect farmer's soybeans, so I'm not eligible. 😖

   That creates a dilemma.  It's a half hour drive by tractor to the field. Is worth the multiple trips to salvage a little bit of corn? Or, should I just abandon the effort?  Too bad that I'd planted the corn, then the decision not to plant would have been easy.

Takk for alt,

Al

    

Silly Dependency!

      At dinner/suppertime last night I overloaded a circuit, knew better, and tripped a breaker in the electric panel. It's also the circuit for my internet equipment. Re-setting the breaker was easy but the router would not reload. Quickly it became apparent that I'm internet dependent. How silly, but true. 

     Some years ago, as I looked locally in South Dakota for a copy of the Minneapolis paper, it dawned me to subscribe to the online addition. With that subscription I frequently read the Minnesota, and U.S., news in Thailand. A habitual person, the morning paper is a staple. Up at six, Kaia out the front door, breakfast and then a mug of coffee while I read the paper. No internet and the routine is kaput.

    At 7:30 I called the internet provider and at 9:30 a technician was at my house. Prompt service for sure and I can resume my habits, dependency or not...so there!

    After lunch/dinner it was warm enough to ride a tractor. Riding a tractor I did and planted my corn. The physical test I'd planned wasn't possible. Last year I lifted a 60lb bag of corn unto a six foot tractor fender. "Can I still do that?" I wondered. It remains to be seen because this year a bag of 80,000 kernels (Ed, tells me that's actual count.) was only 45.5lbs. There was no challenge hoisting it to the fender. 

Takk for alt,

Al

PS Spotted the first goslings of season. There were three with mom and dad and very small, so newly hatched!

Dinner vs lunch!

       Supper vs dinner! What was the genesis of the nomenclature split for the names of meals? During childhood on the farm, lunch was the refreshment between breakfast and dinner, the noon meal, and between dinner and supper, the evening meal. Mary, who grew up in Minneapolis, but was now a farm wife, invited Joe, the hired man in for the noon meal calling it lunch. "Lunch" he said "It better be more than lunch!" In the OFH, lunch is at noon and dinner in the evening.

     They call it 'dinner' and, with a standing offer to join them, who am I to argue? A common human trait I've observed is the common reluctance to respond to verbal cues. Frequently I've dropped in conversation something like "when I was in Thailand." What happens? Most typically it goes nowhere and the talk moves on. The dinner invitation is every Wednesday at the bank and some from the butcher shop also attend.

   One of the bank employees grew up in the Philippine Islands. Frequently we compare notes on life in the Philippines compared with life in Thailand. This exposes the other diners to information about both countries that they would never ask about. Today, it led to a group conversation about these places that lasted for an hour.

    How about you?  When someone drops a clue in conversation do you pick up on it, or just move on? 

Takk for alt,

Al

PS In response to Michelene's comment/question about the size of the cedar tree pictured. It's an illustration of the problem of not removing cedars as saplings. Today, I trimmed the branches that were intruding on the fence but left the tree standing.

Gifts of a gift.

      Much too cold to ride a tractor today it was time to resume a project left over from last fall. If it wasn't picking rocks, what would you guess?  Both of you, my readers, have often read about my contention with cedar trees. Cedars are problematic in various ways, encroaching on grassland, growing in road ditches and infesting pasture fences, to name three. Today my project was continuing the removal of them from a pasture fence. This land's deed has been in my name for many years, 30?, why wasn't this finished long ago? My bad! Or "better late than never!"

     Rows of cedars were included in the tree rows planted for wildlife cover as a gift. The gift of that gift is the sprouting of cedar saplings in unhelpful locations, see paragraph above. Cedar berries are consumed by birds who defecate the seeds while sitting on the fence. You get the idea.

    Though I do sit-ups every morning, the stoop labor of cutting cedar sprouts quickly tires my back. Working until my back said "stop" I cleared one section of fence this morning. Tomorrow I'll do another. Timing is important because soon my renter, Scottie, will move his cattle to the pasture. Then he'll electrify the fence. If either of you have ever encountered an electric fence  you can understand that cedar removal will rest until the cattle go home in the fall.

    This pasture fence is host to eight? nesting boxes for bluebirds. While the bluebirds have never found them, tree swallows have. "Not a problem", as young people say, swallows need homes, too. The field road to the field of recent tillage passes them. With swallows noted by only one box I wondered if wrens had stuffed the other boxes with twigs, which they do to foil competition...avian dogs in the manger.  As I was approaching one house to check, a swallow flew into it carrying a feather in its beak for nest building. None of the boxes were stuffed with twigs.

    Swallows have been around for several days but, perhaps, the main migration is just now occurring. Swallows feed on insects on the wing...both bird and insect flying. Consequently, their arrival is timed to follow an insect hatch. Last spring cold weather delayed the emergence of insects and many purple martins perished for lack of food.

Takk for alt,

Al

A nesting box that a wren has packed with twigs.

This picture illustrates a cedar grown into the pasture fence.