New Life Old Farmers

I love the signs of fall!  The pumpkins from my patch (20, but who’s counting?…ah, yes..I am) and especially the pumpkin that grew stuck in the wire fence.  The colors…everywhere we look are vibrant and a treat for the eyes!!!  I am not used to the way seasons change so quickly here.  The signs of fall, some make me giggle.  Some…like our molting chicken, well… I’m sorry it is just down right ugly, but to me it is all new, all different and I am enjoying it completely!

Many, many years ago, a few days before Christmas one of my little nephews confined in me,  “I sure hope I don’t get books and clothes again this Christmas.” Unbeknownst to him, his gift from me was cowboy boots.  Giving little boys cowboy boots is one of life’s delightful pleasures.  He was very happy with his boots and I’m sure they were worn to pieces, however the phrase ‘books and clothes’ has never worn out and became our pat answer for all future gift giving occasions.

“Hey, want to know what I got you for your birthday?  ….Books and Clothes”.

Of course one can measure how old one is by how much they now actually like books and clothes as presents.  Yep, I like them a lot!

It is Number Two Son’s birthday and he loves books and clothes, especially books.  We do give him things other than books and clothes, just not very often.  This year’s present…yes, we nailed it!  It came about only because we live in the country and people/men talk about hunting.  It is hunting season, so they/men talk about hunting a lot.  Actually, they/men do talk about it all year, it is just that their hunting stories now are current stories, as opposed to their stories the rest of the year when they/men talk about old hunting stories.  If a hunting story is especially impressive, they/men will even share someone else’s hunting story.  Such was the case the other night when My Loving Spouse was telling the story of our neighbor the Fire Captain’s championship (that term might not actually be completely correct, as I might not have been paying the proper ‘hunting story attention’) elk hunting story.  The thing about hunting stories is that they seldom end.  A hunting story is started, which leads to another hunting story, which leads to… and so forth and so on.  This time though, the hunting story ‘ramble’ was a great thing.  My Loving Spouse mentioned bow hunting.  (City folks…bow and arrow…Robin Hood).  Number Two Son’s eyes lit up.  “Oh, I think I’d like that!”…and I realized he would.  Even as a little guy when given the opportunity for adventurous games and opportunities, he’d make a bee line for the archery area.

We jumped on the hunt (shopping) to find him a compound bow, which is modern and fancy (I’m pretty sure this is not the correct hunting technical term, but I am going with it as it looks pretty fancy to me).  We were hoping to be able to give him his bow present a few days early while his brother would still be at the farm.  After all, a bow and arrow is pretty neat, but being able to ‘play’ with your brother with it, well, that is just even better.

My Loving Spouse and I found a great deal and picked up the present Friday evening.  I said, “We’ll wait until Number Two gets off work tomorrow to give it to him.”

“What?”  My Loving Spouse has Attention Gift Giving Disorder.  If you are unaware of this issue it plays out like this, he buys a present and gives the present in the same hour, even if the gift giving event is days or weeks away.

“We can’t give it to them tonight, they’ll want to play with it in the dark.”

“What?  No, they won’t… they’ll wait until tomorrow”.  So we gave into the Disorder and the delight of giving him his gift.

There was also a tutorial presentation by My Loving Spouse about never removing hunting tips with your fingers, but to always use a special tool as those babies are sharp, which luckily did not require stitches, but has resulted in a new packet of bandaging supplies.  Nice for him to take one for the team and leave a lasting impression for the boys.

“Mom, do we really have to wait until tomorrow to shoot it?”  See, I knew it.  Out came a bale of straw to shoot into and the truck driven out to the site left running to provide light from its headlights, as Number Two tried out his new bow, in the dark.

Number One Son said, “It is a pretty neat present.  You gave it to the right one, as he is clearly the best at it”.

So, Number Two Son, we love you.  We love that you love your gift and for Christmas…yep, you’re back to books and clothes.

Our beautiful old home is a work in progress.  We are constantly attempting to find that balance where our repairs coincide well with restoration and updating.  We are not however, the first owners to tackle this task.  The previous owners lived with her for 35 years and when they acquired it, there was no electricity upstairs.  They pulled off the walls, added electrical, insulation and closets….not exactly ‘fun’ fixes, but how we do appreciate their hard work.

We still have quite the list of restoration, repair and dreams for Glory Farm.  However, we so appreciate those people who know the work we have done, they boost us up.  It was a sweet and unlikely visit we had yesterday with a daughter of the previous owners.  She stopped by to pick up a piece of tractor equipment we had been holding for her.  I am aware that revisiting a beloved family home can be difficult.  (When I still lived in California, I for one ceased to drive down the road where house we all grew up in stood.)  However, the more we visited, the more we understood all the work her family had put into this home we love and the more we visited, the more I think she knew how much we love this home and how blessed we feel to be the current ‘caretakers’ of her.

We learned that when her family first bought the place the floors were so bad (old linoleum and lots of it), that her mother went into town to Sears and bought blue carpet to cover the kitchen and the bathroom purely as a short term, temporary measure, planning on pulling it up in a year.  This blue carpet was there until we pulled it up (along with the two layers of linoleum) 35 years later!!  All I can say, is that I am sure glad I didn’t fall for My Loving Spouse saying… ‘we can move in and pull it up in a little while’…it might still be there!

I invited her to come in to the house and see a bit of what we’d done.

As she walked across the porch (that I haven’t gotten to painting yet), she said, “Oh, the number of times I’ve painted this porch!  Oh, I might get teary eyed”.

“That’s okay, we’ve got tissues”.

I am so grateful she came inside for us both.  She loved the old fir floors, the lightness of the living room and the French doors…  I felt her blessing on what is now our home.  She said, “Oh, I am not crying…I see you love this place.”

…oh, and we do…we really, really do.

I was so proud of myself in our party planning as I ‘compared’ myself to the parties my parent threw when I was a child.  I hadn’t ‘fallen’ apart over party preparations all week (unlike the way my mother might have) and I/we were really ready.  Who knew that Washingtonians show up to a party on time!  Not only on time, but some were even a few minutes early…early?  No one is early in California.  The good news was we were prepared.  (Unlike the parties my parents had where my mother was always running through the house to get dressed as the first car pulled into the driveway.)  Yep, I am not my mother and I was really sort of patting myself on the back.  Except…. I do remember doing some strange stuff over this party planning, which I can sort of admit now…  The fact that my kids went along with my odd ‘pre-party’ requests, just proves I’m afraid that they are quite aware that this is just my way of dealing with normal pre-party stress and will be patting themselves on the back someday that they didn’t do the strange thing or things I did/do.

My Loving Spouse was just grilling the last of the sausages as the first guests arrived, but luckily for all, the taps had been set on the beer and hard cider and quality control was well underway.  My sons spent the evening bringing me glasses of hard cider and saying, “This is from the gentleman across the room”, pointing to my other son who would then nod and wink at me.  I do love those goofball boys of mine.

The party had just gotten underway, when all the lights went out.  Yep, we’d tripped a circuit breaker.   I had no idea My Loving Spouse could move so fast.  He got down the stairs, out of the barn and into the nearby workshop to reset the circuit breaker, with what could only be called lightening speed.

We had no idea really how many to expect.  Would all who said they were coming show up? (Yes, they did).  With 4 different family members issuing invitations, sometime last week we lost track of any believable head count, or maybe we just couldn’t believe they all really wanted to come…but we were excited…overwhelmed…and wondering the greatest party question of all ages…”Did we have enough food?”

…and would they ‘like’ it….  We did and they did!  I was so touched and a tad proud that our beets (grown and pickled here) were a hit!    The smartest thing we did…let the guests bring the desert…cookies (my favorite food group), wonderful cookies plenty for all to share.

I’d dreamed of wonderful ‘Pinterest’ pictures, but really…yep, it wasn’t going to happen.  We were too busy enjoying our party…our guests who came, to share our new home and our special barn with us….to busy meeting the kids friends as well as My Loving Spouse’s co-workers and families.  We have the pictures we do, because of Number One Wife’s Dad who not only came from the farthest away (Pennsylvania) but agreed to snap up pictures as well for which we are so very grateful.  (Yes, he has a thing for the Damn Cat and gets the cutest pictures of her).

Kids danced, My Loving Spouse danced with me and Number One Son danced with me (under duress, but I played the Mom card).  Our country friends would have danced more, or so they say, except we’ve only come so far…we don’t know that much country music.  Well, who knows when and if we throw another barn party, perhaps we will have acquired a little boot stompin’, two steppin’ tunes.

We’d planned nothing beyond Saturday night, so when the 12 people who were spending the night woke up here, we’d had no breakfast plans what so ever.  We’d run out of milk, the hens are molting and barely laying, I figured left over party cookies (oatmeal) would suffice and called those good.  One of our younger (21-year-old) guests took a different approach and learned that Cheerios and beer do NOT mix.

So, what was that thing?  That strange pre-party stress thing I might have done?  Well…we were expecting a nice large crowd…and the barn is far from the house and the house is on a septic system, which fills up, if you know what I mean.  We ordered a porta-potty which was delivered early.  Being a good hostess, I wanted to make sure it was clean before our guest used it, so I checked it and was I impressed!  Not only was it sparkling clean, but it smelled good.  No, not good, it smelled great.  It smelled so great, that when Number One Son showed up, I made him go smell it.  I know, pre-party strangeness, which I realize now is a tad…odd (sorry, mom for thinking your pre-party acts were odd)….and no, since the party and it getting ‘used’ I’ve no desire to smell it.

We sort of got a teeny tiny bit spoiled.  After moving here, we got to see Number One Son and Number One Wife… a LOT!  It was great!  They loved coming and working (which was really, really great since we had/have a lot of work) here on the farm.  We loved having them.  But Number One Wife got a wonderful job at Whitworth University, so with Number One Son a firefighter, their weekends are not as free and easy as before.

I really loved have Number One Wife here as she notices things…especially things that have gotten better…little things that a lot of the other family misses, or is maybe not quite as ‘appreciative’ of the change as I am…say for instance…new kitchen knobs.  Seriously, the rest of the family does not get ‘it’.  They especially did not get ‘it’ (my happiness and sense of ‘order’, ‘rightness’) over cleaning and organizing the pantry!  The pantry had been the collection pit of every stray thing.  The pantry finally looks good and has order, which is a wonderful thing, but it is always more fun to share these accomplishments with someone, and the rest of the family just sort of nod in a numb state and say, “yeah, it looks better” in an effort to be released by me to leave the pantry and go back to their lives.  I resorted to the only non-family member I had available to view how wonderful the pantry is now, Our Friend the Farmer.  He had come by to have supper and I might/maybe/perhaps not actually given him is supper or his beer or even let him sit down until he’d looked at the pantry, but still he played along, which I did appreciate and even shared that he’d cleaned out his junk drawer…it was a bonding moment.

But… still… I need the Number Ones… we have so much to catch up on… there is the new tool for my son to ride, which we’re hoping he does carefully and does not break it or hurt himself… all the little and big things we’ve accomplished which Number One Wife will see, a garage sale with quilting stuff to fit into the weekend…catching up on important stuff like hugs… oh, and a party to share and having them here will make it…even better!

The second major barn clean up continues….  Every single family member living under this roof has helped to scrub or mop the hay loft floor.  The problem was that there is a lot of square feet and every square of it was filthy.  The loft is upstairs (duh), and our hay to feed the herd this winter is downstairs…and can’t get wet…and so we’ve actually had to clean and be careful.  The buckets of water need to be hauled upstairs and turn dirty immediately.

Gross water, I know, but clean floor in the background.  I almost included the pigeon-poop-dirt floor picture, but then my censor kicked in and you’ve all been spared.  We’ve perfected a combination of tools all used almost at the same time.  The scrubber combo consists of deck scrubber, mop and shop vacuum.  My Loving Spouse perfected the solution to get ‘more power’ with hose up over and into the barn window, so we could clean quicker and through the dirty water out the back door….and a new power sprayer.

There has been the expected muttering about never cleaning this blankety-blank floor again!  I confess to a tad bit of irritation when My Loving Spouse was spraying water everywhere (subliminal message…ineffectively) and I was the one trying to vacuum it up.

However, when we started to hang the twinkle lights my good humor returned.  We raided our Christmas tree lights to hang in the barn rafters.  With My Loving Spouse tossing a heavy nut on a string to pull the lights up and over and only managing to get one nut stuck.  We did not have enough lights for the ‘look’ we were going for, which could have posed a problem, except this is October and Christmas lights already on sale (sheesh), but for once I was quite glad that the stores are so ahead of schedule.

Seriously, I continue to be extremely appreciative of My Light Hanger happily (well that is a bit strong, perhaps ‘willingly’) moving a double strand of lights already hung, when I decided the current placement didn’t go with the ‘look’.

I’ve seen a lot of ‘quotes’ on the internet about ‘don’t look back, you’re not going that way’…which can be a great attitude adjustment, but sometime looking back can be a good thing…I was so tired of cleaning and still had more to do, when we took Our Friend the Farmer up at night to check out how the lights were working.  I was a bit transformed and said..

“Oh, I am so glad we came back up tonight!”

“Why?”

“Because I am seeing all we’ve done, not what is left to do and I am getting excited!”  Sometimes looking back is good is good for me…seeing the hard work, the progress and to say nothing of the right ‘look’ for the lights.

My Neighbor Sue has been growing gourds abundantly!  Colorful, interesting and a bit odd, they come in a variety of shapes and colors.  My Neighbor Sue has had what we call ‘Gourd Mountain’ and because we share a love of growing squash type (subliminal message here…pumpkins, pumpkins, pumpkins) vegetables, we are an encouragement to each other.  I have been marveling over the progress and growth of gourd mountain and she comes to check out my pumpkin patch.  We are a pretty darn good match…we can’t figure it out, but not everyone is as in awe or as excited as we are at squash.

With the gourd harvest complete, we have been gifted many gourds, which is very cool.  I’d never even think of planting gourds as I really am a ‘pumpkin type’ of squash lover, but these gourds are so interesting it is really fun to have them.

There is this one that is just so weird, you wonder what or how it ever came to be.  It is so odd…you just have to like it.

Without a doubt my favorite (probably because it reminds me of pumpkins) is the striped one.

Because My Neighbor Sue has been so busy growing gorgeous gourds, she has NO big, beautiful, orange pumpkins!  I will happily be sharing some of mine.  I did NOT plant the whole pumpkin seed packet this year, but even so from the few seeds I planted, I’m set to harvest about 20 (yes, I’ve counted) nice sized pumpkins!

It is true…some of my friends have ‘tractor envy’.  Well, not Our Friend the Farmer, because he has a lot of tractors, but some of you do…especially my friends in California and especially if you’ve had a chance to drive Jubal (our Ford Jubilee tractor just slightly older than I am).  I know…I understand…tractor driving is gardening therapy on steroids.  I’ve even received tractor gifts, you can tell I use this coaster from the morning coffee rings it has collected.

However, this post is not about me, it is about you…and coming clean….those of you who will admit to having tractor envy…because it is true…’we are only as sick as our secrets’ and because…this is your chance!!!  I’ve found you your very own Jubal!  All you have to do is make an offer!

That is it!  You too can own a Jubal and drive it and be happy…because let me tell you…tractor driving will just make you smile and smile.  This baby is all freshly painted and ready to go, if I could justify ‘his and her’s’ tractors, I’d be making an offer, but a tiny bit of self-control remains, so I’ve passed this opportunity along to you.  Isn’t she pretty?  I’ll happily pick her up for you.

I know those of you in my hometown have a significant lack of drive thru Starbucks…but wouldn’t I love to see one of you rolling through ‘In n’ Out Burgers’ on this baby!

PS: Don’t think that an opportunity like this comes along everyday!  Most farmers do NOT get rid of anything because they have the room to keep it and well…they might need it.  They especially do not get rid of tractors, which I totally understand, so if you want it…well, you’d better get busy and make an offer!

The chickens are currently under ‘hen-house arrest’.  Normally allowed to stroll the grounds pooping at will, they (the flock in general) made a terrible mistake.  With all the bugs and leaves to pick through all over the farm, the fowl went a-pecking in my pumpkin patch.  Yep, the little fowl destroyed a young blooming pumpkin, so there will be no free-range egg laying until after the pumpkin harvest.

This year, I showed great restraint on my sowing and only planted a few pumpkin seeds, unlike last year when I planted the whole packet.  Still, we’ve got an impressive patch of 20 or so large orange pumpkins…and I am proud.  I do have a thing for my pumpkin patch.

Left-Over-Lionel and the girls have been left to peck away to their little chicken’s hearts content in their hen yard.  One of our chickens is weird…and I’m pretty sure which one it is…she marches to her own chicken beat…and is usually the first one out or the last one in…and her eggs…they are weird too.  Now, I’m not actually sure if she is the weird egg layer…but some one is…so it makes sense it is her…we use to call her ‘Little’.  She is black and white and looks like a ‘normal’ chicken, but she lays eggs like torpedoes.  They are not double yolkers, they are  just big weird, torpedo type eggs, some of the torpedo eggs even have what looks like stretch marks on them.  (Yes, they still taste delicious, they just look weird…really, really weird).

They are so big, and odd-shaped we have to adjust the egg carton for them or they’ll break when we shut the lid.  I feel badly for the chicken every time I think about what she goes through to lay these big old torpedoes… and I wonder if  her ‘shape’ is not quite right in her ‘egg building’ department….and I’m mostly quite glad I am not any kind of chicken, but especially a torpedo laying chicken.