New Life Old Farmers

Glory Farm’s Barn Quilt is up!

The process was not simple or quick…

Most good things seem to take a group effort and this was no exception.

The first Barn Quilt Trail in Washington is quite new and we first heard about the project 4 months ago.  It was intriguing, as I remembered seeing barn quilts in Pennsylvania many, many years ago.  However,  putting one up on our barn took a bit more thinking.

Our old barn is very beautiful.

So with that in mind… we should do it… but with that in mind, perhaps we should not…!!

Be asked both of our neighbors what they thought we should do, as we are still ‘new’ here in the valley respect both their opinions and their insight.  Both gave it some consideration before saying that they thought it was a good idea.  We wanted to do what was best for the community and as we have a historical house it seemed we should participate.  I also asked the Quilting ladies, who asked a few questions about how it worked, who picked the quilt (we did) and they too gave their thumbs up.

Next step…picking the quilt square, which took canvasing the cousins.  We wanted a square that meant something to us, so a family quilt was definitely going to be the answer.  My cousins helped by sending us pictures of family quilts.  We’ve been told the quilt pattern’s name is Shoo Fly.  It is from a quilt my grandmother made and I remember my mother only letting us use it a bit as it was very worn.  It seemed a perfect fit for our barn.  My mother gave the quilt to my cousin, as they had lost many family treasures in a house fire.  The cousins knew that this was my grandmother’s very first quilt, so Clara Augusta Pruess Jensen (1895-1977)…this one is for you too.

The barn owners pay for the quilt to be built.  The amount is a reasonable sum, but one for us that was going to be funded after a few other more pressing projects had been completed, so we planned on having a quilt, but not right away.  Except… we started receiving gifts toward the quilt project, and before we knew it, the timing became sooner rather than later.

 We wanted to get a fresh coat of paint on the front side of the barn, before the quilt went up.  The weather did not exactly co-operate.  Number One Son, Number One Wife and I gave it a valiant effort with the wind blowing.  We managed to get the lower third painted.

Then came a calm day, ladders and extension tools and rollers.  There was nothing easy about getting the paint on the barn.  Paint sprayer…yes, it is on the list of necessary tools to buy.

Number Two Son and I needed to get the doors above where the quilt would go painted, which meant standing on a rickety platform 10 feet above the second floor inside the barn and leaning out the doors approximately 20 feet up off the ground.  Neither of us especially enjoy climbing about on high places, so this was challenging to say the least.  With the doors painted, we felt pretty proud of ourselves although I will confess to coveting a bucket lift, cherry picker, scissor lift of any type, as there is a lot more painting still to do here.

The 8×8 foot quilt square is made of wood and weighs 250 pounds.

Volunteers assist in all aspects of the quilt program, building,  painting, mounting….  Volunteers that own a bucket truck to assist in mounting is especially helpful and yes, I sort of want one.

Loved seeing it ‘fly’ thorough the air…

We think it is gorgeous, but still…

why do it?

The Barn Quilt Trail Map says it all…

“A year round, self-guided driving tour that honors our agricultural heritage and industry.  This grass-roots project also celebrates the folk-art of the American quilt and the strong women who made them.”

barnquiltswashington.org

Stuff happens.  It seems to happen a lot more in the country, because there are more ‘creatures’ and we creatures tend to get into trouble.  However, this time it was not I that was in trouble…

Just past the alfalfa field from our house is a field that is the summer home to Our Friend the Farmer’s heifers, (not his big cows, the little cows… well, they are not actually ‘cows’ yet, because they haven’t had a calf yet, so they are heifers or teenage girl cattle).  Like all groups of teenage girls, there is always one.  Anyway this one, got out and was standing in the road.  My Loving Spouse spied her and hollered to me, “The heifer’s are out!”, even though it was just one, which is a good thing because so far our cattle wrangling skills are still a work in progress.  We jumped into the truck to head off down the road in an attempt to keep her from becoming premature hamburger.  I called Our Friend the Farmer to alert him of the situation.  His first concern to we cow wranglers was sort of important, “Let’s be sure it is mine.”  Good idea, I thought to myself.

“Does it have a blue tag?”

‘Yep’

“Does the number start with 2?”

‘Yep, 203… the little trouble maker.  We’ll keep her off the road until you get here.’

It was going to take Our Friend the Farmer 10-15 minutes to get down to the scene of the wayward heifer.  203 in the mean time, left the road and decided to visit the neighbors.  This seemed pretty good to me as the neighbor’s yard was fenced.  I became the temporary fence across the drive way to keep 203 off the road.  My Loving Spouse took the job he has perfected over the years.  I think this picture tells the tale pretty well.

My Loving Spouse hard at work doing the job, called ‘Chatting with people you’ve never met before’.  With My Loving Spouse doing his job, the neighbor didn’t seem too bothered that 203 was in their yard, while I kept 203 off the road.

Our Friend the Farmer showed up on his ‘bike’ and ran 203 back to the herd.  I think our first rescue went pretty well.  We did learn however, that most of the people don’t like their flower gardens mangled up by a cow, so if possible it is best to keep the wayward teenager to the side of the road.  I think I will grab a long stick or a shovel for my next rescue, to move the cow back down the road, because one cannot always count on My Loving Spouse being around to do his ‘chatting’ job thereby keeping the heifer safe and the neighbors happy.

The big day came here to Glory Farm…the official Opening Day to the Croquet Season.  The previous owners left us a croquet set, and with the large lawn, late setting sun, and kids that like to play, let me tell you, we used it a lot last summer, so much so that we planned an official Croquet season.  Well, the word ‘planned’ may be a bit of an overstatement.  We did ‘plan’ on the season, we just mostly left out the details.  The scoring evolved as the Opening Game was played.  The rules may not be exactly like the Official Croquet Rules in any other part of the country, but they are our rules and we’re sticking to them.

The Official Opening ceremony, complete with a performance by Number Two Son on his newest instrument, at the insistence of Number One Son and Number One Wife (previously known as The Bride, but one cannot be a ‘bride’ all their life…unless they live in Hollywood).

The first ‘official’ picture chosen, not because it was good, but because this was one of the few pictures where the boys were not pretending to pick each other’s noses with their croquet mallets.

The straw hats were a classy touch by the elder generation and since we are also the score keepers, we quickly decided that there would be points given for wearing a straw hat.   The point system took some significant thought, with points for obtaining poison, points for placing, points for wearing a straw hat, minus points if one wins by wimpy play.  Games played and the season ‘Mulligan’ must also be accounted for, as the Season Mulligan has already been used up by Number One, Two and Four Sons.

We do have a mascot, Pooh the Croquet Cat.  The Grand Dogs do not get to be out during Season Play, as they will carry off the balls.

Like any family playing a game there are those moments of angst, anger, irritation, ‘why did you hit my ball’, small victories, large victories and a collective celebration by the offspring whenever the Parental Units do not win….sheesh!

On day two of the season, there was a mad scramble for straw hats.  My Loving Spouse shared his straw hat collection, but even it only went so far.  Since the Straw Hat point was a fairly new addition, no one was really prepared.  To be fair, we gave a point to anyone wearing a hat other than ball caps.  Is it any wonder Number One Son and Number One Wife are such a good match?  They clearly got points for keeping their heads covered and I’m sure the Horse Fly Mask Croquet Hat will go down in history.

Team Offspring..

(Number Two Son, Number One Wife, Number Four Son, Number One Son, Number Three Son)

Croquet Season will last the summer, so if you’re coming to Glory Farm…. you’d better pack a straw hat.  The season will end…with careful planning…as did the opening….the current leader on the official spiral notebook (sorry Team Offspring) it is My Loving Spouse.

So entered school number three, a small Christian school with a ‘smaller’ tuition.  A school with some wonderful believers who prayed with her and for her…and some that didn’t…  A school that didn’t always understand what bullying could look like and often labeled her a ‘tattle tail’ when she accused her tormentors or those who said… ‘you are the problem, you need to stop being different’…

but she is ‘different’.

‘Different’… she is loud…she is vivacious….she is tenacious….she is funny….she is naive….she is caring…she is dramatic….she is smart…

she is ‘different’, she has a heart of gold and the inability to be mean.

School number four was a very long journey…(hence this blog)…and a response to God.  A step of faith that if we moved she would have a new life…

and so she does…

The Teen has been hugging me a lot this week…. and saying to me… “Mom, we did it!”…

and so we did….I always thought we would….

but we couldn’t have done it alone…so thank you…

for the best gift you’ve given us…loving and helping those that are ‘different’

….we did it.

Senior Sunday.. it started off like most important Sundays with what can only be called ‘shower roulette’.  All five of us trying to take showers in the same 15 minute time span.  I could almost hear our old water heater groaning.  The bathroom doors didn’t open but for a split second, before another person jumped into the available bathroom.  But we made it and we were looking good, as long as you didn’t look too hard.

We were celebrating the graduating Seniors at our sweet little church and what a wonderful celebration it was.  The pews were draped with the quilts that had been made for each graduate.  Each quilt was as uniquely different as the kids themselves, 18 quilts in all.  Along with the quilts our church gave each senior a new bible, a better gift….there are none.

The Quilting Ladies had kept The Teen’s quilt a well guarded secret.  She didn’t know who had made it or what it looked like, even though she’d spent the last few months at quilting.  I knew she’d love it.  I figured that when she saw it and the dear gal that worked so hard on it, it was a sure bet she’d cry.

Loving in stitches…..

It’s a great place to be.

He’s home….

First the hugs…

Then the unpacking…. one suitcase assigned to nothing but dirty laundry.

Then the phone call to me, while I was in town… “Hey, Mom, we need bread.”

Then the text… “Hey, Mom, we need mayo.”

The care and consideration of his mother.. “Hey, Mom, you are almost out of Diet Coke”, to which he knows is a critical situation.

The technical support… “Hey, Mom, there’s no wi-fi upstairs… but it reaches the barn… we’ll need to fix that.”

The entertainment of his newest musical accomplishment… “Hey, Mom, do you want to hear my ukulele?”

….and he’s home… and the Mom is happy….

“Hey, Mom, do you want to go for a trail ride?”

Hey, Number Two… I love you…. a lot.

We have multiple ways to mow grass here, because…we are a farm.  My favorite mowing work of any kind is on Jubal.  One can mow big tough, tall grass this way.  It is fun and gets big jobs done.

We also have John D. Newman.  Most people who have spent any time pushing a lawn mower, usually yearn for a John D.  It is a pretty relaxing way to mow a lawn.  We have a lot of lawn, so it is really the only answer for us.  In the year we’ve had him, John D. has had it pretty tough.  My Loving Spouse ran over a long wire dog leash, the English Teen took out the hose with it and I managed to break it simply by trying to mow a bit of horse poop.  I’m afraid to say that, it is currently not running again.  My Loving Spouse is so frustrated with John D., that it has been renamed…. The Little Green-(sorry, I’m trying to keep this blog family friendly).

The dog yard is hard to mow, as it is not very big, the grass is long and it is a bit cumbersome.  We have one more mowing option, and so today… we’re using it.

We are entering our ‘busy season’ here at the farm.  The bedrooms are filling up fast and the refrigerator is emptying faster.  Number Three Son arrived yesterday, ready for plenty of workshop time with My Loving Spouse.  He had to have packed his own suitcase as he forgot his suit for church (guess he’ll have to be Presbyterian this summer), forgot his sunscreen (no worries it is raining) and only brought a white sweatshirt (white???  We don’t really do white clothes here).  We don’t know what else he’s forgotten as he hasn’t been here for 24 hours yet.

Number Three is sort of a cat person and has happily re-acquainted himself with the ‘good’ cats, Tigger and Pooh, while trying to cajole the smallest, but meanest cat Roo as well.  Number Three has all the markings of being a Cat Whisperer and if any more damn cats show up here this summer, it will clearly be his fault.

Number Three and his dad spent most of the day with Whoa Nelly Walton.  They’ve moved Nelly into the car bay of the work shop, installed a driver’s seat (bucket), had lunch, built a Facebook page for the car’s restoration progress and got it to run for 5 seconds (give or take a second), which is the most it has run in 40 years.  Whatever they are using to put the gas into the truck, clearly must be full of leaks, as they both have the rather strong odor of petrol….and I mean strong.  They are dirty, quite smelly and extremely happy.  All is good.

There are two questions I can be guaranteed to answer ‘yes’ too, quickly and with great enthusiasm!

1.  “Would you like some See’s dark chocolate?”

2.  “Would you like to help move cattle?”

Would I!  The little cow-girl in me was jumping up and down, going yippee and I didn’t even know what we were going to do yet, all I knew was that I was getting another ‘upgrade’ and getting to help…help move cattle…it was bound to be fun!  I thought I might just be a road blocker with the truck, but no… I was really ‘moving’ cattle and let me tell you Our Friend the Farmer has the best tools!  We were working with ‘bikes’, which is farm language for ATV…quads…off-road dirt bikes, which have replaced the horse.  (I couldn’t help thinking that this is a long weekend in spring, when so very many people in Washington go camping, loading up their dirt-bikes, and heading out-of-town to enjoy nature)… and so did I, I just never had to leave the ‘neighborhood’.

I only killed it once and that was in the first 30 seconds of getting on ‘my’ bike.  Our Friend the Farmer had me practice riding the ‘bike’ around the yard a bit, mostly I believe to keep me busy while he was getting ready.  Luckily for me there were some big puddles to splash through.  Riley the Cattle Dog poses for a picture from his regular seat on the bike. however, this pup is more attached to the bike rider than the bike and would only ride with Our Friend the Farmer.

My Loving Spouse got mounted up on another of the ‘bikes’ for the cattle moving adventure.  Off we went, down the drive out to the road, across the highway and into the field.  I was following Our Friend the Farmer and quickly learned a very valuable lesson…follow his tracks exactly…no cutting corners, especially when riding in fields with high growing grasses.  The first corner I cut was through a patch of high grass, except it wasn’t exactly grass it was called the edge of a creek and my bike tipped to the left, and I went “ohhhhh….sh…..bad British word…”, but at the last-minute I Evil Knievel-ed it back to the dirt track, and Our Friend the Farmer was no more the wiser (until now), so I didn’t lose my spot on the cattle work force.  My Loving Spouse was behind me, so I could just hear him thinking…”Oh….”

The fields were green and the sky was a mighty blue with clouds that were so beautiful that it all seemed fake.  I couldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

We went zipping up the hill, over creeks, through gates to meet the herd, who were quite happy to be moving to a new greener pasture. It has been sometime, since I had been with the cattle and the little calves have grown so quickly.  Moving cattle is really a bit more like ‘pushing cattle’ and mostly these cattle all wanted to go, so all in all it wasn’t too hard.  We did need to get behind them and then move/push them all in the right direction.  I got to tear up a hill after a few ‘stray’ stragglers which made me feel like quite the cow-girl.  The last in line was the bull.  Seemed to me, he (the bull) was the laziest, but Our Friend the Farmer says he has the most work.  When I raised a quizzical female eye, he said, “Well, he’s got 70 girlfriends”, and that is a little hard to argue with.

With all 140+ cattle moved/pushed we gave them some time to settle down.  The settling down period is when the ‘pairs’ (mother and calf) regroup and then you know everyone is accounted for.  I learned that if the pair cannot find each other, they will go back to the last place they nursed.  During the settling down period, we turned our bikes to the hill where wild flowers bloom for just a few weeks.  From the crest of the hill we could see the green valley, the red barns, the dots of cattle and it was breath-taking with the skies, clouds and wild flowers, our little valley was gorgeous.

Riley the Cattle dog takes a well deserved rest.

Tiny wild flowers grow in the worst of the soil for a few weeks of the year.

With the settling in time over, we tore down the hill to close the gates.  At the gate to the field where all the cattle were happily chomping on new green grass, My Loving Spouse went on ahead.  Just as we were closing the gate Our Friend the Farmer and I spied something far away and in the wrong direction.  Was it a calf…?  A human…?  We turned our bikes and tore up the road.  After a bit, we knew it was a human…except there were not supposed to be any humans in here… a rustler?  A cattle rustler? We rode faster with my bike in front so I caught up to the cattle rustler first, but I was not scared, I was working cattle and the rustler actually ended up being an older lady walking her dog with her bird watching binoculars…”Ah, he needs to talk to you”, I stammered, just as Our Friend the Farmer caught up to us and he recognized her as a neighbor and kind of nodded.  It turns out a new road went in at the back of the fields so now all kinds of humans can get in where they don’t belong.

Back to shut the gates and ford the creeks rivers…

Now about question #1, well…tomorrow is another day….