New Life Old Farmers

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….

With all humility I must clarify first, that I am a college graduate… from a great University, (certainly the greatest University in California).  All that to say, I have attained some degree of learning, so I should be clearly qualified to help/aid/assist elementary age children with a bit of reading and the occasional math problem.

I showed up for my substitute position to the learning center at the local elementary school.  I had 15 minutes to look over a complete days work written in teacher ‘short-hand’ that I could barely decipher.  Not too worry, however, the head teacher was there to help me.  She came over and muttered something kindly about working on the short vowel sounds.  Like a good adult I nodded my head and made sure my face still had an intelligent look, while inside I was saying….what…(bad British word)!  I haven’t thought about a short vowel sound in about 45 years!  I quickly scoured around for a cheat sheet, which thankfully did not take long as this was a center for learning and there were laminated cheat sheets/instructional aids everywhere.  I quickly did a cram review on the glorious short vowel sounds and was nearly up to speed with the 7 year olds.

I managed to get through the day without setting back too many students, learned not to believe the older kids when they said, “Oh, we don’t have to do that”, and only let one kid go early which I learned you are not actually suppose to do, especially at the end of the day, but boy you should see how that head teacher can run after a pre-released kid!

Thank goodness for Jubal, as I needed to do a bit of tractor work when I got home, just to recover from my work day.

Day Two went a bit better for two reasons, I already knew where most of the cheat sheets/instructional aids were and I’d learned that unlike students, teachers are allowed to drink coffee, so trust me I did!

It was a snake and so therefore it was huge!  All snakes are huge!  Some are just more huge than others.  It was slimy.  All snakes are slimy (even though I didn’t actually touch it).  The snake was where it was not supposed to be, which was on our farm!

A friend gave us some old hand line (farm term for a big sprinkler system), which we picked up….all thirty and forty feet of it.  What we didn’t know was that we picked up a medium/huge snake as well inside one of the lines.  Of course it decided to come out and sun itself when I was nearby, which started a ‘small’ commotion, which is not exactly what My Loving Spouse called my ‘small’ bit of hollering, but hey, I don’t  do snakes and it was creepy and my hair was standing up on the back of my neck.  My Loving Spouse stopped to take a picture of it, as I was still experiencing my ‘commotion’ and not able or wanting to get near enough to the slimy thing to take its picture.

The picture was sent to the out to lunch group, who immediately rushed home to check out the medium/huge snake as well.  Number One Son was a dashing figure in Bermuda shorts, fire fighter boots and a shovel as he combed the grass near the pipes to find it, which he did.  It was declared a ‘good’ snake (oxymoron) as it eats mice and is not venomous, so it was left to slither away.

My Loving Spouse then said something snake people always say… ‘Don’t worry it is more afraid of you than you are of it.”

Hmmmmm…… I don’t really think so!

The Teen is so lucky, after all she has older siblings.  We’ve parented thorough high school before, we know what we’re doing!  We know the pitfalls and the tricky passages, except…. we moved… to a different state… where the ‘Senior Project’ is required for graduation and we know nothing!  It was a brief but interesting spot to be in….both The Teen and The Parents agreed… The Parents really did not know anything!  We were all in trouble!

The Teen decided to write a two act play about her life, and there is plenty of material for this play.  (Wow, to The Parents, this sounded hard.)  The Adviser approved the project.  The Teen even started it…. it was really hard…it brought up a lot of stuff… The Teen got stuck… and my favorite comment from The Teen, “What was she (The Adviser) thinking?  She should have never approved this project!”

So began phase two of The Senior Project…. by this time, I’d spent a bit of time with The Quilting Ladies and was completely caught up with either:

1. How grateful they were that The Senior Project started after their kids graduated or

2. How much easier their child’s Senior Project would have been, if they could have gotten their child to make a quilt.  Which is when the ‘light bulb’ went on in my head.

After a bit of convincing, encouraging and ‘you’ve got to trust me on this one’, The Teen was cleared by The Adviser to change projects to making a quilt.  I think the thing that finally convinced her was when I reminded her, that I didn’t really know anything about quilting, so I wouldn’t be helping her or telling her what to do, so she was ‘safe’ from my parental input.

When The Teen was a little girl, the phrase “It takes a village to raise a child” came into popularity.  Truth beyond words for this child, we/she’d never be where she is today without the invaluable help, assistance, caring and prayers from a large village (and you know who you are…)  In stepped phase two of ‘the village’ in the form of The Quilting Ladies.  What a joy for me to watch as my child was loved over, helped and encouraged by every woman there.  Ladies that stopped the projects that they were working on to assist her in every step of The Senior Project.  Sometimes they came to quilting, just to make sure The Teen had the help she needed.  She had to re-sew it so many times, I think she sewed the equivalent of three quilts and she had to trim it so often, that at one point I was worried that it might become a place mat.

What a blessing to watch her loved on by ladies that love to sew/quilt.  The Teen’s grandma was a wonderful seamstress and The Teen missed out on sharing that with her, but The Quilting Ladies gave her their sweet version of their loving gift and saw her through.  Also The Quilting Ladies got to experience The Teen’s sweet heart, as she bowled them over (often literally) with her hugs.

The Senior Project was completed in the nick of time and its blessing will continue as it is donated to a foster child in the county.  Did The Teen turn into a master quilter ready to do another one… ah, I don’t think so… did she learn once again that there is a large contingent of God’s people ready and willing to walk the walk with her…definitely!….and I am grateful.