I am a retired 44-year veteran of the Real Estate Assessment field. As with real estate assessing and how it applies to real estate taxes, one can make many acquaintances, but not many real friends. It was a great career choice.
It has been nearly 10 years since I reclaimed my home and my real passions within my home. I enjoy it more each day and tip my hat to those who I left behind.
Each day I try to stretch myself with the use of my computer as it relates to this site and using it to print out labels for quilts for trying to incorporate photos into my sewing. Life is so full and I know that I have room for more.
When all those who lost their bid in the election that was held today realize how much money was thrown away, I hope it brings them to their knees and they cry. This money represents the amount of funds that could have funded school programs, fixed roads and bridges in our state and the list could go on. Shame, shame, shame on adults that want affirmation of their popularity by a mark on the ballot, as we know, it has nothing to do with their ability.
1969 would have been the first crop year owning the farm via a contract for deed; the prior two years we were renting the farm. On a day just as great as this, big sister, four-year-old Carrie, would have been helping mind year-and-a half-old Kevin as I was behind the wheel of an older pickup, heading down the tar road pulling a flare box full of soybeans to the Buffalo Lake Elevator. Seat belts . . . were in 1968 new vehicles. We only had Carrie’s arm across Kevin’s chest as he was in between us. Grand times farming.
There is nothing sweeter in my memories than picking up my children when they were toddlers and fixing all their boo boos. Priceless.
Nice days bring pests. Wikipedia says, “These no-see-ums are smaller than fleas and have a supreme itch.” Those little critters drove me right into the house. Yuk!
“Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.” Though it’s thundering and raining I am very thankful we have not had the hail, flooding and high winds that the folks north of us have had. It’s a day to stay indoors.
A rainy, misting type of day sent me into my sewing room. No noise, just total quiet. Perfect for ramblings in thought. Last April, Megan and I were working on a Vikings quilt for Nicholas in the quiet of this sewing room. Out of the blue Megan sprouted thoughts. “Grammie, if you had bumps taken off of your toes, and you have new knees and now new shoulders, when are you going to have your head worked on?” I was totally taken by surprise and caught off guard to the point I said nothing.
“You know, Grammie, the song: “Head and shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes . . .” Megan sang it through several times. “You’d have the whole song when you get your head fixed.” As quick as that all came out, she had no more to say as her head was bent down, guiding her quilt material to slide under the needle of the sewing machine. The machine hummed on.
In the peaceful quiet: me, myself and memories. It is priceless.
Am so enjoying the sound of rain on the kitchen skylight. The trees will have their leaves rinsed off and the grass won’t crunch underfoot.
My beverage of choice is coffee – either hot or cold. My biggest challenge is getting coffee stains out of handwork. My biggest disappointed is clumsiness.
Having coffee on the patio this morning before the humidity and heat geared up, the sound of Morning Doves was welcomed. The cooing brought separate but similar memories to Dennis and me. The memories stemmed from days of early morning farming times. Getting dairy cows into the barn for milking went hand in hand with the soothing coos of the doves. Sharing the farming memories with each other this morning, speaks to the essence of our souls . . . peaceful, simpler times.
. . . in my own home. More specific, in my basement. I went down to shop for an item from our pantry in the basement. It’s just the handiest to have extra supplies on hand rather than having to make a trip to the grocery store for an item or two. The pantry used to be the cistern that held a supply of water from a well that was on the property. Dennis and his cousin, Bruce, via a jack hammer, created this nook than has become our pantry that could very well feed an entire family if need be.
With the pantry item in hand I stopped to put a few sewing items away that were laying on the table. Our 4-H gal’s project that we had been working on for the last month was finished and the tidying up had not as yet happened. I will add that last night at the 4-H style review her project took several well-deserved ribbons and awards as well as Reserved Grand Champion. Minnesota State Fair here she comes. Smiles all around.
As I put the sewing items away I noticed a thick folder that held some of my Mom’s quilt patterns. I pulled it off of the shelf and sat down at my sewing table. Here were her hand drawn patterns along with the fabric samples. I looked. I touched. I wiped a tear. My Mom. My hero. So much of my adult life’s skills are from her tutelage. The entire time a sewing project was under way with Mom, came the lessons of managing to have more than one iron in the fire, whether it was keeping tabs on something in the oven or dashing out to the clothes line when a rain shower popped up. There was never a sewing challenge that left Mom stumped. Patterns were cut out of sheets of the Hutchinson Leader newspaper if an alteration was needed. Her fingers that had become thick with arthritis could wheel those little stickpins just as if they were an extension of her own fingers. Priceless. Reluctantly I put the folder back in good order. I liked the feeling of calm I had from that folder and it just seemed the natural thing to wander further into my stashes of patterns and fabrics. Remembering the quilts that had left a few odds and ends of fabrics from each of the projects. The end result: I need to work up a scrappy happy quilt to use up the wonderful colorful bits of fabric that were left from the larger projects. Mom would agree.
It was a good thing Dennis was on the ball and decided to start the grill as supper time was right around the corner. I had spent the entire afternoon lost in my wonderful world of scraps, threads and more memories than I had expected. After I had come up from the basement to put the finishing touches on the supper table, I very well had to go back down to the basement for that pantry item that started all of this. All of this? It brought about the peace that passes all understanding.
In life, please remember to give and have no memory of it, or take and remember it always.