Me, Myself and Memories

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  Noreen 4:29 am on January 18, 2014 Permalink  

  Challenges on Stauffer #4 

  Today was the one-week post-op surgical appointment.  Wow, seven days ago at this time I had a fair amount of fear and panic coming home after the reverse shoulder surgery.  Having had quite a few surgeries, I never take it for granted.  They are all serious.

  This last week would have been spent in a swing bed at our local hospital if not for hubby Dennis.

  Bodily functions and aftercare are so taken for granted – until you can’t manage it on your own.  Bless that man’s heart as he gets a cell phone call at his afternoon get together with buds and immediately comes home after getting a call from my cell home.  A time ensues and then I hear “Hi Hon, I’m here” as he finds me sitting on the commode waiting for his help.  Now that is what is called enduring love.  Actually, there is a definition of a word that “does for others that which is not required, but done through ardent emotional attachment.” That word is “romantic.”  Yup, that’s Dennis.

  Today life just feels so good.  My vitals at the checkup were good, the Foley catheter came out, and the self cathing is back on track and I hear Dennis coming in from his afternoon bud get-together.  It’s time to think about us planning an evening meal.

   
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  Noreen 2:39 am on January 16, 2014 Permalink  

  Challenges on Stauffer #3 

  Day 6 and it was a ‘red letter’ day.  A hot shower.  With the extra paraphernalia of the catheter all I was missing was a flock of little yellow rubber duckies.  Dennis got just as wet as I did but it was just great.  Beta-din good-bye.

  We went on to get several loads of laundry orchestrated.  Clean socks and undies – the world is good.

  I do have what I hope is one last less than “oh goodie” in regard to the extra issue of this surgery and that being the catheter I am wearing as an additional appendage.  Dennis and I made a total of two trips to the ER for catheter irrigation – one on Saturday  and on on Sunday. Sunday the ER staff said any additional trips for the same issue would not be processed favorably with insurance.  The message would be on my family doctor’s computer Sunday night for him to see first thing Monday morning that I would need a standing order with either the clinic or the hospital for the catheter irrigation.  We received a call this noon (Wednesday) that the order could be picked up.

  I am so proud of all the help Dennis was and has been with the multiple times day or night he has helped wrangling saline solutions, the syringes and all the ‘clean-up on aisle five” to keep the urine running while my right arm being of no help.  Come on – it’s pee, the most taken for granted bodily function by the majority of the world.  Only on Stauffer Avenue does it trump—–everything.

  I am going back to revealing of the hot shower.

   
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  Noreen 2:52 am on January 15, 2014 Permalink  

  Challenges on Stauffer #2 

  Day five and all is well.   An extra concern from the surgery is the fact that since my hysterectomy in 1991 and complications thereafter my bladder is now augmented – a portion of my small intestine was used for urine collection and I need to manually use a catheter to empty several times a day.  Being right handed and having a new right shoulder created an additional challenge.

  The surgeon knew that learning to self cath with the left hand would not prove successful as the brain is in charge of muscle memory and after more than 20 years Plan B would be needed – a Foley catheter inserted and remaining  in for at least a week and perhaps more for urine collection.

  Dennis and I arrived home from the Mankao Hospital the day after the shoulder surgery in time for a light noon lunch.  By five that afternoon we were checking into the St. James ER of our hospital – the catheter was blocked and needed to be irrigated as the pressure of bags and bags of saline coursing  through the body was demanding attention.

  Being under anesthetics during surgery and having a lot of drugs in my system had altered the rhythm of that bodily function. The staff at our hospital was great and with working through the possibilities that this would happen often we came home with additional supplies and an open door policy if needed.  The bladder augmentation using a portion of the small intestine containing the mucus found in that original tissue would always continue to slough off the mucus as if it were still in charge of fecal waste.  During my usual day to day living the small amount expelled each time I cathed caused no problems.  Surgery alters much and this challenge is being dealt with and kept in perspective. Having a successful recovery with a mobile shoulder is the target – the rest is just a bump in the road.

  In the real world it would be a God send to fall asleep and awake after surgery with attention being needed only on the surgical site and progress with therapy.  Being prepared for what presents itself is keeping an open mind.  We are amazing creations of our Lord and Savior and I do honor that God has given me the ability to be a steward of this body for continued service to Him.——my hunt and pecking on the keyboard needs a huge break.

   
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  Noreen 11:04 pm on January 13, 2014 Permalink  

  Challenges on Stauffer Avenue #1 

  

  Right Shoulder Will Now Match the Left Shoulder

  There won’t be a lot of text with this post as the fingers on the left hand do not like to do double duty.

  January 10th of 2014 my right shoulder was replaced with the reverse shoulder procedure.  The right shoulder was done in on the last days of October 2013.  Of course, with so many insurance changes for the 2014 year, surgical dates were at a “hurry up and wait.”  I went in on the 10th and came home the next day on the 11th.  Percocet really helps.

  The left shoulder was replaced in April of 2013, so the awareness of everything was still fresh in my mind and Dennis’.

  I’ll stay in touch and in the mean time I have a window cracked bringing in some of this great fresh air.

   
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  Noreen 3:15 am on December 2, 2013 Permalink  

  Is This the Place? 

  

  Always Room for More Hearts

  The Christmas tree is down from the attic and it’s time to find just the right place before the decorations are placed. With our home on Stauffer we don’t have a lot of options but it is important. When the tree is placed, decorated and lit for the first time of the season – I know this is the place.

  My oh my, how many times in so many places has the tree been lit for the first time. Riesel, Texas Orlin and I had a true Charlie Brown tree in a rental home that was $35.00 a month. The next Christmas we were on our very own acre and we had a pine shrub we cut down in the pasture behind our acre lot and it had a definite crook half way up the trunk. It stood proud in the living room of what had previously been a chicken house. Yes that was the perfect place.

  The Christmas we had in Waco, Texas was in a rental home that had way more room than we had furniture for. That year we had no tree as it was decision time as to whether or not selling for Lutheran Brotherhood was going to be a good fit.

  The next Christmas we had new born baby Carrie as she sat in her plastic infant seat under the wonderment of the Christmas tree that had again been found in a pasture at Beaver Falls, Minnesota where Orlin was working for his sister on their beef farm. This tree stood straight and tall and the fine strands of tinsel moved in delight when the space heater’s wave of warmth hit them. The farm house was huge and on the chilly side. Yes, that was the perfect place.

  Boon Lake Township in Renville County was very familiar as that is where I walked the mile and a half to rural school District #34. Who would have ever imagined that Orlin and I would be farming a half mile from that school. Old McDonald could not have held a torch to our life. It was the total deal. Home grown pork, beef, poultry (chickens, geese and ducks) filled our freezer that was adjacent to the fruit cellar. Who knew filled fruit jars could be so beautiful? Carrie was joined by Kevin under the Christmas trees that followed each year. Yes, that was the perfect place.

  

  Jesus is the Reason

  Carrie and Kevin were two little rag muffins as they sat next to me in the pickup (with no seat belts) pulling a wagon on our way to the elevator in Buffalo Lake with soy beans from our harvest. I can’t tell you how many times we passed a vacant rural school site on our trips with grain. Not too many years down the road we were living in a mobile home on that very site as plans were made to remodel the school house into our home. It was a challenge that would make any reality show on home improvements seem like Tinker Toys. What had been the gymnasium on the ground floor became our home with the entire second floor yet to be planned. We did it up just right with lots of room for the kids, family and friends. By that time we would have been a family of five but Orlin and I mourned the lose of a little boy that was just not meant to be. The fireplace that Orlin built into the living room warmed the home and our hearts. Each year we could have had the tallest of Christmas trees ever as the ceilings were very high. Of course they would have to be as previously there had been basket ball hoops. Yes, that was the perfect place.

  I had never paid much attention to Minnesota geography so I really had to check on a state map as to where Watonwan County was. More to the point where Madelia was. It happened to be where we would be moving to. Goodbye to seeing family in trips of just a few miles. I really enjoyed coffee with my mom and dad in a moments notice. At that time Kevin was in grade school and Carrie in Jr. High. We actually lived in two different homes within Madelia and each time we made a home filled with laughter, hopes and dreams. Each Christmas we put up the Christmas tree – the same perfect artificial tree we had first purchased on the farm when we realized that the real deal made Kevin sick. Yes, that was the perfect place.

  Farm building sites have their attractions and none so like the site in South Branch Township. More work than there were hours in the day. It was not unusual that a camp fire would celebrate a great day of work complete with wieners and marshmallows. The buildings were tweaked and fixed and the house was again a home but a bit more quiet after Carrie graduated and went to the metro for college. In time to come there were trips looking at different locations to move to. No, that was not the perfect place anymore.

  

  Believe, Believe, Believe – and it Can be So

  I stayed in Watonwan County, Orlin did not. Drastic changes within a family do not come about without damage. But by the grace of God the heart is the strongest muscle that God created. Understanding is not a given. Forgiveness is an individual’s option through grace. Through the years after our divorce Orlin and I became friends that shared the greatest gift of our lives – our children Carrie and Kevin and most important – memories. Life took Orlin and his wife Martha to Arkansas. My life remains in Watonwan County with my husband Dennis. Orlin and I had agreed to save the best of what we had and leave the rest where it belonged – in the past. Orlin has been gone for six years, but he will never be forgotten in my heart and I see the best of him in our children.  We continue enjoying Martha’s visits when she comes from Arkansas to see family. Life really does not have to be complicated.

  Dennis and I have lived on a property that many people can only dream of living in – a home, a true home. It’s cozy as only a home that is seven hundred and twenty square feet can be. My sister calls it a doll house. For sure Dennis and I call it home. When we are away we can’t wait to get back to familiar sounds and smells. Sitting here with coffee in hand and marveling at memories that a lit tree can evoke is truly priceless. Yes, this is the place.

  In life, please give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.

   
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  Noreen 4:56 am on November 23, 2013 Permalink  

  Dealing with Limits 

  Way back when in this 2013 year, long about April, I shared that I had a reverse shoulder surgery on my left shoulder.  The healing progressed and the body acknowledged that the ball for the shoulder and socket have literally been reversed.  The surgery was required after a fall that severed the rotor cuff as well as damage to the axillary nerve that was cut off of blood supply.  There was no repair that could be done to the damaged nerve and consequently the range of motion was not going to be 100%.  I was willing to have the surgery knowing I could and would work around the mobility and leave the pain behind.

  I decided to share the rest of the story.  Thank you Paul Harvey for that wonderful phrase.  I had a great season out in the garden this summer that included pushing the lawn mower.  Dennis and I made great strides on repairs of our garages and I wore out several paint brushes one of which was used when I painted the tip of the garage gable on a ladder.  Every chance I had in between times I was at the sewing machine.  One of those instances lasted several weeks as I helped out our neighbor Jan and whipped out a pieced flannel queen sized quilt that needed to be tied when the piecing was done.  Successes after the healing was complete and the best part – no physical pain.

  So what limits are there to deal with?  I do catch myself admiring hair styles that compliment silver and white hair. My hair will always need to be an inch to an inch and a half long as I cannot control my arms to reach the top or back of my head to style my hair.  Yes, I did say arms.  During the two years it took to regenerate the axillary nerve to be able to have the surgery my right shoulder that is riddled with arthritis did double duty to the point that it just can’t rise to all occasions any longer.  Oh, I think perhaps there may be a second surgery in the works but not so much right now.

  

  Happy Painter will Hire Out

  My arms have a lot of strength for anything that is no higher than chin height, anything beyond the chin height I really have to think about before taking hold of something and thinking I can manage it.  Gosh, I hated cleaning up a 5 lb. bag of flour that was on the top shelf of the pantry.  Oh yes, I painted the tip of the garage gable and cleaned out the eave troughs on the garage and garage porch on Wednesday but I had to be higher on the ladder so I would not be doing any work higher than my chin.  I can do these things just with a method that works for what I have to work with.

  Several windows in our home are the long 60 plus inches with double sashes.  The beauty of it is that we have inserts that tip in for cleaning.  The bottom sash tips in after being pulled up a bit and the top sash is pulled down a bit and then it tips in. Cleaning is a one person job and I don’t mind being that one person.  Yesterday the the temps were in the high thirties and I was sure I could whip these windows out quickly.  Wednesday Dennis had washed the outside of the house off and with the city’s hard water supply the gray hard water drops were not acceptable to look through for the entire winter. Humbling as it was I did find out when all the water drops and streaks were gone I did not have the power to push the top sash up far enough for it to click in place so the two sashes would meet and then the window could lock. Of course I had told Dennis I was fit and able and he could go have coffee with the buds.

  Yesterday in Minnesota the temps were plunging by the hour and snow was forecast coming in with the north wind.  This window happened to be on the north wall of the living room.  Even standing on the small step ladder I could not get the leverage I needed.  I decided to cool down a bit and poured some coffee as a few more minutes of cold air coming into the living room wasn’t going to throw the furnace into a total flat line as it heaved it’s heart out.  As I was leaning against the kitchen counter I spied with my little eye my Swiffer Mop.  Total success!  All I  had to do was hold the mop handle waist high, stand close to the wall and position the flat head of the mop against the frame of the top sash and push straight up and hard enough until I heard the glorious click.  Wham, bam, thank you very much.

  Yes, there is a lot of life that happens higher than my chin and come hell or high water I will find a way to deal with it when the situation arises as I don’t feel limited.

   
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  Noreen 4:07 am on November 4, 2013 Permalink  

  Last Rites on Stauffer 

  Oh my gosh, whatever happened to quiet Sunday mornings on Stauffer?  Dennis was helping his son Ken with items at his home and I had an errand to run.  I have done it a thousand times: I push the garage opener that is clipped to the visor of my car as I start the car.  I always make sure the garage door is completely up before I put the car in reverse to avoid any hardship on hubby Dennis in regard to repairs.  This morning all was clear and I had backed up a total of a foot when I heard a pop.  I braked and thought about things that could have been at the rear of the car: leaves, a plastic bag or maybe a plastic cup.  I pulled a head and decide to check it out.

  The last thing in the whole world I expected to see right behind the right rear wheel of my tire was that I had backed over the largest of our Koi fish.  The sixteen year old Koi was no more.  Yes, that’s right, the Koi that are sheltered in the 100 gallon horse tank with a window screen over it for extra protection.  How could there be so much mess from a few seconds of a radial tire meeting a Koi fish?  We have dressed the Koi pond with rocks overhanging the water’s edge as they do jump and flip in the pond water.  In fact the screen over the horse tank was put there after one of the Koi had jumped out onto the garage floor to it’s death eleven years ago.  I checked the tank and the screen only allowed several inches on each end for an opening and here we had a five pound fish dead a foot from the tank. It was a sunny Sunday morning with lots of traffic going by and I am scrambling like a house on fire.  I was hoping the city police would not take this moment to do a drive by on Stauffer as I had a total of two different snow pushers with blood and entrails on them that I was desperately trying to wash up with a garden hose out in the middle of the driveway.  The next challenge was to clean the garage floor and get every bit of “extra” stuff cleaned up.  Just my luck, the hose got away from me as I was trying to use the broom at the same time.  Oh well, the garage needed one last fall cleaning before the snowflakes come.

  When Dennis came home and saw the drive flooded, the garage door open with a totally wet floor, a garden hose that he had already stashed for the winter strung out and the snow pushers leaning on the house, he came in the house and just looked at me with a quizzical look on his face.   Dennis totally understood the situation and he well knows that strange things happen and tomorrow is another day.  All this and just think it was only 10:30 on a sunny Sunday morning.

   
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  Noreen 12:43 am on October 22, 2013 Permalink  

  Life Long Kept Treasures 

  I should know by now that planning too far out just doesn’t work.  Yesterday at this time I was sure I would be up in the attic getting a few things tidied up.  Today – not so much.  Dennis reminded me that we had various types of paint in the garage that needed to be brought in before the cold.  The dang stuff costs an arm and a leg so protect it we will.  Who would have thought that good paint could cost $39.99 or more?

  

  My Haven for Crafting

  In the last 1980’s Dennis and his friend Bruce gave me a surprise when I got home from work.  Off of my sewing area they had borrowed an air hammer and had busted through the concrete blocks of the basement to open up the area that had been the cistern aka: water container for the home’s use prior to the city plumbed water supply.  Was it a mess? Oh yes.  Did it knock items off the walls on the first floor?  Oh yes.  Did we gain some wonderful storage?  Oh yes.  The cistern closet has been outfitted with cabinets and shelves to the max.   This is where we keep household tools and of course extra paint etc.

  I do have one set of these shelves for some special treasures.  What can I say?  I am sentimental and once I have an item I won’t let go of it too easily as how could I replace them either due to the sentiment or the cost.  I needed to share with you a priceless memory of my Dad, Raymond Wendlandt.  He knew he needed a hobby after retiring from farming and he turned to woodworking.  His uncle Roy Gronewald had a love of woodworking and Roy became my Dad’s mentor.  My Mom turned over an extra room in the basement to Dad and it was his haven.  It would take him hours to finish a project, but he never gave up and every one of us four children reaped the rewards.

  

  My Dad: Raymond Wendlandt’s Craft

  Dad worked on his projects to the extent that he took delight in finding just the right wood to take to his saw mill site and then plane them down to be used in his workshop.  At the age of 73 Dad passed away with many projects yet to be made and also to be finished. The only shortcoming Dad had with his craft was that once he had crafted it, putting the finishing coats on them did not really pique his interests. These small items that I am sharing have remained just as Dad passed them off to me.  I enjoy them as Dad left them and I don’t know if I will ever “finish” them. The heart box was going to be a gift to all the granddaughters in time to come and I was to paint this prototype for his approval.  The tulips needed to have the holes drilled into the base to have a small dowel inserted for the stem. I was to affix leaves on the stems.

  

  Literally Having My Dad’s Light Shine on Me

  The lamp that each of us children received from him is close at hand to me each and every day while I am enjoying my crafts.  If I could possibly expand my passions to the next degree it would be woodworking. Dad had an entire room and I just don’t think I could squeeze it into my basement area and Dennis is really “in like” with his garage porch.  I may need to rethink that for now but if we don’t have dreams we have nothing to strive toward.

  As I stated in the beginning, Dennis and I completed taking items out of the garage and have checked off one more item in preparation for colder temps. I can only hope the attic area will still be in the plans for another day and it would not surprise me if upon finding some items of sentiment I may get lost up there.

   
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  Noreen 5:39 am on October 17, 2013 Permalink  

  The End Results 

  

  Perfect Sized Home

  Dennis and I have an older – alright – an old home.  The home is over 100 years old and was moved into the City of St. James in the early 50s.  It sets upon a basement that was new at the time it went from a rural home to a city home.  With codes being what they weren’t in the 50s, it’s a fix as you go.

  I would hate to move and have to start over with all the updates Dennis and I have done with plumbing, wiring, windows, siding and roof.  It was a proud time when we had a brand new panel box with circuit breakers to replace the knob and tube.  We pretty well know what we have, when it was done and who did it.  What we didn’t anticipate was how much we do rely on electricity as we have utilized every square inch of our one story 720 square foot home.  We would be lost without the walk up attic for storage.  To have wonderful air and living quality in the basement we have installed a sump pump, a dehumidifier, and an air exchanger.  What’s the point of a wonderful basement if you can’t add a water softener, an extra refrigerator – all the while keeping a smile on the face of the electrician as the panel box was added to.

  

  The Means to an End

  

  Where all the Magic Happens

  So what’s the problem?  I found the wonderful world of power strips.  A cordless telephone with it’s own cradle was handy to have in the basement so I wouldn’t break an ankle running the steps to take a call.  My sewing machine is rendered useless if I don’t have a steam iron at my elbow to get those perfectly finished seams under the wonderful world of three florescent light fixtures, each with two bulbs.  It also helps if there is one lamp shining onto the sewing machine bed and another on the desk for my office area.  Patchwork quilting takes a lot of math skills and I might as well take advantage of the electric calculator as there is room on the worktable.  My Cricut for die cutting is ready to go at a push of its power button to crank out a greeting card in a moments notice and they are to die for when I use the embossing heat gun.  I am not saying that I watch the television while I am sewing but I do have it on for background noise and it’s a good thing to keep up with the news.

  

  The Tidy End Result

  A perfect world with all the bells and whistles for the sewing and crafting area.  Not so much.  Every once in a while there would be one of the ground fault circuit interrupters that had popped.  Twice I had to go into the panel box.  That did it and today was the day to get some help down there and begin unraveling what was plugged in and where.  There was no stopping until everything was up to snuff.  While the snuff was being realized there was a tremendous amount of my goodies that needed to be moved to make room for the work.  The end result is that I can now start with a clean slate of my passions and let the wheel on the electrical meter hum and twirl to it’s hearts content.

   
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  Noreen 4:36 am on September 18, 2013 Permalink  

  The Best of Times 

  There’s something in the air and it is by no means football fever. One would be hard pressed not to realize the pig skin season is here because that is about all that is on the television.

  Just as my blog is entitled “Me Myself and Memories,” I am looking inward and remembering what I think is so special about this time of year. These most recent days have taken me back to the farm where Orlin and I spent some great years. Looking back, those memories of being a young mother are among my happiest. I was a farm wife with a farm history raising two amazingly dirty little farm kids. They sure did clean up good.

  The newness of the town boy striking out for farming complete with a herd of cows began to wear off and it was now second nature that all things great and small took place right on our Boon Lake Township farmyard. Of course it was a schedule that entailed some pretty grueling work. Cleaning out calf pens and hog pens with more manure than was possible to believe represented cash when the occupants of those pens could be taken off to the sales barn in Hutchinson. No matter what it took Orlin and I took care of the farm chores twelve months out of the year making sure that the work of the tillabe acres was addressed in the correct scheme of the calendar.

  Isn’t grueling work what farming is just about? We made a lot of work fun for the family. On this farm was a wonderful little area that had been a calf pasture in times gone by. We chose to spruce up the area and make the apples trees that were in the center of the pasture the center of a large garden. We had purposely left the fence in place on three sides of the area. Carrie was a toddler when we moved onto the farm and she knew she could roam at will knowing there were soda crackers and water right under the apple trees. By the time Carrie was two and a half, there was newborn Kevin for her to peek at from time to time as he napped under the apple trees on a make shift pallet. Orlin had made a hoop with netting over it for a safe and sound place. We tried to have specified nap times for them to be tucked into their beds but that didn’t always work out with what was needed outside or in the barns. We were very flexible. As Carrie and Kevin grew it was obvious that unscheduled naps had not harmed them. They were right at our elbows out in the garden, in the barns and sometimes in the muck.

  The fertilizer of the old calf pasture gave us garden produce that was just amazingly bountiful. My Mom shared fruit jars with me as her and Dad weren’t going through the same amount of canned goods as they used to with just the two of them. Orlin came home from the sales barn on several occasions with a huge cache of pint and quart jars. The first thing he always checked was to make sure the rims were not chipped so they could hold a good seal. The price was right and the fact that they needed to be hosed off outside first before being brought into the house was not a concern. We scrubbed hard as someone had cleaned out their basement that had been neglected for a long time.

  When Orlin ordered an apple press we were in high cotton in one very sticky kitchen during pressing the apples and processing quarts and quarts of apple juice. Orlin had a grading process in regard to picking apples. The apples that were fairly perfect in size were set aside for the Gurney apple peeler and they would then be used in making apple sauce or apple butter. The gnarled apples went into the press — core and all. The mash that remained was taken out to the chickens in their pen where they really had a feast.

  I don’t know if food processors were available in the mid 1960s, but we had the old wooden trough slaw cutter that had belonged to Orlin’s mother, Esther. It was about eight inches in width and three forths of the way there were a series of blades at a slight angle. An open wooden frame fit into the width of the slaw cutter and a cabbage head cut in half would be put cut side down into the frame at the end of the trough and then slide over the blades over and over for perfectly cut slaw as it fell into crock for Sauerkraut. As new farmers we were always on the end of caring and sharing people who helped us out with their hand-me-downs. We had been given a ten quart and a fifteen quart glazed crocks. As I washed the heads of cabbage and cleaned off the outer leaves, Orlin ran the slaw through the trough and Carrie and Kevin each had their wooden stompers to help pack the raw cabbage as Orlin filled them. The right amount of canning salt at intervals was added. In the dark canning cellar in the basement a large glass plate adorned the top of one of the crocks as the fermenting process began. Later it was processed into quart jars.

  We were so proud of our canning cellar. All winter we ate out of it. Orlin was raised by thrifty parents just as I had been and we took what they had taught us and put it to our gain. Gunny sacks of red potatoes joined the row upon row of gleaming fruits jars. If it could grow in our garden we canned it or froze it. Onions with the stems left on were tied and hung from the rafters. Our second crock was used to store raw carrots. With some of my earnings from the night shift working the corn huskers at the Green Giant Canning Factory in Glencoe, we bought two chest freezers from Sears and Roebuck. Corn and peas were frozen, green beans and carrots were canned. When we dug the potatoes we saved all the little ones and canned them for fried potatoes in the dead of winter. With pride when we hosted family dinners a pint jar of candied red apple rings were brought out to enjoy. From all of the poultry, beef and pork that we raised the freezers were filled to the brim.

  The amazing thing is that all the processing for canning and freezing and butchering took place in a kitchen that was ten feet by twelve feet, using a gas four-burner kitchen range.

  As you can tell I could go on and on as this is my season for precious memories. And at some time I know more of these times will surface as I do visit these sweet times often. How could this wonderful lifestyle not endure? Sometimes when things are almost too good to be true, it begins to look greener on the other side of the fence. Additional land was acquired to be rented, resources were extended for bigger and newer machinery and the wonderful life suffered and then it was gone. That time of my life is gone, but not so in my heart. It still remains the best of times with Orlin, Carrie and Kevin.