It is a Sign
It is a sign that today was not to go off as planned. It was not to be. Today was my day to get out of Dodge and meet my stitchers at Baker’s Square in Mankato. I had heard rumors that there was to be light flurries hitting the southeast portion of the state.
It was a good thing that my stitcher Sharon had a more in depth weather forecast. Sharon called at 8:30. The end result is that we will try for next Monday. I live 45 miles west of Mankato and one of the gals lives 45 miles east of Mankato. It could have been a very slippery sliding day as the snow began at twelve noon and Dennis reports by three this afternoon we have had at least three inches and it may not be done.
The first thing Dennis had going this morning was to take the shell corn pails to the elevator for pickup tomorrow. The deer vary in number. There is a doe and two fawns that come as early as 4:30 for supper. This morning I got up just a few minutes before six and there were three bucks rooting around in the hay bale under the Oak getting the last vestiges of corn. Never fear, I went back to bed until 7:30.
Dennis has been talking about getting the vehicles to the car wash and this forenoon was the time to get several layers of grime off of them. Just as he drove the car into the garage it began to rain. Well . . . that didn’t last long. At noon it began to snow in fine wet stuff and before long we had large beautiful flakes being driven by a north wind. When I think about it, I have had more social events canceled than I can well afford. My hermit status is really getting socked in.
My plan was to stay out of the sewing studio today. That was until one this afternoon. Dennis kidded me when he came into the house. “That didn’t last long.” I was brave enough to ask him how he would feel if he didn’t get out into his patio porch. “I’d be lost and be a pain in your stiff neck.” We both have our favorite hangout.
I’ve been rambling long enough and today I will have very little to offer for “local effort.” By the way . . . that term came about from the Minnesota Department of Revenue while I was working. Yearly property values were determined by the level of sale value per usage. The assessor’s job was to attribute each year’s taxable market value per parcel as per what the market indicated. The Revenue counted on that taxable level being within 90% of what the market indicated during a certain time frame per individual classifications. “Me” . . . I was the local effort. If I didn’t put out to maintain that 90% guideline fairly and equitably, there would be a state mandated increase across the line whether it was fair per parcel or not. That phrase of local effort has become our household humor on keeping Stauffer Avenue up to par. Tee Hee!