Even though I work from home, I still elect to take our son to daycare for a number of reasons. First, so I can actually GET work done and not have to entertain all day; second, so he gets social interaction with other children his age; and third, so he appreciates coming home at night to mommy and daddy. This week however, the daycare he attends is closed.
Since it’s 40 degrees outside and it’s February, we decided to get some fresh air and go blow bubbles. Bubbles in February. That was immediately follow by going to get the mail, a wagon ride, cleaning the mud off the driveway and puddle jumping. Not for me, for our son.
He is all boy, too. These are his post-puddle-jumping boots – soaked through to his socks and half-way up his pant legs. A little chilly and wet, he didn’t have a care in the world as he wound up his arms and gave it his all, grinning and giggling the entire time.
This was hard for me to watch because even though I am the mom who loves to get dirty and garden and play in the mud myself, the mud stays outside. I stripped him down to his tighty whities in the garage before he came in.
Until we walk (or puddle jump) again …
That’s kind of how I feel about today – Valentine’s Day. Not that I don’t tell the people I love that I love them and not that I don’t believe in love, it’s just over-priced, over-hyped and over-rated if you ask me. I instructed my husband if he was thinking of getting me flowers to save his money and buy me something other than roses on a day other than Valentine’s Day. A little cynical, yes? Sorry.
Another tradition on Valentine’s Day is a big, fancy dinner which also comes with about an hour wait. My husband also knows that lack of sustenance makes me crabby – it’s an inherited trait from my father. Really, it is.
Which brings me to the point of this post. These are bone-handled forks. Isn’t it a little ironic to eat a juicy steak with a bone-handled fork made from cow horns? Maybe not ironic, but a little funny if you ask me. They truly did use every part of the animal back in the day.
These are not dishwasher safe. And Happy Valentine’s Day, even if you’re a cynic like me.
Until we walk again …
Growing up in southeast Nebraska, I’m used to seeing cattle, hogs and even a herd of buffalo. But about 10 miles up the road from us lives this eclectic collection of animals, most of which I cannot identify. The large cow with long, straight horns is an Ankole-Watusi, a breed native to Africa. How he ended up here in Nebraska is beyond me!
Can you click on the picture and help me identify the other animals in this picture?
Until we walk again …
I have the luxury of working from him which means my attire consists of running shoes, sweat pants, t-shirts and sweatshirts. Gone are the days of getting up more than an hour early just in order to apply make-up, wash and style my hair and stand in my closet thinking, “I have nothing to wear” for 15 minutes. I’m sure there are days my husband wishes I would do a little more with myself but then he remembers that I don’t need make-up to go feed the horses or impress the mailman who I see once a month.
When my grandmother was young, it was customary for a woman to get dolled up not only for church on Sunday but for everyday life. My grandmother and her mom always have on hand hair pins, curlers, rollers, clips and rubber rollers to do their hair. This was also back in the days of aprons and panty hose, both of which I don’t own.
And when getting up at 5 a.m. was customary in order to feed the animals, gather the eggs, milk the cow and start on a meal large enough to feed a small country, who had time to do their hair???
Until we walk again …
Socks have many eras. There were men’s dress socks, tube socks with stripes, leg warmers, socks that were worn scrunched down (two colors and two pairs at a time), knee socks, anklets and a whole slew of others. Ever had a pair of basketball socks that were supposed to stay up around your calf and the elastic either was getting old or they just plain wouldn’t stay up?
Many of us have grown up in the era where socks actually have elastic! Back when my grandfather was growing up, his father didn’t have that luxury so he had to wear men’s garters. I like to call these sock suspenders. The garter just went around the upper calf muscle and clipped to the tops of your socks to hold them up all day.
Makes you thankful for the advent of elastic, doesn’t it?
Until we walk again …
If you are reading this post and you’re a female, think back over the years to all the things you’ve done to your hair. Possibly cut it, dyed it, crimped it, curled it, permed it, hot roller’d it, straightened it, and if you had really kinky hair back in the 70s, maybe even used a clothes iron to iron it straight. I’m guilty of quite a few of these things, except ironing my hair.
And to think, the art of hair styling dates back to the 1870s when the smooth, center-parted styles of the Victorian era went “out of style” and a Parisian hairdresser M. Marcel Grateau created a new, natural-looking wave by turning a curling iron upside down. In 1872, Marcel had introduced his famous Marcel wave using a heated iron that imitated the natural curl of the hair.
Basically, you heated these tongs in a kerosene lamp and it made curls instead of a crimp. The one pictured here on the top is a Marcel iron, the bottom two are curling irons, one with a folding handle to make it easier to carry when traveling. Same with the irons – they were heated in a lamp and done one curl at a time.
We’ve come a long way since the Marcel iron…my flat iron has a “boost” button that heats it up in 10 seconds. Seems that beauty took a little longer back in the 1800s.
Until we walk again …
I mentioned a few posts back that in December, my dad had a farm sale. I noted the old 4020, the bigger combine, and all the semi trucks, but I failed to mention all the JUNK he dug out of who knows where. There were boxes and bins and piles on the ground, all available to the highest bidder. These are just the kind of boxes my grandpa has found collectibles in for the low price of $2.
But take a look in the background of this picture (on the right next to the shed) and you’ll notice a dust-covered 3-wheeler with a bench seat. Yes, three wheels, not four. And yes, I said bench seat. Dad welded a T-post to the back of this thing to hang pipe irrigation socks from. When it was too muddy, this came in handy to take to the fields to switch the water in the irrigation rows.
And when dad wasn’t looking, my brother and I used to hang on for dear life as we jumped terraces. And I’ll never forget the day my brother ran it into the gas tank and popped two holes in the leather seat. For once I wasn’t the one in trouble.
I never did ask dad how much this old thing brought at the sale but I’m sure it’s memory-making days are over.
Until we walk again …
I was going to play “Name that antique” but the power of Google was the victor. Most items that my grandparents have they can quickly identify, name the approximate year it was used or made, and tell a story about how someone in their family put it to work.
Not with this one. We had no idea when it was made, and our best guess was a coffee/tea or spice grinder.
We were right, for the most part. After a little searching, I found that this little antique Italian F&B Tre-Spade metal grinder was made between 1900 and 1909. Tre-Spade has been a family run business based in the North of Italy near Turin since 1894. Originally set up to produce ‘hot-forged’ hardware tools they began producing coffee grinders such as this one a few years later.
We even played “Smell that antique” to see if it had an identifying odor. Grandpa just said it smelled like old metal.
Until we walk again …
Learning your directions – is it innate or is it something you can truly learn. Some people just aren’t born with a good sense of direction. To highlight this, I have to tell a story of my mother, who on family vacation, was reading the AAA Trip Tick and said we’d be at the ocean in 20 minutes. Forty minutes later, no ocean. We’d gone 20 miles the wrong way and all the while, she thought she was following the highlighted line. She was banned from map-reading from then on.
I have always had an uncanny sense of direction. I can step off an airplane in any city and pretty much find my way. Like my internal mapping feature is always on.
I had to look at this picture to see if the sun was coming up or setting based on where the barn is in location to our house to know this was an evening photo. Now I’m giving away the fact that I have a short-term memory because I just took this less than a week ago.
But during a time of cold weather and bland landscape colors, the warmth of the sun on this leafless tree coupled with the dark red hues in the background made this winter day feel just a bit warmer.
Until we walk again …
Harvest season is behind us yet last night as I looked out our front window, this harvest moon graced the night sky. I did a little research about it and once every four years, it occurs in October in the northern hemisphere. Currently, the latest possible harvest moon is on October 11.
So I guess what I saw wasn’t a harvest moon, but just a brightly lit yellowish full moon.
It took my husband and I about 20 minutes of researching camera settings to get this just right so it didn’t look like a ball of fire against a black canvas. Thanks to Google, we figured it out.
That’s one of the many joys of living in the country – I feel like the moon and stars are closer to Earth here, unclouded by city lights and smog.
Until we walk again …
I’ve been sifting back through my memory, trying to figure out when in my lifetime I would’ve done this little game – and where I would’ve seen it. It was a close-up picture of something – extreme close-up – and you had to identify the photo subject. It could be a beehive, a strawberry or a button, but you had to really be creative to figure out what the bigger picture was. Do you remember those?
Driving down the highway the other day in farm country, I snapped this picture with my cell phone. I’m surprised it turned out this good going 65 mph … oops, I may have just given it away.
Can you guess what it is? Hint: it’s very common in big beef states like Nebraska.
It’s the side of a cattle truck.
I wonder how many cattle trucks New Yorkers have seen and yet for me, it’s at least a once-a-day occurrence.
Until we walk again …
I’ve done so much writing about my grandfather and his old farm equipment. You’ve seen his boots and his weathered hands, but you’ve never seen a picture of HIM. Well, here he is. This was taken at my dad’s farm sale in December and he’s standing in front of his 4020.
I say “his” because the most popular tractor of its time, the John Deere 4020 was the very first of my grandfather’s diesel-powered tractors. He bought it around 1965 and I bet if we dug long enough, we could find the bill of sale.
As I mentioned, the farm sale represented a sort of end-to-the-farming-era for my family. However, we couldn’t let this one slip away, so my brother bought this tractor to keep it in the family. My brother commented the day of the sale when I asked if he wanted more photos taken, “I don’t get all sentimental about this stuff like dad does.”
I think this photo would tug at a heart-string for anyone in my family.
Until we walk again …
I remember some of my first dolls: my home-made Cabbage Patch doll that grandma made, my Barbie with long blonde hair and a doll head that you could put makeup on and do her hair. I graduated up to store-bought Cabbage Patch dolls and Pound Puppies, got a pool for Barbie, and ended up cutting the hair on my doll head which got me into a heap of trouble.
But the hours I spent playing with those dolls.
This was my grandmother’s first doll. It’s made of rubber and stands only about 3 inches tall. I’m not sure how she played with this as a young girl – the arms didn’t move positions, you can’t put clothes on her and she definitely can’t go swimming.
I guess it taught grandma to really have an imagination.
Until we walk again …
Last week marked a quasi-sad day in my life…my dad had his farm sale. The entire north end of town was filled with wagons, trailers, trucks, tractors, implements, combines, and miscellaneous farm parts. It was a culmination of more than 40 years in the farming business, all sold in a matter of six hours.
Sitting on the lot were some of the things that made me proud to say I was a farmer’s daughter. He technically still IS a farmer — but you know what I mean. It was almost like a few of my childhood memories were sold when the auctioneer pounded his gavel and off the tractor went to a new owner.
In 40 years, I’m amazed at how agriculture has changed and how it continues to change. I guess I shouldn’t be sad because the equipment is going to other farm families, or to their children in hopes of carrying on the ag tradition, but it marked the end of an era for our family.
The sheds have been cleaned out, leaving room for another business to grow. And maybe it’s good to have a “cleaning day” here and there but for me, the sheer size of the sale was a bit overwhelming. Like doing spring and winter cleaning and tossing out your whole closet and starting new again. (Now that would be fun.)
I told dad he had to keep at least one tractor or my son would be forever disappointed. He did.
Until we walk again …
I know I said I’d only post about holiday ornaments and decorations before Christmas but what’s two extra days after? I hope all of you had a blessed, safe holiday. Our son was thrilled when he saw Santa had eaten the cookie we left out and that the commercials he’d seen weren’t true – there was still room in the stocking for gifts from Santa.
So on one final holiday note, here’s a German-made Santa that my grandmother has. It’s probably around 80 years old as well. I asked about the significance and I guess back in the early 1900s Germany was a large toy-making country.
To me, he looks a little like a gnome but maybe that was Germany’s take on the bearded man. And he looks a little cranky. But after squeezing down dirty fireplaces all night, I’d be cranky too. Ah, to believe in the magic of Christmas. That’s what having children has taught me – to believe in magic, that you’re never too old to imagine, and that dreams do come true.
Until we walk again …
Growing up, we always had a Santa and Mrs. Claus sitting on the coffee table. They were handmade out of fan-folded painted newspaper, felt strips and cotton balls. Thinking back, I’m glad we had the happy couple – Santa does all the hard work delivering the presents but who do you think keeps Santa jolly the rest of the year?
When my grandmother was younger, she and her brother had these cardboard Santas, so they’re aging in at 80 as well. This is definitely a toy to play with gently – one bad fall off a slippery roof and Santa would be missing a mid-section!
I’m sure these were handmade and over the years, they’ve had a few “improvements” and fixes.
3 days and counting!
Until we walk again …
The countdown has begun and I’m trying to continue all the holiday traditions for my son that I had when I was growing up. We have the calendar hanging downstairs and we pin a little ornament to it every day; the tree was up at Thanksgiving.
To celebrate the fast-approaching Christmas season, I decided to do a series of posts about old decorations. To aid my writing, I made a trip to Grandma’s house and rummaged through her china hutch.
One of the first things I came upon was this little Christmas tree made of plastic, prickly pipe cleaners and lights. She said at one time you could put a battery in it and the lights lit up. She had this tree when she was younger so it’s aging in at 80.
Do you have any decorations around your house that you just don’t have the heart to toss? Or ones that have been passed down through the years?
7 days and counting!
Until we walk again …
Oh, that’s right, there are no horses in front of this wagon – it’s just for decoration. Every year, my Grandparents pull this wagon out of the shed and into their front yard for Christmas and decorate it with running white lights on the wheels.
Horse-drawn wagons such as this were used to transport anything and everything on the farm. From being used when husking corn to hauling grain to the bin or hauling hogs to the butcher, this wagon was put to work.
One year, the lights were on the wrong way and the wagon was going backward. It was quite comical.
Until we walk again …
Ever wonder what farmers do during the winter after the crops are harvested?
We’re in a part of Nebraska where fields sits on hillsides, have terraces and curves. And, we have a lot of precipitation during the year, so this means top soil has the potential to wash away and end up in the creek bed instead of staying in the field where it’s needed. To help prevent that from happening, farmers can receive additional funds through the USDA’s Conservation Stewardship Program (www.ne.nrcs.usda.gov/programs/CSP.html) to install drainage tiles in their fields.
That’s what they’ve been doing the past couple of months, among many other things. On any drive within 60 miles from home, you could see dozers and back hoes hard at work. They’re parked now because the ground has frozen and it’s turned colder, but farmers were doing their part to preserve the integrity of the land and make it as optimal as possible for next year’s crop.
I’ve always heard that farmers are the world’s best environmentalists and they are.
Until we walk again …
I was at a loss for what to write about today and then Mother Nature stepped in and delivered the first snow of the season. Western Nebraska had between 6 to 8 inches on Saturday but we only had rain (and I’m not complaining). Today is a different story. We’re only supposed to get an inch, but it’s much-needed moisture for the fields. Farmers had been busy to the bone applying anhydrous the past month but activity in the fields came to a hault more than a week ago.
University of Nebraska-Lincoln extension specialists say that 12 inches of snow could provide farmers 0.8 to one inch of additional soil moisture in the soil profile. That moisture could make a difference of 8 to 12 additional bushels per acre of corn yield. That moisture is especially valuable to dryland crops and the irrigation farmer benefits from reduced irrigation pumping costs, too. Al Dutcher, state climatologist, says precipitation during the winter recharge period of Oct. 1 to April 30 is critical to Nebraska crop production.
I’ll put on my snow boots and drive on muddy roads if it’s helping the farmers. Let it snow!
Until we walk again …
« Previously Posted
Even though I work from home, I still elect to take our son to daycare for a number of reasons. First, so I can actually GET work done and not have to entertain all day; second, so he gets social interaction with other children his age; and third, so he appreciates coming home at night to mommy and daddy. This week however, the daycare he attends is closed. 
In this week's program you can listen in to my conversation with Bill Howard, Fastline, about their new mobile game app, AgRacer.
