After celebrating the Fourth with family, we left our house in good hands, and packed the car to go to the farm for July and August. We took so many extra things that it was difficult for us to get it all together, and nearly impossible for Larry to pack it into the car. It was one of those times when he needed to roll the back windows down in order to stuff more in! We were concerned how I would endure the ride since it was only three weeks past back surgery, but we stopped six times for me to get out and walk a few steps to stretch. Thankfully, although the ride took longer, it went smoothly.
I want to tell you about my healing process because we have amazing bodies. The first few days after surgery, I needed to be helped doing most everything, from getting up or down from any sitting or laying position, and even being turned over in bed. Believe me when I say that back surgery isn't for sissies! Larry watched the nurses caring for me, and then was able to help me at home. I better add here that he was also a wonderful and patient caregiver! But here is what I thought miraculous: By the end of the week I could do all those things myself!
Being severely limited at first may seem like fun: No cooking, no doing dishes, no cleaning. Actually, no doing anything but watching TV, reading a little, or on the computer. A call or visit from the kids, grandkids, or friends helped immensely, but I had a short attention span. I became a big baby. A real whiner butt. I am used to being active, and I couldn't stand the boredom. It was worse than the pain.
Larry got so he smiled and said, "Here we go again," when I started telling him how bored I was. The days were so long! In the evening we would watch a recorded Hallmark movie or one Larry rented. Then about 8:30 or 9:00, I would start to tire and fall apart emotionally from a long day of struggle. That is when he would have to hear me complain with tears, "It is only 9:00! What am I going to do for an hour before it is time to go to bed?!" Our son, Jason, said that he can't remember having 10 minutes to be bored. It is something to be thankful for!
Eventually, I became a little stronger and the fog started clearing from my brain. Off pain meds and onto Tylenol. Without much help, I made breakfast or lunch! With every new accomplishment, I was excited like a kid. I had noticed in the mirror that my face was set in a permanent expression of determination. Then one day I felt somewhat relaxed and happy! Life was slowly getting back to normal.
Of course, there was some humor now and then. Like when Larry brought me home one of those reacher/grabber thingies late one afternoon because I'm not allowed to bend to the floor and he was having to pick up after me. The next morning, I dropped something on the bathroom floor and I thought, "I'll not bother Larry and go get my grabber." It was on the floor! When I told him, we both had one of those long belly laughs!
Getting back to the farm, the very first day Larry brought me in some zucchini and I was able to process them in the Vitamix and freeze a few containers for the future. Then, the next morning, I made zucchini pancakes for breakfast. The following two days, he picked gooseberries and set out the large kettles for me, and I made 23 jars of gooseberry syrup! Life was getting good again!
Do you feel overworked? Too much to do and not enough time to do it? I can't remember the exact words, but I know that the Bible tells us that work is a good thing. How true. I know it will be quite some time before I'll complain about it again!
Thanks for listening, friends, and let's meet here soon. In the meantime, enjoy being able to do whatever is before you. Yes, work is a good thing!
Why would you want to go out to eat when you are able to fix dinner yourself?!
A couple years ago, we took a wonderful trip to Ireland, and of course, we needed to kiss the Blarney Stone like everyone else even though it is a ridiculous moneymaking tradition. The grounds were beautiful, and we enjoyed our walk to the castle. Like others we’ve toured, it was missing its roof and it had just rained. Wouldn’t you think it would be roped off until the steps dried? No, and no one seemed to worry about that except me. Young and old climbed the slippery spiral staircase made of uneven, rough slabs of granite, while clinging to a large rope for a handrail. At least I was clinging. Every now and then we needed to turn loose of that rope and grab another. It was scary for me. I clutched my new iPad tightly so as not to drop it, with hopes of taking Larry’s picture as he kissed the stone.
Well, we finally made it to the top along with a lot of other people, and I got a good photograph of Larry. When it was my turn, I had to use mind control as I don’t like to lean over anything, let alone backwards. I also noticed that the two men who lowered me over were old. I couldn’t help but think it would be a fine time for one of them to have a heart attack! When they brought me back up, they said I could turn loose of the bar now and take their hands – more than once. I told my fingers to turn loose, but they just wouldn’t get the message. I thought someone was going to have to peel them off. All this while others were waiting their turn.
Then it was time to go down. I turned to the much younger couple behind me and apologized for being so slow. The nice lady said not to worry. She said that while coming up, she kept telling herself that if I could do it, so could she!
I hadn’t realized how much the climbing and wet uneven steps had played on my nerves. When we got to the bottom, Larry said, “I wonder if that couple behind us had every heard those words before.” Thinking of my father’s train of expletives that were stuck in my subconscious, I said, “Oh no, what did I say?” It seems that in my stressed-out condition I had said, “Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive!”
Now what does this blog have to do with gardening or farming? Not a single thing. It has to do with existing. I’m a week and a half into back surgery recovery, and I’m often hurting, bored, emotional, or all three. Besides, I’m addicted to blogging and need a fix! So, thanks for letting me share a memory of better times while I wait to be well enough to go to the farm. I’m certainly missing it and can’t wait to see our corn, potatoes, and gardens even though they will be full of weeds. Oh, and I’ll understand if you think this blog is full of blarney!
The people of Ireland keep their land clean and beautiful. Makes me proud to be mostly Irish!
I had a heavy heart for about a month as I needed to make a decision about having back surgery. An area of my back has caused me some trouble for years, but I babied it and sat and slept with a lumbar roll. Then last fall, I stepped in a hole. Since the pain was in my leg instead of my back until lately, it had me fooled. I wanted to wait until fall for surgery, but finally had it on Friday, which means I'm out of commission for this growing season, and you know how much I love growing and harvesting our food. It also made me cry to miss my granddaughter Katie's senior piano recital and graduation, but realizing how much the pain escalated the last two weeks, I'm thankful I didn't wait another day, let alone until fall.
Everything in life is an experience, though, and now I know about the wonderful nursing staff at Immanuel hospital in Omaha. Thankfully, there are people with the much needed talent and compassion to take care of us when we need them. We had a great time together, joking and laughing through the pain and humiliating loss of privacy.
Now that I won't be able to do farm work this year, especially the important harvesting and preserving, I'm more open to the new role the farm will play in my life. Larry and I have been slowing down considerably, anyway, so an attitude adjustment was inevitable. Somehow, I've thought I must be the only person in the world who has too much to do, learn, and experience to get old. I've been mad that I wasn't 10 years younger, so I could work longer on the farm. Yes, there is always another type of tree or vegetable I want to plant for the first time.
I've often ended my blogs by telling you that we should meet here again, soon, to learn about something or another, but this time, I'll have to admit, I haven't a clue what that will be. I'm only interested in my next pain pill, and if I'll ever have another bowel movement. As I've mentioned before, "This too shall pass” or ”Just take me out and shoot me" or "What kind of a plan is that?" Take your pick!
Here, I'm doing "laps" up and down the walkway on our upper level. It is nice to have something to hang onto.
My newest "best friend" is my back brace. It holds me together and gives me confidence that I'm going to make it. I also have a patient private nurse named Larry.
If you are reading my blog for the first time, you missed a series I did on saving our old buildings. It has occurred to me that I haven’t written about one aspect of neglect that we encountered and perhaps it could be a helpful reminder to someone. You see, when buildings are abandoned, shrubs and trees start growing up close to the foundation, and eventually push it in causing cracks and leaning. The men had to first cut away a lot of this growth before beginning repairs on all our buildings.
I want to tell you about a building we still haven’t tackled that has this problem. It is located right next to the barn and was one of my favorites when we first came; maybe because of all the unusual things we found in it. A neighbor told us that it was built by a gravel company and used to repair their machines as they worked nearby. Thus, we call it the pit. We would like to rebuild on the foundation, if possible, because a lot of it is below ground level and would be perfect for a root cellar and other uses. However, time for doing extra hard work is running out on us old folks, so our immediate goal is to get the roof off as the asphalt shingles are beginning to blow all around.
The cleanup: Here is a photo of the inside after a lot of junk had already been removed. Interesting to me were the shelves of magazines, a sewing machine, wood shavings on the floor, and children’s toys. In my imagination, someone later used this for their hobbies while children played at their feet. OK, they probably just dumped their junk there before leaving! Eventually, we completely cleaned it out and it is very roomy with easy access. The tool bench was built to last, and Larry sometimes uses the vise on it. Granddaughter Erin used it to store hay for her animals.
Maybe you can tell on this similar photo that the left wall is leaning in, so let’s meander outside and find the cause.
The men had cut down this tree the previous fall, but inquisitive Todd wanted to see just how the culprit did the damage. Notice that someone had painted the end of the pit and just enough of the side so that it looked finished from the house!
Now we can see firsthand a root the size of a large tree branch growing parallel to the wall and pushing it in. What a shame!
It was a wonderful, fulfilling feeling to have saved some of our old buildings even though we tend to be perfectionists and would have preferred everything new. However, it is doubtful we can even use the foundation of this one. It is a reminder for us all, though, to check around our house and buildings to prevent such a dilemma.
The first summer we had the farm, which was five years ago, we were extremely busy doing cleanup, but managed to plant a few potatoes and some sweet corn in the kitchen garden. It was very exciting for us to have some land and to plant even on such a small scale. I remember when Larry told me there was some old hay in the loft we could use around the potatoes, I thought, “We have hay?” It was like a dream. Later, when the potatoes came up, I was concerned that when I left, the potato bugs would take over. Larry said they didn’t even know we were out there yet! He was wrong, and we managed to harvest wonderful Yukon Gold potatoes. They were the best we had ever eaten.
We’ve had a drought in the area around our farm, but there were a couple good things that came out of it. There are few mosquitoes or chiggers which set me to puzzling over if a drought lasted long enough, would they become extinct? Or, would we?
Anyway, if you have been wondering if the drought caused a shortage of potato bugs, don't fret. We have discovered that when the grasses are dead, it leaves room for those horrible yellow sticker bushes to grow, and grow they did. Guess what? Potato bugs love sticker bushes, too. At first, Larry thought that only the “learning disabled” bugs were on them, but not so. I found one or two on practically every large sticker bush I whacked off this weekend, and I’m talking about hundreds. They would probably be called yellow sticker bush bugs if it wasn’t so hard to say.
A potato bug is the cutest little thing, if bugs can be cute, and I actually like to do bug patrol. I take a large cottage cheese or yogurt container filled with water and a squirt of dish soap, walk down the rows until I spot one and swish him off the leaf into the water. They are often mating and I can get two at a time! They lay their eggs on the leaves where a beneficial lady bug might come along and eat them. Last patrol, I got over a hundred, but saw only one lady bug. I’m not counting on that plan!
Look at that cute little face! Time for a bath!
Beautiful potato plants.
Here is a photo of the first digging of Yukon Gold potatoes last year. The skin is so tender, all one needs to do is scrub them before cooking.
Side track: Do you ever think, “What if?” We play that game quite often. Example: “What if you couldn’t get seed potatoes next year?” My answer is that I fill a couple egg cartons with egg sized potatoes and keep them in the fridge. Yes, it works!
I’m 72 and my husband, Larry, will also be 72 next month. A few years ago, I learned that when we get older, men start to lose their ability to hear higher tones, women’s voices, and women lose the ability to hear lower tones, men’s voices. That was the first time I remember saying, “What ... kind ... of ... a … plan ... is that?” It seemed to me that we had spent years melding into compatibility, somewhat, and now we had this new problem. Well, just take me out and shoot me. That, dear friends, has become another of my little expressions.
Now, I find I’m often saying, “What kind of plan is that?” I say it often, because it often fits! Have you noticed such things? You don’t need to go into serious world problems, but just everyday situations around you. Example: Our little farm is in a drought area. We were more than thankful last week when 2.7 inches of rain gently fell within a 36-hour period. However, just a little farther away, they got 7 inches and it washed away a small bridge, etc. What kind of plan is that? I would have given them 1 inch a week for seven weeks or saved a couple for July or August.
Notice our swing floating in the water in Sappa Creek along the edge of our property. It is normally a shallow spring-fed stream, but it rose drastically to nearly 10 feet from all the rain nearby.
Then there is the garden. You buy the seeds, do the work, and the bugs come and eat it. What kind of plan is that?
You plant fruit trees, and just when they blossom, you get a heavy frost or freeze that kills the fruit for the year. What kind of plan is that?
Need I go on? I asked Larry if he could remember more of my examples. He said that he had a good one right on the fringe of recall, but he couldn’t quite bring it up. I said, “What kind of plan is that?”
All of the above to tell you that this past weekend, I was surveying my kitchen garden at the farm, and noticing all the tiny plants popping out of the ground. Hope! As I was thinning out the kale and chard, I realized I felt a different type of happiness and peace. I’m sure all you gardeners understand what I’m trying to express. It got me to thinking about how our lives have changed since buying the farm and planting everything we could think of and had time for, and how we are now reaping the rewards.
I realized that all the wonderful organic food starts in the early spring with the lettuces, mint and asparagus. Now it is strawberry and gooseberry time. Then as the summer goes by, we will be canning green beans, freezing sweet corn, and digging potatoes. Hopefully there will be carrots, zucchini, cantaloupe and cucumbers. We should have pears and peaches, and cherries are setting on for the first time. In the fall, there will be apples, acorn and butternut squash, onions and pumpkins. I’m sure I left out other foods, but my point is that it doesn’t all happen at once. Not only do we get to enjoy one fresh food after another, but it gives us time to can or freeze each crop instead of everything needing attention at the same time. Now that, dear friends, is a plan!
Do you like to knit or crochet? I crochet some, and have made a baby afghan for each of our nine grandchildren. But, since I don't crochet often, it was a labor of love each time.
Following the maze of directions is what is difficult for me. My mother taught me to crochet when I was young, and she always explained each pattern. It is far easier to just do it, than getting lost while reading all that repetitious lingo. However, after figuring out how to do the more difficult eighth and ninth baby afghans, I have a little more confidence in understanding the instructions.
#8 _ A pink one for Sophie Kate makes eight!
#9_ A blue one for baby Elliott.
Unfortunately, and believe me, it is unfortunate, I'm also a bit of a perfectionist, and often do something wrong and have to rip out a bit. Some people can leave in a mistake, but I can't. That is why I'll never crochet a big afghan. If I had to rip out such long rows, I would probably put it away and never finish it.
Here is what I've come up with: During the next few years, I'm going to try (I said, try) to crochet for the future. I think it would be fun to make a few baby afghans, wash, box up nicely, and have them ready for my great-grandchildren! Don't you think that a splendid idea?! Can't you just see this frail old lady ... (Larry says he can't quite see me as frail) ... OK, can’t you see this pleasantly plump old lady at the baby shower when my granddaughter opens a present of a pretty, soft, baby afghan? She'll half whisper in surprise, "Grandma, did you REALLY make this?" and I'll say, "Sure did. Just whipped it up last week!"
The is the first one to stash away. I need to learn a new pattern!
Actually, I have the first one finished already. It is yellow and cheerful, and it was so fun to make while thinking about the sweet little baby that will be snuggled in it someday! When I showed it to Larry, he said, "What makes you think our first great-grandchild will be a girl?" Oh oh! I guess I'd better buy some blue yarn and get started on the next one. I'm not very fast, but I'm in luck. None of my grandchildren are even married yet!