Category: Texas Hill Country

Day 321-When I Look Upon the Sacred Cross

Each year as Easter rolls around, I find myself once again in awe of our Lord and Savior and the sacrifices He made for each of us. He created us beautiful and perfect in His sight, but we chose to turn our backs on him and follow in the path of sin. He spent centuries trying to bring us back by showing His power and wrath with floods, famine, plagues and destruction of the worst of us, but never all of us. He spared any that showed Him reverence and faithfulness at all. He continued to love us and when He realized that we were a foolish lot and these things only scared us back to Him for a little while, He chose another route.

He didn’t want to destroy us, but saw that through sin we were destroying ourselves. He took pity on us. He was and is GOD! He could have destroyed us and started over. He could have reached into our hearts and minds and changed them Himself, making us follow Him. He didn’t do that! He wanted a relationship with us. He wanted us to come to Him. He wanted to save as many of us as possible. He wanted us to want Him and love Him. He didn’t want puppets, he wanted children that came to Him in love and served Him in love.

There for He gave us grace.

Long ago He had established that the wages of sin was death. This was a death that would forever separate us from Him, and condemn us to an eternity of pain and suffering. He didn’t want to lose us all to this fate.

So once again He extended a hand to us in saving grace, the hand of Christ His only son. He sent him in the flesh, human like us, and able to feel and know our every pain and temptation. But yet fully divine and perfect and totally undeserving of the suffering He endures for us.

God could have done it any other way, but instead He chose to come to earth and become all that we were, except that He was sinless, in order to save us from all that we are even to this day, which is a sinful and totally undeserving people. He bled and died, was whipped, scourged, beaten and crucified that we might have everlasting life and have it abundantly. He died and rose again, conquering the grave so that our deaths might be a doorway to eternal life with him instead of eternal damnation.

He did all this out of love and a wanting and willingness to have a relationship with us. We did nothing to deserve this outpouring of love yet he freely gave it. We still do not deserve his love, grace and forgiveness, yet we have it and he continues to give it.

How sad it is that it took such drastic measures for us to realize that He wants us to turn our back on sin and follow him.

He didn’t have to die; He chose to do it for us. He chose to take our sins upon him. He could have just as easily destroyed us. Instead, He was able to “destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days,” (Matthew 26:61) hoping that we might finally realize who He is and all we mean to Him.

When I look upon the sacred cross,
My heart is broken in my chest,
My lungs are still, my breath a loss,
My soul to Him my one bequest.

He gave Himself for me his all,
That I might live instead of die.
My tears a flood begin to fall,
His pain, my grief and so I cry.

He owes me nothing, He is my God
My sins and burdens, He freely takes.
My life He spares with just a nod,
But with shame my soul still rakes.

Upon that cross He hung for all,
A sinful undeserving lot.
It took His life for us on our knees to fall,
And find the love that sin forgot.

As I look upon that sacred cross,
And see the pain He bore for me,
So that from Him I’d not be lost,
My eyes are open, I finally see.

His hand in grace He now extends,
With faith in Him I do believe
In God whose love has shown no ends
So His service I will never leave.

Day 299-Who’s Gonna Shoot the Dog?-A Humorous Anecdote About Last Wishes

So there they were watching a scene right out of a “Far Side” cartoon. Six red neck men who had it all figured out. They had a huge bon fire built-in the field. They had an air tight metal box that should be able to withstand the heat and keep the ashes contained. They had the dog rounded up and surrounded between them. And they had six shot guns in hand.

What a sight they were, with old straw hats on their heads, well-worn blue jeans, and faded pearl snap shirts. Each one staring at a frightened dog that had no idea what he had done wrong. It was all ready according to their plan except for two details. The first of which was who was gonna shoot the dog? The second detail should have been the first, but none of them were aware of it.

You see, it all began with 98-year-old Granny, whom had passed away three days earlier, leaving a large adoring family of country hicks behind, and a few last requests.

The thing about large families is sometimes they get spread out, and those not closest to home (Granny’s home) might not hear all the news in people’s lives back home. The bigger things tend to find their way down the grapevine. Some smaller events just might not be important enough to anyone but those directly involved, and so once dealt with they are forgotten and not passed along to everyone.

There is good reason for this too. Most of us don’t rightly care to get a holler every time Aunt Margaret has to have her toe nail cut out, Uncle John gets a fishing hook stuck in his behind, cousin Mark falls in the creek trying to walk and look cool for pretty girls, sister Jean’s cat dies because she plops her 50X behind on it, or one of Granny’s dogs dies. Granted these things are tragedies to those immediately involved, but the rest of us just don’t want to know.

Most of us aspire to that cliché, “ignorance is bliss” in such situations. Well there were those among us on this particular day that would have appreciated if at least one of these gems had indeed been passed along.

So anyway, three days earlier after Granny’s passing, all manner of red neck, country bumpkin relatives from everywhere Hicksville, USA, had descended on the old home place where Granny had lived to come pay their respects. It is truly amazing what a family reunion a funeral gathering can be.

As everyone became re-acquainted with one another, many stories and such about Granny were passed along. In the process, the subject of Granny’s last requests became a hot topic of concern. You see, Granny had every last detail mapped out for after her life from not only who got what and who got not, but what was to be said, sung, done and who was to be buried with her at her funeral. The only detail missing or so they thought was who was to carry out that one final wish, since it had to be done by the next day, in order to be ready for the funeral.
Granny’s final wish was that the ashes of her dog be buried with her. This caused quite a stir among all the relatives gathered there visiting.

My parents and I were at the funeral home seeing to the funeral arrangements, so it became clear to the gathered throng that they would have to handle this last request on their own. In amongst this band of cowboy, red neck, hicks sat Fred, Granny’s dog, alive and well and enjoying much attention, oblivious at this point to the pity he was receiving.
The first order of business was to decide how they were going to accomplish this doggy cremation, and worst of all who was going to have to shoot the dog so that he could be cremated. So sad a task they had in hand because Fred was still a good dog with years left in him, but they had to honor Granny.

Since Granny had hand-picked her six pall bearers, it was decided that they would decide how this would be carried out. Once all was ready, they circled up and drew straws on who had to put poor Fred down. In case the first chosen couldn’t do it, they would all bare arms and be prepared so that surely one of them would be able to carry out Granny’s last wishes.

That brings us back to where we were with all preparations ready and six red necks with shot guns circled around poor Fred, as he stared back at them wide-eyed and sheepishly. The rest of the gathered family watched from the house. Children cried and adults shook their heads and waited.

It was into this scene that my parents and I, returned from making Granny’s funeral arrangements. We had seen the bon fire behind the house and the crew standing around outside, but it really hadn’t concerned us that much. After all, what better way to reminisce then around a good fire?

We entered the house to find everyone watching through the windows, not outside around the fire. We knew something was amiss. Therefore, we questioned what was going on. One tearful child answered, “We are waiting to see who’s gonna shoot the dog?”

“Shoot the dog! Why on earth do they wanna shoot poor Fred?!” asked Mom.

“Granny wants his ashes buried with her. They can’t very well cremate him if he’s still alive,” the same child answered.

“Oh my goodness!” Mom exclaimed as she looked around with a new appreciation for this very surreal scene. Then it hit her and she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she couldn’t speak, and tears came to her eyes.

The crowd, turned to see what she could possibly find so funny about this obviously sad dilemma. Dad walked in as one of my cousins demanded to know what her hysterics were about.

“How can you possibly find the impending death of Fred so outrageously funny, have you no heart?”

“Death of Fred, the dog, why? He was fine when we left,” said Dad.

“Well they’re gonna shoot him, quick and humane like so as they can cremate him like Granny wanted. Just look outside. We were all watching to see who would have to do it,” said Uncle George.

“Oh no,” Dad said, running for the door, and throwing it open with a bang that startled the six-gun toting, doggy doomsday, do gooders of sorts.

Fred took this distraction and ran behind dad. “Its ok Fred, no one’s gonna shoot you today or any other day.”

“But what about Granny’s last request?” all six asked.

“Guess you boys hadn’t heard that Milo made that deal with Granny about three months ago,” Dad smiled.

“Milo, what do ya mean? Where is Milo?” they asked as Mom appeared in the door, having finally regained her composure, holding a small silver Erne inlaid with Milo’s picture, and engraved with his name, date of birth and death.

Fred reappeared, sitting himself in front of Dad now. I swear I saw him shrug in a sigh of relief, as he cocked his head to one side, staring at the harbingers of his past doom.
“I wish you guys could have seen yourselves standing in that circle, debating on who was gonna shoot the dog! My gosh, do you really think Granny would have made us bury a dog with her that was still alive?” Mom snickered and then burst into laughter again followed by many others.

Well since we had a bon fire to watch, we gathered around it to reminisce about Granny and the kids roasted marshmallows and weenies. Funeral or not, you can’t waste a good fire. Besides, that’s one camp fire story no one will ever forget.

As for Fred and Milo, well Fred died of natural causes at our house ten years later. He and Milo reside in a pet cemetery we started on the farm. You see, apparently the cemetery where Granny’s buried has an association and rules kind of like those neighborhood associations in them fancy sub divisions. Believe it or not, it has a no pets allowed in the occupants residences (graves) rule. Now don’t that beat all!

Day 222-Christmas Magic

When I was very young, my parents celebrated Christmas with us, steeped in German traditions that brought life and magic to the holiday. They went over and above in order to make the magic of Christmas real.

In our home the big celebration was an open house at my mom’s on Christmas Eve. On the 24th the house came alive with family and friends. There were decorations, a huge tree, tons of food, drink sweets, music, gifts and fun.

For us, the kids, all the wonderment began on Christmas Eve morning, but for my dedicated parents, the work began late on the 23rd. You see, my parents sent us to bed around nine o’clock on the 23rd in a house with not one decoration or obvious sign of Christmas, no tree, nothing.

When we awoke on Christmas Eve morning, the excitement and magic of Christmas had arrived at our house while we had slept. We came down the stairs to air-filled with the wonderful aromas of food cooking for Christmas Eve dinner. The house was decorated, and in the living room, was a Christmas tree that stood from floor to ceiling tall and almost as big around. It was fully adorned with decorations. In those days, the decorations consisted of beautiful glass balls and birds, golden garland, silver tinsel, and old-fashioned bubble lights, along with hundreds of colored twinkle lights which were ringed in little plastic star bursts. It was gorgeous, like a Christmas card in our living room. And best of all there were gifts of all sizes under the tree.

We were allowed to peak at the tree, but then the doors were closed and we weren’t allowed in again until time for gifts and guests. When we were older, we could help set the dining room table which was next to the tree, but we were not allowed to snoop around the gifts. Of course we couldn’t help but try to see names on the gifts as we worked, in such a way as to not get caught snooping. That was a tedious endeavor, I assure you. As soon as our work was done the door was closed again, and we were back to waiting.

The best part of this whole thing was the knowledge that Santa Claus had done it all, the tree, the gifts, decorated the house. He and his elves had been here while we slept. I know what you are thinking, “But Santa doesn’t start delivering until Christmas Eve.”

Well that’s right, but Christmas Eve starts at midnight, and it takes him all day since there are so many children in the world. And since he knew we had our Christmas that day, my parents had a standing agreement that he would come by our house before daylight on Christmas Eve.

I think the must have given him fresh turkeys for his Christmas table from my dad’s turkey farm each year to seal the deal because they quite often, got him to do special favors like this.

I remember quite well one of those favors he did for them. I was very young, perhaps 5 or 6 that particular Christmas. The day had transpired as I described previously. The extended family was there. We had read the Christmas story from the Bible and opened all our gifts.

I had wanted a bicycle that year, but there wasn’t one under the tree. We had begun to entertain guests and eat food. General merriment was being made all through the house; there was laughing and stirring but thankfully no mouse.
About half way through the evening, the door bell rang, as it had been doing all evening to announce more guests. I was told to open the door and so I did.

Outside on the step, there stood a brand new, red bicycle with training wheels. No one was there with it. Everyone I knew was in the room behind me watching. I heard jingle bells in the distance, and I searched the sky but never saw him, only heard the sleigh bells. Santa had made a special delivery, and was quick to be on his way so that I never saw him. I was excited and disappointed all at once.
I’m still not sure how my parents and “Santa” pulled that one, off and to this day, those who know aren’t talking. I do know it was probably the most exciting and memorable Christmas ever. The magic couldn’t have been more real that year. It was wonderful and fun.

After my special delivery had been safely ushered through the house to the utility room, where it couldn’t break anything if it fell over, the party continued as before. I looked out the window and up at the sky often that evening, never quite sure how Santa could get away so fast, and secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleigh somewhere in the sky. I never saw it, but then that’s what made it magic.

Day 145-Bull vs. Toyota-Livestock and Animals on Texas Highways

I saw something last night that has been a fear of mine for some time. Black Angus cattle are very hard to see at night. Quite often on my own road to the house, where I am already watching for them, I have come to a fast halt while rounding a corner due to one lying or standing in the middle of the road. Of course, I know they are there, so I am always watching for them.

Last evening we received a call from a concerned friend about a bull up by the old road side park on FM 965. They identified the tag, and luckily it was not our’s. We also located our’s standing in the field in front of our house, so we were doubly sure. We gave suggestions for other neighbors in the area that had similar animals.

A short time later a Sheriff’s deputy called us a second time, asking about the bull. I gave him the same information. At this point Brett and I decided to go up and see if we could lend a hand in any way.

From the time we got the call from the deputy, until the time we arrived on scene, which wasn’t more than ten minutes, things had taken a drastic change. We arrived to three sheriff’s vehicles with flashing lights blocking the road and we could tell by the debris in the road that an accident had occurred.

We pulled off the road in behind the last Sheriff’s car, and walked up to the scene to speak to the officers and see if we could help in any way. The bull was lying in the ditch alive but severely injured. Slightly in front of it, also in the ditch, was a white Toyota FJ Cruiser with the whole front end smashed in. The passenger’s side was the worst, obviously the main point of impact, but the vehicle was definitely totaled.

Apparently something spooked the bull and he ran across the median and straight out in front of the woman in the FJ. There was coolant and car pieces all over the road in her wake, but no skid marks that we could see. I don’t believe she even had time to react before impact.

The driver was still sitting inside the SUV with the door open waiting for the EMS to arrive, and a Sheriff’s deputy watching over her. Luckily the cab of the vehicle was completely intact and had held up well in the impact. The air bag had deployed, and most of her complaints injury wise were from the air bag and seat belt. Other than that she was distraught over having hit and injured the bull. She was actually more concerned for him than herself and was literally sick over seeing him lying in the ditch suffering while they tried to determine who he belonged to.

Shortly after we arrived one of the other cattle owners, that leases in the area pulled in behind us, and right after him the ambulance. The vehicle owner was treated and released at the scene with instructions to go to the ER if any symptoms worsened.

At this point, the second cattleman didn’t perceive the bull to be his. At the Sheriff deputy’s request I called another property owner in the  area to inquire if the bull might belong to him. After verifying the tag it was determined not to belong to him either.

Eventually after sending a picture of the tag to the previous owner, the neighbor on scene with us did verify that it was the bull that he had just moved in for a 3 month trial before buying. It was a very disappointing discovery for him, coupled with the fact that the animal should have been on the complete opposite side of the property no where near this road.  At this point he had no choice but to shoot the bull ending his suffering, and winch him up onto a truck bed to be hauled away. This was a very disheartening scene for all of us.

Folks I am telling you this story because this is an inevitability of rural Texas, or anywhere people raise livestock. Of course, this is a well used highway and the right of way is fenced all along it, but that is where we all get too  comfortable. Fenced or not, if there is livestock in the area we have to be vigilant. Deer  and wild animals are not the only creatures that may wander into the road ways in front of your vehicle. Domestic livestock do not always follow the rules even if they have fences, and in many rural areas, they are not fenced out of the roadways.

Cattle, horses, sheep, goats, llamas, and various others can and will get into roadways from time to time. Any of them can do damage to your vehicle and you if you hit them. Many of them come in dark colors that are hard to see at night. And the larger ones could cost you your life if you hit them at a higher rate of speed.

Don’t count on fences. Always watch your surroundings. If you see livestock in the area where you are traveling be careful and watch for them even if they appear to be in fenced in areas. No one expects a black bull to run out in front of them in the middle of the highway in the dark. If the animal is not facing you were their eyes catch the light, you may not be able to see them at all.

In this area of Texas, animals of all kinds are the rule, not the exception. If you haven’t hit an animal, at some point you probably will.  It is not your fault, it just happens, but driving with caution and being aware that you are in areas where animals roam, both domestic and wild, is your best defense. Altercations with livestock, are bad for everyone involved. Everyone is out money and property.

The woman last night was very lucky. Yes, her vehicle is totaled, but she came away, so far with what appear to be only minor injuries. There are people everywhere that have much different stories to tell, and some that are no longer here to tell their stories at all.

Don’t be reckless when trying to avoid an animal, swerving and skidding can be just as dangerous. Don’t depend fully on the protection of your grill guard either, smaller animals and deer may be deflected but larger animals are most likely not running as quickly and their larger mass doesn’t deflect away or under as well. In smaller cars you could just as likely end up with the animal in your lap as on the road after the collision.

Animals and livestock are a fact of life here in Texas and most rural areas, expect the unexpected.

Day 138-Focus Challenge 1-Comfort

It was suggested to me that the picture I posted of the hay field shrouded in fog, gave one of my readers comfort. It wasn’t actually a writing suggestion, but I decided to run with it anyway. Thank you, Mary Beth Lindig Kendrick.

When I originally posted that picture, I just liked it, and for me the fog suggested a bit of mystery, or even spookiness, yet beauty. My friend suggested to me that for her, it brought forth feelings of comfort. For her it was a sense of home, safety, and a blanketing of comfort. I had never looked at fog quite like that, but I definitely can see where she sees this, and it got me to looking at it a bit differently.

I began to think of the things we associate comfort with, and what comfort means.

By definition: (according to Merriam Webster)
First in the verb, it means: to give strength and hope; or to ease the grief or trouble of.
As a noun, it means: to be a strengthening support or assistance, solace; or a contented well-being; satisfying or enjoyable experience.

I believe we all understand and can agree on what comfort is in the first sense of comforting one in grief or stress, but comfort as a noun, is where we both agree and disagree. Or perhaps, not disagree, but instead, differ as to what it is or does for each of us.

For this discussion, let’s focus on the definition: as a noun. So the question is, what do we associate with comfort?

There is a wide variety of things that we associate with bringing us that sense of safety, solace, cheer, well-being, and all around stress and grief free feeling, if only for a little while? We use things such as food, clothing, places, activities and people to help us achieve that sought after sense of comfort.

Have you ever thought about what makes you feel comfort? Perhaps it is different things at different times or for different reasons?

Food is quite often a big one for many. We eat things that remind us of better and calmer times, when things were happy. Ice cream, chocolate, desserts, and even candy are often turned to because they were many times childhood rewards or treats for special times and occasions.  Certain dinners or dishes that mom or grandma used to make can also be sought after as comforts.

I like fried turkey steak, home-made oatmeal cookies, coconut cream pie, and red velvet cake with my grandmothers cooked butter cream icing. I grew up eating turkey steak because we raised turkeys my whole life. Oatmeal cookies remind me of hauling hay with our neighbors. Meta would always make a washtub (I kid you not) full of oatmeal cookies, with tea and lemonade for a break when we came to do their hay.  My Oma Birck (grandmother) always made coconut cream pie and red velvet cake for birthdays. They were two of my favorite things she made. Do you have comfort foods? What are they, and why?

A piece of clothing or a blanket may also create good feelings of comfort. Growing up in an old rock house, I was always cold because it held the cold in, so I was usually wrapped up in a blanket or six. Because of this, even in the heat of summer I don’t sleep well unless it is cool enough to be under at least a sheet and preferably a light blanket. But ironically summer clothes are my comfort clothes, because though I love my blankets, I don’t like being bundled tightly in anything especially not heavy clothes for winter. Shorts and beach dresses are my comfort clothes.

The beach, Enchanted Rock State Park, and the waterfall on our creek are some of my comfort places. Before E-Rock was a state park we went there on a regular basis to climb, run around, and play so it is a big childhood fun time memory place for me. When ever my family didn’t have time for big vacation trips which by the time I came along they were few and far between, we would go down to the beach and play around for a few days. The sand, the waves, and the sea shells are the best source of comfort and peace I know. They just seem to reach into my soul and relax me. The waterfall on our home place is a spot filled with family and friend memories throughout my life. We swam, bathed, picnicked, played, fished,and just hung out there. Often it was a good place to escape to think, write, cry and relax alone as well.

And to add to this list there is one place I love and that is Disney World. I have only been twice in my lifetime, but I found it fun and fascinating each time. If I could afford to go often and take my family it would be a comfort place as well, because it represents the best parts of life which is the magic of youth and imagination, where you can just have fun, be silly and ride the same ride five times in a row if you want to, before moving on to the next adventure.

Where are your comfort places? Do you still go to any of them? Why are they special?

Other things that give me comfort, are many of the beauties of the natural world, put there by the Lord for all to observe. Sunsets, sunrises, fields of flowers, large bodies of water, fields of hay, most baby animals, and my children, all inspire comfort and joy in my heart and soul.

Stop for a moment and reflect, what are your comfort things?

 

Day 108- Final Summer Week High Lights

August has just gone by in a blur. Football began on the third so things have been busy. Brett made Varsity this year, so that is both a “Yeah” and an “Oh my are we ready for this?” Varsity has a lot more parent involvement than the sub varsity teams did. So the short answer is, yes, Brett is ready and we are proud of him. I am not, but that’s ok, because here we go anyway.

I am ready for game nights though. We went to the scrimmage in Lago Vista, and it was so much fun watching him play again. I just pray all goes well with no injuries. That is always my fear. Seeing him on the field taking down other players is just so exciting. Go Billies! They play the Lampasas Badgers this Friday to kick the season off.

Chelsea took a week off work before school started again and came home. We had a real nice week together. Tuesday, she and I went to the San Antonio Zoo, the river walk and the Spanish market. We were crazy and walked all around to the places in the downtown area. We put over 8 miles on our feet in the 100 degree heat. I know, what were we thinking. The simple answer was we didn’t want to have to move the car and pay another parking fee. The real truth of the matter is I believe the heat got to us. We had a great time and ate at the Original Mexican Restaurant on the river walk.

We were absolutely exhausted when it was all over and barely made the drive home. We even had to stop in Comfort at the Luvs to grab another drink and walk around a little.

Thursday after the scrimmage we went to the Austin airport to pick up Chelsea’s boyfriend, Guy, after which we stopped at Jim’s at the Y to eat and still made it home at the same time Brett did. One side note to this evening, the road to Lago Vista is unbelievable. That area has their own built-in roller coaster system they get to drive on a daily basis. I would not want to live there and drive that all the time. Poor Chelsea got car sick just getting there. That road makes “Devil’s Backbone” on  Highway 12 outside San Marcos seem to be a cake walk. The drive was definitely an adventure.

Friday was nice. We attended the Fair parade and then met my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and great-nephew for lunch at Enchanted Inn. Later that evening we went to the Gillespie County Fair.

While touring the grounds, we walked, visited and talked, which is actually one of the bigger high lights of the fair. You see people you don’t see the rest of the year, or don’t have time to visit with any other time. Later Steve went to the car and got our camp chairs because chairs were in short order around the dance floor. We sat  off the edge of the floor where there was a nice breeze and we quite enjoyed it there. Friends joined us bringing in their chairs as well.

Saturday, after lunch at Porky’s we went to James Kiehl park on the river in Comfort and just played around in the water. Guy made a make shift fishing rod from a line he found and a stick. We had equipment with us in the car,but he found this to be more fun. He didn’t catch anything but did have bites stealing his bait, and he saw a needle nose gar swim by. He had never seen one before and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Later we returned to the fair with our chairs in hand to attend the dance.

Sunday morning we loaded up Chelsea and Guy and then went to a friend’s house, where we loaded up more stuff Chelsea had in storage there and sent to two of them on their way to Lubbock.  I always hate seeing her leave.

My mom and I had the opportunity to go see Fredericksburg Theater Company’s production of Greater Tuna. Mom has seen all but the Christmas Tuna from the original Greater Tuna plays and we were excited to see it here.

Before I say anymore about this, just let me say, that I love FTC and have never been disappointed in their shows. They are a top-notch group that Fredericksburg is so lucky to have. I am sure that all future performances will be just as award-winning as they have always been in the past. This is also not a direct reflection of FTC itself  or even the performers, only this particular play.

That being said, if you are sensing a ‘but’ in here, you are quite correct. Let me remind you that my mom has seen the originals, and she was ready to leave  this performance by the intermission. If we had we wouldn’t have been the only ones to do so. Most stayed through the whole performance, but there were some that left.

I had been so excited to see Greater Tuna because I had always heard so much about it both in media and from my parents, and I was so disappointed. This was so far below the standards of FTC. The humor was lame and lacking as was the story line. I did comment to mom at one point during one of the town news segments, that it was like watching an episode of the Doss News, which would have been more interesting. Shirley Lange could have written this and done a better job.

I read that they are planning to do the Greater Tuna Christmas as well. Honestly I think it would be better to quit while they are ahead, and go back to the type of magical stories and performances everyone is used to expecting and seeing at FTC. Yes it was sold out, but that was to be expected since they were per forming a play that had so much notoriety from its originals. As for Greater Tuna, mom and I agreed that this was just spoiled fish! Sorry if I offend anyone, you are entitled to your own opinion as am I, and this is mine and my  moms.

On the brighter side, at least mom and I had something to go do together, since we don’t seem to manage that very often. The evening and weekend ended well as we spent time visiting with my parents at Dairy Queen and then their house. And now it’s back to the grindstone with work and school returning. Have a wonderful school year all. Go Billies!!!

Day 49-Summer Farm Fun Like it Used to Be!

My week was fun and nostalgic for me.

My son has been spending his summer cutting, raking and baling hay. He has wanted to learn this for a long time and just so happened that his girlfriend’s dad needed some help this summer. God bless that rain.

Of course on the down side of this is the place they have been at this week, has rattle snakes, and he has killed two, three foot ones himself, and seen several others. The rattles are currently decorating my kitchen table. There was a small piece of snake on one that he cut off and tried to give to our cats to eat, but they were not having any of that. Seems even in small chunks they know what that is and to stay away from it.

We have made hay at our place this year for the first year in a few as well. My dad baled 109 total and is hoping for another cutting. The first 50 made it to the barn right after they were cut a couple of weeks ago because they were on the barn side of the property, but the other 59 only made it to the edge of the field before it rained again. These were the fields on the other side of the property. We are now in the process of moving them in.

What is fun about all this you may ask? Well, I am glad you did, and if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter because I am going to tell you anyway.

As a girl growing up out here, we raised turkeys (about 100,000 a year), cattle (40 head), and hay (sometimes 1,000 square per cutting, two cuttings a year when things were good). Because of this we were always hauling something, usually turkeys, feed, poop, or hay throughout the months from February to October. Back then I drove tractors and trucks and drug trailers and grain auger trailers for various activities around the farm.

Since the turkey plant burned in 1999, they have become a complete thing of the past. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not lamenting that very much, at least not for me, but my kids could have used a healthy dose of it some of those summers they complained of having nothing to do.  They could have enjoyed dust so thick you can’t see,  poop slung in your mouth, eyes, hair, face, other places by a flopping turkey, staying up all night loading out birds during a thunderstorm, getting up at 3:00 am to unload baby  birds; albeit, they were at least cute at that stage (the turkeys, not the kids, kids are not cute when they are woke up at 3:00 in the morning, trust me I remember, I was one of them).

The whole ranch smelled like crap all the time because dad used turkey poop for fertilizer on his hay fields. He used to say that nasty smell smelled like money. I told him he needed to wash his wallet more often, in bleach or some sort of industrial cleaner. He probably should have burned the wallet and got a new one each year.

Because of all this, tractors, truck and trailers were part of my daily routine. In fact I think it was a requirement of being in my dad’s family. Mom always said that dad should have married a man and had three boys, but instead he married her and had one boy and two girls which were quickly converted to a country wife and two tomboys. If there was a boy or man around that could do something out there, then we three ladies, and I use that term loosely, had better be able to do it too, or better. What about my brother? Well, he was/is a guy so that was just a given.

My dad taught all of us to drive tractors to haul feed to the pens, pick-up trucks to haul turkeys, feed, hay, fence posts, and whatever else needed hauling around the farm, and to pull trailers to haul hay out of the fields, as well as grain trailers to feed turkeys in the range  pens. We drove manual and automatic transmission vehicles. It was farm life, and just part of what we did. Trust me, there are many stories that can go along with these activities as well, but they are for another time.

Anyway, as I seem to have taken the long way around to the story of my week, the point is, I used to drive tractors for my dad and help with hay as a youth, but there really hasn’t been much call for me to do so in quite some time. The turkeys went away, and hay bales went from square to round. So the only real call to drive a tractor is when hay is being moved or cows are being fed.  Due to this, I haven’t driven the tractor in probably 27 years give or take.  Usually my dad, my husband or my son does whatever things need to be done that requires a tractor. Of course, I plan to change that because with my son working and not always around, and my dad getting up there in years, he’s 85, and my husband being on call for his job, it may mean that occasionally I will be the only one around to do what needs to be done.

It would seem I have gotten side “tractored” again, pardon the pun, but I couldn’t help myself. Of course that in a way is exactly what I did. In preparation to move the bales to the barn, we walked over to the field where the tractor had been left after moving the bales off to the side, so that the field could be fertilized. From there, Steve drove and I rode standing up on the side all the way back across the pasture and over to the barn. It was a blast. I haven’t done that in so long I can’t even remember the last time. I don’t know what it is, but there is something so mentally relaxing about just riding along on a tractor.  I have to laugh at myself too, because the song, “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” kept running through my head.

That was just such an enjoyable, relaxing evening. I am ready to do it again.

Last night, Steve borrowed Bryan Moellering’s larger tractor to load the bales onto Steve’s goose neck trailer, and then my dad used his tractor to load them into the barn after we brought them over and literally push rolled them off the trailer. That is a task that sounds easier than it is. Thank goodness Steve parked the trailer on a downhill slope to let gravity help. Even with that it took some doing. It’s kind of funny, because you think big round object, it should roll. Fifteen hundred pounds doesn’t roll easy, round or not. Once it hits the ground, there is no budging it, especially if it is a little dip. Nope, it is just not happening. Thank goodness for the tractor.

My phone camera does not do selfie’s because the camera is on the wrong side, so I could not get a picture of Steve and I riding on the tractor across the pasture Wednesday evening. Therefore, I took a picture of White Lightning loaded down with eight bales of hay as we moved them last evening. I wish I could have also captured the eight deer that were further down the field past the hay bales grazing, totally uncaring about us and all the noise we were making. Anyway, Lightning gets the prize, he gets to be my story cover photo, and he worked hard and has more to do, so he deserves it.

The fun begins again this evening as Steve gets off work, and then I will catch up to him when I get off. I am just a bail guide in the field when he is loading them on the trailer, and a pusher when we are unloading, but it’s fun. It reminds me of the old days of summer from my youth. Kids miss out on so much not having 100’s of square bales to haul each summer. We would haul the hay, and then go jump in the creek afterwards. Now that was a summer day!