A Veritable Forest

“Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.”  ~ Warren Buffet

 

That someone who planted a tree a long time ago will be us Armstrongs.  Last year we planted 20 Austrian Pines along the south end of our yard.  They seemed to do well, even in the drought and the freezing winter months.  

 

This weekend, we bought forty more Austrian Pines.  We will use them on the other sides of the yard.  Anyone who knows rural Kansas knows the term "windbreak".  Why not have a pretty one?  

 

 Of course, this manual labor of planting and watering won't be an instant solution to the wind and the "Let's make this place pretty." concepts.  Nevertheless, someone, someday, will hopefully enjoy the wind whispering through the pine trees on this property. 

Here are some pine trees we planted eleven years ago when we first bought the property:

 And finally, one of the Capitol Hill Oaks that survived the squirrel ambush early this spring:

Friday in Rural Kansas

Our morning began at 3:30 am, when the bridge crew arrived down the road, along with a slew of cement trucks.  The bridge is at the end of our property, 1/4 mile down the road.  Close enough to awaken the Bloodhound.  Who, in turn awakened me with his bay:

"Trolls!  There be trolls on yonder bridge!!"

I got up after about 15 minutes of hearing Beau bay.  In my stupor I thought a car was in our yard, parked with its lights on bright.  Somewhere in my early morning stupor I also thought coyotes were involved.  Heh.  It was actually the bridge folk and their nighttime lighting.  It looked like daylight down there!  It was amazingly bright.  The cement trucks arrived in droves, and in order to back down the road a quater of a mile to the bridge, they all had to make a T-turn in front of our house.  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP...  in front of our house for the next couple of hours!  

Beau continued sounding the Troll-On-Bridge Alarm for 30 minutes, until that Spouse o' Mine got up and shut him up in the barn.  Beau was silent, but then, the two of us were awake.  And so our morning started...

That Spouse o' Mine went to work.  ("Wow," I remarked, "You'll be home by noon!")  As soon as a smidgeon of sunlight peeked above the horizon, I went out on a 2.5 mile jaunt.  Still dusky-dark, so pretty, and peaceful, and (the operative word) COOL.  I could hear the coyotes howling their morning greetings all along the creek just to the east of me.  They sounded in fine fettle.  A mile into my walk/run and a raccoon ran out into the road just in front of me.  Hmmm..much consternation on my part: is he rabid and will he chase me?  And what is the speed of a rabid raccoon?  And what is my speed in terror? 

Happily, Raccoon meandered away from the road and into a neighbor's pasture.

I returned home and commenced painting the west side of our house: trim work: priming.  So much to do, but I think I can see the wee distant light at the end of this summer tunnel.  With a house this old, sometimes it feels like one step forward, two steps back.  Now, I would never trade an old house with character for a newer home with no issues.  (Never say never - I know, I know.  Call me when I'm 90?)  But as I primed some window trim, I saw that a few ancient panes (the ones I love) are in need of re-glazing.  A call to that Spouse o' Mine, and an errand this afternoon by him, and I am in good stead for learning how to reglaze window panes.  Interestingly, I have saved all my old, old Martha Stewart magazines (the GOOD ones, where we actually learned from tutorials like this) and I know there is one article somewhere about old windows in old houses.  Oh - and the ancient panes I love?  The oldest ones where one can see how the glass has settled.  You see, glass is not a solid something.  It moves with age.  Wavy glass is old glass.  I have wavy glass in my house.

Last night a man named Mr. Songs came over to mow our pasture of brome (hay).  Tonight a man I shall call Sam is over, windrowing our hay.  I shall call him Sam because that's not his real name, and last night my 22-year old son admonished me for calling him Crazy Sam.  As in, "Tonight Mr. Songs came over to cut the hay and tomorrow Crazy Sam will be by to windrow."  "Mom, you really shouldn't call him Crazy Sam."  "But that's how he is known in these parts."  "But that is no good reason why you should call him that."

Ooh.  Corrected by my adult child.  He is right, though.  And so I stand corrected.  I guess I raised my kid right.  And...I am falling into an abyss of bad manners.  It's the summer heat, I tell you.

This week I renewed my Rec Center membership for the university natatorium.  (Read:  Let's go swim!)  I feel so good after a few laps in that pool.  I sleep better, too.  Highly recommended for anyone.

Here's the BEST recommendation I will come up with regarding swimming:

 There is nothing in the summer swim world more fun than a couple of kids with which to frolic!  I can go hours in a pool if I have a kid to be silly with.  This is me with my niece Amy, and her two fun daughters, Addison and Lilah.  What an active evening in the pool.  Thank you, Amy, for insisting I bring my swimsuit to this wedding reception!           

The Secret Garden

This is my vegetable garden:

It really looks awful.  It looks like there is more brome grass (hay) in there than anything else. 

But looks are decieving:

I planted only four tomato plants this spring.  I did not anticipate the 10-20 volunteer tomato plants that greeted me yesterday.  Or this one:

This is either a volunteer zucchini, pumpkin, or (what I am really hoping for...) a white acorn squash.  It's like Christmas in July, waiting to see what appears on this vine!

Yesterday the temperature was 105º.   The heat puts me in doldrums.  I get up at 5:00 am, go out as soon as the sun peeks up from the horizon, and by 10:00 am, I am done.  Homebound for the duration of the day and evening...

Autumn cannot arrive too soon. 

My Summer Vacation

Was it the tequila?

Perhaps it was the residue of "weed".  (I prefer to refer to it as marijuana.)

Was it the impromptu union of several personalities: a physician, his wife, a nurse, a terrifically funny gay guy, a woman my own age, with her own way of thinking... was this the highlight of my summer vacation?

Was it the presence of youth?

Under-age youth?

Was it the impromptu union of unlicensed, underage youth, with tequila bottles and marijuana (I just learned how to spell that) residue in the SUV that struck my "going-to-Colorado-for-a-short-vacation-all-by-my-lonesome" Volvo station wagon, and rendered it:

TOTALED:

I am fine.  Really.  Fine.  I went to church tonight, Saturday night, because I had some Thanksgiving to do.

I am going to do a "Take Two" on this vacation idea in a couple of weeks.  As College Boy Graham so eloquently put it, "Yea, that's sort of a buzz-kill on a vacation, isn't it?"   

Martin Meets a Turtle

 And finally, the turtle wandered away from all the excitement...