Monday, May 22, 2023





All the same.  A big deal, in a large gymnasium or football field, to embrace and then send off the graduates.  Those young adults are commencin' to become!  

High school graduation holds hopes for students looking at their immediate future in their community, be it college life, or retail, mechanical, electrical, agricultural.  These young adults are commencing to embark on a new chapter - hopefully, something that they will fondly remember some decades from now.  And hopefully, these new chapters will involve us, the community, and how we need and appreciate our new members of Manhattan society.   

I graduated from Oklahoma State University with two degrees, with grad school at UConn, none of which I followed, and yet, I flourished, somehow, through a wealth and a dearth of gainful employment.  The career path was never clear to me.  I have friends who went right from Uni to their chosen accounting corporations, never to waiver from that frame.  I have friends and family who took their diplomas and returned to their homeland, the generations-rich farms that they wholly embraced as their next chapter.  Omigoodness, all my friends and family who took their education degrees, and the bits in their mouths, and made such a difference in so many young lives.  I have friends who saw that rainbow at the end of nursing school, and med school, and have followed their path for decades. 

 And the rest of us, that seemingly meandered through education as if it were a buffet (me), who tested the waters of every potential employment creek and river.  So many of us, mainly mothers, opted for the SAHM acronym, and in my experience and opinion, WHAT A GREAT DECISION.  I have never looked back at my decision.

Too, self-employment has served many of us very well.    

It does "take a village".  Our communities, and within the boundaries, come all the wants and needs of which we expect.  I have a good physician.  I have an amazing (and patient) electrician.  I really love our librarians.  I really, REALLY appreciate our trash men.  Really.  Our farrier, our pastor, our veterinarian, our tire people, omigoodness: THE GROCERY STORE EMPLOYEES.  Our hay man!  The horticultural folks every spring, summer and fall.    

And so, commencement is here, and now.  Let's usher in all the newly grads from high school and colleges. 

Thursday, January 26, 2023

January Morning

 My winter morning involves an outdoor temperature well below the frozen mark, and a fuchsia sky of pre-dawn.  A smattering of snow.  So nice.

The cacophony of snow geese on the Kansas River can be heard in the dark.  After sunrise, they will rise up in a swirling vortex, to dip and land and rise up again, from one cornfield to another, for most of the day.  Hundreds, if not thousands, of migrating geese, and not one air traffic controller.  I never, ever tire of watching them swoop and swirl in concert.  And what are they all honking about, I wonder?

There are all sorts of animal tracks out in the snow: big ol' coyote paw prints, a smaller set - most likely a fox.  The deer have made a thoroughfare through our pasture, as evidenced by the multiple hooves going back and forth from the road down to our creek.  The brush pile is trimmed with bunny tracks: hop, hop, hop! in the snow.  I think the brush pile is a warren: no burning of brush this winter!  And near every tree and bush are teeny, tiny little prints of hardy birds, scavenging for seeds and thistles for sustenance.

The north wind!  There is a Scottish term - "the wind is lazy", which means the wind will go straight through you; it is too lazy to go around.  On our north porch is a wind chime, and its one rod is very large, so that the clapper sound is much like the gong from a clock tower.  We don't hear it often; most of our wind emanates from the south or the west.  What I have been hearing the past two days, in duet with the snow geese, is the perpetual gong reminding me that the north wind is strong, and lazy, and very cold.

(An aside:  When we first moved to rural Kansas we had a standard-issue wind chime.  In a normal environment, its gentle tinkling sound could be enjoyed now and then, as a slight breeze might go past.  After I hung it outdoors in our new digs, it only took a couple of hours of constant jangling, shattering, dinging, before I took it down.  It was AWFUL.  When I found the giant wind chime, I knew it was bound for our Kansas home on the Tall Grass Prairie.)  

And so, my winter morning begins.  Time to pull on my winter gear and head out for a walk.

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

Mid-August, and Bearable

 What a terrific mid-August day it has been: sort-of-coolish, misty-moisty and overcast.  I observed that my Bird of Paradise plants are thriving today.  I haven't seen them look so "relaxed" all summer.  I guess this is my clue to bring them indoors until the triple digits and high-90s abate.  (Who knew??)

I went to a neighbor's for coffee this morning.  (Neighbor: 5 miles away?)  A nice gathering, which we have not done often enough during the past two years of Pandemic.  

On the tails of that, I went to a church women's Circle meeting.  I can't say that it was uplifting, at all, at all.  Too many sad and tired and trying stories.  Discussion about the aging folks in our congregation, Parkinson's, hospice, and so on.  It's difficult to try to raise the bar a bit with regards to positive conversation and interaction.  

And so, I came home to my little oasis, with happy cats and a happy German Shepherd Dog.  Happy Huz came home and we have chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven. 

THE OVEN!  Something we do not regularly use in August.  And I clipped off some rosemary from my 2022 raised garden beds, and I smell them wafting, up to the second floor here, of our rural Kansas home.  

I suppose I should take some photos of my raised garden... something that seemed folly in early Spring looks to be a success.  Ha: Right by our Jed Clampet swimming pool.  (Not cement.)  


Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Everything's Up-to-Date

Tuesday, and I am back from Kansas City.

Everything's Up to Date in Kansas City

I just love the choreography in this clip of 1955's Rogers & Hammerstein's OklahomaGene Nelson as Will Parker was terrific, and omigoodness: Charlotte Greenwood as Aunt Eller was THE BEST.  Her acting cannot be improved upon, in my opinion.

This R & H musical, Oklahoma, was based on the play Green Grow the Lilacs, written by Lynn Riggs in 1931.  Lynn Riggs was from Claremore, Oklahoma.  His play was set outside Claremore, Indian Territory, 1906.  

So was Patty Page:
Tennessee Waltz
How Much is that Doggy in the Window?

And if you were to drive through Claremore, Oklahoma this week, you could toodle down both Patty Page Boulevard, and Lynn Riggs Boulevard.

Where am I meandering?  I'm not sure.  I grew up seventeen miles from Claremore, Oklahoma. 

Ah!  I know where I am going: 
I am back from Kansas City, everything's up-to-date there, I came home to a reasonable, manageable,   temperature, I attended Masterworks Chorale rehearsal this evening, (everyone back to masking agin the Covid), and now I am enjoying the light patter of rain and thunder off in the distance.

I noticed that our Golden Campine rooster has decided to eschew moving into the chook house at sundown, and he now roosts high in out front trees.  I'm not sure how wise this is (owls??), but nature will take its course as it does here in rural Kansas. 

And that's how the last week of July looks, 2022.

Sunday, July 24, 2022

Resumption: August 2022.

 Here it is, the last week of 2022's July.  I have chided myself on the lack of discipline on writing.  As have some of you, to my face.  Or to my email. 

It's been difficult to write the past few years.  As I mentioned some time ago, when I started this blog, it was sort of a note home.  News and fun.  And, somehow, the past five years have streamlined very thinly as to what might be news and fun.  I guess I should qualify that as too much news, and not nearly as much fun as I think needs be.

So, beginning in August, I will clip into the writing mode (that's sort of cycling lingo.) and commence, once again.  Discipline, discipline.  And more discipline.

In the meantime, the weather forecast says the high tomorrow is going to be raining and 76*.  I announced to That Spouse o' Mine that I am headed to Kansas City for 36-48 hours of city living.  This is a blissful vacay for someone who rusticates in rural Kansas most of her days.  Nelson Atkins, American Jazz Museum, an Ethiopian restaurant, botanical gardens, and many more options.  And I have no itinerary.  I have a swimsuit.

And as I complete this note, I hear rain.  
I smell petrichor.

This is a good re-start.


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