Not dairy cows. He loves beef cattle.

We are the proud owners of 5 head of cattle. There are four all-black Angus and one red-and-white Hereford in our little herd.

Hereford Calf
Image from Wikipedia

Angus cattle
Image from Wikipedia

All of them are females. Two of the Angus are the mothers of the two younger Angus. We bought the Hereford at an auction at a ranch in  Oklahoma last fall.

The two young Angus and the Hereford are heifers-they have never given birth to a calf. The two older Angus are cows, because they have already given birth.

It is now time for the two Angus cows and the Hereford heifer to become pregnant. Cattle are pregnant for about the same time as humans. So, new calves would be born in March if they become pregnant in June.

Merle has worked with beef cattle for many years. He has managed a very well-known herd for over 20 years. But this is the first time that he is managing his own herd. He is having a grand time. He has the opportunity to do things his own way.

He doesn’t want to do things in the “standard” way. No, we are on the cutting edge here.

When the three new calves are born next June, if all goes as planned, all three little calves will be pure-bred Herefords. That means that a pure-bred all black Angus cow will give birth to a red and white purebred calf. The Hereford will also give birth to a purebred Hereford calf.

Merle also purchased frozen embryos at the cattle auction. These were started and then frozen after 7 days of development.

Next June, we should have a herd of four all black Angus and four red and white Herefords. I am not sure what his plan is from there.

But I am now a part-time farmer.

In order to get the animals ready for an embryo, there is a procedure which requires shots and a regimen of hormones. This requires the cattle to be moved into a chute so that they can be handled safely-for both the cattle and the person.

This is close to what the chute looks like that we use.
Photo from Wikipedia

Herding cattle who are loose in a farmyard and forcing them into a narrow, single-file chute is a tricky business. I have done it in the past, when I was young, quick and nimble. Merle can’t do it all by himself. He needs a good assistant. He’s stuck with me.

I am no longer young, definitely not nimble and would never be described as quick. I have bad knees. I am out of shape.

But I am a part-time farmer, right? And I am a wife. You do things for the one you love. Even this. So that is what I do-twice now.

Over the past few days, we have received 5 inches of rain. Picture a dirt farmyard where cows have been living for many years. Now add 5 inches of rain, five 1000 pound four-legged animals who are not potty-trained.

Now picture me-the old, slow, crippled up lady-trying to assist Merle in convincing these large uncooperative animals that they really do want to be in a small, narrow space where they know that they will be stuck with a needle.

Not a pretty picture.

When doing this, you must wave your arms, yell at them, move toward them quickly to make them move away from you. It is often necessary to change direction quickly to cut them off from their attempted escape. In soft, squishy “mud” about four inches deep.

I tripped.

I tipped.

It happened in slow motion, and I prepared myself. I yelled at Merle. The ground was coming toward me as I stumbled and struggled to bring my feet under control.

Somehow I caught myself at the last moment and did not land face down in said dirt, rain water and sh*t mixture. I have no idea what saved me.

The things we do for our spouses.

But those newborn calves are going to be sooooo cute!

And Merle will be very happy.

Over the past two days, we have had about 5 inches of rain.

Things are very green, spectacularly lush, in fact.

But there is one HUGE downside to living in the rainforest that is my neighborhood……

Mosquito-the scourge of humanity.
Image from Wikipedia

It is guaranteed that as the refreshing rains encourage the lush greenery and flowers, they also will foster mosquito nurseries. We will soon be hiding in our home from dusk until dawn.

We have not found anything that will successfully repel these disease-carrying, blood-thirsty demons. Can you hear the high-pitched sound that begins just before dusk each day? That is the sound of mosquitoes laughing at us as we smear chemical repellant all over our bodies.

The tiny monsters squeeze themselves through the finest mesh of window screens.  In the dark quiet of a bedroom, humans have been known to go mad as they attempt to locate the source of the high-pitched whine of a single mosquito.

When we hosted an outdoor party for a friend, we rented an electronic bug zapper, and borrowed a new-fangled machine that emitted a chemical repellant. The party broke up within 10 minutes of dusk as the guests ran for cover in their cars as the swarms of mosquitoes descended on the backyard in anticipation of a human blood feast.

We live on the edge of a small woods, along a major river. We fight moles, mice, deer, woodticks, box elder bugs, Japanese beetles, voles, creeping charlie, bats and other miscellaneous wild things for control of our home.

But nothing compares to the mosquito.

The sun set a few minutes ago. You can find me in the house.

Last fall, I became very energetic. I envisioned a spectacularly colorful garden, filled with flowers this spring. I planted approximately 90 bulbs for spring flowers in a small garden plot. Surely, this would live up to my dreams of a beautiful backyard garden.

Here is what my garden plantings looked like this spring:

These are the beautiful, colorful tulips that bloomed this spring. In my dreams…..

Munched off right at ground level.

Apparently, tulips are a  delicacy-for deer. Nearly every plant was bitten off right to ground level before they were able to bloom. Out of the nearly 90 bulbs I planted I ended up with nine-yes 9-tulips that actually bloomed. Any visions of a beautiful spring garden were popped by the reality of a garden that looked a lot like the history-book photos of the cities which were bombed during World War II.

After that, it has taken me a while to recover my gardening energies. I am only now beginning to feel that I will again venture toward an attempt at a summer garden. We have no plans for this upcoming holiday weekend. I envision much planting of annuals, in flower pots and in the garden.  What a fool I am!

The one saving grace for the spring was the crab tree that is in our front yard. It was covered in bright hot-pink flowers a few weeks ago. This year was a truly spectacular bloom. It seems to have a biennial cycle of blooming strongly one year, then not nearly as wonderfully the next year. This is the treat we had this year for several days:

Unfortunately, it blooms for just a few days, then becomes nearly devoid of leaves for the rest of the summer.

The other bright spots this spring have to do with family events. We have had two graduations within the past two weeks. My nephew graduated with an MBA from a small college in Illinois. Our son graduated with an MPA (Master’s of Public Administration) from a relatively small college near us.

It was interesting to listen to the speakers and contrast the messages in the graduation ceremonies. My nephew’s ceremony was pretty traditional (and very Catholic). “Go now and meet your future” would describe the theme. My son’s graduation (which included MPA, MFA, MBA and MEd degrees) was very focused on doing good in the world. “Go forth and change the world for the better” best describes that ceremony’s theme. I prefer the second message to graduates.

My mom, brother and I drove to the Chicago area for my nephew’s graduation. My sister and her family drove up from the Chicago area and stayed with us this past weekend for my son’s graduation. It has been a lot of family time lately, with Mother’s Day in between the two graduations. I am really looking forward to a weekend with nothing much scheduled for three whole days. I am already dreaming of this and it is only Monday night.

So now I will make another try at the flowers. I will devote at least one day of the upcoming weekend to that endeavor, futile as it may be.

On another day, we will likely make the rounds to the family cemetery plots, to pay respects, place some flowers and visit some other family members.

There will be a day of reading, or maybe writing a bit. I haven’t felt much like doing either lately. But I definitely need some stories.

We have nothing planned for the weekend. And that is just the way I want it.

I try to fight them. But it is very difficult. All around me, it seems the world is plotting against me. It’s so hard to resist the temptations. The stores are filled with samples, small but promising, providing a glimpse of a wonderful future filled with wonder if only I purchase these for just a minimal fee. Books and magazines flaunt the porn of this obsession. In every neighborhood there is someone who shares my affliction.

Months ago, it was much easier. I promised myself I would be strong. I told myself over and over that I could do it. Even after all of the years of failure, I really thought I could do it this time….just like the last 10 times.

It is always the same.

Those who share my struggle will recognize it. Yet there is no 12-step program designed for us. No sponsors. We are on our own to fight it.

Each year I convince Merle to help me, and every year he gives in when I break down. He knows he wouldn’t be able to talk me out of it. He gave in again this time and was with me when I lost the fight this week. My husband becomes an enabler, and turns a blind eye to the money that he knows I will spend to feed this sickness; even encouraging my hope that this time things will be different.

It would all make sense if only the rush would last a little longer. That is part of the problem-I always forget how things end. In the beginning, I start out with high hopes. Visions of success fill my head, a dizzying array of color and design swim before my eyes. Not even the sure knowledge of the physical pain that will inevitably result in the aftermath of the binge can restrain me as once again I give in to this disease.

Within just a few weeks, I will lose the buzz, I will find the requirements necessary to keep it going to be boring and time-consuming. Then my guilt will kick in. The evidence of my neglect will be everywhere, its haunting presence mocking those early optimistic dreams. It always ends badly.

They say that the first step toward healing is to admit that you have a problem.

My name is chlost, and I try to be am a gardener.

Family news.

It was not unexpected; only the timing was in question.

Well, that’s not quite accurate. We weren’t completely sure what would happen, but had wondered, assumed, even hoped.

And finally!

After three years, we received a call from our daughter last night with the news that she is engaged!

Her birthday was on Monday. We had talked to her earlier in the day, after her day had begun with a birthday breakfast gone wrong. Her fiance (!) had cut his thumb while preparing a special breakfast. They ended up in the emergency room while he received 6 stitches.

She had taken the day off from work, but had a late rehearsal that evening. When she returned home, he had a fire going, and a bottle of wine to share. He proposed while they enjoyed both.

I am very excited about the prospect of being the mother of the bride. This is our only daughter. This will be my first opportunity to help plan a wedding in a relatively leisurely fashion. They are thinking of a wedding next summer.

Of course, all day I had ideas whirling through my mind.

Other than an outdoor wedding for as many friends and family as possible, they have not decided anything. They have a choice of three cities-ours, his parents, and theirs.

Yippee! Such fun!

At least I have a few months to try to lose some weight!

I am now a better person than all of you who do not have a clean car.

For some reason, when my car is all shiny and clean, I begin to notice all of the other cars around me. Ugh! That one sure hasn’t been washed….. Whoa! That one on the other side of the street is so dirty that I can barely tell what color it is….. And the one over there-that one is so covered with road dust that a kind passerby has drawn a smiley face on the back, accompanied by the universal dirty car message “Wash Me!”

Yes, I am definitely a better person than the owners of those cars. No question.

When I got my car washed, I also had the oil changed.

It was a package deal.

So not only do I have a clean car, I have a car that is running very smoothly. For some reason, just changing the oil in the car makes it run better.

Don’t try to tell me it isn’t.

You are not driving it. I can tell. I am sure that it is running much better than it was earlier today.

Of course, with 180,000+ miles on the car, a thing like clean oil obviously will make a difference.  Right?

Just let me revel in this for a few hours. Humor me.

Tomorrow I am heading out for a road trip to Chicago with my brother and my mom. Luckily, my brother will probably do most of the driving.  After the trip, there will be over 1,000 more miles on the car.

And it may not be so clean.

The people of Norway have been faced with the question, “How do we respond to the horrific hatred spewed by the person who has admitted to murdering and wounding hundreds of our children?”

The defendant in the case, Anders Breivik testified at his trial that he hates the multiculturalism he sees in the Norwegian culture. He is especially offended that children are being raised to be inclusive of those different from themselves. In particular, he indicated his hatred for a song taught to school children. The song is a modified version of a Pete Seeger song, My Rainbow Race. The Norwegian version, Children of the Rainbow, is  translated by Reuters as follows, according to the NPR website:

“A sky full of stars

“Blue ocean far as you see

“An earth where flowers grow.

“Can you wish for more?

“Together we shall live

“Every sister, every brother

“Small children of the rainbow

“And a fertile soil”

….

“But tell all the children

“Tell your father, tell your mother

“This is our last chance

“To share one hope, one world”

Scary stuff, to be sure.

So, 40,000 people stood outside in the cold and rain of Oslo, as well as all over the country, sang the children’s song.

They have chosen to use music and love to taunt the evil of hatred and violence.

Here is the video of the Oslo gathering. It brought tears to my eyes.

This makes me very proud to be a descendant of Norwegian immigrants to the US.

I’ve had enough.

When I get the little bright spot in my line of vision, I know that I’m done for. Nothing will stop it, I am going to be miserable for at least the rest of that day, usually into the next.

After all of these years, you’d think I’d have figured out what causes these headaches. But they always seem to come out of the blue.

It is even harder when they are not as common. I used to get them regularly. I always had pain medication with me. But now they are fairly rare. And I sometimes have nothing with me, so I am even more miserable. Additionally, I think the headaches that I do get are worse than they used to be.

In any event, I have been feeling quite out of sorts lately. I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. It just makes things more challenging to do them while I either can’t see very well, or have a horrible headache.Because my job doesn’t really have the option to just not show up or leave if I am not feeling well, I just keep going.

It feels terrible to say so, but I am now anxious for spring to just be done.

Maybe that will stop the madness!

On this day, at 12:18 am, my oldest son, all 10 lbs 13 oz. of him arrived. He looked like a three-month old compared to the other babies in the nursery. Everyone who looked at the babies commented on him.

My husband and I suddenly became a family. Merle had just turned 26 years old a week before. I was a little younger. Merle had finished college, and had been working for two years. I was working full time, and up to just a few months before our son’s birth, I had been a second-year law student as well. I worked during the day and went to school in the evenings. When our son was born, I took a semester off from school. My mother assumed that I would never return to school, and was very upset about this. I did return to school, finishing my degree. Our son’s infancy was spent with his parents passing him off at the front door. As one of us left, the other gave quick information, “He needs a diaper check”, “He woke up just a few minutes ago”, “He needs a bottle”. He had many ear infections and did not sleep easily. Those few years are a blur in my mind.

Even though he was a challenging baby, he was a very easy child. There were few battles. He loved to read, but also spent a lot of time outdoors. We were treated to numerous shows and plays he performed for us as a small child.

In many ways, the past thirty-two years seem like just yesterday. In my mind, I am certainly not thirty-two years older. Certainly I am not old enough to have a thirty-two year old child. But our son is the incontrovertible evidence of our age.

Our son is now 6’4” tall, and very thin. He has one of the lowest body fat index numbers I’ve seen.

He runs. Miles. Voluntarily.

He has light brown hair, blue eyes, and a great smile.  He currently has a beard, and is quite handsome. No, I am not saying that just as his mom. There appear to be many young women who agree with me, although he has not yet found his “Ms. Right”.

He is very smart (he is soon to receive his Master’s Degree, which he is earning while working full time-huh!). He was second in his high school graduation class. He graduated Magna Cum Laude from his college.  His Bachelor’s Degree is in theater, and he has worked as an actor. He is very comfortable in front of people, and knows how to reach an audience.

He is a very honorable man. He follows the rules. He expects that others will act honorably. He is genuinely surprised when he learns that others do not always have good intentions. He is responsible with his money. He has purchased a duplex, lives in the upper unit and rents out the lower unit. He takes care of the maintenance himself.

As our oldest child, he had to suffer through the low end of our parenting learning curve. We were novices. Merle had never held a baby until he held this son. We handled it all by the seat of our pants.

We learned that we had to back each other up in any decision, whether we agreed or not. We learned to pick our battles. We learned that we had to respect our children in order to be respected by our children. We learned to let the small stuff slide and keep the big picture in mind. But those things were all learned “on the job” while parenting this son.

He taught us well.

Thanks, Big J!

We love you.

I was in high school. That certainly dates me.

At the time, we lived in a very small rural town. The area was primarily agricultural. There were the “town kids” and the “farm kids”. But no one identified themselves as an activist. I think I may have put up a poster about Earth Day. There were no marches or parades in my town.

For one of my English papers, I wrote on the subject of saving resources. I clearly remember writing about turning off the faucet while brushing teeth as a way to save water. I also did some writing about recycling and overpopulation. Radical stuff for the early 70′s. To think that we’d been letting the water run, and using pastel-colored tissues and toilet paper without a thought!

So I was the only “activist” in the high school. I may have had a reputation as a bit of a nut. I didn’t go without shaving my legs like my college roommate (I had fought that battle with my parents long and hard, I would never have given that up!); but I did try to be responsible about my habits as best I could. I only bought white toilet paper.

My mother worked a nurse for planned parenthood back then. She traveled the rural areas, trying to reach the isolated farm women to provide them with health care. Overpopulation was the issue I saw as most important. I believed that ZPG-zero population growth-would make the difference in saving the world.

Yeah, so Merle and I have three kids. Shows how well that went.

Now I watch my adult kids and their friends. One of the young men writes for an environmental online “magazine”. He is quite prolific, and tackles some very interesting and controversial issues. He has traveled all over the world, photographs endangered wildlife and spaces and then writes about it.

My children all eat mostly organic foods. Both my daughter and daughter-in-law hope to live on a farm or become urban farmers. If they could, they would go back to the subsistence farm life.

Both of them also recycle and compost. My daughter-in-law buys thrift-store clothes for the kids and my son and her as part of her dedication to recycling.

We recycle through our local trash company. I hope that the stuff that goes into that recycle bin is actually recycled rather than dumped with everything else into the landfill. But I am not sure.

We try to buy locally grown food. But I do enjoy an orange in the winter. And I’m pretty sure that kiwi are grown nearby. Right?

Our kids are part of the community agriculture program where they get a box of local farm produce every week during the growing season. There are things like turnips and rutabagas. All of our kids go to the farmers’ market to buy produce regularly.

I have never eaten a turnip or a rutabaga. Our local farmers’ market is on a Thursday evening, so even though I have had good intentions, I just forget to go there.

Our kids bring reusable bags to the grocery store. They carry them in the trunk of the car. They actually bring them into the store and use them to  bring home the groceries.

I always forget to bring reusable bags with me to the store, and if I do have some, I forget them in the car. I certainly can’t go back to the car for them once I am in the store.

My point? Our kids seem to be doing a much better job at the Earth Day philosophy than we, who started the whole thing, have done.

We talked the talk.

They have walked the walk.

I just hope that their kids go even further.

Because we may have started the Earth Day observance, but we have been pretty darn lousy at saving the Earth.