Lines of Geese

 The Canadian Geese are migrating through these days.  Actually, for a couple of weeks now we've been seeing (and hearing!) them fly overhead.  At first, it was small groups; six here, ten there.  But lately it's much longer strings of geese, fifty or sixty or more birds long, followed by another string, and another string.

Typically, they fly over in the morning for a few hours.  Then I don't see any during the mid-day, but more come through for a couple of hours in the evening.

For the most part, right now, they are flying from East to West.  Heading out towards Lake Michigan, maybe?  I don't know.

In late September and in October, the migrating geese are usually flying North to South.  Different geese, I guess, different winter destination.

Either way, I can be easily distracted by the sounds of incoming geese.  I'll stop what I'm doing (unless I'm on horseback) and go outside to see how many there are this time.  If they are low enough, and everything else around me is quiet, I can hear the sound of the air rushing around their wings.  It's a sound I always find wonderous.

Not only do I listen, but often times when my eyes lock on a line of geese, I'll try to count them, as fast as I can, by twos, before they have flown past too far to see individual birds.  Really, I'm just a nature loving kid in a 53 year old body.

A Quick Day Trip

By the end of July, I knew I was in dire need of a break from my real life.  Not that there's anything bad going on, it's just been a very busy year for me and I could tell that I'm spiraling into burnout.  I needed, for sanity sake, to get the heck out of Dodge soon.  Because Fall is coming, and with that is a whole bunch more stuff to juggle, care for, attend in person, and otherwise keep my nose to the grindstone while possibly being called in on sick-grandchild-home-from-school (or retrieve from school) care at any moment.  

No more waiting and hoping to catch a break. I had to make one.  The simpler, the better, and more likely to come to pass. So I gave it some thought and came up with my target idea.

Goal: to go look at pretty rocks in the water and not have to think about keeping anyone entertained or safe from drowning. 

In other words, no family members could tag along or otherwise be invited if they weren't capable of being totally self sufficient.  Because other than a trip away with DH last September, all my away from home 'down time' has included grandkids, or was some sort of  necessary home care business item (running up north to get a new dishwasher from DH's friend with the appliance store) and that's just not relaxing to me.

Based on a tip from a friend who also likes to look at pretty rocks in the water (and bring some home), I decided that Lakeport State Park, in Michigan's Thumb, was the destination.  Truthfully, I had an exact place I've been wanting to go to for the last several years, but it's too far away (500 miles, up in the Keweenaw) to be a feasible trip this year (or last year, or the year before. . .)  So, the Thumb it was, since that's close enough--only a couple of hours from this little place here--to drive to and back all in the same day.

I picked two options of days in August, looked into possibilities for horse care on either of those two days, nailed down the day, and booked my horse feeding and stall cleaning body double (aka DD2).  The date was now written in stone on my calendar.  No cancellations, no postponements. It was a hill I'd die on if necessary.  My surviving the rest of 2025 really did depend on me being able to get away ASAP.

I decided DH could come along, if he wanted, especially if he was willing to drive.  I've never had good night vision and hate driving at night, so if he was willing to be the driver, I could comfortably stay away longer and get home after dark.  

In all honesty, I'll confess that I very hesitantly invited him to join me because he's great at inviting others along (even when he knows I'm not wanting company) and then telling me we're not actually going to be alone only when it's too late to back out.  Remember, having others along was absolutely NOT the focus of this needed break.

This past Sunday was the day reserved for this event.  I planned and packed a lunch plus snacks, as well a list of items we needed to bring, and DH and I left for the east side of the state right after church that morning.  It was kind of a coolish, cloudy, and windy day (and silly me who absolutely gets cold in the wind forgot to pack any pants or a long-sleeved shirt or jacket), but that worked out pretty well.  The beach was fairly empty for at least the first half of the time we were there.

Even though we'd both brought bathing suits, neither one of us actually put one on or went swimming.  With the chilly-ish (low 70's) air, the water actually felt warm, but as soon as I stepped out of it, even only having been ankle to mid-calf deep, I was shivering.  I told you I get cold in the wind. *shrug*

I spent several hours wading at the water's edge, occasionally getting splashed up to my waist by a particularly big wave (they were forecasted at 3'-6').  DH looked for a bit too, but mostly sat on driftwood logs and either looked for ships or looked at his phone. 

I'm a really neophyte rockhound, I don't know a whole lot about the different types, what's rare, etc.  So, when I look at pretty rocks in the water, I look for those that in some way speak to me.  Be it color, pattern, whatever.

This particular beach I noticed lots with rings of color.  That seemed to be the theme for the day.  There were a few with spots, and several with fossils, and lots and lots of granite, but many had one or more rings.  I'd get a bunch I liked, and take them to the log DH was seated on to show him, then set them on the log next to him and go back to see what else called my name.  Eventually, I knew I had to pare down my finds and only take home a realistic number.

Below are pictures of the rocks that came to live at this little place here (plus a few as gifts for DD2, who did horse chores for me that afternoon so I could be gone).

After we decided we were done looking for rocks, and neither of us wanted to go for a swim, we left the beach and drove down into Port Huron.  It was a little after four, and I didn't want to head for home yet, so we went downtown to the waterfront where there was a walking path and benches that you could sit and look at the water (which, at that point wasn't Lake Huron, it was technically the St. Clair River).  On the other side of the water, not far at all, is Canada.

The first thing that caught my eye as we were looking for where to park, was a metal sculpture that looked like it could be a horse.  So, of course, as soon as we had parked the car (we took Sweet Madame Blue on this excursion), that was where I headed.  

It was located around a slight bend of the walking path, between the path and the river, and it was a horse!  A life-sized scrap metal sculpture.  Some person had recently picked some of the nearby goldenrod that was in bloom and stuffed it in the horse's mouth, making it look like the horse was grazing the brush.

We sat a bit, hoping to see freighters or other commercial ships in the water (this is part of the St. Lawrence Seaway), but we only saw a couple docked on the Canadian side, none actively traversing the water.

We did see a few Border Patrol and Coast Guard boats patrolling, and a cormorant that was busily fishing back and forth in our area.

Cormorant looking like a tiny Loch Ness Monster

While at the river, we looked up possible dinner places on DH's phone.  There were a few that sounded really delicious, and fairly cheap (looking at the prices on their menu) until we noticed that they were on the other side of the river, in Canada. While we easily could have gone across (the Blue Water Bridge is in Port Huron), we decided an international crossing just for dinner probably wasn't the best use of our time, and we found good sounding food on the U.S. side instead.  DH had wanted to go somewhere with a patio overlooking the water, so we ended up driving a few miles down to Marysville and eating at the Junction Buoy.  It was good.  And in the U.S., LOL.

After that we drove home into the setting sun, which constantly stabbed us in the eyes despite our sunglasses and the sun visors on the car.  It was just low enough, other than the first 5-10 minutes, that the visors didn't extend low enough to block it out.  Rather than taking backroads home for the scenic view, with our sun-glare limited vision, we decided not to risk the deer that would be plentiful in the evening on a country drive and just took the expressway instead. 

And that was my day away.  It was just what I needed. And I'm so glad I went, because the next day I got a text from DD2 asking if I could pick her kids up from school/the babysitter the following Monday so she could go to a dentist appointment after school/work.  Grandma duty calls!

Happy Things This Week

 While I may not have taken any days off, or gone anywhere that would be considered fun this week (I do not consider the grocery store fun), and I was incredibly busy all week, that doesn't mean it was a bad, draining, unhappy week.

Am I exhausted, sitting here typing this on Friday evening?  Oh heck yes, I'm ready for a twelve hour snooze (as if that ever happens, even on the rare vacation).  The heat and humidity are ramping back up, and I certainly feel that pressure on my body.  But, as tired as I am, I can still see things that made me happy.

For one,--and don't judge me for the first picture, which is partly a before and partly an in-progress photo--I got the master bath shower scrubbed.  It hadn't had a good scouring in about a year (and, honestly, not even a half-assed one in six months or more) and was looking pretty skanky. Gotta love well water, especially iron-rich well water (and yes, we do have a water softener but it can only accomplish so much. . . )  

Part of the lapse was because I was out of my go-to wonderful shower cleaner, and found out several months later that it had been taken off the market (it was pretty potent stuff, so probably not the greatest environmental- or health-wise, but dang it did a good job with hard water stains.)  A different brand was finally recommended to me by someone else who has very hard water, and I was able to get ahold of some of that to try.

Before/During

The after picture looks much more appetizing.  'New' brand did the trick, although it says no scrubbing needed, just spray on and wipe away and I most definitely had to scrub, even with a scrub brush in some areas. Now to keep it this way. Perhaps a monthly cleaning will only require a spray on and wipe away. . . 

After

 I didn't, technically, enjoy scrubbing out that nasty shower, but I am loving how bright, clean, shiny and generally more pleasant it is now!  (Do you think I can give myself a cash bonus equal to what it would have cost to pay someone to do this unpleasant task?)

Much more fun than taking a mineral deposited shower back to pristine brightness (or as close as it gets after almost 22 years of use), was cutting a bunch of black eyed Susans from the front flower bed and bringing them inside to beautify the dining room table.  

The 'vase' is actually an antique blue glass Ball canning jar that previously belonged to DH's paternal grandmother. When she died about 20 years ago her daughters divided up her canning jars and, since they knew I was the only one of this generation (the grandchildren) who cans and preserves food like they do, they shared some with me.  The blue ones I don't use for canning, but use them for display instead.

I have been trying to get DH (and myself) to eat salad of some type--not counting pasta salads-- at least three times a week all summer.  We had an especially colorful one with our dinner the other night (along with marinated and grilled chicken breast from one of our freshly butchered broilers).

After not being home enough the last three weeks to work on anything in the Finish The Tack Room category, DH installed the light fixture I'd bought for it.  It's LED and SO BRIGHT!  But I wanted bright, like full sun daylight bright, because 1) it's a 12' ceiling and 2) there's going to be a 18" or 24" wide shelf around three of the four walls at approximately 6-7' from the floor for storing totes of out of season or otherwise not used daily/weekly horse-related stuff and that shelf is going to kinda block light coming from above.

This is the light I got, with two moveable panels so that I can kind of aim the light 'under' the future shelf, which is where the saddles and bridles will be stored.

Last Sunday evening, DH and I had a small campfire (really to burn some brush and paper garbage we'd accumulated), and while sitting out there watching the fire, I was able to do some knitting.  

Back in March, when we'd taken K3 and Toad to Sedona on Spring Break for a hiking trip, I had started working on a new pair of socks.  It pretty much got a few inches knit on that trip, and then I didn't touch it on a regular basis after Easter.  However, it was to a point that two hours of knitting on Sunday brought me to the needed foot length for beginning the toe decreases. And once you start the toe decreases, well, you get kind of obsessed about just finishing the dang sock already!

I finished the toe and grafted it closed last night while DH was watching TV.  So now I have one sock knit this entire year! Woo Hoo! I'm hoping to at least find a half hour someday soon to cast on and get the cuff knit for it's mate; maybe by Christmas I'll have a pair I can wear.  The yarn is some Trekking XXL that I've had in my stash for probably 10 years.  So if I make it into socks, does that count as decluttering my house?

What 'simple' joys did you find in your week this week?

Hey, What, It's August?!?

 For the last several weeks, most days if you asked me what day it was I would tell you the wrong one.  Usually a day or two ahead of what it actually was.  This week, for example, Tuesday felt like Thursday all ready to me.  So on Thursday I was sure it was Saturday, and yesterday I almost put horses out an hour early so I could change my clothes and get ready for church.  Except it was Friday, not Sunday, and thank goodness I realized it in time before I got myself all gussied up. (Which, honestly isn't very gussied but does usually involve a dress or skirt, earrings, and not having my hair in a ponytail. LOL)

While yesterday may not have been Sunday, it was the first day of August.  All ready!  

Well, no wonder I'm starting to feel a) burnt out on gardening and b) like my house needs to be gutted and thoroughly cleaned and c) like I need to run away and go somewhere relaxing!  

As the sole caretaker of the animals and the garden as well as the person in charge of all things food at this little place here, summer is not a time when I laze around, take vacations, and generally wonder what to do with my time.  Summer is like full speed ahead, balls to the wall, hit the ground running every morning and don't sit down until dark every night.  Not that I don't hit the ground running every morning all year long (I suspect this is a habit I really should change to be a bit more relaxing and warm up to the new day kind of lifestyle), but in summer with it's long hours of daylight that's 14+ hours a day 7 days a week of not sitting down with the exception of eating meals (and church on Sunday).  And, like the hit the ground running morning ritual, meals typically are not a long time of sitting, more like the minimum seat time necessary for refueling and then I'm squealing tires out of pit row and back into the race.

You know, the fact that DH doesn't adhere to the same seasonal extra-work-can't-leave-home schedule and has been gone (*ahem* playing in the name of taking various family members on canoe and kayak float trips) most weekends since the middle of June probably doesn't help with my glut of work that keeps me from sitting and relaxing.  Or taking even a day off to recharge myself somewhere that I'm not responsible for making sure 36 mouths have enough to eat (20 young chickens, 9 adult chickens, 4 horses, 1 cat, DH and myself)  and that the garden isn't shriveling up from lack of rain/watering or getting overrun in weeds that smother my veggie crops and that the dishes get washed and laundry gets done and put away and bills are paid and the floors aren't too gritty or the furniture too dusty or the trash too stinky before it gets taken out to the bin. . .

I'm all for making hay while the sun shines, but you know, I need to include down time for enjoying while the sun shines, not months from now when it's chilly and damp and icky outside.  I like sunshine. I love sunshine.  That's part of why I practically live outside in the summer months; I can't pull myself indoors away from the sunshine so I go whole hog on outdoor work.  Do I need to raise our own meat birds?  Perhaps I could, in coming years, buy them from a local person raising them.  Do I need to grow as much as possible in a quarter-acre garden and tend it by myself?  And then be the only one harvesting and preserving the bounty?  While some of that is a yes because of my dietary needs (ie avoiding a lot of additives in food from the stores), maybe we should do some budget shuffling to procure the same good food from someone else.

And then there's the whole point b) gut the house thing. . . Housekeeping is not my favorite task.  And, when I'm outside all day, housekeeping is reduced to the bare minimums.  Which, by this time in the summer, means that the inside of my house is driving me nuts because no one else here takes care of it (lookin' at you, DH, who's idea of tidying is to every few weeks stack things in piles for me to take care of).  When the weather changes and I'm forced indoors in a few months, I really don't want to be in a cluttered mess of a place.  Housekeeping fairy, where are you? I could use a visit from your magic wand. . .

Which leads me to c) wanting to run away.  The urge to take a day trip is getting stronger.  I need to wait until after this week--broiler chickens are meeting their doom going to freezer camp--and find a farm care person who is willing to not just do feeding and turnouts but also clean stalls (DH adamantly refuses to help with stalls) and then I think I going to run a few hours away and do some beachside rockhounding.  Still outdoors, but no garden weeds or chores in sight, and while it's still August, i.e. summer, i.e. sun shining!

Meanwhile, let me offer you a sampling of photos of things going on at this little place here lately.  If it weren't for the fact that phones these days are practically never separate from our bodies, and that phones have cameras, I probably wouldn't have any pictures of my life to remember summers by.  Hence, this collection of things that caught my eye, or I thought about sharing as I've gone about my busy days.

the tomato patch, with grape arbor in the background

friendly neighborhood cat (not my cat, therefore not a mouth I feed)

visiting me while I was checking for pickle-sized cucumbers

the wild blackberries on the edge of the woods are getting ripe;

this was enough to enjoy with my yogurt and granola breakfast the next morning

Faline helping me hang laundry the day DD1 needed me to watch her for a while after VBS

blue swallowtail

reddish day lilies

little green frog

a brown garter? snake

(not sure, as I don't know if they come in brown; first brown one I've seen)

running some errands in Sweet Madame Blue and she rolled 3100 miles

(that lady lives a life of luxury and goes out in good weather only)

K3 having a riding lesson/helping me train the LBM

(owner wants 'anyone to be able to jump on and ride')

So. . .

 First, I want you to read this old post.  Partly because it covers quite nicely the 'joy' of free food sent to my home by my mother-in-law.  And, partly because some of it is rather funny.  At least it is to me, reading it seven years after the fact, and remembering how horribly overwhelmed I was by life at that time (but successfully chugging through without totally losing my shit  mind).  Not that I haven't been quite frequently overwhelmed by life in the years since, but there's a certain naivety to that post I see now, having gone through so many frustrations in between.

Okay, did you read it?  Now for today's little rant.  Which is much like the noodle rant.

It's actually been quite a few years since Mother-in-Law sent down a ton (not literal, it just feels like it right now) of food I don't want/need.  Since covid she's mostly caught family members when they are up visiting and requested they 'shop' her breezeway for various grocery items she's brought home as leftovers/unclaimed food from the weekly food pantry she volunteers at. I like that approach much better, as I can say "I can really use those two boxes of elbow macaroni" or "I'd love to have three jars of creamy peanut butter" rather than having the responsibility of not wasting foods I don't/can't eat foisted on me. I can leave all the processed food I can't eat behind.  I can turn my back on the half-dozen cans of canned prunes.  Walk away from the cases of  super sweetened 'sports drink' and forget it even exists.

Until this month, that is.  DH went up north to retrieve a new mattress we'd bought at the store of his friend who gives us great deals.  The store is less than two miles from Mother-in-Law's house.  Which means DH had to stop in and see his mom while he was in the area.  He came home with not just our new mattress (which I was eagerly anticipating sleeping on, our other one having developed some quite uncomfortable hollows in recent years), but also with a 'box of food'.  A box, which, upon inspection, holds dried pinto beans.  Just dried pinto beans.  Nineteen one-pound bags of pinto beans.

*Sigh*.  Here we go again.  I checked with my kids to see if any of them would like some dried pinto beans.  Got rid of two bags.  With all of them working full time (except Surprise who is going to school and trying to do a little side hustle perfume business as well as still learning to be a mom, and Two-EEs who is on maternity leave for another few weeks), they are not interested in food that requires enough forethought to put it on to soak the night before you want to eat it plus an hour or more of simmering the day of.  If they want refried beans for taco night, they will grab a can at the grocery store.  

Because refried is pretty much the only way we've ever eaten pinto beans.  And, honestly, I'm in the same boat.  Can I use these beans and make refried beans?  Yes.  Have I made refried beans from scratch using dried pinto beans before? Yes.  Do I want to now?  Uh, not really.  I'm rather working full time plus myself this summer between the horse business and tending the garden.  I'm all about buying my refried beans by the can from the grocery store currently.  (On sale, and in multiples so I never run out, LOL).  

And with just DH and I at home to feed, I certainly am not going to soak and cook up an entire pound bag at a time.  It would take me YEARS to use up 19 pounds of dried pinto beans.

Does my local food bank want them?  Nope.  They want canned goods that people can open and heat, no skill (or soaking time) required.  (Honestly, I'm thinking that's why these 19 pounds of beans went unclaimed at the food pantry pick-up the week Mother-in-Law brought them back home so they didn't get thrown away when the pantry closed.)

But wait, there's more!  The beans aren't my only "What am I going to do with this? Where in the world am I going to store this?" food item this month.  Because when Mother-in-Law came down for Rascal and Octavia's baptism, she brought fish. 

Specifically, individually packaged, frozen lake trout filets.  Which sound like a great thing to be given, right?

I'm allergic to fish.

I have been allergic to fish the entire time I've known DH (and Mother-in-Law).  I'm pretty darn sure she knows I'm allergic to fish, the number of times we've been at her house in the last 34 years and I can't eat what she made for dinner because it's fish and I'm allergic to fish.

So, thirty frozen lake trout filets are not what I want to have to put into my freezer.  Because not only am I not going to eat a single bite of one of them, let alone thirty, I'm also not going to invite people over for dinner and serve them fish.  My allergy has gotten to where not only can't I eat it, but I can't cook it (for years I would occasionally cook fish for DH and the kids) either.  And, if I go into the house after someone else has cooked fish in my kitchen, I get ill just from the lingering fish oil in the air.  

This isn't just a matter of what am I going to do with this food I can't eat and don't want to throw away because it's good for other people who do want it.  No, this is more like being told you have the responsibility of caretaking this thing that could maybe kill you.  But you should be grateful for that responsibility because this thing didn't cost you anything.

I don't even want the darn things in my freezer, where I keep the meats that I can eat.  Not to mention the fact that we have a quarter of a beef on order that is going to the butcher in late August.  I need my freezer space for beef, not fish.

Do my kids want any of them?  Not really.  Because of past icky experiences with Mother-in-Law and seafood she has gifted them, they are all running away as fast as they can.  Nobody wants to take a chance on these fish even though both DH and I checked them thoroughly on arrival to make sure they hadn't thawed the least little bit (the thawed shrimp--from the food pantry, previously frozen--Christmas gifts one year are the reason for the adamant refusal of any seafood coming from Mother-in-Law).

Any ideas on where I can donate this fish?  Not that I have extra time in this incredibly busy season to call around and then drive it somewhere that can use it. . .

Excuse Me, Ma'am, I Think You Dropped Something

 Last summer, the Poetess gave herself toe cracks in both right feet mid-summer by stomping flies.  It took them pretty much all winter to grow out, and that included some packing and wrapping of the affected feet to keep the cracks from getting bigger. Honestly, the rear foot wasn't totally grown past the top edge of the crack when the flies came this spring.

This year, I decided I would be more proactive than just using fly spray, and ordered her a set of Shoofly Leggins.  I had heard good things about them, and decided rather than try similar brands at a lower price, I would shell out the bucks for the real deal.  Afterall, I reasoned, one set of Shoofly's was cheaper than having front shoes put on the Poetess once. Let alone shoes all around (you typically don't shoe just one foot of a pair front or hind.) So if they lasted the whole season, and prevented her feet from cracking and busting up (potentially making shoes necessary), the cost was well worth it.

This post isn't intended to be a commercial for Shoofly's, but I have to say I'm loving them!  And, other than still insisting on lifting her back feet exceptionally high the first 3-4 strides after I put on her Shoofly's every morning, the Poetess seems to also approve.  That front foot hasn't cracked at all so far (fingers crossed I didn't just jinx us by saying that).  The rear foot, while it hasn't cracked, does have a chip out of it currently in the spot near where last year's crack was. (And so this month I'm back to packing and wrapping that one . . .)

But anyway, the real intent when deciding to write this post was to share a picture with you.

This is the Poetess one day last week.  She went to the pasture in the morning with all four Shoofly's on.  She came  in from the pasture at dinner time with only three.  

"Excuse me, Ma'am, I think you dropped something."

After removing all her fly gear and putting her in her stall, then bringing the other three horses into their stalls for the night, I went walking in the pasture the Poetess had been turned out in that day to look for that missing Shoofly.  Being blue, it was easy enough to find in the short green grass.  

I had expected to find it laying open, thinking that I probably hadn't secured the velcro down the entire length it, and that she'd pulled it open by snagging it on something.  Nope, that hadn't happened.  It was still tubular, all velcro attached to itself, as if she'd just plain stepped out of it.  Strange, but okay.  I was glad it was recovered and undamaged.

How she managed to get it off like that, I have no idea.  As if she just took a high step and it slid right off.  Hasn't happened again, so far.  And apparently it wasn't off so long that she stomped a lot from having flies on her legs.  At least, her hoof on that leg looks crack- and chip-free so far.

Horses.  They do the strangest things.

Did I Ever Mention. . .

 That I discovered the joy of cold brewed floral/fruit tea?  

I never liked, and still don't, any kind of tea that contains actual tea leaves (or, really leaves of anything else, including raspberry leaf).  But a while back, I was introduced to tea that is made with flower petals and/or roots and/or bits of dried fruits, and that was a game changer.  I found out I actually do like tea; it just has to be the right kind of tea.

A few of summers ago, I had cold brewed tea for the first time.  Another game changer.  On a stiflingly hot and humid summer day, a nice cup of cold tea from the fridge is delicious.  Again, it has to be the doesn't-contain-any-kind-of-leaf type of tea.

About a year after that, DD2 gave me lid that fits a wide mouth canning jar and comes with a diffuser that screws into the underside of the lid.  Perfect for making my own cold brewed tea.  And I do, particularly during spells of hot weather.

It's very simple:

I put about a tablespoon and a half of whichever tea blend I'm feeling like brewing into the diffuser.  Screw the diffuser to the lid.  Fill a wide mouth pint canning jar with cold water, screw the special lid onto the jar with the diffuser immersed in the water, and put it into the fridge overnight.

The next day, I remove the lid, unscrew the diffuser and put it's sodden contents into the compost bucket, then recover the jar with a solid plastic screw-on lid. (The diffuser lid has a hole in it that you could put a straw in if you wanted to drink straight from the jar.)

Typically I serve myself about 6 ounces at a time, so a pint of cold brew lasts me 2-3 days.

I find that it reminds me of Kool-aid in a vague way; in that at that concentration (1.5 Tbsp tea:16 oz water ) it's got a little bit of sweetness and a good flavor that isn't too watery. I don't add any sugar or anything to it.

 

It's quite refreshing when I'm looking for something other than yet another pint of water to drink. I drink a ton of water every day. Close to a gallon a day during hot weather, and more than a half-gallon daily even in the winter. Rarely anything else other than water, with the exception of hot chocolate in the winter, cold brew tea in the summer and very occasionally a nice heavy dark micro-brewed beer.

Very red tea (this one was Cherry Bang, bought at the Red Bud Cafe in Shipshewana)

Randomosity

A bunch of random stuff from recently.

The peonies here are nearly done for the year.  Last week, they were blooming in full bore, and I cut some for bringing inside.  They replaced the vase of irises that had been on the kitchen island, and infused my kitchen with that peony/rose-like aroma.

The vanilla extract I started in April (mentioned in this post) has now steeped it's minimum two months before using, and just in time because I ran out of the previous batch at the end of May.  This is how it looks now

compared to what it looked like in April when I started it

DH and I observed our 32nd wedding anniversary by attending a local free concert that evening.  We got take out Cuban sandwiches (he got chips and pop with his, I got a slice of cheesecake with mine), and ate our dinner while sitting in the park listening to the concert.  The band played 70s and 80s music, right up our alley.  In addition to the good music (all of which we knew and most of which I sang along to) the weather was absolutely perfect and there were no mosquitos!

Another night, I made a batch of pepperoni calzones for dinner.  It's been a while since I had made them, and we were also out of what I call 'lunch box food' in the freezer--homemade stuff I can toss in DH's lunch box for when he has to work in-office rather than from home.  So they killed two birds with one stone: a yummy dinner plus three days worth of lunch box entrees for the freezer.

DD1 had a doctor appointment, and asked me to watch Faline, Buck, and Sixlet for a few hours while she was at that.  DH wrapped up his work a little early, and went with me to their house.  The kids were surprised that he came too (they'd only expected me), and they put him to work.  Faline wanted to show us how she can ride her bike, but sadly reported she couldn't because the chain was off.  Well, DH had her get it out, and he proceeded to do a tutorial in bike repair, which Faline and Buck watched raptly.  Now Faline knows how to put a chain back on a bicycle (whether or not her little arms and fingers have the strength to do it herself next time remains to be seen).

Waste Not, Want Not

 This Spring, when we had tornadoes nearby that gave us straighline winds at 100 mph and there were some cosmetic damages to the house and shop at this little place here, one of the casualties was the screen/storm door we've had on our front door for almost 20 years.  It got ripped open, and the closing mechanisms (top and bottom) were badly bent.  One of the hinges was also damaged.  So, our homeowners insurance approved us for a new one.  Being set in my ways and if I like something I typically like it forever no matter what newer stuff comes out, we ordered an identical screen door to replace it.  It took a while to arrive, and then it sat in the garage for a couple of weeks before DH decided it was time to remove the old one (we'd had that door locked shut for months since the storm in order to keep it from flapping) and install the new one.

That's actually not where this story really begins.  For years, DH has off and on speculated if we should add a screen door to the door that sits between the garage and the mudroom.  It is the door we use most often, and we've always thought, due to the location, and the ease of not having two doors to open just to get into and out of the house, that it didn't need a screen door.  However, in the summer, since we don't have air conditioning, our house does get rather hot at times, and DH has wondered if having a screen door in that spot might allow more air flow through the mudroom and kitchen (and therefore into the rest of the house) by being able to open the regular door while still keeping out bugs (and critters).  His thought was that with two huge north-facing garage doors open, that would let a whole bunch of coolish air into the garage, and with just a screen door between the garage and mudroom, the coolish air would get sucked into the house.

Being that money at this little place here nearly always has a better designated purpose than a full length screen door for a spot you usually don't put a screen door, we never bought one.  But now, now we had a 'perfectly good' (if you don't need a closing mechanism, or mind one hinge being marked up from being pounded back into relative straightness) screen door for no cost.  That 'perfectly good' door being the old one from the front door.  

When he removed the broken one from the front of the house and installed the new perfect screen door, he decided to see if he could adjust the broken one to be straight enough to latch without having to be jimmied into position and then locked to keep it there.  So he did some clamping and banging out in the shop, then brought the door into the garage, where he flipped it (having been a left hand swing at the front door and now needing to be a right hand swing to work in the garage where you came up the porch from the left side of the door) and screwed it into place.  

Well, it fit the opening fine.  But it didn't latch.  Something about the flipping to reverse direction and the jamb of the existing garage/mudroom door he was trying to attach it to didn't quite work as well as he'd thought it would.  After about three hours of fuc--- messing with it (now 10 p.m. when at 7 he'd thought it would be a 15 minute install) he called it quits for the night.  Hopefully sleeping on it would provide the insight he needed in how to correct whatever the root of the problem was.

The next day was the one I left to go to Shipshewana with DD1, DD2 and the granddaughters.  The door was hung in place, but didn't latch.  Sometime after work that day, DH worked on it again.  He came up with a solution.  A little unorthodox (removing something on the frame usually considered necessary), but it did the trick.  When I returned from Shipshewana, I was surprised and delighted to find a screen door between my mudroom and garage that latches without being locked!

garage side

mudroom side

Is it beautiful and undented and scratch free?  No.  Does it hang properly in the opening and latch closed easily?  Yes.  Does it have a closing mechanism that lets it open only so far and then slowly brings it closed again?  Nope.  Does it really need one in the location it's now in?  We don't think so.

Most importantly, when you open the overhead garage doors and then open the door between the mudroom and the garage, does a cool breeze come into the mudroom and kitchen through the screen door?  Oh heck yes, it does!

And, during the cooler months of the year, when we won't want to leave the solid door open so don't really need a screen door there, we'll just open the screen door all the way, and block it open resting flat on the garage wall (out of the way) so we won't need to open and close two doors all winter while going into or out of the mudroom from the garage.  Brilliant!

We're really glad DH thought to try to salvage the broken door and see if it was usable in this space, where he'd thought a screen door might actually be beneficial, rather than just tossing it into the trash when he installed the replacement screen door.  Kept it out of the landfill (or, at least, the parts that wouldn't have gone to the scrap metal pile) and fulfilled a need we weren't even totally sure we had.

Waste not, want not.

As a bonus, it makes a really cool 'snick' sound when it latches shut.  Brings up childhood memories of running out screen doors belonging to our grandparents back in the day.

Can We Please NOT With All The Soy?!?

 Soy.  It has somehow, in the last decade or so, taken over every food product in the store and at restaurants. Or so it seems.

Which isn't a terrible thing, unless your body, like mine, has strong opinions about soy in the things it ingests. Years ago, I discovered, quite unintentionally, that my body doesn't like interesterified soybean oil. Like, really, really doesn't like. As in, almost immediate stomach cramping and purging of all intestinal contents. Not fun.

So, I tried to avoid that particular formation of soy in my food.  Problem solved.

Except, to a lesser immediately violent extent, a couple of years later, on a hiking trip vacation, I discovered that my body also does not like isolated soy protein. UGH.  Add isolated soy protein to the Do Not Eat list.

Try finding a protein bar, or even a granola bar, without that.  Try hiking for half a day (or more) without a convenient to pack, non-temperature sensitive, source of protein like a protein bar.  Luckily in 2024 I discovered Aloha protein bars, which are both palatable, and do not get their protein from soy! Hallelujah! Highly recommend!

Unfortunately, my body's dislike of soy has gotten worse as soy has crept into more and more food items. Regular soybean oil (not just interesterified), soy lecithin (waah, even in the chocolate chips I make cookies with, not to mention pretty much every brand of ice cream under the sun and tons of baked goods, dairy products, etc.), plain old soy protein (not just isolated) all cause a measurable gut reaction. Every single time.

Even my for many years belovedly safe hot dogs from the local meat market now contain smallish amounts of soy.  So supposedly small it's almost the last ingredient listed on the package, but it's enough to make the early morning hours of the day after eating a 'safe' hot dog be requiring frequent trips to the bathroom.  That is no way to live a productive or enjoyable life!

It's so frustrating! Soy is increasingly difficult to keep out of my own kitchen. Trying to eat out (without unpleasant gut issues later) is getting practically impossible.

Now, I know that there's probably medications my doctor could prescribe to 'calm down' my intestines' reactions to soy.  But why should adding chemicals to my gut to lessen it's natural processes be the number one answer?  Why not just take all the (expletive deletive) soy out off all the foods it's been added to in the last two decades? I mean, the same food existed pre-soy craze, why can't it go back to that?

(Truthfully, I know that it's because soy has become the cheaper alternative to those other ingredients, but come on. . . it's so not good for more people than just myself.)

Can we please, please, please, NOT with all the soy?!?

Make My Horse Life Easier Tip #2

 This is another tip in regards to polo wraps.  I discovered, a while ago, that if I hung my used, sweaty/wet from dew, polo wraps on the hayloft ladder, the breeze coming in the front door of the barn would typically dry them by the time I returned for the night feeding.  Cleanish ones (ie, just damp from dew or sweat) could then be rerolled for use in the next training session.  Dirty ones could go in the house to the laundry and not become a yucky, damp, and potentially mildewy mess by the time I had several sets of polos in need of washing. (Especially helpful when the Poetess wasn't getting worked but once or twice a week and it took awhile to get a load of horse laundry built up.)

When DH built me the new hayloft ladder, I was happy to discover that it not only does the same drying task handily, but that it also performs another service: it holds the wraps fairly taut when I reroll them. Having them be taut makes the task so much easier!  

I attribute the difference in tension when rerolling to the fact that the old ladder was propped up and at more of an angle than the new ladder, which is installed pretty much vertically.  Whatever the reason, I'm loving how handy it is for both drying and rerolling the wraps.

So, for those of you who might also use polo wraps on your horses, and who have a ladder in your barn, my tip is to put the ladder to use as a wrap dryer!

Reminder To Self

 This is a really busy season.  I have a tendency to overwork myself in busy seasons; just put my shoulder to the grindstone (or is it my nose?), keep pushing, and don't look up until I collapse.  I'm trying to learn better self-care, because collapse isn't exactly enjoyable, and historically it's times like this that I totally neglect myself (with exception of feeding myself somewhat nutritionally--the diabetes requires it, brushing my hair and teeth daily and showering at least every third day).

Recently, when I was at Hobby Lobby shopping for a specific fabric for grandbaby #8's quilt, and a few teen-bedroom type decor things for K3's 13th birthday present, I bought a little something for myself.  I know that when I'm going all balls (because that's how I've operated for decades during busy seasons--even if those seasons are years long) I tend to get a little less than happy.  And when I'm less than happy, that's when the complete and total overwhelm (and thoughts of trashing it all and running away) kicks in.

So, when I saw this little block, I bought it.  And put it on the windowsill behind the kitchen sink where I'll see it daily, especially when doing the dishes (my most hated chore; I'd rather scrub toilets than put my hands in dishwater).

Because I do.  I do love the life DH and I have built.  Sometimes it's crazy.  Sometimes it's overwhelming.  And the work of building is definitely not totally completed yet.  But it's what we wanted: the land, the horses (well, I wanted horses, DH not so much), the garden, the large (and getting larger!) family.

I just need to remember that when I find myself focusing on all the undone tasks, or the (not so) emergency help my kids call on me for with the grandkids at the last minute.  I love the life we've built.

I Went To A Symphony!

On Friday evening, I went to a symphony.  Other than when DD2 was in choir during college, and they performed on the same night as the college's local symphony orchestra, and once when I was really young and went with my parents to a Christmas concert put on by a small local symphony orchestra, I haven't been a symphony goer.  Not that I don't enjoy the music; just too many other things vying for my time and money.

I almost didn't go this time either, but my kids schemed against me and came up with a plan to get me there.  My boys paid for my ticket.  My girls were in charge of transporting me and feeding me dinner before hand.

And so, in the name of a Mother's Day present, I went to the symphony.

DD1 and DD2 came and got me, all dressed up, and took me out to dinner. We'd chosen a nearby Mexican restaurant, and were rather overdressed for the venue, LOL,  But all three of us had a hankering for Mexican, so. . .  

It was a good meal, and I tried birria tacos, which I'd never had before. YUM!  Definitely will eat them again.

Conversation over dinner was good, ranging from trying to plot a 'group' Father's Day present for DH, DS1, DS2, and Honorary Son (would they be amenable to being a foursome for a round of golf if we arranged it?  Not sure. . .) to Faline's goofy picture on her Pre-School Graduation poster to whose house needs what repairs that could be scheduled into a rotating one-weekend-a-month family workday gathering for the summer months.

 

As for the symphony itself, it was wonderful!  I had such a good time.  I made oddball comments based on spur of the moment thoughts in my head in regards to what was going on on stage (like how the guy playing the wood blocks made me think of a defibrillator the way he rubbed them together and then pulled them wide apart to quietly set them down) that my daughters, who have similar senses of humor, totally got a kick out of without being offended by my oddball comment.  The music was terrific, the pianist, who played the entire forty minutes of the concerto by memory without sheet music was amazing.  And the grand piano was absolutely the biggest piano I've seen in my entire life.  (Is there such a thing as a Granddaddy grand piano?  If so, I'm pretty sure it had to be that one.)

It was fascinating to watch the musicians play; their natural body movements during the course of playing their parts, coming in and out of the piece at the prescribed times, made me think of waves lapping on a beach: swelling, breaking, flowing outward to build up and flow in again.

All in all, it was a very special gift, and I'm so grateful to each and every one of my kids (plus my DH who volunteered to make sure horses were taken care of in my absence that night) for giving this experience to me.

View From The Porch Swing

 Yesterday, I did a lot.  Worked two horses.  Made breakfast (fried eggs and toast for DH, Greek yogurt with granola for me), lunch (leftover chicken tortilla soup) and dinner (burritos!) for DH and I (he rarely cooks).  Washed the dishes, did a load of laundry (and hung it on the line), cleaned stalls, took care of chickens; all of which are normal daily chores.  Spent about two hours painting boards that will become the ceiling of my tack room in the barn.

And then, rather than pick up another chore at nearly 8:00 in the evening (after being on the go for 12+ hours), I told myself I had to sit down.  Not just sit down, but specifically, sit down on the porch swing (because, why do I have a porch swing??? To sit on and relax.)  And, while I was sitting on the porch swing, I may as well read the library book I've had a love-hate relationship with for almost two weeks. 

Why had I not turned the book back in to the library all ready if I wasn't going to actually read it to the end? I still had it, so I should buckle down and get the last 50 or so pages out of the way.  Really, it wasn't a terrible book, and I was sort of interested in how the author was going to tie up all the loose ends. The major plot concept was okay,but I had figured out the gist of it about 150 pages ago and was not all that enthralled with the writing itself.  Overall, not a book for me even though, written a bit differently it definitely could have been more my style (um, less money and time are no object, let's pick a random event in history to add in and then, in the 1950's go back to a semblance of the noble country life of ye olde England and fall in love with the heir whose entire family just happens to love and accept you, American chick, on first meeting. . . nauseum for this person--me--who eschewed poorly written and massed produced romance novels from the time she was a teenager.)  Based on this book, I doubt I will read anything else by this author.

Anyway, I gently swang on my porch swing, skimmed through the last chapters of the book to verify I was, indeed, right about the ending, and then enjoyed about ten more minutes in the beautiful evening before the sun went down.

overlooking the garden, which has been tilled and is ready for planting 

(once it dries up from a rainy Sunday and, now, rainy Monday night and all of Tuesday morning).

due West, to the sunset

I need to remind myself to make use of that porch swing more regularly.  Just because the sun is up and on duty until nearly 9 p.m. these days doesn't mean I also have to spend all those hours working.  Mental breaks are good.  Physical breaks are good.  Remember to allow myself down time.  It's imperative.

Don't Try This Away From Home

 Rather than the disclaimer so often heard when watching something on a tv show or commercial: "Don't try this at home!", at risk of TMI I'm going to share something I learned while on that hiking trip to Sedona with the grandkids last month.

Being a lady of a certain age, who has borne four children and has the resultant bladder tendencies to show for it (or, rather, hope they don't show enough for other people to see!) I've noticed some things as the years go on.

1.  Being sick with a racking cough can be embarrassing if it's been more than about 10 minutes since I used the bathroom.

2. Likewise a sudden hard sneeze.  Both of which instances can create extra laundry.

3. Ditto trying to ride a horse with a jolting trot. (Several years ago I instituted a 'pee before mounting' rule, LOL, but sometimes the trot is just too rough for even that to work.)

4. Grandmas don't jump.  Even if our knees are game, our bladders aren't.

5. Likewise large steps up or down while hiking/rock scrambling can create extra laundry. 

Too much TMI?  Ok, you probably want to stop reading now.  Proceed at your own risk; don't say I didn't warn you.

Still curious?  Read on, especially if you are also a woman of a certain age who has borne many babies.  Consider this a Public Service Announcement.

Period Underwear.  You know, the stuff that is supposed to alleviate your fears of unexpected period abundance and is even lately touted as being useful for leaky mom/grandma bladders?  Due to observation #3, above, in the last couple of years I have invested in some of the miracle undies even though at the advanced age of over 50 I'm hoping every period is the last one (please. . . can I be done yet?!?)   

And, while they do help with the jolting trot situation (or, sudden spooks on a young horse IYKYK), I can't say they work well for numbers 4 & 5.  Those two items being the reason I packed them for our Sedona trip.

In retrospect, it was a great idea, but with testing it failed miserably.  Did I end up with wet shorts/leggings during our hiking excursions?  Nope.  In that respect, they did a great job of absorbing whatever little liquid bits came their way.  (Told you this post really pushes the limit of what's considered TMI.)  Nobody on the trails could tell I'm a lady of a certain age who has borne many children just by walking behind me.

However, how other hikers didn't wonder why, late in the hike, I walked like a toddler with a giant wet diaper, I don't know.  Because that's what I felt like after hiking, and sweating, for miles.  Like I should be making a squishing sound with every step.

Those period undies are super absorbent, and very discreet.  However, they sucked up every single drop of SWEAT that was in their vicinity.  And hiking is a sweaty undertaking, more so when you're on the difficult trails with rock climbing or having to take large steps onto/hop off of small boulders.

Based on this highly unscientific trial, I'd give them five stars for absorbency. 

Five stars for wearing while riding young/spooky horses and/or rough trots.  

But for wearing while hiking??  Zero stars. They would be okay if there was somewhere to strip out of them immediately and replace with a pair that didn't hold five pounds of sweat at the end of the hike. Definitely don't try this away from home.