Still more changes

We first moved to "the farm" in March 2011. It seems like a lifetime ago. It is interesting how our current life fell into place. Call it providence. Call it the universe in action. Call it just dumb luck. Whatever it was, whatever you want to call it, the opportunity presented itself and we jumped on it ... but not without some trepidation. King had just retired from the Alma School system as an administrator. I was still working for newspapers. We wanted to move back to West Michigan to help my sisters with our aging parents. While looking for housing I came across an ad in "The Caretakers Gazette" for a caretaker in South Haven -- free housing and utilities in exchange for taking care of a hobby farm for a couple from Chicago.
It was a scary proposition. Was this for real? Would it work? Would my city-slicker husband be able to handle this? We answered the ad and in a few days found ourselves traveling from Alma to South Haven to meet the owners. We were offered the position on the spot. Secretly I think it was because we were the only people to apply. Our gamble was a resounding success.This is our eighth summer here. King has learned to split wood, tend chickens, turkeys and rabbits. He can repair tractors, lawnmowers and rototillers. He has discovered he pretty much stinks at pruning fruit trees (we hired it out this spring), and he is fastidious about weeding and watering the gardens. He spends days weed wacking (is that a word?) and mowing the expansive yards. I have played in the greenhouse, planted gardens, weeded gardens, harvested, saved seeds and canned produce. For me, as a fan of "Mother Earth News" during the 1970s, it was a dream come true. Mom always said I was born into the wrong generation. She may have been right, but I don't think I could make do without electricity and indoor plumbing. But we are not getting any younger. We have been discussing for some time, "Should we stay or should we go?" We have not kept it a secret from the couple we work for -- we have discussed it with them quite a bit. It came down to "one more season" at least twice. Two summers ago we purchased an old travel trail and spent several months making it road-worthy. Our first foray into long-term traveling was an awesome adventure and we are ready for more. The ongoing debate -- can we do this full-time? And then things changed. Last week the owners listed the property for sale. If it sells we will certainly be moving on. If it does not... we will travel this winter and have "one last season on the farm" next summer. Perhaps it was our own wander lust that sparked our employers' desire for changes of their own. King and I are considerably older than them. I am sure they look at us, shake their heads and wonder "How can a couple that old be so unconcerned with their future? My goodness. They live paycheck to paycheck." Truth is, it is EXACTLY that -- concern for our future -- that sparks the desire to explore, have an adventure and see what else is "out there" before the coulda, woulda, shoulda takes over. I am filing for Social Security this month and more than ready to hit the road and never look back. King is not ready to give up summer golfing with our sons. We will find a compromise along the way -- be it a summer rental somewhere in the area or buying a bigger travel trailer and living in a park for the summer season. We will figure it out and change our minds at least 12 times before it is all over. Our discussions are not always harmonious. We have, after all, been together a long, long time. If you ask King, he will tell you he does the most compromising. I know for a fact he is not correct. But we WILL figure it out. It's part of the joy of living life to its fullest. Below are scenes from "the farm." Will I miss the beauty of it? I am sure I will. But I also want to visit the Worlds Largest Ball of Twine, and see the Ernie Pyle museum. It's a trade off.

Cindy Lou visits the Saugatuck Dunes State Park

My younger sister Norma and I are 20 months apart in age. I am the older sister. She is the smarter sister. She studied. I did not.

But we were always close. It was, without a doubt, our children who kept us apart in our adult years. Not in a bad way.

School activities, hockey, 4H, horse shows -- the usual stuff -- kept us busy with our respective families for a long, long time. It was probably a longer separation than most siblings as our children are 15 years apart. In fact, our youngest son babysat her children the summer before he started college.

Now that her children are spreading their wings and finding their own way in life, Norma and I are connecting again. It actually started before our sister Donna passed away. The three of us would meet on Saturdays at the assisted living center where Mom lived to take her out for coffee. Often the staff at Mom's living center would plan a special event for Saturday mornings and we would attend with Mom. Coffee/breakfast was always served by the staff but generally by the time we got Mom back to her room she would have forgotten and would be asking where we were going for coffee. I get it. Mom loved her outings. Even when Dad was alive she and Dad were always going somewhere. When Dad had his license taken away (by us) I suspect they would sneak away occasionally.

After Mom passed away the three of us continued to meet for breakfast. And Norma and I continued the tradition after Donna passed away. We had a major outing last spring when we traveled to Florida to visit our sister Kay and to go to Universal Orlando. Checking out all things Harry Potter had been on Donna's bucket list.

Our weekly Saturday meetings have changed for the summer as this year, in honor of her 60th birthday, Norma is preparing for her third marathon. (One every 10 years). She chose an event in Marquette, Michigan in September. "It's mostly downhill," she confided to me. Hey, kudos to her. I get tired driving 26 miles. But since it means Saturday mornings are training days we had to find an alternative date for our weekly get together.

This week we met at the Saugatuck Dunes State Park one evening after Norma got out of work.

Norma and Cindy Lou

Cindy Lou came along. Norma had not had the opportunity to meet Cindy Lou. We met at the park picnic area, had a quick taco and then set off on our hike. We chose to take the North Trail to Lake Michigan. It's a "short"  hike through the woods and over the dunes. According to the DNR it is 2.5 miles but I don't know if that is one-way or round trip.

Norma had no problem with the hike. I survived it and am ready to go back next week as my body should  recuperate by then. Thankfully the new knees made the walk bearable; however I am incredibly out of shape.  I was about 15  minutes behind Cindy Lou and Norma for much of our hike. I used the excuse of having to stop to take photos. It actually took me five minutes to stop breathing hard and another 10 minutes for my legs to stop shaking long enough to hold the camera still.  So Norma and Cindy Lou made it to the beach first.  As I stood on the dune overlooking the lake Norma called up to me. "Just stay there, I'll come up to you." I wasn't going to tell her I had just enough ooommmppphh left in me to walk back to the parking area so not climbing down and then back up the last dune was absolutely fine with me.

Cindy Lou was not impressed with the lake. I think it was too big. When she and Norma climbed back up to the top of the dune where I stood, Cindy Lou flopped down in the sand. Thank  you

 Norma and Cindy Lou along the shoreline

Cindy Lou, I really needed that extra few minutes to further catch my breath.

The Saugatuck Dunes State Park is an approximate 1000 acre day-use  park. I covered the dedication of the Saugatuck Dunes Natural Area in October 1988. I can't remember if I was working for the Holland Sentinel or the Grand Rapids Press at the time. Memories and newspaper clippings kind of fade and then blend together. The Natural Area has since been renamed the Patricia Birkholz Natural Area, after the late Michigan Senator Patricia Birkholz, who worked to make the natural area a reality. The "challenging" 5.5 mile South Trail winds through the 300 acre natural area, according to the Land Conservancy of West Michigan .

Both my sister and I had been to the park years before. Norma had explored the trails with a friend during her high school years -- long before the park was a reality. I had been there with a co-worker during the winter months and skied some of the trails.

With the warmer weather it is a popular spot for hikers. The trails are wide and well-marked. I must have been in better shape when I skied there as I don't remember the hills being quite so steep.  Maybe we skied an easier trail.

The park offers about 2.5 miles shoreline and a variety of hardwood and dune forests. According to the DNR website Saugatuck Dunes State Park has "freshwater coastal dunes that are over 200 feet tall." I will not dispute that fact.

The park is located at 6575 138th Ave., Saugatuck, Mich. A recreation passport is required for entry.

Cindy Lou made it back from the beach. 

View from mid-way up one of the many dunes.

Cindy Lou Who finds a home

Cindy Lou and King
getting acquainted
at the Al-Van Humane
Society.

Two  weeks ago King and I adopted a senior dog to travel with us. Cindy Lou (Who) is a mixed breed dog who was owner surrendered to animal control in

January. She tested heart-worm positive and was transferred to the Al-Van Humane Society where she was taken in by a foster mom who helped her

through her treatments. From what I understand the treatments are not fun.

The information that came with her says she is a lab/husky mix. The vet insists she is a "mixed breed," and I am guessing he would probably know better. I am reminded of a line from a children's Scholastic book my parents purchased for me when I was in third grade: As for the breed, I gave it no heed. (Blue Ribbons for Meg by Adel DeLeeuw). Cindy Lou knows who and what she is and I guess that is all that matters.

Cindy Lou has made herself at home and has taken over our hearts.

Mr. Meowgi is not impressed.

Only Mr. Meowgi, the cat, has decided Cindy Lou is evil and therefore must die. He sits on the stairs and glares at Cindy Lou, who for her part ignores him. Truth be told I think Cindy Lou is somewhat intimidated by Mr. Meowgi.

At any rate, Cindy Lou will be traveling with King and I this winter when we take off for parts unknown. (Mr. Meowgi will be moving with our granddaughter into her first apartment). We are getting Cindy Lou used to riding in the truck. It is a beast of a vehicle and pretty high off the ground. Cindy can get her front paws on the floor in the back and then I hoist her back-end the rest of the way. She can use the running board to get down, but has not quite figured out how to use it getting into the truck. When she is riding she sits like a lady and is generally pretty subdued. She rides with me when I take our granddaughter to and from school. I think I am going to have to purchase a mounting block (the kind we used for getting on and off horses) or have King build one for us.

King and I have started mapping out a route for this fall. While we generally just take off and head west, this year I have a few places I want to visit... The Ernie Pyle Museum in Dana, Indiana; the worlds largest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas; the fort where the television series F Troop was filmed... the list is quite extensive. In the meantime I have plans for Cindy Lou to travel around the area with me this summer while I take in the unusual right here in West Michigan. Starting right here in South Haven is the Blue Cow at Sherman's Dairy located a few miles from us. I also want to visit the big working Kaleidoscope in Three Oaks; the sculptures near Louis Padnos' business in Holland; the railroad trestle in my hometown of Hamilton  ...  I have a list of places in West/Southwest Michigan we can visit together.

So right now our plans are to take Cindy Lou to as many places as possible. Stay tuned for photos and stories from Cindy, King and I as we map out our next adventure.

Welcome spring

It is getting to be that time of year again. Spring. My second favorite time of the year -- fall being my favorite.

 Here on the "farm" I am getting seedlings started in the greenhouse.

Earlier this winter I could not take the stark grey of February any longer so I started broccoli and cauliflower in the greenhouse. I know I was a little early, but there is something very satisfying about seeing the little green seedlings poking their heads out of the potting mix.

Saturday I started beef stake tomatoes and some other tomato hybrid that the owner of the farm provided. I ordered my own Roma tomato seeds and a few other vegetables last week. They should be arriving any day now.

Broccoli seedlings

The flats get placed under grow lights until the seedlings are established then they are moved to the south facing window of the green house and we hope they make it to transplant time. The tricky part for me has always been hardening off the transplants, which is a fancy way of saying "getting the plants used to being outside."

I also started a plethora of herb seeds -- fennel, basil, Stevia and a few others. Potato and onions sets will be planted outside sometime in April. I am told some people plant potatoes in March, but we tend to flood a lot and often in the spring, so I usually wait. There is nothing more discouraging then having potatoes rot under several feet of water.

We have about 25 raised beds next door, plus a large "pumpkin" garden and two fenced gardens. I always graph out in detail where everything is going to go and when the weather warms I generally transplant them with wild abandon, purposefully forgetting my carefully planned garden planner. That has been the norm for as long as I have been gardening.

I have to say, however, I love the online garden planners. They are great and the little graphs I make are so pretty, neat and orderly. It gives me something to do during the dreary winter months. But when the time comes, there is nothing like planting wherever the spirit moves. Tomatoes and peppers here. Oh, I have extra onions, lets put them over there.... and where can I put all the potato eyes? Ahh yes --  next to the plastic green house garden. (That would be the garden next to our house where -- until the floods of this spring -- there was a plastic green house that I used in an attempt to harden off the seedlings).

And speaking of floods... we were hit hard late this winter. Warm weather caused a huge snowmelt and then several days of heavy rain took their toll. All this happened while our truck was in the repair shop, so we had to enlist the aid of a neighbor to help us move the farm trailers and our travel trailer to higher ground.

The water around our house rose to about three feet - just below the windows of our basement (our house has high basement walls for this very reason). The chicken coop, freezer shed, and cabin at the back of the property are all built on stilts -- about four feet off the ground. The water in the back rose to about an inch from the bottom of each building. King's helper person, who lives in the cabin, used waders to get to  and from work each day. The water in back was chest high while the water in our driveway reached a manageable thigh-high level. We used large garbage bags to wade out to the road and then walked to where our loaner car was parked. I used the garbage bags once and then decided the water was cold enough to sufficiently numb my feet so as not to feel the rocks and stones in the driveway. Since my knee replacement surgery the fear of falling on new joints is still pretty strong, so for me it was easier to simply roll up my pant legs and walk barefoot to the road. I also had visions of falling down in the garbage bag and floating downriver while trying to wiggle my way out.

The county road commission kept sending trucks out to check the bridge next to our house, but other than removing a log jam forming against the bridge, there didn't seem to be any undue concern.

A neighbor came and helped us move
the farm trailers and our travel trailer
before the water levels became
too high.

Years ago, when  the children were very young, I would often drive past this place and wonder to myself, "Why would anyone want to live on a flood plain?" Guess I know now. For us it is a great retirement gig complete with free housing.  King and I may have appeared to be what others would term typical middle class, but we've always had a sense of adventure and when we found this caretaker gig online it seemed like a fun thing to do.

The flood waters reached
the bottom of the chicken coop.

We had thought we were going to end our careers as caretakers  last fall with our going on the road full-time, but things always have a way of changing.

This will be our seventh summer here and we made arrangements with the homeowner to stay on a few more years. For now anyway, plans always change. In the meantime, our granddaughter will graduate high school this summer and move on. We will take off for parts unknown every winter and return to tend the land in the spring. Traditional snowbirds for a few years and then? Who knows. We can't commit.

Swear words

Swear words.

Does anyone even say that phrase any longer? Today I hear people referring to swearing as , " "dropping the F - bomb," or "cursing," but I seldom hear someone say, "they used swear words." Maybe that is a midwest/Dutch thing?

Anyway, Mom seldom, if ever swore.

I recall a time telling Mom I was pretty "pissed off." She looked at me and said, "You are greatly perturbed. It is not lady-like to use those other words.

Sorry Mom. I am no longer lady-like. In fact Mom, if you were to describe my language on some days you might have said to  Dad, "She swears like a sailor."

Mom also was fond of saying, "Swearing is the attempt of a small mind to express itself forcibly." And she was probably right. Listening to a stream of swearing does nothing to make me think the person using those words is anything but crass, vulgar and, well, stupid. So if I think others look that way when they swear I guess turn about is fair play.

And speaking of being stupid... my daughter is teaching her boys stupid is a bad word. I did not realize how often I use the word until I was visiting them over Christmas. And I don't use it as an adjective to describe others. I will say disparaging things about myself such as, "Well, that was a stupid thing to do." After uttering the remark I would hear, "Mommie, Grandma said a bad word." It is a good thing they don't hear me when I am at my most crass and vulgar.

It is interesting how acceptable language changes. When I was growing up, "Holy Cow," or "Hokie smokes," were words used all the time -- except in our house. If we used that language Mom would say, "Cows are not holy."  The time my older sister told her, "Well, in India they are holy," will forever be etched in my memory.

Also etched in my memory will be the only time (as far as I know) my mother used the f-word. We were playing dominoes and someone used a domino Mom was planning on using. Mom looked up from the table and said, "Well, you really f---ed my move."

I'm not certain, but I think it may have been the half-glass of wine speaking.

A little bit of Christmas traditions

When I was growing up, Christmas traditions were pretty much set in stone at our house.

Sometime after Thanksgiving Mom would get out her "Christmas Angels." They were a set of ceramic figures about five inches tall that were dressed in winter-red robes trimmed in fur (all ceramic) with dainty wings. If I remember correctly they were actually salt and pepper shakers. Mom would set them out on the end tables in the living room. When those little figurines came out it was a sure sign that full-fledged Christmas decorating would soon commence.

I found this image on the internet. It as
close to Mom's Christmas Angels
that I could find.

The figurines were kept in the bottom half of our china cabinet. The rest of the decorations were kept in the attic space above our garage. Once those angels came out it would only be a matter of time before Mom would be sending our older sister out to the garage to get the rest of the boxes.

The next decoration to grace our home would be the set of three electric blue candles that were placed in the bay windows that graced both ends of our house -- one set in Mom and Dad's bedroom and the other set in my older sisters' bedroom. Around 5 p.m. each evening Mom would announce, "Turn on the candles," and my younger sister and I would race to turn on the candles so the lights would be on when Dad came home from work.

Every day when we would come home from school there were be a few more decorations. Mom would also start making her traditional Christmas goodies -- popcorn balls, uncooked fondant cookies, thumb print cookies and of course decorated sugar cookies. Christmas music would always be playing on the stereo in the living room or on the radio in the kitchen and hard Christmas candy would be set out in a canister in the living room.

Sometime in December the rehearsals for the annual Sunday School Christmas program would begin. Rehearsals were held on Sunday afternoons and when it was determined we needed extra practice, a Saturday morning rehearsal was scheduled.  Even at a very tender young age my voice carried quite well (ie, I was loud) and I often got speaking parts. Some parts I remember still. The program was always held after the Christmas Day church service. After the program everyone received an orange and a box of Cracker Jacks.

Around the second Saturday of December we would get the toboggan out (there was always snow) and Mom, my younger sister and I would walk across the street to the neighbor's Christmas tree farm. They had quit harvesting trees  years before but a good specimen could generally be found at a reasonable price. When the trees eventually became too overgrown to harvest we would purchase one from the local grocery store. The store was a one cash register affair with a screen door that screeched in the summer and wood floors that creaked year-round. Mom shopped there faithfully until they closed sometime in the 1970s.

Choosing a tree was an important task. We would walk up and down rows of overgrown trees (or pull one from the outside wall of the grocery store) and look for one that was perfect for the corner in the living room. Each tree had to be checked out carefully. Mom would check for bare spots in the branches and decide if they could be filled in with extra branches cut from the bottom of the tree. The trunk would be checked carefully to make certain it was straight. Truth be told, we never found a tree that was perfectly straight. One year after working for hours to try to get the tree to stand up  in our living room (and after a few cross words between Mom and Dad), Dad jumped in his car and drove  to the machine shop at the factory he managed. He came home a few hours later with a cast iron tree stand that held the tree in place -- ramrod straight. No need to concern ourselves with the fact the stand was so heavy the end of the living room where the tree stood seemed to sag a little (only a slight exaggeration).

Then the tree decorating would begin. Mom was pretty particular about the decorations. "Don't hang them all in front," she would say. "Spread them around a little bit. Make sure you have some in the back and in front of the window." I am fairly certain there was a lot of rearranging once we went to bed.

Once the tree was up there were no holds barred for Mom and her decorating. Evergreen boughs were placed in window sills, mistletoe was hung in the entrance to the living room,  wreaths were hung on the doors, outside lights were strung and my father's outdoor Christmas tree was placed against our screened porch. It was Christmas!!

As the 1960s faded into the 1970s and the '80s and '90s came and went, Mom's decorations changed with the decades. The tinsel and glitter gave way to early American or Colonial pieces. The one decoration that remained were her Christmas Angel salt and pepper shakers. I believe they ended up with my sister Donna and when she passed they went to my sister Kay.

Last Christmas as King and I were getting ready to move into our travel trailer for the holiday all of our Christmas decorations we had collected over the years were dispersed among our children. Plans changed this year and we found ourselves getting ready for one last Christmas season in our house. King found a box of some of Mom's newer decorations. They must have moved into our house with Mom when she came to live with us. We found a few strings of lights that did not get donated and they now have been strung around the window and draped over the television (I never said we had a lot of class). Mom's leftover collection includes wood decorations, paper mache Christmas carolers and a ceramic creche. We even have a small tree that our granddaughter kept in her bedroom year-round. (I don't know why).

It will be a different Christmas. Our daughter in San Diego had been planning on King and I spending Christmas with her again this year. When our plans changed, King suggested our granddaughter and I fly to San Diego for the holiday. He said he would stay home and mind the farm. This is the first Christmas in 42 years King and I will not be together for the holiday. I think our marriage can withstand a little separation and I find myself looking forward spending Christmas with the twins with only a little bit of guilt for leaving King behind.

When life changes as much as ours has in the past few years one learns to take things as they come, make plans when opportunity presents itself,  hold on for the ride and adjust as needed.

Thanksgiving traditions

I hope everyone had a relaxing Thanksgiving. Ours was probably one of the easiest (and most relaxing) on record. It was just King, our granddaughter and me.

It was a meal with minimal fuss. While I had thought a turkey breast would suffice for the three of us, when I mentioned my plans to King the look of disappointment on his face was readily apparent, so a couple of days before Thanksgiving I bought a small turkey. King is still "enjoying" leftovers. I suspect he is beginning to tire of turkey sandwiches, turkey with gravy, turkey with stuffing and turkey with mashed potatoes. I thought about making soup, but to be honest, no one in this family ever eats it. I may get ambitious and make a casserole but King is somewhat of a purist and enjoys his turkey straight up.

Last year King and I went to my younger sister's home for the holiday but being somewhat immobile this year we opted to stay home.

The year before last I had visions of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner -- the kind for which my mother was famous. I spent days cooking and prepping and on the big day our son dropped off the older grandchildren. No  family gathering. No memories of Thanksgiving past. Just King, a retired school administrator who is somewhat tired of teenage drama, five young women between the ages of eight and 20 and me. Sometimes I believe it is our son's goal in life to put the "dis" in front of "functional." The day was an unmitigated  disaster. Boyfriends fought with girlfriends,  significant others argued over money in front of everyone and the door slammed more times than I care to count. At the end of the day King looked at me and said, "Well, that was fun," and we decided that was our last attempt at a traditional Thanksgiving. The one bright spot in the day was I was able to sit down with one of our granddaughters and showed her how to use the sewing machine. Together we made a set of potholders for her Mom for Christmas. The reality of the day was bitter, but the good times were there as well.

It has taken me a long time to realize traditions can be a good thing, but only if everyone buys into it. When I was young Grandpa Stehouwer and his cousin, "Uncle Andy" would travel from Grand Rapids to our home in Hamilton for dinner. We had the traditional Thanksgiving meal, followed by my father's traditional Thanksgiving Day Ride on horseback around the block, followed by the family sitting in the living room around a big bowl of assorted nuts.

When we grew older Thanksgiving traditions meant traveling from wherever we lived to Mom and Dad's house and helping Mom with the meal while the men watched football and the children played outside. My sisters and I each had our assigned tasks to help with the last-minute meal preparation, but Mom -- as was her tradition -- would have spent days and days getting ready for the meal. Families grew and each of my sisters and I started our own family traditions and Mom and Dad became our guests in turn.

In years past, we had a family member who did not seem to enjoy the holiday. She would become uptight over the timing of everything, about making a mess in the kitchen (unless you have an "open concept" kitchen, that is what doors are for) and could barely wait until everyone was finished eating to start clearing the table and putting food away. It was so awful that one Thanksgiving friends and co-workers left early and talked about it for days after at work. Yes. It was that bad. But it does no good to dwell on her bad behavior and to be honest her absence is sincerely felt. I would rather have her with us, bad mood, bossy kitchen manners and all.

It is funny how stressed people get over serving what is supposed to be a relaxing meal meant for thankfulness. It is just a meal and it is simply family.

While I miss the traditions of years past, life marches on and one can dwell on what once was or be content to create something new. Our granddaughter said this year was one of the most relaxing Thanksgivings she could remember. I would have to agree. I served everything buffet-style and it was only at the last minute that I decided I should actually put the food in serving dishes rather than serve from the pans they were cooked in. I saved Mom from having to roll over in her grave.

We ate, watched football, slept and ate some more. The most prepping I did was defrosting the turkey. I liked it that way. Mom would work for days and days getting ready for the holiday. Pies, homemade cranberry relish, rolls, stuffing, two different kinds of jello salad, mashed potatoes, gravy, several different kinds of vegetables, sweet potatoes and homemade bread for Thanksgiving evening sandwiches ...Mom enjoyed all the fuss. In her mind nothing said love like an abundance of food. We all enjoyed Thanksgiving at Mom's house and the traditions it brought. But families grow and change and traditions that worked 15 years ago certainly do not work now.  And as I learned we move on and enjoy change because trying to re-create memories seldom works.

Eating, sleeping and watching football was not all that bad.