So Many Books ...

(That's me at 21 months)

So many books, so little time.

I saw someone with that slogan emblazoned on their sweatshirt several years ago. It could be my theme song.

Yesterday, Randy & I went to Hutchinson for a date night. But no trip to Hutch is complete without a stop at the Hutchinson Public Library.

You know the old TV show, Cheers? In the theme song, Cheers is a place "where everybody knows your name." I don't have any bars that fit that description, but the Hutch library ladies definitely know my name. I always have books "on hold" at the library.

If I were independently wealthy, I might buy my favorite authors' books the minute they are published. But, alas, since I am not, I am a frequent flier at my library. I put the latest bestsellers and my favorite authors' books "on hold" and wait for my turn at the library.

Is it bad if you know your library card number by heart? Since I put so many books on hold, I can type my library number without even thinking about it.

These days, I'm not usually at the library on Sundays. But back in 1979 and 1980, I was there almost every Sunday afternoon. I was a reporter at The Hutchinson News back then, and I lived by myself in a one-bedroom apartment on 7th Street, just a couple blocks south of the library at 9th and Main.

Sundays were my loneliest day of the week. I missed going to church with my family and having Sunday dinner. During nice weather, I'd walk to First United Methodist Church on 1st Street in the mornings. Even though I got involved with a Sunday School class, sang in the choir and became part of the church family, Sunday afternoon stretched out in front of me. So, Sunday afternoons, I'd head off to the library.

I guess it almost seemed like my home away from home.

I escaped to the land of books. I can never remember a time when I wasn't a library patron. My mom took us to the library from the time we could toddle in on our own steam. My earliest memories include the library in the Pratt County Courthouse.

(me and Lisa in November 1959. Lisa always says I taught her to read. She was a year behind me in school, but she sat right beside me as I learned to read. By the time she was in first grade, she was an old pro.)

But it was a big deal when the new library was built in Pratt. There was a whole room of children's books. It's where I discovered Encyclopedia Brown and Nancy Drew. I still love mysteries and thrillers today, and I have to believe those days of uncovering mysteries with them and with Trixie Belden and the Boxcar Children had to have laid an early groundwork for this love affair that's lasted all of my 52 years.

Until today, I didn't realize that this is National Library Week. The theme for the week, April 11-17, is "Communities thrive @ your library."

That is definitely true for me. But I also think there could be a parallel theme: "FAMILIES thrive @ the library." One of my favorite childhood memories was my mom reading us the "Little House on the Prairie" books. One by one, she checked them out of the Pratt library and read us the whole series with all of us crowded together on the living room couch. Later, I read them again for myself.

(Darci, me and Lisa: I have no idea why Lisa and I are in our robes outside)

I carried on the reading and library tradition with Jill & Brent. Randy & I read to them long before they could actually comprehend the words. We visited both the Stafford and Hutchinson libraries and carted home armfuls of books.

Both of them still love reading today.

This weekend, I played with a Kindle. It belongs to my sister, Darci. I must admit it's a pretty handy device for someone like her. She travels all over the country and the world. Traipsing through an airport with a carry-on bag stuffed with seven books would be a bit ridiculous. In contrast, the Kindle is about one-third of an inch thick and weighs 10.2 ounces. And yet it can hold up to 1,500 books.

It was a fun toy. But I just don't think it would feel the same as curling up in bed at the end of a long day with my book in hand. Some day, in this technology-crazed world, I may not have a choice.

But for now, give me the bulk of a book in my hands, turning the pages as the adventure unfolds.

Finding the Extraordinary

Life moves quickly. We can type a question into a search engine on the internet and seconds later, thousands of answers spill onto our computer screens.

We travel down a highway at 65 miles per hour. But do we see the beauty around us?

I find my perspective changes during wheat harvest. We don't have semis to take the grain to the co-op. I climb into a smaller farm truck, and instead of zipping down the Zenith blacktop at my normal, brisk clip, I must motor along at 30 mph or so.





It happened again the other day when I was helping with cattle. I was waiting on Randy & Jake to load up the 4-wheeler and I began wandering around the old farmstead.

When I slow down, I see things in a whole new way. At that slower pace, I see things I never really "see."

I think we can find extraordinary beauty in ordinary things.

Many days, I'll look at an old barn or shed and just see ramshackle remnants. The barn that was a bright shade of red has now faded, much like a strawberry blonde whose locks are turning silver gray.


But, if I really look, will I still see the beauty? Will I recognize that these glimpses of a day gone by tell a story?

A farmer pushed the handle on that door to the shed and used his callused hands and tools to repair his machinery.

Once upon a time, the old barn provided shelter for a farm family's horses and cattle. Back then, the family probably had a milk cow or two to provide sustenance for the family. They couldn't run to the grocery store for a last-minute loaf of bread or a takeout order from the deli.

(See the cross lit by the morning light in this shot?)

The children found their recreation in a hay loft, not in front of a television. They played cowboys and Indians instead of Star Wars. They played house and made mud pies decorated with cottonwood puffs.

Even though the roof leaks and the glory days of the old barns are long past, we still use them to shelter heifers and their new babies from frigid wintertime temperatures. Like a pair of well-worn jeans with holes and patches, the barn still "fits" like a glove when called into service.

Am I saying we should go backwards and return to pioneer times? No, I like my computer, digital camera and all my modern conveniences way too much.

But I do think we can look at little harder at the things around us. And I think we can find extraordinary beauty in the ordinary things. That's my prayer for you today!

(Photo by Brent)

The Grass Is Always Greener ...

You know the old saying: "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

Some of our cattle decided to test that theory this week. Randy was forced to complete a round-up on his own. I was at Wednesday night church activities and Jake was housebound while his daughter Emalee napped.

Randy thought he had the escapees corralled. But success was short-lived. He soon discovered them out again. A tree branch, loosened in the gale force winds, had smashed the fence, providing the escape route.

So we were all called into service yesterday morning to move the cattle.

It was not a good sign when the cattle took off running the minute we pulled in with pickup and trailer. However, they settled down, and the round-up went relatively well (hence the smile on Farmer Randy's face.)

(Randy testing the theory "Walk tall and carry a big stick)

In these situations, we are always looking for a leader. Usually, if one cow leads the way, the others will follow. The whole follow-the-leader thing can be detrimental when they take off for greener pastures, however. We humans just can't make up our minds, can we?

By the way, there really is something to the "greener pastures" proverb. In a 1983 scientific article, James Pomerantz proves "optical and perceptual laws alone will make the grass at a distance look greener to the human eye than the blades of grass perpendicular to the ground. The truth of this metaphorical proverb can, of course, also be observed often enough in the countryside when a cow or a horse is trying to get at that juicy green grass just on the other side of the fence."

So the poor cattle can't be blamed.

The cows don't care much about green pastures when they are separated from their babies. The only thing on their minds at that point is being reunited with their little ones.

The bawling and caterwauling commence.


"I know my baby disappeared through there," this poor mama seems to say. "Where did he go?"

But this separation didn't last long. They were soon reunited in a new corral.


We did have one mama that could qualify for the barnyard Olympics. She scaled fences. She high-jumped gates - all in an effort to find her baby.

Randy got the worst job of the day - preg-checking a few cows that hadn't calved. Yes, that is his plastic-gloved hand stuck ... uh, you know where.

It's not one of the more glamorous farmer jobs, is it?

True Confessions

I have a confession to make. Most of the windows in my house are open right now. Fans are running at full blast.

Yes, I could be enjoying a beautiful spring day. But that's not the reason.

I wouldn't have to confess. In fact, I contemplated not confessing. But maybe my super duper colossal failure today will make you feel better about your day.

I hope so. 'Cause I have my pride, and this story does not fit into the Type A, got-it-all-together image of a farm wife I'd like to portray.

OK. Enough stalling.

My windows are open to get rid of the lingering smoke that started out as today's dinner.

For the uninitiated, the noon meal on the farm is "dinner." I had grand plans. I was going to use the ham bone and the last of the ham remnants from our Easter dinner for a pot of ham and bean soup. Sounds good, right?

It also solved another problem. I was called into farm wife duty this morning. Randy needed my help to sort and move cattle to greener pastures.

I even planned ahead. I soaked the beans overnight. I poured off the soaking liquid, added new liquid and the ham remnants.

Cooking beans is a long process. I thought it was the perfect solution to the "What's for dinner?" question on a busy day like today.

Off we went to deal with the cattle. Two hours later, we returned to the house for some supplies.

Randy walked into the porch first. I knew it wasn't good when he said, "Uh oh!"

Then he opened the kitchen door. Smoke billowed out. Definitely "Uh oh!"

We hurriedly threw open windows and turned on fans. The offending pan was banished to the back sidewalk while we returned to the cattle job.


Let's just say our noon meal today ended up being leftover spaghetti.

I'm normally a fairly decent cook. I'm certainly no closet gourmet, but I have been known to put a good meal or two on the table.

But you know a meal is truly bad when even the farm animals come to investigate ...

And then turn their heads away in disgust.

They, like the Mikey of the old Life cereal commercials, will usually eat anything.

Not today.

I took the photo of the beautiful, colorful beans last night, thinking I'd share my recipe for ham and bean soup with you.

Instead, I'm sharing this photo of a pan that may never be the same. It looks a little like modern art, though, don't you think?


So, there you have it. Confessions of a farm wife ... a farm wife whose throat is still a little tender from inhaling the smoke.

I am grateful that it wasn't worse.

It could have happened last week before the kids came home or we had 15 guests in the house.

I'm probably going to have to rewash all the clothes I had hanging in the laundry room (that will teach me to carry them upstairs promptly).

But my house is still standing. It's just my pride that has taken a beating today.

The moral of this story: I should have used the Crock Pot.

Tactical Error

I made a tactical error yesterday. I listened to the National Weather Service.

You see, the powers that be at NWS said Central Kansas was going to have wind gusts up to 45 MPH all day long. (Unfortunately, I led my loyal listeners of KFRM 550 AM radio astray as well since I reported this supposed fact on my daily Central Kansas report. I guess that's what I get for trying to play meteorologist.)

So, yesterday morning, I again chose my trusty treadmill for my stroll (if you can call walking at 5 MPH a stroll).

Anyway, I ran out of time before I could get my hour of walking in, fix dinner and get to school on time for my accompanying gig.

When I went outside to my car, I discovered the National Weather Service was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! It was a beautiful day. Wind speeds were much lower than they had been both Saturday and Monday, when Jill & I walked outside around the section.

Did I take advantage of this lovely day and walk when I got home? No, I decided I should cross a bunch of other stuff off my to-do list first.

Around 6:30, I went out to finish my walk. And about the time I got to the end of the windbreak, the wind shifted and started roaring out of the north. Since I was headed south on the County Line, that was OK ... for awhile.

And then I turned around. I found out the Weather Service was partially right. I'm sure the wind was blowing at 45 MPH at that point.

I can think of a bunch of negatives regarding my evening walk - a stuffy nose from all the pollen blowing around, eyes full of grit and grime, a wind-whipped hair-do - just to name a few.

I finally thought of a positive. I HAD to have burned more calories as I plowed my way back toward home.

Now there's a happy thought.

I soon had another indicator of just how windy it was. Randy had gone to league night at the Stafford golf course. He came home soon after I powered my way back to the house (Of course, he couldn't have been a few minutes earlier and rescued me).

I knew it was windy if Randy had chosen to leave the golf course prematurely.

Ah, Kansas in the springtime!

Nostalgia

"In my Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it.

You'll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade."

Easter 1963, we either didn't have new bonnets or we didn't wear them in the after-church shot at my Grandma/pa Neelly's house.

But it does show our Easter finery. My mom made our Easter dresses every year. Usually, she used the same pattern for my two sisters and me, and we each got a different color of the same fabric. (This was before my brother Kent was born. Even after his arrival, he didn't get a matching tie or anything!)

We usually didn't wear hats except at Easter. I certainly can recall the choking grip of the elasticized band around my chubby neck. We may have begged to leave them off for the photo.

However, my memories didn't keep me from making my daughter wear an Easter bonnet (at least until she was old enough to protest!)

(Easter 1988)

I don't know whether it's my advancing years or what. But I seem to have been bitten by the nostalgia bug.

Last week, it was the music festival.

This week, it's Easter. It sent me digging through a few boxes of photos. (A sidenote: I have always taken tons of photos. If only I would be bitten by the organization bug instead of the nostalgia bug, I might get them organized. But, as I tell my kids, the story of their lives is alive and well and buried in multiple plastic tubs.)

At my childhood home, the Easter bunny always arrived overnight and left a treat on the table. Easter morning usually meant going to a sunrise church service. When I was younger, we attended the Byers United Methodist Church, just 3 1/2 miles away from our Pratt County farmhouse. The Byers church and the Pleasant Plains Friends Church just south of Byers alternated hosting the Easter sunrise service each year, and breakfast was served following the meal.

As a kid, I didn't think about the work involved in the breakfast. Your perspective definitely changes as an adult. Our Stafford UMC church's Hospitality Committee has hosted an Easter brunch the past three years. It's a great time of fellowship, and I think we had 80-plus people this year. I provided three coffeecakes, which I'd stashed in the freezer earlier in the week since I was having 15 people for Easter dinner at my house.

(My family at the church's Easter brunch)

I like decorating for holidays. When the kids were little, we started an Easter egg tree tradition. We blew out eggs and decorated them. I've been storing them in egg cartons ever since, and each year, I enjoy remembering the fun we had decorating eggs (For more on the process, read my monthly blog at Lovely Branches Ministries: www.lbrfoodforthought.blogspot.com)

As I looked through some old photos, I discovered some central themes. The tradition for frilly dresses, white patent leather shoes and ruffled socks continued until Jill objected.

I've always loved this photo. Brother and sister love and cleaned up kids ... what's not to like?

2010 was not the first that we celebrated my Dad's birthday along with Easter. At this particular Easter, only three of my parents' seven grandchildren had made an appearance (Blake, Paige and Jill. Brent didn't arrive until that May.)

(Easter 1988)

2010 was not the first year we had used the forsythia bush as a colorful backdrop.

(Easter 1993)

I also was amused by Brent's tie in this photo. The kids are constantly telling Randy that his tie is too short. Obviously, the fashion police were not available to monitor Brent's tie in 1993.

The tie appears to be a better length in 1992.

It appears my penchant for making my kids pose for photos was alive and well in 1993. I'm sure Brent will love this one.

Easter egg hunts are a central theme in the photos. I usually took Jill & Brent to Stafford for the Chamber of Commerce hunt. That is one event to which punctuality is crucial. Easter egg hunts last all of about 2 minutes. I'm not sure whether it was worth the 30-mile round trip to town, but it's what you do for your kids.

(Easter 1991)

We didn't stop with the in-town Easter egg hunts. The after-church family egg hunt was popular because of the prizes. The older kids kept hunting along with the younger ones. Chocolate was always good, but it was the eggs with a little bit of cash that kept the older kids captivated as they grew older. Jill always seemed to have the knack for procuring the biggest haul in the money department.

Blake, Jill & Paige

Abby, Brian and Brent
The 7th and final grandchild, Madison, had not yet arrived!

The younger ones delved into the eggs to determine the loot!

Don't you just love a trip down Memory Lane?

All Dressed Up

(Randy, me, Eric, Jill & Brent)

All dressed up AND somewhere to go!

Easter Sunday brought lots of visitors to the Stafford United Methodist Church, including some of our family. The morning included an Easter brunch at church then a service jam-packed with extras like a baptism, communion and a sanctuary full of Easter lilies.

"Christ the Lord is Risen Today" is one of those songs that makes it Easter. (We didn't sing "Up From the Grave He Arose" so Randy had to hear it in the car on the way home. It's just not Easter without it since it was part of my childhood Easter experience.)

We had 164 at church. The ushers stuck a "1" in front of the attendance from last week. Wow! One hundred extra people looked great from the choir loft. As "Tell Me the Stories of Jesus" was played, kids came forward for children's time in their shiny new shoes and spring-colored clothing. What fun to see the children wiggling for elbow room at the altar! It was a hold-your-breath moment to see if the pastor had enough treats for the passel of extra children. Yes, it was another Easter miracle!

Before my dinner party of 15 people could chow down on the spiral ham, cheesy potato casserole, asparagus, homemade rolls and salads, we had to take some photos of everyone in their Easter finery. Yes, I know I'm mean to make people wait. But it was a gorgeous day and the forsythia bush provided that perfect backdrop that proclaimed spring and Easter had arrived.

( Randy's sister Kathy, Emily, Dave & Amanda)

(My mom and dad - Janis & Bob)

(Madison, Brian, my brother Kent & Suzanne)

Dessert brought an extra celebration - my dad's 76th birthday. His birthday was on April 1. Back in 1934 when he was born, it was Easter AND April Fool's Day. So it seemed appropriate to celebrate on Easter this year too.

My mom provided the dessert - two kinds of cake and both Butterfinger and strawberry homemade ice cream - yum!

She brought two cakes because my Dad's choice is coconut, and a few people don't like coconut. (They just don't know what's good, in my opinion)!

Here's the recipe for the Coconut Cake. It is so good you won't believe it starts with a mix!

Coconut Cake

1 pkg. white cake mix
4 eggs
1 pkg. vanilla pudding mix
1/4 cup oil
1 1/3 cups water
1 1/2 cups coconut
3/4 to 1 cup pecans, chopped fine

Mix all together. Put into prepared sheet cake pan. Bake until done, 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until it tests done. Cool, then frost with cream cheese icing.

Cream Cheese Icing

8 oz. cream cheese (softened)
2 tbsp. butter or margarine (softened)
2 tsp. milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3 1/2 to 4 cups powdered sugar
2 1/2 cups coconut (You can toast the coconut. That's optional)

Combine cream cheese, butter, milk and vanilla. Add powdered sugar until desired thickness. Add coconut. Spread over cooled cake.

***

It was great to have my kids home for the weekend. And now the County Line is back to the empty nest. It's less cooking, less laundry and less clutter - but I sure miss them all over again when they pull away, back to their own lives.