Sunday Drive on a Friday Night

 

We took a "Sunday drive" last Friday night.  

The term "Sunday drive" originated from leisurely car drives taken on Sundays in the early to mid-20th century as a form of cheap entertainment. That just happens to be the time I was a kid growing up on a Central Kansas farm. I know about "Sunday drives" firsthand as a kid sitting in the backseat of a car while my dad sang songs like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" or "Mairzy Doats." Those - plus "I'm An Old Cowhand" - were also part of the sound track of our trips to visit my grandparents in Sublette. 

If you look up the definition of "Sunday drives," it says that initially, these drives were a form of recreation with no specific destination or time constraints. Over time, the term "Sunday driver" has evolved to describe someone who drives slowly, cautiously or inexpertly, often associated with inattentive drivers. Alternatively, it can mean "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

Since the only living things we saw on our trek off the beaten path were grazing cattle, we didn't bother any other drivers on our foray down country roads. So I guess, in this case, we'll stick with the definition of "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

We ate supper at Sylvia's Oasis restaurant after a fellow golfer recommended the Mexican food there to Randy. On the way home, we took a detour to the Ninnescah Pasture. Randy had been there more recently than I had. One summer when we were still actively farming, we took more trips down that road than any of us would have liked. There was a group of cows and calves that were determined to find the proverbial "greener pastures." No matter what we did, they would not stay in, so we were on 4-wheelers rounding them up more times than either of us wanted. (That group of escapees eventually ended up at the sale barn.) 

Anyway, it was nice to take a leisurely trip down the road - with no purpose in mind, other than checking out the water flow in the Ninnescah ... 

Looking east at the bridge

 

Looking west at the bridge

... And "smelling the roses" - or, in this case -  the wooly verbena. 

 

The road to another familiar pasture - the Rattlesnake Pasture - used to be lined by a tunnel of cottonwood trees, a route I loved in the summer. But several years ago, those aging cottonwoods were cleared away from the road. I'm sure it made practical sense, but I still miss dodging light and shadow as we work our way down that road. I imagined Randy's predecessors 120 years ago appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to the Rattlesnake pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

July 2013 - This was before the township tore down most of the cottonwoods along the road to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

Maybe those nostalgic memories factor into my love of a tree-lined road near the Ninnescah Pasture, where the trees still tower over the dirt road and the sun plays peekaboo among the branches.

 

 You can't beat a Sunday drive on a Friday night.

 

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. 

There are no wrong turns.

-- Susan Magsamen 

 

*** 

And an update on the bridge north of our house: We drove up to the bridge last evening to check out the progress. Completion is definitely closer, but the Road Closed signs remain. However, all the big equipment is gone, and the new guardrails are in place. 

On August 5, the public works guys told Randy that the bridge would be done in 2 weeks. We'll see if their prediction holds true. 

 

Third Time's the Charm?

I've always loved the fairytale setting for our little farm home. The mighty arms of a chorus of old trees shade our house and yard.

Home Sweet Home "dressed" for fall - file photo

But on Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, I was questioning my love affair with our big old trees. I know that Sunday night's storm toppling our 100-year-old-plus cottonwood had something to do with our hasty exodus from our upstairs bedroom to the main floor. As branches pummeled the roof and rain fell in sheets, it sounded a little like we were in a war zone. (Not that I know what that sounds like, but you get the idea!)

Early morning light revealed that not all the branches and trees had fallen in the Sunday night storm. There seemed to be plenty to "decorate" the yard and smash the rain gutter and flag pole after Tuesday night's storm, too. But, thankfully, the roof survived at our house. However, we will have to replace the roof at the farm employee's home.

The road in front of our house had been blocked by our massive cottonwood Monday morning. On Wednesday morning, it was trees from the shelterbelt across the road that blocked our way until Randy could get the loader tractor to again clear the path.

Our south driveway again took a hit in the Tuesday storm. This tree was just to the east of the cottonwood.

The tree that shades Randy's pickup also got an unexpected haircut. Thankfully, it didn't fall on his pickup.

We have had our share of wind storms this summer. A storm in mid-June skewed our lean-to and made it "lean" a little more than it should, as well as delaying wheat harvest for a few days.

The same storm damaged trees at a cemetery not far from our farm.

The two storms this week brings us to three - count 'em, 3! - violent wind storms since June 21. I'm really hoping "third time's the charm" comes true and puts an end to the storms and the damage.

Google tells me that the origin of the phrase "third time's the charm" is probably ancient since things that come in sets of three have often been associated with good fortune due to their similarity with the Holy Trinity. Another source says that the possible origin for this phrase comes from the common folk belief in perseverance. It's said that one shouldn't just give up in the face of setbacks and should instead, "Try, try and try again." This suggests that trying once or twice isn't enough, but trying four times is too much.

I'm all for perseverance, but I'd say a fourth wind storm this summer would, indeed, be too much.

However, Randy and I were surprised to see that the corn had fared much better than we'd expected.

Both of us had envisioned our corn snapped in two and leaning over like our trees. So we were surprised and, yes, thankful, too!

I missed this round of the clean-up since I needed to be in Stafford at 8 AM to help with 4-H foods judging.

Hmmmm - maybe I wasn't too sad about that!

***

This morning, we did a little farm scouting tour. Here's the milo, which has enjoyed these abundant "drinks" of water lately:

The silage is doing well, too:

Cottonwoods: Wtiness Trees

One of Reno County's largest cottonwood trees. Can you see Randy?

I have a lifetime love of cottonwoods.  At my childhood home, an old cottonwood stood near the south driveway, the first thing visitors saw as they approached the farmstead and one of the last things silhouetted by a sunset sky at night. 

Cottonwood at my childhood home, Pratt County

Every spring, the cotton from the tree covered the ground.
My sisters and I used both the cotton and the green unopened pods to decorate mud pies.
In this photo dated April 1963, I was 5, Lisa was 4 and Darci was 18 months. I have fond memories of adding just the right amount of water to dirt and then pouring it into pie tins and buckets. The fluffy white cotton and the green pods were the decorative touch. It was all about presentation, even back before knowing anything about garnishing via the Food Network chefs.

But, sadly, that old cottonwood succumbed to old age, and it no longer stands sentinel at my parents' home.

On Sunday, July 8, CBS Sunday Morning featured a story on Witness Trees. These trees "witnessed" the battle at Gettysburg. Across 6,000 acres of Gettysburg National Military Park, rangers have documented at least a dozen "witness trees" that were alive during the battle - living links that help tell the story of the battle, according to park rangers.

Cottonwoods live from 60 to 200 years. A few of them that still survive today likely co-existed with the bison herds that roamed the Great Plains long ago. (Great Plains Nature Center, 2006).

Cottonwoods help tell my story, too, and they have "witnessed" important passages in my life. 

It just seemed right that a cottonwood tree guarded the mailbox at the home where we've lived since 1985. (Click on the link to see our tree in every season.) Just a few weeks after we moved into this home, that cottonwood witnessed us bringing home our first baby, Jill. It was a quiet sentinel two and three-quarters years later when we brought Brent home. It witnessed their wobbly attempts to ride bikes on dirt roads, their first bus rides to school and "saw" more than one 4-H calf halter broke. It waved goodbye as they left for college and greets them when they come back home. It is our "witness" tree on the County Line.

 However, it, too, is struggling to survive these days, with some branches never greening up this spring.

The road patrol driver asked about cutting it down. While there's still green to be seen, we're not ready to let it go.

Mighty cottonwoods form a canopy down many a country road in rural Kansas. One of my favorite cottonwood "tunnels" is along 4th Avenue near Huntville.

 

Though tree trimming and age have made that tunnel effect less dramatic in recent years, it's still a favorite landmark on the drive to and from Hutchinson.

June 2018

One of Reno County's largest cottonwood trees is on a road just east of that old cottonwood tunnel.  On a recent return trip from Hutchinson, Randy detoured down the road to visit. 

It's so big you can't get the whole thing in a single snapshot. Randy tried to demonstrate the massive trunk with his outstretched hands.

"It's a darn big tree," Jim Smith, former director at Dillon Nature Center in Hutchinson, said in an article in The Hutchinson News. I'm glad he did the measuring because we didn't come prepared, even to measure the trunk and certainly not to scale its height. It measures more than 28 feet around, 96 feet tall and has a spread of about 110 feet.

Early Kansas settlers found the native trees as they arrived from the eastern U.S. The wide Kansas prairie was often foreign and intimidating to settlers moving west from the Ohio Valley, the Appalachian Mountains or New England. The landscapes they had left back home were covered with trees that provided wood for building homes, fuel for cooking, fuel to warm the hearth during a harsh winter and shade to protect them from a hot summer sun. Following the Oregon and Santa Fe trails west, trees were in very short supply.

4th Street cottonwoods, September 2015

When a cottonwood tree was spotted, thoughts of shade, water, wood and back home filled the minds of weary travelers. The cottonwood gave those traveling through the state a respite from the summer sun and the courage to continue west.

When the Kansas Legislature chose the cottonwood (Populus deltoides) as the state tree in 1937, the proclamation read:

"Whereas, if the full truth were known, it might honestly be said that the successful growth of the cottonwood grove on the homestead was often the determining factor in the decision of the homesteader to 'stick it out until he could prove up on his claim'; and Whereas, The cottonwood tree can rightfully be called 'the pioneer tree of Kansas.' "

4th Street cottonwoods in winter

They are like the old family patriarch - tall, stately, but maybe a little rough around the edges after years of standing through the changing seasons. Many a country road is lined with these big old trees, which seem to wave a friendly greeting in the Kansas breeze. On early morning or late evening trips to check cattle, the cottonwood's leaves rustle and birds serenade from their branches.

Their attire changes with the seasons - whether clothed in green for summer or in yellow finery for fall or stark and drab in winter's solemnity.

July 2013

For years, the road to the Big Pasture was lined with cottonwoods. It's just not the same after they were cut down last year.

The Palmer Pasture cottonwood in better times.

A cottonwood near our Palmer Pasture came crashing down two summers ago. I still miss it when we pull into the southwest gate of the pasture.

I always appreciate the fall colors on the cottonwood trees as we leave the Ninnescah Pasture to bring the cattle home each November.

And a grove of old cottonwoods frame our secret garden of iris each May along the Zenith Road and the glimmer of the shiny leaves at golden hour make it even more picturesque.

Long may these witness trees live!

The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall

Perhaps you have noticed that even

in the very lightest breeze,

you can hear the voice of the cottonwood tree.

--Black Elk

The big old cottonwood tree has had a supporting role in many a photo on the County Line.

As we've taken cattle in and out of the pasture we call "Palmer's," it has stood as a sentinel to our comings and goings just beyond the southwest gate. Its stance at the bottom of a cottonwood-tree-lined hill made it the focal point for photos as Randy would go back to close the gate and I'd step out of the pickup to document its fall or summer "outfit."

But a mighty wind felled the mighty cottonwood Friday night.

The weather ticker at the bottom of the TV screen Friday night said there were 58 mph winds at Quivira National Wildlife Refuge. That gave a definition to the howling I could hear outside my living room windows. I'm always a little concerned when the wind screams ferociously. Our house is nestled among many old trees. Someday, I envision one of them crashing into the roof. This time, our homestead trees survived. But one of my favorite cottonwoods did not.

 

The cottonwood stood just across the dirt road from this Quivira National Wildlife Refuge sign, "Headquarters, Visitors Center, 1 mile." (You can see the old cottonwood's leaves in the upper righthand corner of this photo from 2010.)

But it will no longer stand at attention as visitors drive to the refuge or as we make trips to the pasture. Look closely at the photo below and you'll see Randy in the center.

 That gives a better gauge of the massive size of the old cottonwood tree.

The tree snapped apart and completely blocked the road.

 

Randy didn't think our loader tractor could do the job of moving the massive trunk, so he called the township board. They already had it taken care of by Sunday evening.

We can't believe it didn't squash the fence when it crashed to the ground.

You can see how massive it is. Randy is in the lower right of this photo, hidden among the leaves.

More cottonwood trees line the road to the east. They survived this round of storms. As I stepped through the fallen branches, I realized that the cottonwood leaves that I'd used to frame many photos on the lefthand side were now framing the righthand side of the shot. .

Here the old cottonwood was decked out in its fall finery during one of our trips to take cattle to the pasture.

I have a lifetime love of cottonwoods. At my childhood home, an old cottonwood stands near the south driveway. The cottonwood tree has been one of the first things visitors see as they approach the farmstead and one of the last things you see silhouetted by a sunset sky at night.

Mighty cottonwoods form a canopy down many a country road in rural Kansas. Early Kansas settlers found the native trees as they arrived from the eastern U.S. When the Kansas Legislature chose the cottonwood (Populus deltoides) are the state tree in 1937, the proclamation read:

"Whereas, if the full truth were known, it might honestly be said that the successful growth of the cottonwood grove on the homestead was often the determining factor in the decision of the homesteader to 'stick it out until he could prove up on his claim'; and Whereas, The cottonwood tree can rightfully be called 'the pioneer tree of Kansas.' "

They are like the old family patriarch - tall, stately, but maybe a little rough around the edges after years of standing through the changing seasons. Just like the road to the Palmer pasture, many a country road is lined with these big old trees, which seem to wave a friendly greeting in the Kansas breeze. On early morning or late evening trips to check cattle, the cottonwood's leaves rustle and birds serenade from their branches. Their attire changes with the seasons - whether clothed in green for summer or in yellow finery for fall or stark and drab in winter's solemnity.

In 2011, the Kansas Cattle Drive herded longhorns down the road and past the cottonwood as they traveled to Quivira for an overnight stay.

The old cottonwood had towered over the longhorns and the riders as they traversed the dusty road.

You know that old saying, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."  Yes, and the bigger they are, the harder to watch them fall, too.

Goodbye, old friend. It's been good to know you.