18 November 2025

Gardening Game

For awhile now my husband has been talking about making a game about gardening. Something peaceful and relaxing. No rush and stress, just planting a garden.

Last night he came home and sat down at his computer after supper. He pulled up a screen full of words and told me to play.

Not being a gamer myself I was a bit confused at first. How is this a game. How was I supposed to figure out what all those lines of text meant? There was a spot at the bottom of the page to enter one number. All of that text, and one number to chose.

After stumbling around the first few times I started to get the hang of it. It WAS fun!

All the text was telling me how my garden was doing. What needed watered. What was ready to harvest. what price the crops were selling at. After the first couple harvest cycles I went from broke to actually making a bit of a profit and the lines were making sense and becoming easier to read.

While I played on his computer he sat the kids down on their computers. They had screen with colors and boxes. He explained to them how to draw using pixels.

This is right up my daughters ally. She loves designing minecraft skins and has a pretty good following on one of the skin sites. Her work is gorgeous. She quickly got the idea and created some wonderful vegetable designs for a not completely text version of the game.

My son wasn’t quite as into that art stuff. He came over and took over the game I had started. He’s not overly fond of reading, so there were some doubts about his interest in the screen full of text. He caught on right away and went right to producing crops.

My husband had made his game. Or started on it. He kept coming up with more ideas on improving it and has the not text version to finish still. Hopefully he and the kids can spend many more evenings together refining and completing their gardening game. Everyone was enjoying it immensely and it’s something they can play with fr years into the future. Maybe they can even make more games!

Category: 8, Family, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
25 October 2025

Halloween Party

It wasn’t planned. Not really.

8 had been promising his good friend a sleepover once his new cabin was finished. So of course we had to have the friends sister over too for 8’s sister. Then a friend texted about doing horse stuff together. Why not do it all at once and make a party of it!

The friend brought along her daughter and the daughters horse. All three girls took off riding. Me and the mom took her big beautiful new horse into the corrals and played.

When the girls got back my son, whose horse had been commandeered by a girl, rejoined them and both of my children managed to get stung by wasps. How in the world they managed that within and hour of each other when they’ve gotten this far in life without ever being stung I don’t know.

We carved pumpkins then roasted marshmallows and even a couple hot dogs for supper over a fire.

The kids didn’t play outside, in the dark, on the hay bales. It was too cold. The wimps.

This morning the boys went off to help dump the load of corn on the semi, help get semis up and running. They helped move them to the places the semis needed to be to dump cor in them. Then they jumped in the combine for a ride. I haven’t had any updates since then, but I’m betting they are spending some time playing in the corn in the grain trailers. Always a great time.

The friends horses both went home with the mom yesterday. So the friend who rode out with her own horse yesterday didn’t have one to ride. Pulling up my big girl pants and trying to be brave I put my daughter on my horse, Rusty. She used to ride him all the time, just never usually off a lead. She’s been riding Jerry lately and her confidence has been growing by leaps and bounds. Having friends there to watch also serves to make you brave, or at least to act that way. They rode around the yard for awhile first to make sure everyone was comfortable. The friend who has her own horse rode Jerry. The friend who comes to ride our horses regularly rode her preferred mount, my son’s horse, Lady.

Then they all headed out.

Rusty is a very good boy, but can be energetic. Lady is wonderful, but was extra zippy on their ride yesterday. Jerry can get really zippy too occasionally but her rider runs barrels and knows how to ride. Surely they’ll be fine. I waited, watching the horizon nervously for awhile. Looking for a horse to come running back without a rider. There was nothing. I finished my outdoor chores and texted my daughter before heading in. They were at the far corner of the property and still heading. I asked her to keep me updated with some idea of where they were please.

Next time I heard from her they were at the other far corner of the property and thinking about going farther. Or coming back. Who knows. Teenagers don’t exactly text clearly. But they made it that far on a cool windy morning. Hopefully the horses will be tired enough to walk home again. Walk being the important part of that. If they were going to act up, hopefully they already would have. I am loving this. We need to have friends over to ride way more often!

Category: 8, Goblin Child, Horses | LEAVE A COMMENT
7 October 2025

Full Moon Freeze

The science still says that a full moon has nothing to do with frost.

One month ago we had our first frost. On the eve of a nearly full moon. It’s been warm after that. Until last night. When under the full moon it froze again.

Not hard I don’t think. The garden wasn’t black yet when I was out this morning to look. Need to go look again now that it has warmed up some more. But I will not believe that the first frosts aren’t related to the full moon!

Category: Garden | LEAVE A COMMENT
14 September 2025

We made quite the convoy heading off down the gravel road. I got to take the lead in the old truck with a seed tender on back. My husband followed in the tractor and drill. Kids brought up the rear in the pickup.

My job, one of my jobs was to watch the big hills as we went. Make sure there were no cars speeding up the other side who would then meet the tractor which took up the entire road, coming over a hill with disastrous effect. My other job was to get the truck over to the field so my husband could keep the drill full of wheat seed and get the field planted. Hopefully before the chance of predicted rain.

The seed truck is older than I am. It sits most of the year while mice crawl through it and make a filthy stinking mess of the whole thing. I had complained about it enough that they had cleaned the cab out pretty good while getting everything ready to plant. Luckily. I have never had to drive this before and would not have been willing in its usual stinky state. As it was though, as long as I didn’t look at the floor, it was just a nice old truck. Sitting in the driveway as we were about to head off I got my first experience with its clutch. It involved lots of rolling backwards as I struggled to find that sweet spot where clutch and gas meet to make it go forward smoothly. It was much pickier than the semis I had gotten used to. Finally finding it, we proceeded onward.

With only four speeds going through the gears wouldn’t be a problem. I can drive a stick shift. It’s been an extraordinarily useful skill to have in life. If you can drive one stick shift you can drive any stick shift! This one was just a little pickier than others. The semis are mostly easy. I can go up through the gears no problem, loving how cool I feel as I run through them without clutching. Until I have to slow down. Then nothing will do but for me to come to a complete stop and start over in first. Luckily I don’t drive down the highway.

Coming to the first up hill stretch in this old truck I discovered, quite happily, that this one I could downshift! Dropping one gear she was able to pull the hill.

As we plodded along, the tractors top speed under these circumstances was not quite 20 mph, I got bored with the ease of things and called my grandma. Might as well talk while we made the drive.

Chugging along at almost top gear, 4th gear but low range, we chatted away. With all the weight of the full load of seed on going up hill required going down a gear. Until we reached THE hill. It is a steep down hill, from this direction. Then the road we need to take Ts off to the north going straight back up. the combination of having to stop to make the turn and then the steep hill climb makes life interesting with any sort of a load on. I’ve gotten stuck here before. In much simpler vehicles. A pickup and trailer with a load of calves going to pasture stalled out at the base of THE hill once. It required backing the dead pickup downhill and around the corner in order to try a few more times before giving up. There’s also very limited to no phone reception there. No calling for help. I had to wait until my husband, in the semi with the mama cows realized we weren’t behind him any more.

In the seed truck I made the corner in third. It’s geared really low. And started the climb. Then I realized that I was not a very good driver. I was used to automatic pickups and semis loaded light enough that they could chug right through the hard pulls.

I had been warned that the seed truck ran great, as long as it was running, but would not start again while warm if it was shut off for any reason. Or if I killed it running in too low a gear or failing a down shift.

Phone propped on my shoulder I begged the truck to keep going. My grandma on the other end was listening to my pleading as I cut in and out wanting to know what in the world was going on?! Was I ok? Who was I talking to?? I ignored her for the moment focusing on the very important matters at hand. It was apparent I would need to down shift as the engine chugged hard. Pushing in the clutch the truck came to a complete stop. On the steep hill. My mind flashed back to highschool. To the stop light on the drive to school, on a hill, cars everywhere. This stop was just as terrifying, if the dangers were slightly different. My trusty old Toyota pickup had never quite rolled back into the car behind us. Maybe I could keep this old truck from dying too.

Jamming it into 2nd, 1st was iffy and I had been told not to worry about it, I floored the gas and let out on the clutch.

The engine roared, the clutch slipped, the truck lugged slowly up hill.

I did it! I down shifted 🤣

Such a silly thing to be such a huge deal. The excitement rushed through my veins. I was exultant in my victory! I could drive anything do anything. Good had won the battle over evil. My grandma was still talking in my ear. Her voice heard once again now that the battle was over. She was done talking to me. She’d had enough. But I had been battling the hill and the clutch! She would talk to me another time. Oh well, not everyone can appreciate a battle fought. The few seconds had felt like hours. Apparently they had felt like hours to her too.

Shortly after the hill we got to the field waiting to be planted. My husband got out of the tractor and greeted my with “You nearly lost it on that hill didn’t you” He had realized the battle being waged. He grinned at me. I grinned back. Then they put the first load of seed in the drill.

Category: Farming | LEAVE A COMMENT
9 September 2025

Privilege

My husband called as I was elbow deep in meal preparations. He needed a little help, could someone come out to the field please.

After putting in almost a ten hour day, he had left the town job a little early so he could get home and plant some wheat. He and the kids had spent a large portion of the weekend getting machinery ready to go. Now during the work week he was getting started. No weekends or evenings off for him.

The kids had come home from school and were enjoying a bit of computer time. I ordered them out the door with only minimal, token complaints.

Cutting vegetables and finishing the meal I kept a watch out for them all, worried they’d be in and starving before I got the meal finished. No sign of them. Out to the garden to get it ready for the night and pick whatever was ripe and easy to serve alongside the meal, I heard the tractor in the distance. They were finally headed in.

Husband in tractor, one child on the drill, and the other following with the 4wheeler, they pulled into the yard to park for the night. It had been a long day. Watching the children work alongside their father I couldn’t have been happier. He is the hardest working man I know. Other than my father, and grandfather, and my brother. All the men in my family actually. Hard working men who give everything they have to take care of their families.

My dad took me out with him when I was young. Taught me a little about working on cars and even less about carpentry. But those weren’t the real lessons anyway. What I was actually learning was that I was valued, that he knew I was as capable as anyone else of working hard and getting the job done. My daughter spent a good deal of time over the weekend working on pivots with her father. He was teaching her the same lesson and it was wonderful later to hear her brag about the hard work she had been doing. The lesson was sinking in already.

It’s sad to see girls whose fathers don’t care about them the same way. Who never take the time or care to make their daughters, or sons even, go out and do the work with them. The privilege of knowing how to work hard and get the job done, of having a father who loves them enough to teach them that this hard work is what matters and will get them through life, that is the privilege my children have been born into.

At supper we talked about what they had been doing. How they learned what the dangerous parts of the planter were and how to carefully spread the wheat seed out to get the last bit of the field planted without adding too much seed and needing to clean it all out. Important lessons, but not the ones that matter.

 

Category: Family, Farming | LEAVE A COMMENT
6 September 2025

First Frost

‘They’ say the full moon has nothing to do with frost.

The old stories say that frost will come with a full moon.

As much as I would like to trust and believe the collection of data, watching as the first frost rolls in every year with a big bright full moon I have to say I have my doubts.

The forecast was for mid to upper 40s. The moon was coming full, but it was going to be warm enough, we’d probably escape frost until late again this year. If we could get past this full moon we should be fine until the next time around.

Without doing any preparations to the garden we went off to do other things. My husband took a tractor over to work the summer fallow. Instead of checking cows earlier in the day, like usual, the kids and I waited until it was time to go pick him up. Get everything done in one trip.

We got to the pasture to find a handful of calves out. They have plenty of grass but have cleaned up the wheat they were grazing and think they are starving. At least that’s my theory. Maybe they sense a bad winter coming and want to com home. Now. I held the gate. The kids took the pickup and chased the calves in, no problem. There was a cow out. I walked her in. The kids took the pickup and went to open the gate. It needed the fence stretcher to get. They managed it all alone. As the cow and I slowly walked the length of the fence towards the gate the whole herd of cows leaped into a gallop alongside up and charged the gate. The kids held it!

The cow and I finally caught up. She turned two fence posts before she got to the gate and plowed through the fence.

The kids and I had the pleasure of fixing fence with the whole herd gathered around to ‘help’. They stoll the hammer from the fencing bucket. They tried to eat everything else, including my daughter as she put on the wire ties.

Finally done there we made it up to check water. Water was good. The herd didn’t come to help us with that.

Leaving, through a different gate, we found wires broke in the gate, wires broke in the fence. This must have been where the calves originally left their pasture for new fields. My son had come along without any shoes. He didn’t know we were going to have to get out of the pickup. Ever. That makes all the trouble obviously his fault. He cursed us.

It was nearly dark when we reached my husband waiting in his tractor at the field. He had been able to get more disking done than anticipated while we fixed cow problems. All squeezed warmly into the cab of the pickup we compared weather forecasts on the drive home. Now they were predicting frost. Not earlier when it would have been easier to do something about it. Once home instead of running to work in the garden we ate a quick late supper and went to bed. The garden would do whatever the garden did.

What the garden did was freeze. With next week predicted to be in the 80s again. As always, an early cold snap followed by warm weather mocking us over the blackened burnt remains of the garden.

But, the frost was kind this time. The garden is only lightly nipped by frost. The pumpkins, of course, and the east side. Why the east side instead of all of it? Looks like we will be roasting and freezing peppers today after all! We should be safe from frost until the next full moon now. Not that that has anything to do with the freezing, not according to ‘them’.

Category: Cows, Family, Garden, Goblin Child | LEAVE A COMMENT
28 August 2025

Poppers

I had made the poppers properly this time. With bacon for sure, no brisket mixed in there. The cheesy bacony goodness was dripping from our fingers while butter from the fresh sweet corn smeared our faces.

Then my daughter yelped. Hot! So hot!

Apparently one of the pepper plants was an actual jalapeno, not of the same not spicy variety as the others. And it really was hot.

We had a whole pan of jalapeno poppers and some of them were spicy. But which ones?

My son found the next one prompting large glasses of milk for each child.

We sat around the table laughing, gasping, dripping butter, and playing a game of Russian roulette, jalapeno style. Who would burn their tongue next? Was there a tell we could know the hot peppers by? A different shape to the hot peppers? We all happily joined in the game. It added spice to the meal, literally and figuratively, as more of the hot variety was found. No one was going to pass up the delicious poppers just because a few of them carried hell fire.

A good meal isn’t all about the taste. The most important part of the meal is something else altogether.

Category: Uncategorized | LEAVE A COMMENT
21 August 2025

Doctoring Cattle

His lack of worry and understanding was frustrating to say the least. Here I was dealing with what seemed like a major emergency and there he was being all calm and not getting what a big deal it was.

I tried to explain that the dart had mostly disappeared into the hindquarter of the calf and he was checking the company website to see that it should drop out within half an hour. I understand that this is weird, rare, and unusual, when something has never happened before it’s hard for someone to understand what is going on. Something was wrong enough for me to call my husband, at work no less, and ask for help, that means something is really really wrong.

He likes to help me, but he thinks I need his help. Which makes me vow to never need his help.

The calf had a touch of pink eye. I was there to doctor a different calf, and to go through the herd carefully to make sure there wasn’t anything else that needed help while I was there with supplies. My daughters calf, her only calf, is a bald face, pink eyed, black Hereford. Yes, I know, Herefords are red, not arguing about it, he’s a black Hereford. Those pink eyes make him so delicate to out bright sunny summer days. It wasn’t surprising to see him with signs of pink eye. I’d just give him a quick shot while I was there.

A quick shot out in the pasture means the dart gun. Loaded with a blank 22 shell it shoots a dart full of medicine at the calf. In theory the needle goes in, sticks for long enough for the dart to discharge it’s load of medicine, then it falls out.

Immediately after shooting the calf I was impressed with how long the dart was hanging on there. All the medicine would get into the calf. Yay! Then it still didn’t fall out. Then I realized I could only see the very end of the dart. I had shot the calf! For real. I had shot an 8 inch long at least a quarter inch wide dart deep into the calf!

Panic did set in a little. This was my daughters calf. Her only calf. She lost her calf last year to coyotes, she didn’t need to lose this years to her mother.

I called the neighbors. If I could rope the calf on foot, like I did the last one I had needed to get a hold of out in the pasture, then I could pull the dart out. But the long drive home to get a rope would take forever. If I could get one from the neighbors that would save some time. They weren’t home. Fat lot of help they are (which I say because I know she’ll be reading this 😉 ) But their daughter ran back home to get a rope and meet me. She brought two ropes just to be on the safe side. Smart girl. I need to get a rope to leave in the pickup.

My husband called back to see how things were going. Still smarting from his lack of concern over my predicament I told him not to bother to come out. I would figure something out. That might be going home for a horse and waiting for the neighbors to get home, but I would manage something. Then I got back to work.

The other calf that needed doctored still needed his shot. I was scared. I was also in the middle of a text conversation with my vet. She was unconcerned about the first calf. Calves are tough, cattle are tough, amazingly so. If I couldn’t catch the first calf, it would fall out eventually. I suspected that like my husband she didn’t understand how deep the dart was embedded, but was still comforted by her lack of concern. She also assured me that I would be fine, this sort of thing doesn’t happen. Go shoot that other calf!

I did that first so I wouldn’t be tired or injured for the chase if I waited until after. This time the dart bounced off and I have doubt it made enough contact to deliver any medicine. Sheesh.

The I went calf hunting. It was mid day and most of the cattle were at the tank for a drink and they settled in to hang out and nap. The calf in question stood next to his mother. I walked up close. The cow is quiet. Not a pet, but not worried about people either. Knowing my only chance at holding a three or four hundred pound calf was to heel both hind legs I tried. I almost got it too. I’ll blame the stiff rope made for heading not heeling. It’s possible it could be my complete lack of roping ability. Either way, I made contact, but did not get heels.

My husband texted. He was on his way. He had a moment he could get away from work and would come help me. I was grouchy and mean. There was no point in him coming out, nothing he could do anyway. He said he was coming anyway.

I spent the meantime stalking the calf around the tank. The cow herd is quiet. I squeezed my way between cows who saw no reason to move. Walked by my napping bull quite a few times, he saw no reason to get up. All the other calves hung out or came to check me out. I could have caught any of them. Except the one I was after. I got a few chances, but missed my loop. I am no cowgirl. A horse might have made it easier, unlikely though.

My husband showed up. He parked his suburban at an angle to my pickup so we would have a spot to corner the calf if we got that chance. Then we went hunting together. The calf was by the tank. We split up to try to catch him between the tank and the windmill pond. If we could hold him up there for a minute I might get a shot.

It was working. The cows just needed to get out of my way! How did they always know to stand on my right of the calf??!! Then, I aw the calf go to squeeze past my husband. Why was he letting it go! It stepped into the pond and went right around him. There went that chance.

My husband turned back to me and held up his hand. He was holding a dart!

As the calf slowed and squeezed by him, not wanting to get too deep in the pond, he had reached out and grabbed the dart. As simple as that. I had been fighting for a couple of hours by then. Some of that was doctoring the other calf. But I had gotten to the pasture about 11 and it was now 2. He showed up and solved the whole problem in five minutes.

Sometimes I forget that just because he doesn’t like cows doesn’t mean he isn’t completely capable of handling cattle. Being a farmer with no interest in being and no pretenses of being in any way cowboy doesn’t mean he isn’t completely capable. Boy did I need to apologize. Guess there was plenty he could do after all.

He did admit that he had never seen anything like that dart and wow it was deep. That doesn’t quite make us even.

The calf is going to be sore. That was a very deep injury. Luckily he’s already been treated with an antibiotic. Hopefully that helps. I sure wont be shooting him again with a dart. Cattle are tough and can take amazing injuries and be fine. This one is one for the record books.

As my husband headed back to work, slightly more dirty than he had left, he called to tell me his suburban was reading 99 degrees. Hadn’t even noticed the heat with all the other fun we were having.

 

Category: Cows | LEAVE A COMMENT
20 August 2025

August

At the end of August everything has reached it’s peak. The garden is bursting with vegetables. The flowers strain towards the sky. Petals thick and lush. Bees fill the air as they rush about harvesting from each flower, storing it away for winter.

This is such a bitter sweet time.

Everything is at it’s best, just before it dies. We have a few weeks? A month? Maybe more, maybe less, but the time is coming soon. Like the bees we work to put away as much bounty as we can. Stuffing ourselves with veggies at every meal, freezing and canning as much as we have jars for.

This peak production is here to supply us for the coming winter and we had best make use of it. If we don’t the winter will be long, dark, and hungry. I curse the heat but fear the cold.

Category: Garden | LEAVE A COMMENT
19 August 2025

Jalapeno Poppers

My husband grows an amazing garden. Through the summer our diet largely consists of the produce from this garden. All sorts of fresh veggies. Mostly very healthy.

One of the favorite meals is jalapeno poppers. Not so healthy. Big, thick walled, juicy crisp, not so spicy peppers, filled with cheese, then wrapped in bacon. We have some slabs of bacon, not cut, just a big hearty slab, saved just for this delicacy from a small butcher shop/smoker down in Colorado. Nothing but the best for our favorite, very unhealthy meal.

Usually we eat meat from our own cattle. Processed locally. We have freezers full of fresh beef. It’s a usual meal pastime to figure what percentage of the food is all home grown, if we can get in the 90th percentile it’s a great meal. But cattle are not pigs so bacon must be outsourced.

I had a package of bacon in the fridge, thawed and ready to slice. I picked the biggest, juiciest peppers. But, as I started to cut the bacon I ran into problems. This bacon sure was cutting hard. I could barely get a knife through it. It looked a bit odd too. Finally managing to saw enough off to finish the meal I put the whole thing in the oven.

The house did not fill with the usual bacony aroma.

Peaking into the oven the bacon was brown looking and thoroughly unappealing. What in the world was wrong with this slab of bacon?! It isn’t cheap and I was getting a little grouchy. Trying a bite, better to just poison me instead of the whole family, it tasted alright. Not spoiled or rancid at least. So I called the family to supper.

The kids looked at the poppers skeptically. I couldn’t blame them and was impressed that they were willing to try them at all. They were lacking in any of the usual delectable flavor. Quite bland really.

My daughter poked around a little then looked at me. “Are you sure you didn’t like, cut up a brisket instead of bacon?”

Thinking back I realized that she was right, brilliant girl as always. I never even looked at the package or labeling. I just grabbed a slab of meat from the freezer. It explained everything. The lack of flavor, the brown color. The idiocy.

We choked the brisket poppers down. Luckily there was fresh sweet corn to round out the meal and cleanse out taste buds. It was a terrible waste of brisket that would have been delicious cooked properly. The rest of it is in the fridge now. I guess we’ll be eating brisket properly for the next meal. And a waste of perfect peppers. 1 out of 10 do not recommend brisket poppers.

Need to go find the actual bacon now. Read the label this time. We’ll have poppers for real!

No pictures of the poppers, they were pretty gross looking, brown, shriveled, and lacking in bacon.

Category: Family | LEAVE A COMMENT